#eddie yearbook series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

belokhvostikova · 8 months

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced.

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.

But that was all too easy.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.

But you had never acted on impulsion.

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl.

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”

Eddie Munson was a little weird.

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.

“Ow, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

968 notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 11 months

Text

Part 1 ao3

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A sheet of paper hastily ripped from its notebook, folded over with a crease down the middle.

—Harrington, did you just turn down that girl?

—What are you talking about?

—Hey, you can’t blame a guy for being nosy. You were the one deciding to TALK in a SACRED LIBRARY.

—If you heard us, why are you asking?

—Okay, sound doesn’t travel that far.

—Why don’t YOU tell me what happened considering you know everything?

—Wow. Touchy.

—Fuck off.

—Sorry. Thought we were just joking around. Didn’t mean to be a dick.

—It’s fine.

—You sure?

—I wasn’t ‘turning her down.’ She’s on the Yearbook Committee. Asking for photos.

—Too many pin-ups to choose from?

—Baby photos.

—What’s the problem? Did you come out the womb holding hairspray?

—No.

—Table it or ditch it?

—?

—It’s something my uncle says. If he asks me about stuff I don’t wanna talk about, I can either table it for later or ditch it completely. But if something keeps coming up and I keep saying to ditch it, then it automatically becomes a table it for later.

—That’s smart.

—Yup.

—Table it.

—Okay.

—? Why do you keep scoring out stuff?

—Sorry sorry. I can only think of baby photos now.

—Not against them in general. Feel free to talk about yourself, Munson.

—Uh-huh. I could hear the sarcasm in how you wrote that.

—Ha. No, really. I don’t mind.

—Well, lucky for you, talking about myself is my favorite subject.

—Lucky me.

—I thought I’d lost literally all of my baby photos. When I lived with my dad, the house got flooded and all of them were hit. Water damage. I had to get my books spread out on a radiator so the pages would dry, and that kinda worked for some of them. Photos were goners, though.

—That’s awful.

—Hold your horses, cowboy. But then when I moved to my uncle’s—we’re at the trailer park in Forest Hills—I saw he had all these photos stacked on a bookcase, and I thought they were all really old, like from when he was a kid and stuff, and some of them were, but he had whole entire ALBUMS of me. Way more than my dad ever had.

—That’s cool.

—You’re so verbose, Harrington.

—I meant it. It’s just. I was just thinking.

—About?

—That’s not why I—I HAVE baby photos, that’s not the problem.

—Don’t sweat it, dude, you don’t need to tell me.

—It’s just. Rebecca, that’s who was talking to me, she kept going on about how everyone else has already sent in a baby photo or, you know, a photo from when they were a kid, and she was excited about it, it’s a whole new thing they’re doing for this year. They’re gonna do a special layout, old photos next to current ones, you know what I mean?

—Afraid I’ve never been privy to the wondrous goings-on of the Yearbook Committee.

—She said it’ll look weird if I’m the only one not doing it. But it’s—I don’t know. I know I could just pick any damn photo and send it in, it’d get the whole Committee off my back. But I think I’d feel weird at the thought of the whole year getting to see—god, this doesn’t even make sense, like I don’t mind them seeing at a photo of me NOW, but I don’t. I don’t like looking at old photos, I never have. I don’t know why. Guess I just don’t like looking back.

—Fuck what everyone else is doing. They’re YOUR photos. Forget the precious ‘layout.’

—Yeah, that’s sorta what I told her, minus the ‘fuck.’

—If it’ll shut them all up, you could send in one of mine. See who actually notices.

—No way.

—Yeah, I was just being stupid.

—No. Those are YOUR photos. Save them for your own Yearbook. Sounds like your uncle could fill the whole thing with pictures.

—Wouldn’t put it past him.

—Shit, is that the time? The bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. I’ve done NOTHING.

—The horror!

—I’m blaming you.

—Honored to be considered a distraction, Harrington.

A scrap of paper, hastily dropped into the pencil case of an unknowing Eddie Munson as the bell rang.

—Thanks.

#notes from hawkins high school library #epistolary fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #eddie and wayne munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie

343 notes · View notes

munsonsduchess · 2 years

Text

Feels like Heaven

summary: you've been feeling a little out of it lately so a girls trip to the mall is just the cure, right? w/c: 2,043 warnings: fluff, mild angst, insecurities, mentions of pregnancy, eddie thinking he's not good enough, mentions of bullying, mentions of prejudices a/n: now usually this sort of thing isn't for me but when the request came in I just couldn't help myself. There was so much potential here!

Not beta'd or anything, any mistakes you find are just there for flavour. This is also part three in the domestic!Eddie x wife!Reader series. You can find part one here and part two here

(moodboard by me)

You’d not been feeling well for the last few days, which you chalked up to missing your last period. The pharmacy had run out of your prescription for the pill so you’d had to wait a few days in between taking your last dose and getting the new prescription filled.

It always left you feeling a little weird and out of sorts when you came off it for any length of time and this was no different. Well, the headaches were new but Eddie had his methods for helping you deal with those.

The two of you hadn’t slowed down any, you’d had to take extra precautions sure and you'd bought a box or two of condoms to keep you going while you waited to fill your prescription but nothing much had changed.

Which meant that when Nancy, Robin and Steve’s new girlfriend Nicole had asked if you wanted to have a girls day at the Mall, no boys allowed, Eddie had been particularly pouty about the whole thing. He'd been looking after you while you'd been feeling out of sorts and he wasn't keen on your going to the mall when you still weren't feeling the best,

"Baby I'll be fine, it's just the hormone thing from the pill. If I feel worse than I do right now I'll find a phone and call right away ok?"

"Yeah fine ok" Eddie groaned, "I still don't like this"

You sighed and kissed him softly. You knew he was looking out for you, he hated when you were unwell, even when you had the sniffles he was always making you soup and checking your temperature to make sure it wasn't a fever or anything worse. So you understood his hesitation at you spending the day in the mall,

"Love you Eds"

"Love you too baby"

➽───────────────❥

The mall wasn't as busy as you'd thought it would be so it wasn't as bad walking around with the girls and Steve's girlfriend Nicole was really nice. You'd known of her when you were in high school, you ran in different circles of course but she'd taken the pictures for the yearbook and had snapped a really cute one of you and Eddie you'd actually bought from the school and kept in your purse as a memento.

The four of you were sitting in the food court, Nancy was teasing Nicole about Steve's six kid confession he'd made to her,

"I hope you're ready for it" she laughed, "he already has his eyes on a Winnebago"

"Harrington Family Road Trip!" Robin laughed, "with Mama Steve and the six nuggets"

You laughed along. Steve made no secret of wanting kids and as much as he complained about being the babysitter all the time there was no one who loved kids more than Steve Harrington, which admittedly was a shocking twist of events from the man you had assumed him to be,

"What about you and Eddie?" Nancy asked, "you guys have been married for three years now, any sign of kids on the horizon?"

You were about to answer her and laugh off the statement, you and Eddie were definitely not ready for kids yet. You were still kids yourselves! The all consuming wave of nausea that took over your body however and had you rushing for the bathrooms stopped the words before they could come out.

You shoved the door to the cubicle open and immediately bent over the toilet bowl and began spewing your guts, you felt someone take your hair and hold it behind you slipping a scrunchie into the makeshift ponytail. You figured it was either Nancy or Nicole since you could hear Robin freaking out in the background about your sudden and violent upchuck.

When you finally felt as though you might be able to lift your head without another wave of vomit you lay your head against the cool wall of the bathroom stall and groaned,

"Sorry. Guess I wasn't feeling better after all"

"You said you were feeling weird for a while right?" Nancy asked, "that you'd been waiting to refill your prescription and that's when this started?"

"Yeah, hormones all out of whack" you nodded in agreement, although the look in Nancy's eyes told you she thought differently, "Wheeler I don't like that look"

The other two girls looked from Nancy to you and back again. Robin furrowed her brow in confusion but Nicole seemed to pick something up,

"Nicole can you go to the pharmacy on the ground floor? Take my purse"

"That's ok. I got it" she left the bathroom and Robin watched her go in a state of confusion,

"Um is anyone gonna tell me what's going on here?"

"Wheeler thinks I'm pregnant" you supplied, "I can't be, we used condoms the whole time. We were careful!"

Nancy hummed and bit the inside of her cheek, she knew the statistics behind condoms and she also knew how much Eddie and you liked to be together. She bit her tongue until Nicole returned with the little paper bag from the pharmacy in hand,

"Only one way to find out"

➽───────────────❥

"Well … fuck" you were looking at the little piece of plastic in your hands and the two pink lines that had come up on the strip, "this is … fuck"

"You don't have to make any decisions right now" Nancy said quickly, "you should talk to Eddie and decide what you guys want to do"

"This is crazy" Robin breathed, "you're like making a person in there!"

"Why don't we give you a ride home?" Nicole offered, "I'm sure you've got a lot to talk about"

"That's an understatement"

The ride home was quiet. You didn't say much and neither did the other girls, you were trying to figure out what to tell Eddie and wondering how he'd take the news. Robin had called Steve and asked if he'd meet them at Eddie's just in case. Nancy had offered to let you stay with her if things went badly and so Steve would take Robin and Nicole home.

As you pulled into the trailer park your heart twisted in your chest and you were certain you were going to puke again. This was insane. You were only 21, it was too soon!

"Do you want us to come in with you?" Nancy asked, "Or do you want us to wait outside?"

"Outside. For now" you said, "I need to tell him by myself"

The girls nodded and watched as you got out of the car. You gripped the little plastic test in your hand tightly and steeled yourself for whatever would come next.

Opening the door to the trailer you were met with the familiar smell of cigarette smoke, weed and the musky aftershave Eddie sprayed to mask the smell, something usually so comforting but now made your stomach lurch. What if this was the last time you smelt this? The last time you stepped into your trailer? Your home.

Steve was already inside and when he saw you he smiled and got up from his spot on the couch to greet you but one look at his face told him that was a bad idea right now,

"I'm just gonna say hey to the girls, I'll be right back" he left the trailer without saying another word leaving you alone with Eddie,

"You're home early. What happened?" he got up and made his way over to you, "baby what's wrong, talk to me please"

You couldn't find the words so you just uncurled your fist and held out the pregnancy test to him. Eddie wasn't sure what was going on but he took the little plastic test and brought it to the light for examination,

"Baby what's - " he cut himself off realising what you'd just handed him, "wait, wait, wait, wait, wait"

You could already feel the tears welling up in the back of your eyes and you did your best to try and blink them away. You weren't going to cry. You'd told yourself you wouldn't,

"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" Eddie asked softly, a hand reaching out for your own, "baby are you - are we - shit"

"I'm pregnant" the words came out as nothing more than a whisper but Eddie heard them loud and clear,

"Pregnant? How? We, we, used condoms, we were careful!"

