#fucking eddie in the last image
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VINCENT & EDDIE | GOAT CITY | 2069
#fucking eddie in the last image#cyberpunk 2077#male v#cyberpunk oc#van hagen#vincent kennedy#i never got around to naming the other two#i should get on that#male v monday#masc v monday#a twofer#q
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My sister once told me she thought the reason Zato never stopped wearing black in all of GG's 25 year history was because he can't color-coordinate his clothes since giving up his vision and it really got me thinking. His color palette has stayed the same but his strive design has sooo much more variety in texture. Metal plating, insignias, leather should straps, etc. The idea that he now shops for clothes via touch and textiles is so nice 🥰
I support this .. u know whoever the guild hires for outfits and such had such a struggle w him insisting on all the textiles lining up.
#eddie very seriously hunched over his shoulder trying to describe the exact shade of black in the most esoteric terms#and zatos like hmm. hints of raspberry. no no. we dont want this. and nodding at him as if it means anything.#thats so funny though. imaging losing your sight abd just going. well fuck. the last outfit I picked was a banger lets just do that again.#for like a decade.
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bump n’ grind
a lil continuation to gimme a hand wherein our lovely reader helps eddie out after an embarrassing mistake.
18+ mdni. again, mostly just smut. maybe some angst towards the end i guessss. eddie munson x female reader.
eddie’s on cloud nine.
his head floating well above the pretty pink room he was currently in.
not entirely sure how he ended up here but also not at all angry about it. a night of rum and beer had lead him to this.
sarah