"Not careful enough I guess" the tears were free flowing now, you couldn't stop them if you tried. Eddie of course noticed and brought his free hand up to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb,

"I’m sorry baby. I'm so sorry. This is my fault" Eddie looked at you and you saw fear in his eyes, fear he wouldn't be good enough, fear he'd ruined your life forever.

You unclasped your hand from his and threw both your arms around him in a bone crushing hug. You loved this man with your whole being and there was no way you were going to let him take the whole blame for this,

"It's not your fault Eddie, it's no one's fault"

"But - "

"You listen to me Edward Munson and you listen good. Did I want to bring a kid into the world in a town full of small minded hicks and bigots? Where people will judge you the second they see you, make snap judgements and keep their small minded opinions their whole lives? Sure. Maybe I wanted us to move away somewhere where people were nice, where no one knew us and we could raise a kid, somewhere with a house and a garden and a stupid white picket fence but if you think for one second that I will not be the proudest woman in the world to let everyone in this judgemental ass town know that I'm carrying your baby then think again"

"But the kid is going to have to go through its whole life being the kid of the town freak. You could do so much better"

"There is no one better," you stated with authority, "you're the kindest, sweetest, gentlest man I've ever known and this kid is lucky to have you. You're going to be an amazing dad"

“Baby you know what people in this town are like. What kids are like” Eddie argued,

“Well then our kid is gonna have a strong right hook. Maybe Harrington will give us that bat for the big birthday” you joked making Eddie laugh, you noticed the tears on his own face but the fear in his eyes had gone. Replaced with something better, with love.

"Harrington is gonna wonder what's going on" Eddie laughed, "we should probably tell him it's safe to come back in"

"The girls too"

"Just, five more minutes"

➽───────────────❥

"Oh my god congratulations!" Steve was shocked to say the least but he wasn't entirely unsurprised, "I mean this was bound to happen eventually and - ow!"

"Thanks man" Eddie laughed as Steve rubbed each part of his body that had been pinched by one of the girls, "I can't believe it, my girl's pregnant!"

"You're going to be a great Dad" Nancy said, offering Eddie a hug which he accepted gladly, "we'll leave you guys to it, just call if you need anything"

"Thanks Wheeler, for making me take the test"

"What are friends for?"

You waved your friends off, Eddie stood behind you with his arms wrapped protectively around your stomach. The pair of you watched as Steve and the girls drove out of the trailer park before heading back inside.

Eddie's face was one of pure joy. He never thought he'd be so happy. He made himself a promise in that moment, his kid was never going to learn how to hotwire a car or steal a bike even though it had a chain around it or any of the other shit his old man taught him to do.

Eddie Munson was going to teach his kid how to play catch. He was going to go to little league matches and dance recitals and school plays. He was going to be there for his kid.

He was going to change the Munson name in Hawkins, Indiana.

Taglist: @pillow-titties @eddiesmutson @eddiemvnsonss @xbreezymeadowsx @slytherinintj13 @ches-86 @boomhauer @hoppershoe @jobean12-blog @prettyboyeddiemunson @hellfireeddiemunson @that-lame-ghoul9000 @shenanigans-and-imagines @lucciaa9 (sorry it wouldn't let me tag you properly)

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #cw: pregnancy #duchess writes #duchess.txt #the god and goddess of hellfire 🔥

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multifandom--madness · 5 months

Text

Roll for Perception - E.M.

a/n: I have not dived into this in a while, but I hope I do well enough for you guys to enjoy. If you guys like it enough, I'll make it a series.

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: none, I don't think

summary: What's the hellfire club all about?

----

Yearbook? no. School paper? no. Band? no. Gymnastics....long gone. You honestly had no motivation to do anything for your senior year. I mean, did you have to be in an extra curricular? Your mom was practically begging you to get back into gymnastics, but after last year's embarrasing injury, you were not willing to relive that. Nor were you willing to go the extra mile rehabilitate it into being the perfect athlete either. After looking at the fliers that were pinned to the cork board, you found one flier under all of the other papers.

"Hellfire Club... Friday nights 6 pm. Hawkins High School's old theatre. If you don't have dice, you can borrow some. Curse of Vecna Session 1 10/31/1985. DM: Eddie Munson"

Dungeons and Dragons? You've not played that since your older brother had moved away to college and you lost him as a DM. It seemed that they were already a couple of sessions in, but maybe not too far for an extra character? You took the flier and folded it into your bag and walked to your locker before your last class.

After an hour long torture session of anatomy class you grabbed your car keys as fast as you could and drove home. Once you got home, you put on some more comfortable clothes and dug through your old drawer of things and grabbed your dice, an old character sheet, and a pencil or two.

Your mom heard you run through the house and to your room and she wiped her hands with a kitchen rag. "Y/n, is that you? How was school?" you answered without looking at her as you grabbed some more comfortable shoes. "Uh, yeah it was good. Good enough for first day I guess?" She smiled at you and threw her towel over her shoulder. "I heard they have a gymnastics team...I thought it would be good for you, so I called the school and talked to the coach. Conditioning is starting now."

You rolled your eyes at her vigor to get you back into gymnastics, but that was a wish and a dream. "Mom, I'm not doing that. Plus, I wouldn't even have the time to get back to where I was and... just no. Anyway, I have to go back to the school anyways so I'll be home by 10."

"But y/n, it would be so good for-" and that was all you heard before you shut the door, drove off, and headed to Hawkins High. Getting there, you had never seen the parking lot so empty, but thank god because you were able to find a parking spot that didn't require you to hike to the old theatre.

Campus was dark and things were already weird here in Hawkins, but you tucked your jacket and bag close to you and found the old theatre. Before you opened the door, you already heard what you remembered to be the sounds of people speaking with one another. You already felt bad for showing up when they are probably well established into the campaign, but you'd rather be super early in the campaign instead of super late.

You walked in and as soon as the door shut behind you, four heads turned in your direction. Three obvious freshman, and one tall senior, you assumed, with a long black wavy mullet. "Is that a girl?" you heard one of them whisper. "Uhm, I'm sorry, but the new theatre is holding auditions, not this one." the tall one said to you.

"Is this the hellfire club?" you asked. Everyone's eyebrows raised and the tall one unfolded his arms and walked towards you. You held out your hand to shake, which he did not take. "Are you Eddie? I saw this flier on the cork board in the hall. I know it's been a couple of weeks since your first session, but I was hoping I could play?"

Eddie turned to look at the party and then back at you. He scratched his head and looked at you as if to say 'you might be in the wrong place'. "I mean, have you played D&D before? The party we have is level 8 right now and you wouldn't want to just-" He started to say but your excitement beat him to it.

"Oh no, that's fine. I actually already have my character sheet. I made a teifling bard warlock. She's multi classed evenly. I've played before but I've not been able to play in a while. If it's too much I understand. I just saw you were playing and thought-" You saw the smirk grow on Eddie's face and he stuck his hand out to introduce himself.

"I'm Eddie, I'm the DM." You smiled and took his hand and replied "Y/n. New student." From there he put his hands in his pockets and asked "Do you have dice?" You plopped your bag on the playing table, careful not to knock over any miniatures, and pulled out your dice tray, your player's handbook, your old miniature, and your favorite set of purple dice. "You can say, I'm quite excited."

Eddie let out a small and almost inaudible laugh, but you caught it and it made you smile. "Pick your spot at the table." he said. Everyone rushed to their favored spots, leaving you at the opposite head of the table from Eddie. Everyone prepared their materials and Eddie dimmed the theatre lights for ambiance.

"Everyone, this is y/n. She is our newest addition to the table. Everyone, go around." You went around the table and met the three younger players named Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. Mike was a Palladin, Dustin introduced himself ruggedly as a master artificer, and Lucas acted out his ranger skills as he introduced his character.

When it came to your turn, you smiled, flirtatiously extended your arms onto the table being very in character and introduced yourself. "My name is Agony, I'm a Tiefling Bard Warlock multi-class." You donned fingers for horns on your head to mimic your character and laughed as you sat down.

Eddie smiled behind his interlocked hands as you introduced yourself and sat up straight in his DM throne. "Now that we have met one another, I need everyone to roll for perception." Everyone rolled their dice, Mike was doing the math on his modifiers to add to his role, and dustin and Luke groaned as they clearly rolled a low number on their dice. You shot up in excitement and smiled "Nat 20!" The party clapped for you as you started the session strong.

After four hours of playing, Dustin, Mike, and Luke all spoke with one another as they waved and said goodbye to you on their way out. You got your things together and Eddie came by you holding his campaign book. "Great session today, Y/n. I hope to see you next Friday. Do you have a ride home?" he asked politely. You smiled and thanked him letting him know you drove here. He nodded his head toward the door offering to walk you to your car and smiled. You immediately knew finding that flier was the best thing you could have done for yourself this year.

---

a/n: I hoped you guys liked this, plz don't drag me.

#eddie munson #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie stranger things #hellfire club #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 years

Text

Age Of Consent [part four]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 2,514

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug usage, tobacco usage, and a lot of profanity.

A/N: Tags are closed for this one, y'all, I'm sorry. We got a little flashback in this one! I'm sorry but the thought of a little, freshman Eddie just makes me smile. The whole 'first crush' thing gets me every time. Let me know what you guys think! Part 5 is out tomorrow at 12:00 PM EST.

Read Part Three || Read Part Five

"It'll be like he doesn't even exist."

Your brother's words rang through your mind on repeat over the next few days. Truth was, the only thing that you could think about was Eddie fucking Munson.

Sitting in your room by yourself? You're thinking about all of the nights you snuck him in through your window. At work stocking the shelves? You're thinking about when you would spend hours making out in that dimly lit classroom. Watching a movie with your family? Your mind was most definitely replaying the lazy Saturdays spent in Eddie's trailer getting high while The Evil Dead played in the background.

The door to your room was open as you lay on your bed with a book in your hands. You were trying your hardest to keep yourself distracted, but it was a Sunday afternoon, and you were bored out of your mind. To your annoyance, you found yourself reading the same sentence over and over again and threw your book across the room in frustration.

Groaning, you rolled off of the bed and made your way across the room, picking the paper-back up and placing it back on the shelf. Your eyes fluttered down and noticed your freshman yearbook tucked in among the other books; the green and gold lettering along the spine taunted you for a few moments before you fingered it out and carried it back to your bed.

You placed the yearbook in your lap and began thumbing through the pages, searching for the freshman class of 1981. Your index finger glided over dozens of names; Liggins, Martin, Morris. Finally, a dorky, black and white photo caught your eye, smiling up at you from the page. The corners of your lips turned upwards as you smoothed your thumb over his picture.

Eddie's innocent, boyish features- his short hair, reminded you of the day that you had first met. You were both fourteen, almost fifteen- just two acne-ridden teenagers trying to navigate high school. He was already a non-conforming hellion and you were invisible. Somehow, though, Eddie was the only one who was able to see you.

It was April 1981.

The Spring Musical was two weeks away. You had been spending more time than you would like to admit in the costume department, going over each individual detail, and making sure that every little thing was absolute perfection. Being a freshman in high school, and trying to make a name for yourself among the drama kids, you had to make sure to perfect your craft. And since you weren't able to get a part in the actual musical, your craft was costume and set design.

Wasn't your first choice, but you were determined to make the most of it. Which, for you, meant six or so hours after school in a dark classroom, alone, by yourself.

Journey played softly from the small radio sitting on the fold-out table across the room; your dad's tape was on a constant replay. You had your lead protagonist's first outfit sprawled across a desk, a magnifying glass that you had stolen from Mr. Fritz Science class, and a headlamp strapped to your forehead as you looked over the costume carefully; checking each thread, searching for any stains.

"Uh, excuse me?" You heard behind you- the voice making you jump.

"Holy shit!" You gasped, clutching your chest.

The boy laughed; his shaggy head of curly brown hair, not yet quite past his ears, bounced around his face. "I didn't mean to scare you," he replied. "I knocked three times but I guess you didn't hear me."

"I'm working," you replied to the stranger, reaching up to click off your headlamp. "What do you want? What are you even doing here? It's almost 8:00 at night!"

"I'm Eddie," was all he said as he extended a hand out to you, but all you could do was stare at him. This was probably the first conversation you had ever had with a boy that wasn't your little brother. He pulled his hand back with a frown. "I was helping set up equipment for the pep rally tomorrow, for extra credit."

"But what are you doing here, in this room?"

"I've been trying to start this club, for uh- Dungeons and Dragons, it's a game, you probably haven't heard-"

"I know what Dungeons and Dragons is." You replied flatly, a little offended that he assumed you wouldn't.

Eddie's face lit up instantly at your words. "Well, maybe you can join the club! Whenever I can get the approval for it, that is. We need a place to hold the meetings. Someone mentioned that maybe the theater department might let us share this room with the drama club."

You nodded your head in reply and turned back to what you were doing. "You can try asking Mrs. Kemp tomorrow morning, she'll be here."

"Sweet, thanks, uh- you didn't tell me your name."

"Y/N," you answered.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Eddie placed an arm over his middle and bowed before turning on his heel and heading back towards the door. He almost tripped over his own feet, causing you to giggle, and turned back around with a goofy smile. "Hope to see you around."

You closed the yearbook, pushing it off of your lap and onto the floor. Tears began to form in your eyes as the memory played in your mind. If only things were still that simple. If only you could go back. Alas, you were not Cher, and you could not turn back time.

"Y/N," you heard from the hallway and looked up to see Dustin standing in your doorway. "Mom said to ask if you can take me to the arcade."

"Can't you ride your bike?" You asked, slightly annoyed.

"It's raining," he whined.

You rolled your eyes so hard it was painful and Dustin knew he had gotten what he wanted. Taking Dustin to the arcade meant that you would have to hang out there while he spent literal hours trying to beat Max's score on Dig-Dug, which he would never be able to do- you even had a bet going with Keith. Usually, you wouldn't bet against your brother, but Maxine Mayfield was a little badass.

"Oh, wait," Dustin said as he followed you out to your car. "I'll be right back, I gotta call E-Lucas!"

"Hurry up, Short-stack!" You called back to him.

Moments later, Dustin came running out of the house, holding his hat to his head. He pulled the door open and threw himself into your passenger seat, his excitement practically seeping through his pores.

"Today's the day," he smiled, bouncing in his seat. "Today is the day that I beat her high score."

"You think so?" You asked, eyes never leaving the road.

"I know so."

"Whatever you say," you taunted. "You want to bet on it?" You glanced over at him to see him nodding his head. "If you don't beat Max's score today you have to do the dishes for a whole month. Starting tomorrow."

"And if I win?" He asked.

"Name your price," you replied.

"There's a concert that I want to go to next Tuesday."

"On a school night?"

"Yep, so if I win, you have to convince mom to let me go and you know she'll only do that if you go with me." He was too smart for his own good.

"Deal," you held out your hand and Dustin shook it firmly. "But only because no one will ever be able to beat Max's score, so I hope you're ready to do the dishes."

The arcade was almost empty. Not that it was surprising. Sundays weren't their busiest days, and that was precisely the reason that Dustin loved going then- he was able to concentrate more. He made a beeline for Dig-Dug and you stopped by the front counter to exchange some dollar bills for quarters, knowing that he would eventually come whining to you, asking for more change.

Your favorite game was pinball. It always had been. It was your dad's favorite, as well. He taught you everything that he knew- though, there really wasn't that much to it; good timing and a few other secret tricks that you would take to your grave. You held the high score and as far as you knew, no one else had even come close.

As you rounded the other games and saw your favorite machine in the back corner, you couldn't help but think of Eddie again. Flashes of the two of you playing that very game; Eddie standing behind you with his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder as you punched the buttons trying to keep your ball from sinking. You pushed a quarter into the coin slot and pulled back the lever, sending the small, silver ball flying through the shoot. Your fingers tapped mercilessly on the side buttons, doing your best to stay alive, but time and time again your ball sunk- you just couldn't focus.

"You know," a voice came from behind you. It was your time to freeze up; another life lost as your ball dropped right between the two blockers. "I heard the girl that holds the high score is a bit of a legend around here. A real 'Pinball Wizard', you could say."

You couldn't help but smile at his corny reference. He came into view, stepping around the side of the pinball machine and leaning up against its frame. He looked so incredibly good that you couldn't take your eyes off of him, you didn't even care if he noticed the way that your gaze trailed down his neck to his belt buckle. Which he did- the smirk on his perfect lips giving it away.

"What are you doing here, Eddie?"

"I was bored," he shrugged. "Got tired of sitting around."

You caught his eyes and felt your stomach explode into a million butterflies. His eyes were a weakness. They were perfectly brown and when the sun hit them, it reminded you of all the days you spent in the back of his van on the shore of Lover's Lake, watching the reflection of the light on the water's surface. You could drown in them.

Realization hit you that the two of you were just standing there, staring into each other's eyes. You panicked, quickly looking away, and swallowed the rock in your throat.

"I need some fresh air," you muttered and took off towards the back exit of the arcade so that you didn't have to pass by Dustin who was still deep into Dig-Dug and hopefully oblivious to what was happening a few rows of games over.

The early October air was refreshing as you stepped outside and took a deep breath, trying to level your spinning mind. You were once so confident that you were over that fucking boy, but now you weren't so sure. Twice now you had seen him, and both times he had completely unraveled you without so much as batting an eye.

You took a seat at the picnic table, knowing that he wouldn't be far behind you- and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't want him to follow you. Soon enough, after a few minutes, the back door opened and Eddie stepped out, lighting a cigarette the moment his boots hit the concrete. You were envious of the way that he was so effortlessly cool; with his gaudy metal rings, chains, and leather- a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he took slow steps over to where you were seated. Fuck, he was so irritating.

"He's so sure that he's gonna beat that girl's score," Eddie mumbled, his cigarette hanging from his lips as he motioned towards the arcade.

"He won't," you retorted. "We have a bet going that if he loses he has to do dishes for a month, probably could have made it a little worse for him."

"What'd he bet?" Eddie asked, exhaling smoke.

"Some concert that he wants to go to on a school night," you replied. "I think he said it was this Tuesday." Eddie pursed his lips together so as not to laugh and you made a face. "Don't laugh. It's you rubbing off on him, isn't it?"

He held his hands up in defense and you rolled your eyes. A silence fell over the two of you, save for the sound of Eddie taking drags off of his cigarette and the drizzling rain. It wasn't awkward, which was nice, you appreciated that fact. It was just comfortable between the two of you; a familiar feeling that you truly missed.

"D'you know he was my brother when you approached him to be in Hellfire?" You asked softly, mindlessly playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

"How could I?" He asked, fidgeting with one of his rings. "I never had the pleasure of meeting your family because you were ashamed of me." You wanted to roll your eyes and make a comment, but the pain that laced his voice kept you from becoming argumentative. "But no, I didn't know at first. I figured it out though," the smallest smile crept to his lips. "Total nerd, practically a genius, plays D&D, and his last name is Henderson- there was no way he wasn't related to you."

"Trying to flatter me, Munson?" You asked.

"I don't know, is it working?" He countered, fidgeting with his hair.

"Not at all, try harder."

Eddie smiled, his eyes squinting as he studied you; trying desperately to read your mind, figure you out, and decide if this whole charade was pointless or if, by the grace of God, your brother was right. He hated putting himself out there, he was so vulnerable, and it wouldn't take much for you to absolutely destroy him.

"Let me take you out," he offered, taking a step out onto that metaphorical tightrope. You gave him a look. "Come on," he dragged out. "You know deep down in that ice-block that you call a heart that you want to. It'll be good for you, who knows, you might have some fun."

"Funny of you to insinuate that I even have a heart," you toyed, a smile playing on your lips.

"I was being nice."

"I'm not going to go out with you, Munson." You rolled your eyes as you stood up from the table. "Nice try, though."

You saluted him and flung open the door to the arcade. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes immediately saw Dustin playing Donkey Kong instead of Dig-Dug.

"Give up?" You asked feeling accomplished, standing behind him. Your little brother turned and gave you a slick smile and your eyes widened. "You did not."

You rushed over to the Dig-Dug platform, a state of shock washing over you as you saw Dustin's initials at the top of the leaderboard.

"Holy shit, he did it." Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Eddie standing behind you once again.

"Looks like we're going to a concert," you muttered in disbelief.

Tags (closed):

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waywardrose-archive · 10 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 15

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: More angst, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.

During the last Study Hall of the semester, Sheryl had revealed the secret New Year’s Eve party happening at this abandoned burger joint, Benny’s, on the outskirts of town. Everyone was going to be there. She’d been invited by Chance Lang, #23 on the basketball team. His parents were away on some couples-only cruise.

If everyone was going to be there, you’d joked, it wasn’t much of a secret. She, Heather, and Christy laughed. You’d smiled with a shrug. Heather had then teased Sheryl about her crush on Chance, saying the party was Sheryl’s opportunity to ride her way to prom queen. Sheryl had fluttered her hands as she stated the whole senior class knew who was going to be prom queen — and it wouldn’t be her.

You’d looked between the three of them and asked who they meant. Heather leaned in, Christy and Sheryl copying her. You leaned in as well. Sotto voce, Heather said Chrissy Cunningham was a sure bet for prom queen. After all, Chrissy Cunningham was the queen of Hawkins High.

Chrissy Cunningham sat diagonally from you in Western Lit. She was one of the least exasperating cheerleaders you’d ever encountered. At first, you’d avoided anyone who’d be featured in the athletics section of a yearbook. However, she was kind and humble. She’d even complimented your nail polish one time, which you thanked her for and told her the color.

She now sat on the second-hand sofa with her All-American boyfriend, Jason Carver. Chrissy sipped from a red cup that was most likely filled with Diet Coke. She didn’t seem the beer-chugging type. In contrast, Jason held a Pabst can high as he pontificated. The jocks lounging around them cheered when he said something particularly rousing.

Jason was a preacher without a pulpit, desperate for each hosanna to feed his bloated ego.

Keeping your annoyance to yourself, you filled your cup from the bucket of jungle juice at the old pick-up counter. Nearby, a game of beer-pong went into overtime. Heather and Christy were in the group of spectators. You joined them, bumping your elbow with Christy’s.

She brightened as she greeted you, her eyes glittering under the multiple strands of Christmas lights.

Heather curved around her to say, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, though the shouting spectators drowned you out. Christy got your attention and moved closer to speak in your ear. You smelled the whiskey-and-Coke on her.

“Look who’s talking to Chance Lang.”

You followed her gaze across the main room. Sheryl and Chance were talking. Beside them, a few guys played Horse at the indoor basketball hoop. Sheryl nodded at something Chance said. He pantomimed some sportsball maneuver that had her laughing and touching his forearm. Chance grinned, pleased with himself, and cocked a hip.

You shared a look with Christy before giggling with her.

The crowd roared as the beer-pong game ended. A fellow spectator knocked into Heather, who knocked into Christy, who then knocked into you. The three of you staggered together and laughed.

“God, I need another drink,” said Heather, with a nod towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said before leading the way around the crowd.

Christy latched onto your sleeve like a duckling.

In the kitchen, a couple made out by the defunct walk-in while a few people blew rails on the metal counters. Bottles of beer and wine coolers sprouted from the melting ripples of ice filling the industrial-sized sinks. Heather pulled a beer from the ice, placed the underside of the cap on the counter, and knocked the cap off. The beer foamed and dripped onto the already-sticky tiled floor.

You tapped your cup against her bottle as a toast and chugged your drink. No amount of fruit punch could disguise the burn of alcohol. You shook your head, nose scrunching, as you swallowed the last of the jungle juice. That must’ve been two or three shots at once.

You groaned, “Fuck.”

Christy shimmied behind you to fix herself another whiskey-and-Coke as Heather offered you a wildberry wine cooler. It wasn’t good to mix different drinks, but who the hell knew what was in that batch of jungle juice.

You tossed your cup into the rolling trashcan in the corner, making a clean shot. A random guy encouraged you to join the next round of beer-pong. You brushed off the encouragement with a laugh, because you weren’t pouring beer on top of jungle juice. Despite the adage of ‘liquor before beer, you’re in the clear,’ you’d never been that lucky.

Wine coolers, though? Those were fine.

You turned to the counter to try Heather’s technique for uncapping a bottle. After a few thumps, the cap remained firmly attached. Heather snickered when you made a face at her and asked for help. She angled the bottle and showed you how to hit it with the heel of your hand.

As you nodded, the backdoor opened. A gust of cold along with a familiar, deep voice had a shudder going down your spine.

“Close the goddamn door!” screeched a nose duster.

You squared your shoulders and struck the cap. It popped off and sailed to the floor. Heather and Christy cheered as your wine cooler fizzled. You faked a laugh before the three of you toasted and drank.

Eddie said he could attend — and sell — if Corroded Coffin didn’t have plans. You guessed they didn’t. He most likely hadn’t expected you to show. True, a party hosted by jocks with shitty music taste wasn’t really your scene. However, you didn’t want to stay at home to have a glass of champagne with your parents, then find the right moment to leave before your father began reviewing his upcoming plans for the year — or coax you into praising your Christmas gifts again.

This year they’d given you cash, a few movies on your list, a new stereo for your car, and your own phone line.

Mom planned to call the phone company on Friday to schedule a tech visit. You’d wanted to tell her there was no point. The person you’d been tying up the main phone line with wouldn’t be calling until April. Or maybe ever.

“Oh!” said Christy as the backdoor clunked shut. “I think Munson’s dealing out there. You want to split the cost of a few joints?”

You pulled a five-dollar bill from your pocket and gave it to her.

“Sure, you two go ahead. I gotta pee.”

Which wasn’t completely untrue, but you weren’t ready to see him yet.

“Sweet!” Christy said and boogied to the backdoor.

Heather paused to ask, “You’ll be okay?”

You nodded and pasted on a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine! I’ll meet you out front.”

She clinked her bottle with yours, her expression reassuring.

“If you’re not out there in ten, I’m coming to get you.”

With a smile, you said, “Hey, it all depends on the line.”

She smirked as you backed away.

On the way to the bathroom, you gave a thumbs-up to Sheryl, who’d joined Chance at the basketball hoop. She gave you an excited smile that was all teeth and twinkling eyes.

The line for the bathroom was short. While no one had puked over the toilet, the bathroom stank of old urine and boy-funk. As you washed your hands, you checked your hair and makeup in the graffitied mirror. You looked as good as you had when you’d left the house. You dried your hands on the sides of your jeans, collected your half-full wine cooler, and left the bathroom.

The main room was growing stuffy, smelling of beer and weed and those solid air fresheners. Smoke hung in the air and enhanced the cones of light from random lamps. You wove through the throngs of people until reaching the fogged front door.

Outside was brisk and sobering. A couple argued under the lone sodium light illuminating the parking lot. You breathed deep the crisp air to brace yourself for facing Eddie. You’d have to see him eventually, since you two shared a class. Better to get it over with now when you had the barrier of people and alcohol.

You rounded the concrete planter bed at the side of the building. Eddie leaned on a support post for the backdoor roof, back to the parking lot. Which was a relief. The tail of his flannel shirt hung beneath his jacket and vest to hide his ass. His black jeans were faded to the point of being gray. He conversed with Heather and Christy, though it was impossible to tell if they’d finished the deal or not.

Loose rocks crunched under your boots. You cringed at the noise and sidestepped to solid blacktop. Perhaps you could get away with not facing Eddie at all. However, Christy peeked around Eddie’s side, noticed you with a squeal, and skipped to you.

Eddie swung around the post to watch.

So much for not facing him.

You smiled at Christy’s excitement as she told you Eddie had given them a discount.

“How generous,” you said with a glance at him.

Heather sauntered around Eddie, the flawlessly rolled joints in her hand. He snuck a quick look at her back, i.e., he checked out her ass. You wanted to reprimand him with a look, but stopped yourself. Your relationship was paused, which meant he could check out anyone’s ass he wanted.

You could too, though you weren’t inclined.

Heather suggested the three of you claim one of the picnic tables on the other side of the building. Christy complained it was too cold for that.

“If we go back inside, some mooch will want in on these,” Heather said, holding the joints between her fingers.

“Ladies, if I may be so bold,” Eddie said as he approached. “You could avail yourselves of my van.”

With a glare, Heather said, “We’re not fucking you, Munson.”

“Let’s just go to my car,” you said at the same time he said, “It wasn’t a metaphor.”

“What?” Christy asked.

Eddie took his keys from his front pocket. A front pocket with a shiny wallet chain swagged under it. Your mouth went dry.

He offered his keys and said, “I’m not done here, so go smoke and bring them back when you’re done.”

Christy asked, “You trust us?”

He met your eyes briefly.

“Of course.”

You turned to the side and took a drink from your wine cooler.

“Fine,” Heather said and snatched the keys from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” said Christy.

“I’m parked farther up on Randolph.”

You nodded, murmuring a ‘thanks.’

The three of you turned from Eddie. You took two steps before he called your name. You sighed. Heather frowned when you stopped.

“I got a class with him. It’s probably something dumb,” you said to explain. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Christy pulled Heather away, heading across the parking lot.

You faced him — as you dreaded you’d have to — and crossed your arms.

“What?”

“Can I talk to you after the party?” he asked.

“I have to be home by one.”

“I’ll make it quick.”

“I thought you wanted space?”

“I do, but... Throw me a bone here. I want to explain.”

“Okay, fine, bone thrown.”

The corner of his mouth quirked.

“That rhymes.”

“Yeah, I’m the poet laureate of Hawkins, Indiana.” You spun on the ball of your foot. “See you later.”

You caught up with Heather and Christy already walking on the side of the road. Despite the long line of parked cars, it was easy to spot Eddie’s van. Heather unlocked the back doors and threw them open.

“God, it already smells like weed in here,” she said, though she shuffled in while balancing her beer in one hand.

Christy followed her with a giggle. “And we’re gonna make it worse!”

You’d never gotten a good look at the cavernous back of his van. Band equipment had scuffed the carpet. He’d bound cheap, stained blankets to the interior walls with bungee cords. A legless bench-seat sat propped against the driver’s side wall.

“I hope one of you has a lighter,” you said as you cracked a window.

Christy said, “Got us covered, babe.”

You closed the doors after you. Fortunately, a street-light was close enough to shine through the windshield. After you settled next to Heather on the bench-seat, she distributed joints and lit hers. You took the lighter last and twisted the joint as you put flame to rolling paper.

Your muscles loosened with each drag. Heather griped about her younger brother and his crusty socks. With only older sisters, Christy didn’t understand what Heather’s brother did to his socks. She asked if he just didn’t clean his feet. You laughed as Heather explained. Christy’s look of absolute disgust made you laugh harder.

“And your mom washes his gross stuff with everyone else’s!?”

“Well—” Heather coughed through an exhale. “Yeah? It all gets washed in hot water, so...” She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Ew!”

A moment later, Christy mentioned she’d begun working on a college application essay. Your parents had begun bugging you about writing one, but you didn’t know where you wanted to go. Heather said she was applying to Notre Dame and Indiana University. Maybe Purdue. She said she had the GPA for any of them.

You hadn’t dwelled on college since meeting Eddie. You made decent grades. You could write an essay. The registration deadline for the SAT was in February. If you showed interest, Mom would be thrilled to pay any fee or purchase any study guide.

You could work on an essay too, just in case. There was an expanding-your-horizons angle you could use. You’d moved to a small town, joined the community, learned new things, met different types of people. Yeah, all that had fueled your curiosity to discover more. And whichever colleges you applied to could support you in that, like, pursuit.

That was some decent, ass-kissing bullshit.

You smiled to yourself while Heather and Christy chatted.

But what would you major in? How could you hide your magic from a roommate? If you went, would you ever see Eddie again?

All those questions were hassles you didn’t need. No, you didn’t need to think about that now. You didn’t need to worry. What mattered was enjoying the last night of 1985 and relaxing with people who were becoming more than acquaintances.

You exhaled smoke towards the back window and stretched your legs.

With a side-glance at Heather, you thought it was cool — okay, well, maybe not cool, but it was fine — that Eddie checked out her ass. She was hot. She had a cute ass. More people should appreciate it. When she went to college in a bigger city, people would.

Maybe if you went to college in a bigger city, people would appreciate you. In New York, you’d done pretty well at clubs. You’d heard plenty of pick-up lines. From ‘nice boots, wanna fuck?’ to ‘you’re the girl of my nightmares.’

You finished your joint, nearly burning your fingertips, and threw the tiny roach in your empty wine-cooler bottle.

Yeah, you thought and closed your eyes, you deserved to be appreciated. Not set aside by some dumb, muppet-haired guitarist... who was talented and funny and smart and usually really sweet. A small voice pointed out he’d let you use his van. He’d given you jewelry, which you wore nonstop under your clothes.

Those weren’t the actions of someone setting you aside, were they?

Heather nudged your arm. You hummed and turned your head to her, opening your eyes.

“You ready to head back?” she asked. “It’s a little after eleven.”

“Yup.”

You rolled onto your knees and crawled to the back doors. Someone wolf-whistled. You laughed as you shook your ass in reply.

The air outside tasted fresh and cool, like sparkling frost. You breathed through your mouth to chill your baked throat. The tranquil woods on either side of the road were full of mystery. If you crested the hill to your right, you expected to see a wizard’s castle or an ancient fortress. There was something akin to magic here. It fluttered over your skin, familiar yet arcane.

A slight breeze drifted from the woods, chilling your face, nipping under your jacket. And with it came a sonorous voice, deep with thunder, calling your name. It took the mellow of your high. Your skin crawled as your heart beat rabbit-fast.

Not again.

You hadn’t heard that voice in weeks. At least, you thought you’d heard it a moment ago. It shouldn’t be able to find you, though. Maybe you were really, really high. Also, the magic you’d manifested was different, weaker, so mundane. You didn’t feel really, really high. You had nothing it would want now. It had stolen everything.

Hands shook your shoulders. You flinched from the touch.

“Whoa, hey, oh my god,” said a feminine voice.

It was Christy. You blinked at her and put a hand over one of hers. Christy was safe. It was okay. You were awake. He didn’t have you.

You were just really, really high.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Where’d you go?”

“I...” You swallowed drily. “No-nowhere. Sorry. I just got in my head a little, I think.”

The van’s doors clunked shut. You flinched again, then internally berated yourself. It was only Heather, who was safe too.

Christy released your shoulders, a crease of concern between her brows.

“You know what?” Shaking your head to clear it, you said, “I’m gonna go home. Sleep this off.”

Heather asked, “You sure? I can drive you.”

“No, no, I’m cool to drive.” You nodded to the van. “We’ll leave the keys on the front floor for Eddie to find.”

“It’s okay. We’ll give them to him,” said Christy.

You almost laughed at your absentmindedness. They were returning to the party — where Eddie was.

“Of course, yeah, sure.”

You ambled down Randolph with them, grateful for the company. They asked where you’d parked your car. You replied on Cornwallis, where the woods bordered a sedate neighborhood. Christy commented her sister had gone to a party at King Steve’s — who lived on Cornwallis — before everything went down with that missing kid and the girl who died from some freaky chemical leak.

Your eyes widened at the gossip.

Heather waved that away with an insouciant hand, though, to joke at how close Christy had come to being family with Hawkins royalty. Christy cringed, asking not to be reminded, as she bumped into you. She giggled and looped her arm around yours.

Having noticed your previous expression, Heather told you King Steve was a douche-y jock and former king of the school. You were familiar with the type. Heather continued, saying he’d graduated last year, but still lived with his parents. He’d explained it as wanting to take a year off.

She gave you a loaded, if blurry, look.

You bobbed your head despite not being entirely sure what the look meant.

This was small-town life. There was loads of gossip and labels for everyone. As you looked at the barren trees lining the road, you figured you had a label as well. Probably something dumb, like ‘goth chick’ or ‘weird girl’ — or whatever.

The party was still going hard when the three of you stopped at the restaurant’s turnoff. Van Halen wailed through the half-opened front door. Some dude puked onto the wilted grass by the road. Eddie stood at the building’s backdoor, talking to a guy you recognized from Trig class.

Damn, Hawkins High was a small place.

Heather checked in with you to make sure you were good to drive. Even though you nodded with an assurance you were fine, Christy tried to lure you inside with the promise of snacks. There were chips and pretzels and someone had made a platter of Rice Krispy Treats, but who knew what had happened to those since you’d been gone.

Like, that dude could be spewing chunks of tainted snacks. That was a thing that happened, you were sure. Your reason had nothing to do with the guy selling drugs.

You glanced at said guy. He hadn’t noticed you.

You shook your head, declining Christy’s invitation. She hugged you, regardless. You wished her and Heather a happy new year. They returned the well wishes before you continued down Randolph.

You wrapped your jacket tight around your middle. Maybe you should’ve told Eddie you were back, but you didn’t want to stick around. Not after hearing your attacker. Or hallucinating you had. Your mind was fuzzy, mouth cottony. You hoped your less-than-sober state deterred them — if you’d heard them at all.

And anyway, it wasn’t like Eddie had specified how much later after the party when he’d asked to talk to you. ‘After the party’ could be the same day or a week from then.

Yes, you were being an asshole.

No, you didn’t care. He’d started it.

The road darkened as the distance between streetlights lengthened. You were alone on an ill-lit stretch of road. You placed a hand over the charms Eddie had given you. This wasn’t the same as that night, you reminded yourself. You weren’t the same. Darkness wasn’t the enemy, either — and neither was the woods. It was peaceful.

A male voice interrupted that peace by calling your name. It was Eddie.

Of course.

You turned to see him jogging to you. His hair bounced with each step. His lunchbox swung from his hand. You opened your mouth to ask how he’d worked out you’d left the party. Then it dawned:

Heather had returned his keys.

When you weren’t there with her, he’d put two and two together.

“Leaving without me?” he asked as he stopped a few feet away.

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“Ouch.”

You shrugged since it was true.

He scuffed the heel of his sneaker on the blacktop. You raised your eyebrows at him, though you doubted he could see it. He remained quiet. You could just discern when he bit his lip. Light glinted off the lunchbox. It became obvious he wasn’t going to speak first.

Like ripping off a bandage, you prompted, “You wanted to explain?”

He drew nearer with a deep breath. Your first instinct was to back away, but you held your ground.

“I know I hurt you, but that wasn’t my intention. I thought you’d get it.”

“So, this is on me?”

“No, of course not... You left, though. Before I could explain.”

“So, it’s still on me.”

“No, dammit. Everything came out wrong.”

“Then make it come out right.”

“I’m trying, alright?”

You wanted to tell him to try harder, but that was something your father would say. You weren’t your father. You’d never be like your father.

With a sigh, you put your hands on your hips.

“Just...” You shrugged. “Say what you need to say, and we’ll decipher it.”

“I didn’t— I don’t want to push you away.”

“Then why do you need space?”

“Because I need to focus on making this band the best it can be.”

“And I can’t be there for that?”

“You are there!” He moved closer. “You’re in my head. All the time. You inspire me and distract me. And I don’t know how to balance it out. Distance is the only solution I got until I’m better.”

You dropped your hands to your sides.

“I don’t understand. I mean, I do. Kinda. But I thought we were getting to something good.”

You thought you two were something good.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “We are. We will.”

You shook your head. The sting of a week’s silence had turned into an ache.

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

He put his free hand on top of his head.

“I’m gonna be honest with you here. I think about you every day.”

Your eyes grew hot before tears blurred your vision.

His hand fell from his head as he said, “I’ve picked up the phone to call you so many times, but...”

You blinked the tears away as your chin jutted.

“But you don’t call.”

“Neither do you.”

“You pushed me away! I’m not crawling back to beg for your fucking scraps!”

“My fucking scraps? I’d give you fucking everything. I’m trying to give you fucking everything!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about being good enough, goddammit!”

“What?”

“You’ve thrown my life... out of whack. The band is unhappy. I haven’t been able to concentrate for shit this past week. I don’t have a new module for Hellfire lined up.” He took a step closer, lunchbox rattling in his hand. “I didn’t ask for this, but I can’t...” He shook his head. “I can’t, ‘cause all I want to do is write songs about you. Talk through ideas with you. Show you some stupid thing I found or read some stupid article to you.”

“Then call me. I don’t have to come over.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth. With him this close, it was easy to see when his lip came back wet and full.

“I can’t. I don’t have that kind of willpower.”

“Then why are you telling me this? Just let me go.”

“It’s the difference between torture and agony.”

“Wha—? I don’t—”

“Torture ends, agony doesn’t.”

“And this is fucking torture, Eddie!”

“Yes, and it’ll end, I promise!”

“I’m so sick of this shit!” You threw your arms out. “I didn’t ask for this, either!” You poked his chest with a finger. “I just wanted you.”

He grabbed your hand in both of his as his lunchbox clattered to the ground. You tensed, unsure what to expect. His calluses rasped over your skin. He uncurled your fingers to press your palm to his warm chest.

Softly, he said, “It’s not forever.”

“I’m not putting my life on hold.”

“Good.”

“I’m writing a college application essay and taking the SAT.”

He nodded.

“You’ll do great.”

Before your brain caught up, your mouth said, “My parents got me my own phone line for Christmas.”

“Can I have the number?”

“Only if you promise to call.”

“I promise,” he said as he walked you backwards.

Your rear met the cold steel of a parked car. You leaned against its solid support. The only thing separating your front from his was your arm sandwiched between your chests.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Probably not.”

He drew your hand up his chest, under the collar of his flannel, to the side of his neck. His skin was silky and hot. He was giving you the choice: pull him in or restrain him.

He whispered, “Let me touch you.”

“We are touching.”

“Then let me kiss you.”

You glanced at his lips.

“How can we do that if you want space?”

“Forget space for the night.”

“What about tomorrow, huh?”

“It’s not tomorrow.”

You focused on the ringer t-shirt under his flannel. It would be so easy to run your fingers under the collar and tug him against you. And you wanted to. You could see yourself doing it — again and again. You could also see him pushing you away, going silent, then calling when he can’t stand jerking off alone anymore.

“You can’t yank me around like this,” you said.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You give me this wonderful Christmas present, then say you don’t want to see me until April. It’s barely been a week, and you want to talk to me. You let me and my friends use your van, then you say I’ve messed up your life. Now you want to kiss me?” You shook your head. “You are yanking me around.”

“I know this is a shit situation, okay? But you gotta see it from my point of view. If the band doesn’t win this battle, we’re toast. We won’t have a clean demo or the money to get out of here...” His eyes turned glassy in the half-light. “I can’t do it, baby, I can’t.”

Your chest tightened in sympathy, but you had to advocate for yourself.

“Well, I can’t have my heart broken every time you need some stress relief.”

“You think it’s a relief to know it’ll hurt you?”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the only way to get the hell out of here with you.”

This circular argument was exhausting. You weren’t the type to make a musician choose between the band and the partner. That wasn’t fair. Eddie had to decide on his own. If you’d moved on, well, that was a risk.

You trailed your hand down his chest, then away.

“You know what? How about you figure out what you want and then come find me?”

You slid from between him and the car, banging your hip on the side-mirror. That must’ve looked super graceful. You rubbed at the sore spot as you trudged to your car.

Eddie called after you, but you couldn’t turn around. It would be too much.

He seized your upper arm to pull you back. In a move you’d only seen in an action movie, you spun around and propelled him to the next parked car. His hold disappeared as his backside plowed into the rear side panel, wallet chain clanking.

He looked as surprised as you felt. You’d done nothing like that before. Hell, you didn’t know you could do something like that.

Then you remembered he dared to keep you from leaving. Like you were some uncooperative puppy. You weren’t his to control.

You fisted his shirt and shoved.

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t just grab me.”

You pressed your knuckles to his sternum. Your pulse thudded in your ears.

He nodded.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Eddie, don’t grab me like that.”

You loosened your hold, but didn’t release his shirt.

“What was the plan, huh?” you asked. “Keep me here to listen to more of your shitty excuses?”

“I know what I want, alright?” He looked deep into your eyes. “I want you.”

“But not enough.”

“No, enough to work for it.”

He lay his hand on top of yours. You were shaking — and so was he. His other hand went to your hip and guided you between his spread knees. You wrapped an arm behind his back to rest against him. Though it hadn’t been long since you’d hugged him, it felt like ages. He smelled like you remembered: apple shampoo and cigarettes with the underlying scent of cheap aftershave.

Tension uncoiled from your chest as he wrapped his arms around you and settled his cheek on your head.

Into his shirt, you said, “I’m still mad at you.”

“Understandable.”

“You know, I’d never curse you or the band.”

“I know. It was a stupid thing to say.”

You looked at his face in the dim. The streetlight painted him in shades of orange. He looked back, eyes dark and sincere.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

“Kiss me where?”

A corner of his mouth quirked.

“Anywhere you’d like.”

You should say no, should push away — or at least argue. Then you realized the argument had no end. It would continue until April. Maybe beyond. You didn’t want his absence for four months. You didn’t want to be without his touch, his thoughts, his laughter for that time. A week had created an ache. Four months would see you crumble to dust. You didn’t want that for him, either.

Yes, it was a weakness to give in, but you were weak.

You whispered, “How about we start with lips?”

“We can do that.”

You braced a hand on the cold trunk and hooked fingers under his collar to draw him in. He widened his stance to bring you near and tilted your face to his. As he moved in, you kept your eyes open to the last second.

His plump lips meeting yours knocked the air from your lungs. You angled for more, to kiss harder. A groan from deep in his chest egged you on. He pulled you in tight by the waist. Your breasts pressed against his front.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips. You grasped his ass to pull him impossibly closer. His lips parted with a gasp. His back arched, thighs spreading. You felt wicked as you sucked at his bottom lip. He tasted of beer and salt. You followed that predictable combination with your tongue.

He rolled his hips and cradled your jaw as his tongue slid over yours. A hint of stubble prickled at your skin. Whether from his absence or your high, everything was better than you’d hoped. His scent reminded you of basking naked in bed with him. It made you want to rub yourself all over him like a cat.

Distantly, you wondered why you’d avoided him earlier.

He broke the kiss, panting against your lips.

“Can I finger you? You know I’ll make it good, sweetheart. Let me touch you, yeah?”

The thought of those talented, dexterous hands between your legs once more had your cunt pulsing. You wet your bottom lip, tasting his spit. He looked at you like he knew how your body had reacted.

You nodded.

Perhaps it was a mistake, but you’d deal with the fallout later.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a ‘thank you.’ His hand went from your jaw to your chest as he nuzzled your neck. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and fondling. Your breath caught, nipples hardening. His familiar touch burned through your top and bra.

He whispered your name between kisses to your skin. You sagged against him, letting your head crane back. In reply, his hand snuck lower to unbutton your jeans. The heavy bulge of his erection dragged across your belly as he made room to unzip them. Memory flashed like lightning: you palming him through his boxers on Halloween, stroking his covered cock, the rocking of his hips.

You wanted that as well and trailed a hand up his inseam. He paused, legs tensing. You leaned back to meet his gaze. Shadows hid much of his expression, but you knew he was uncertain.

An internal petty streak liked his uncertainty, because he deserved it. He’d made you question your relationship. He’d been contradictory and confusing.

You wedged a hand between his legs. Through his jeans, you pressed the heel of your palm into the warm base of his cock while you cupped his sac with your fingers. He let out a little sound as you massaged the firm ovoids of his balls.

“No one’s ever heard you make that sound, have they?” you asked lowly.

He shook his head, and you mirrored him.

“Anyone touch you like this?”

“No.”

“That’s right. No one’s taken their time with you, right?”

He gasped, “No,” with big, bambi eyes and parted lips.

And you wanted to savor him. You wanted him in your bed again, wild hair fanning across your pillow. You wanted to touch and be touched.

“No,” you said in agreement. “Just me.”

His thighs parted a little more as his breathing quickened. He rocked into your palm. The faltering hand at your stomach moved away to make room.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

You hummed and watched yourself caress the length of his denim-covered erection.

“Why start?” you asked.

“What?”

“After we get each other off, it all goes back to silence.” You dragged your nails up his cock, which throbbed. “Fuck, what are we doing?”

He put cool hands on either side of your face to force you to meet his eyes.

“We’re doing what’s necessary.”

He kissed you. He devoured you. The universe revolved around his plush lips against yours. Instead of a bright center, it was dark. He slanted his head, lips smearing across yours — an asteroid made of diamond. His tongue invaded your mouth, like he was desperate for your particular flavor — a black hole to draw you in.

You held onto his hips and rested your front on his. He spun you to lean on the car instead — twin stars orbiting each other. One hand went to the fly of your jeans to unzip them. His fingers splayed at the waistband of your underwear, pinkie sneaking underneath.

That touch, though gentle, seared your belly. You angled your hips.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he said against your lips.

It was your turn to say, “Don’t stop.”

Eddie hid his face in your neck and inhaled deep. He hummed as you clutched his shoulders. His hand snaked under your underwear until two nimble fingers slid between your wet folds.

You gasped, eyes going wide. That single touch made you quiver.

“This’s what I need,” he said as he found your clit.

You breathed a laugh. “Yeah? Creamed your jeans over this?”

“You got no idea.”

“Show me then.”

In silent acceptance of the challenge, he circled your clit how he knew you liked. It was the right pressure, fast and firm enough.

“So wet.” He dragged his teeth over your neck. “Wanna bend you over this car.”

You squirmed on his fingers.

“Maybe later.”

“Yeah, later,” he said before sliding a finger inside you.

His palm cupped your mound, finger massaging your slick cunt. He stroked your walls and teased your g-spot. You maneuvered him by the hair to kiss him. His mouth was lush and demanding and perfect. With one taste, you couldn’t get enough.

He rocked his hand, keeping the pressure on your mound and inching his finger in and out. You groaned into the kiss as you writhed. It wasn’t enough — and he had to know it.

“C’mon, gimme what I need.”

“Yes, milady.”

He eased his finger out and returned to circling your clit. You nodded while biting your lip and stilling your hips. He began slow, using two fingers to keep the stimulation going. Your legs wobbled. You jerked against him. An arm slithered between your back and the car.

“I got you.”

You clung to him and swayed with the motion of his fingers. You continued moving until he was working your clit too fast. Letting your forehead rest on his shoulder, band pins cool on your skin, you panted as pleasure grew. It licked like fire up your spine.

There was only heat and escalating tension. He held you tight through it. Grateful, you wanted to kiss him again, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t break the spell, lose the thread. But you thought of his talented, ripe mouth — fuck, his tongue — thought of him bending you over and eating you out. He could do it right here, in the open, with the chilly air flitting over your exposed ass. Your cries would echo through the woods.

“Oh, shit...”

“That’s it, baby.” He kissed your temple. “Come all over my hand.”

You groaned as thoughts fractured like glass. You were going to come just like he wanted you to. It was right there. You teetered on that event horizon. The licking fire became stronger, hotter, until it blazed — a supernova. You muffled your moans in the soft denim of his vest as you came. Your cunt throbbed — a pulsar. It kept going and going as you burned and clawed and strained in Eddie’s arms.

His fingers came to a standstill, pressing on your clit. You shivered as your cunt pulsed one last time.

You grabbed his nape and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed you deep and hard, nipping at your lips, tongue invading and teasing. His soaked fingers spread a honey-like trail over your skin as he gripped your hip.

“Take me home,” he said. “Sneak me inside. I’ll fuck you all night. Do anything you want.”

You blinked away the daze of orgasm as you caught your breath. Home meant getting his perfect cock in you. His hands would hold your hips, fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises. You could ride him on the window seat as the sun rose. Your parents would be sleeping off hangovers until at least noon—

A pop of a firework interrupted. Cheers and whoops rang from the old restaurant.

It was tomorrow — and now 1986.

“Can’t. We can’t,” you said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you placed fingers on his kiss-swollen lips.

“Really. We can’t.”

You traced the edge of his lips as he stared at you with dark, gleaming eyes.

“This sucks.”

To assuage his suffering, and yours, you kissed him once more. His grip on your hip tightened. He sucked on your bottom lip and rolled his hips against yours. It nearly had you forgetting yourself, your surroundings, your self-respect.

You pulled his hair to break the kiss. He groaned. His erection pulsed where it pressed into the side of your belly. You shushed him, running fingers over his hair.

You asked, “Want me to drive you to your van?”

“Nah, I need to cool off.”

You hummed. “Not possible.”

He snorted. “It’s going to be a long four months.”

With a nod, you smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone.

“Happy New Year, honey.”

You released him and stepped back. His hands left warm stripes on your hip and back. You fastened your jeans, the wetness in your underwear uncomfortable.

You finally looked at him. His bottom lip quivered, as though he was just hanging onto his composure. You wanted to offer comfort, to give in, to take him home, to forget the past week. Instead, you took another step back.

Your throat was taut as you said, “See you in O’Donnell’s.”

He nodded and looked at his feet.

Your heart wrenched, making it hard to breathe. Your eyes flooded, making it hard to see. You didn’t know what else to say, so you remained quiet. You weren’t sure you could speak, anyway.

When he didn’t raise his head, you tiptoed around him. You made it a yard or two when he said your name. You turned to find him watching.

“Happy New Year.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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whateveronfilm · 2 years

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pov: being assigned to take pictures for the 1986 yearbook and also absolutely head over heels for the one and only eddie munson, which leaves you with loads of outtakes. but will he start to catch on to your feelings? (2/?)

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dadsbongos · 11 months

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chapter 5 - two of hearts (reprise)

3.7K words

@latenightsimping @mantorokk-writes @kitmon @thornsnvultures new series all finished :) warnings - got eepy and didn't edit this as thoroughly as i did for other chapters

prev. chapter / masterlist

Dragging big work boots that you slapped on (you're sure they're your dad's), Mr. Kennedy's brow raises at the glum, muted gray and blue of your sweater and pants. He's standing before your ex - what was he exactly? You barely dated, after all.

Mr. Kennedy is standing before your ex-potential boyfriend, hands firm on his hips and both staring at you. He jerks his head towards Eddie, "You wanna switch partners?"

Exhausted and baggy eyes widen at once, betrayed and bug-eyed gaze flipping to Eddie in an instant. You fold your arms across your chest and 'hmph' as he stutters attempted excuses.

"I - well- you know, it'd be awkward? I just didn't wanna make things tough- we don't have to!"

"Wow," you muse, not particularly caring that Mr. Kennedy's face is stern and over this melodrama, "first you destroy my ego, and now this?" Eddie winces and you shuffle past to where your desks were smashed together, "What's a girl gotta do to get some compassion around here?"

"Nothing!" Eddie clamors after you, hands shaky and knees wobbling. He was hoping to take the coward's way out - really show his mother's far-and-away Irish blood in some silent exit. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of actually leaving.

"So, no switch?" Mr. Kennedy huffs as he sits back on his chair, "Kids."

"I honestly," Eddie waits until you look at him, swallowing the needles in his throat, "Honestly? I just figured you didn't wanna sit next to me and work with me, and I'm sorry I tried switching…" he looks away, little tears sparkling in his brown eyes, "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I should've never done it. I should've dated you for real," you're silent, peak stoicism and it makes him so nervous he just can't help but keep fucking talking, "I'm sorry I'm so dumb," he just can't help but try and break the tension with bad jabs, "I wanna throw myself into a fire every time I think about it."

And like a cornered animal, like the shrew everyone shudders at, you snap and bite, "But not before you did it?" you shush him as his pretty lying mouth opens, "You're such an asshole. You know? You know, I was excited to actually meet you because my brother and sister and all their little friends adore you," you make a big show of how your eyes crawl over him, little stinging bugs from head to toe and he feels like he's suffocating under the weight, "I wanted to see what the obsession was. And honestly, I can't see it."

You neglect to mention that at one point, you could. And it was beautiful.

He blinks, stupid lashes fluttering and stupid bambi eyes wet and stupid cherry lips wobbling with potential. Eventually, he settles on, "I'm sorry…"

And turns around in his chair to face forward - right at the blank chalkboard. At nothing.

"What hurt the most," your voice snips, rawness exposed, "was that you didn't bother calling after you left."

You don't know what you were hoping for, but it definitely wasn't this sullen silence as if he's the one hurt.

So you continue to thrash and snarl and bare your teeth, "I can't wait to deliver my yearbook bullshit. Declare that you do have layers - evil, then sweet, then evil again," he sits still, except for the incessant battering of his fingertips against the desk, no rhyme or rhythm just batting to bat, "Because you're selfish, you know, at the end of the day. You like winning more than you like being liked."

When he continues to pay you no mind, you feel crushed. You want a reaction to know he cares, and you want that more than you know that Eddie isn't the type of person to argue back when it matters. Petty debates are his hobby, but in real moments - he shuts down. You've seen it before. But that isn't how you operate, so you now walk away assuming you had less of him than when you began.

You dart out of the room, sneaking through the very back of the room and dodging Mr. Kennedy's annoyed face. You get to the parking lot, blotting little droplets from your lashes before you realize why you even care so much. Why you even want to forgive him after what he did.

Because no matter how upset you are, you still just want him to run up and loop his arm through yours and plant a fat, noisy, obnoxious Eddie Munson trademark kiss to your cheek. You feel like an idiot. You fell in love with Eddie Munson after one official date.

Normally, Jonathan drives you and the littles to school. But you didn't exactly tell him your newfound plans to ditch, so that's out of the window. Instead, you find a pay phone at the nearby gas station and dial Hungry Howie's.

"Hungry Howie’s, thank you for calling, how can I help you?" a tired drone breaks over the phone and you can imagine the person hunched over their box in the kitchen, half asleep.

"Robin's working today, right? I need to talk to her."

One fake delivery later, you were pushing open the cabin door and staring right at your dad in the kitchen. He's in a big white T-shirt you vandalized in seventh grade to say '#1 COP DAD and plain faded jeans.

"I wanted to surprise you both," he puts down the overflowing bowl of sugary cereal and wipes away the remnants of a milk mustache, "Take the whole week off, but now I'm being surprised."

"Yeah, well," you press your back to the door as it shuts, kicking off Jim's mud-stained work boots and stomping into the kitchen, "Relationships are stupid and I'm remembering why I never dated."

Eddie isn’t completely certain what Mr. Kennedy said as he ran out of class, his footfalls overlapped until he came to the fork between an exit and the foreign language hallway. Well, maybe Mr. Kennedy just sighed.

Taking the sharp corner into a long line of doors with pastes of other countries’ flags on them, Eddie pressed on a practiced path to the last door on the left. Dustin Henderson’s amateur Latin class.

He slots his face into the thin window that stretches about halfway down the door, waving a ringed hand behind the glass until Dustin finally locks eyes. Subtly, the boy shakes his head - swearing off the idea, at least until Eddie’s face becomes stern and he stomps a foot.

‘Mature’, Dustin mouths before throwing down his pencil and raising his hand and pointing over at the rack of laminated passes. He grabs the yellow one with a little stick figure next to a toilet on the right-hand side and slips out the heavy door.

Shoving Eddie out of the window’s view and into the nearby boys’ bathroom, Dustin grumbles, “This is why Suzie has to fix my Latin grade.”

“I fucked up,” Eddie wrings his hands, eyes flitting away from the good-natured and concerned face of his little right-hand man, “I need a lot of help…”

By the time Eddie’s twisted tale has wrapped up, Dustin’s left with an unhinged jaw - hands wide at his side, “How did I never hear about this?!” before Eddie can respond, he puts up a hand, “Also, that’s so mean - we all need to talk about this.”

“Not now, man,” Eddie scratches at his arm, nails scraping away the sturdy build of anxiety from the past day, “Just tell me how to fix this.”

He can see that Dustin doesn’t truly want to, but he has a big heart and so he sighs, “Alright. To get her forgiveness, you have to offer yourself up on the altar of dignity and even the score.”

Eddie’s neck snaps to check under the stalls, as if somebody had crept in during their conversation, “Don’t say shit like that out loud, man.”

“No,” Dustin punches Eddie’s shoulder, skin sticking to the leather of his jacket, “No, no! You don’t get to listen to Mike’s dumb ass all you want and then shut me out,” only when Eddie concedes with an eye roll and slumps back, does Dustin continue, jabbing a thumb into his own chest, “Because I know exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie puts both hands up, “I surrender myself to your knowledge and wits.”

“Good,” the boy nods surely, “First you’re gonna tell me what she likes, we need something big. Something Mike could afford.”

“Why?”

“We’re getting rid of all that money you got and we’re spending it on her because that’s what we should do.”

“And then? Getting her presents cannot be the whole plan,” Eddie flicks the electric blue brim of Dustin’s Thinking Cap.

“And then…” Dustin throws his arms out wide, “You sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity.”

Eddie’s first thought goes to that pink and purple and blue lighting he first saw you - really saw you - under, dancing and free to the sound of sweet Stacey Q in The Sunset. You go every Wednesday and Saturday.

And he now has two days to learn a guitar cover of Two of Hearts.

“I mean, the nerve of that guy to not even come to school after that,” Barb gags, “Makes me sick!”

“Right?” Robin scoffs, shaking her head with folded arms, “I mean- what kind of person- “

“Please,” you settle onto one of the plush velvet barstools, clicking your nails against the smooth white counter, “I kinda don’t wanna talk about him right now.”

Settled against the counter by an elbow, Robin sucks in sharply, leaning over to nudge you, “Are you in the mood to see him then?”

“Huh?” you whip around, the stool screws squeaking as it spins and you catch Eddie Munson on stage - ole Sweetheart hanging over his chest and fumbling hands securing the microphone into its stand, “He’s such a fucking idiot.”

Barb nods solemnly, “This really isn’t his scene…”

Eddie’s eyes scan the crowd until he comes across the bar, and you can see his hand twitch up as if to wave. He decides against it, “Hi…” the call echoes and he winces, “Uhm, a girl that I - that I love is in the crowd tonight, and this is the song that played when I first saw her here,” he leans back, observes the group of misfits before him, and leans back in, “I also just recently realized what kind of place this is, so… I’ll be on my way soon,” and just as you think he’s finally about to begin, the devil’s forked tongue splits his lips again, “Also, you know, don’t worry about me saying anything- “ he raises a fist and you’re so mortified, “Power to the pussy and whatnot.”

And so the normally poppy and saccharine sweetness of Two of Hearts is replaced with echoing strums and the deeper tumble of Eddie Munson’s little Satanist voice. Little angelic loverboy Satanist voice.

Barb turns, red ringlets twisting and brown eyes flickering to you, she has the question on her tongue - You wanna leave? - but despite your prior complaints, you’re entirely hypnotized. Frozen on the stool with both hands stuck to your knees, eyes wide and doughy and so loving it hurts her.

She hates Eddie right now more than she ever hated Steve Harrington, but she fears that asking you to break out of this moment then perhaps it’ll send you spiraling. Which direction, she doesn’t know and she definitely doesn’t want to find out.

And you spot each other again, his chest puffs up when he notices you staring - he grins and that same twitch to wave hits his arm. And this time you’re seeing him - really seeing him - under pink and orange lights for the first time. Messy curls and pale skin and scratched, bumpy leather reflecting sunset shine and he sees you under Cupid’s magical pink lights and he thinks he’ll just about die if he can’t see you ever again.

And the lights change, flowery violet and it snaps you from his stare. You hop down from the stool, hands shaking at the realization of how ready you already are to forgive him. With knocking knees and lungs that squeeze between the gaps in your ribs, you slide down the checkered hallway into the bathroom.

Robin and Barb follow and Eddie’s already begun planning his next stage of apology.

Your locker jiggles open, door thick and stuck to the rusted frame - but eventually it pops open, just as it always does. A jumbled light blue fabric with baby pink flowers and flourishing green leaves printed over it rests on top of your textbooks. No price tag is attached but you recognize it from store windows and magazine catalogs with pretty brunettes and blondes and mannequins wearing it.

“What is it?” Barb leans against your side, peeking over your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“A dress,” you answer simply, balling your fist into your thigh and pressing until the muscle grows sore. Laura Ashley, the one you’ve wanted to wear to prom since it first was even announced.

You turn, spotting Eddie as he tries twirling around to pretend he hadn’t been watching you.

“What are you trying to do?”

Eddie kicks at the tile as if there are rocks and dirt to distract him, “Well, I had some cash that a guy paid me to take out a girl, but I fucked up by falling for her,” he shrugs, eyes fluttering from the tiled floor and the spot right between your eyes, “Fucked up even more by hurting her, so I have to try and make it right.”

And this is what you wanted, right? To be sick and twisted and see him miserable. You asked and you received and you absolutely hate it here.

“And are you hoping to get something out of this?”

He presses his lips together, thousands of little responses on his tongue, and yet none can escape - you hate how he shuts down, “It’d be nice to get back together, but I can’t expect anything when I’m the one that fucked up.”

“Eddie, I- “ you pause, laugh, and feel something hot like lava catch in your throat because you think you’re more scared about how badly you want him than you are angry at his misdemeanor.

And you can’t find a way to say that, so you turn and scamper off as the bell rings. Eddie sighs something heavy and thuds his head against the locker behind him, a heavy clang rings through his skull when suddenly the call of his name interrupts the self-pity. Dustin lingers just down the end of the hall, head and shoulders peeking past the wall as he gives an over-enthused thumbs up.

“You saw that, right?” Eddie’s bambi eyes follow Dustin as he skitters over, “Very decidedly not thumbs-up worthy.”

Dustin smacks Eddie on the shoulder, pearly whites on full display, “But she wanted to forgive you! Did you see that hesitation? We just need something incredible, something really big that she really wants.”

Eddie’s gaze flies up to the water-stained, browning ceiling tiles, “I have an idea, but it’s gonna be a huge pain in the ass.”

And for a week, you heard nothing from Eddie Munson. And for a week, you were ashamed over how heartbroken it left you - much more broken than when he initially screwed you over so royally.

Earlier today, Principal Higgins said he had to meet with you after school - theories boundless as to why, and it left you with cold sweats and a racing heart. What’s worse? Robin and Barb were sketchy about it all day. Downright refusing to look your way when you began the tale of the fucked up request.

And until you actually slip inside Higgins’ office, you were honestly thinking that perhaps they’d been replaced with heartless little science experiments that took on your friends’ shapes.

Upon entering Higgins’ office, you see the man himself adjusting a purple and yellow striped tie against his white button-down. You also see Barb and Robin and Chrissy fucking Cunningham littered around the carpeted room - leaning against walls and nestled into large indoor tree pots. And, of course, it isn’t a party unless he’s there, Eddie Munson squirming in the rightmost seat before Higgins.

“Munson came to me about your idea for a girls’ club,” Higgins gestures to the left seat, and you twitch your way into it, “I agreed under the terms that Hellfire split the drama room for your meetings. The scheduling for that will be up to you.”

Like that first fresh breath after a dunk in the pool, you feel your lungs lift. Your hands clench against the material of your floral dress - the closest you could get to that gift from Eddie without having the balls to actually wear it.

“As long as you, Barbara, Robin, and Christina don’t drop out and you can maintain proper club reports then- “ Higgins gestures to the four of you, “The club is yours. Appropriate files will be with your homeroom teacher next Monday.”

You nod slowly, arm and fingers numb as you reach over to snatch the President’s pin from Higgins’ hand. As soon as the cool metal is in your hand, the needle pokes an angry dot through your palm.

“Okay, happy ending, now shoo! Shoo!”

And with that, the mismatched group was sent lingering in the hallway - now empty of the bustling teenagers ready to be rid of the education system nightmare for the day.

“Congrats!” Chrissy Cunningham is the first to speak once you’re all out, her hand spindles against your shoulder, “I was so excited about the club when Eddie told me about it.”

“Right,” you can’t feel her hand on you, and you can’t feel it when she pulls it away - you don’t think to look for Barb and Robin. Not that you even can when there’s a sudden blur in your vision. The corners of your eyes left bubbling with this shock.

You’ve wanted this forever and you want Eddie, but you don’t think you could stomach the idea of people thinking you’re some gullible simp. And maybe he can tell because he’s quickly taking you aside.

Lovingly, he holds you, brushing hair out of your face and swallowing the pins in his throat, “I hope these are happy tears or something…” he laughs hollowly, “If not, I’m sorry.”

And the tears decide to fester on themselves, spreading like sores down the sides of your face, you think you’re really smitten with this guy. You wipe the tears and sniffle and say, “I’m so done being dramatic, but it feels like I have to be.”

Eddie shakes his head softly, and now you can feel his hands on you - they’re warm, “Why do you have to be dramatic? You’re, like, the frontman of the Individuality band.”

You wrench your face sharply, smearing the sores from under your eyes, “I just don’t wanna move too fast,” but you’re shifting closer to him, “I feel like I should be mad, but I’m not anymore, and I don’t know if this is the right way to go about everything.”

“Well, you know- I can’t make you forgive me- “

“That’s the thing, Eddie,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut so tight that not even Geoff Capes could pry them open, “I do forgive you! I forgave you ten minutes after I found out! I haven’t been mad at you, but everybody else thinks I should be and I’m just not - and that’s so fucking scary.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then his hands slide down from your arms to your hands and he feels even warmer now, “I have to show you something.”

The girls and Higgins and the nightmare of this high school drama are left behind as Eddie drags you to the drama room. He’s rambling, in his usual stupid-sweet way, with a message that basically settles into “the guys are mad at me, but they can eat rocks”.

A pink symbol of Venus lays against a blue, purple, and orange sunset on a crumbled white banner on the middle table. It’s squiggly and the colors don’t bleed into each other quite right.

“Did you paint it yourself?” you turn to Eddie.

He inhales sharply, shrugging, “Yeah, had to retry like three times.”

“And you think I’m worth all this trouble?”

“I had five more plans if this one didn’t work and you didn’t tell me off.”

Because he thinks you’re sweet and loving, and you lean in and kiss him.

And he wraps his arms around you, tight like you might suddenly slither out. He buries his face into the junction between your neck and shoulders, hair tickling the side of your face.

“I missed this,” he whispers, going lax against you, “God, I missed this.”

Suddenly, you frown and he can feel it, “I should probably redo my assignment.”

He pulls back, plucking stray hairs out of his face with a quirked brow, “You finished it?”

“Yeah,” your face grows hot at this admission, “I went on a rage bender and it was done before Jane’s bedtime.”

But he laughs, full-bodied and entirely contagious - you find yourself giggling along with him. Eddie’s head is thrown back before he sighs, shaking his head, “You should keep it, it’d be funny!”

“No way!” you lightly punch his chest, brows furrowed, “I can’t be one of those people complaining about their boyfriend - that’s crazy!”

“Then I can help, if you want,” Eddie offers, leaning back in to kiss you.

But you lean further away, a teasing smile on your lips, “Nope. I want it to be a surprise!”

“Good things?”

“You know it.”

“I have good things in mine, too.”

“I’d hope so,” you lean in to return his kiss this time, then pull back suddenly, “But don’t think you can just pull extravagant bullshit every time you mess up!”

“Of course, not,” he rolls his eyes, “There’s also smaller bouquets of flowers and trinkets and jewelry.”

You laugh and finally lean in, only to pull back again, “But seriously- !”

“I know, sweetheart,” he closes in for you, stealing a chaste peck, “I’m messing with you.”

“Good,” and you cup his cheeks this time, bringing him back in for a much harder, more passionate, very deserved kiss.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #10 things i hate about you #eddie.🍓#10 things i hate about you.🍹

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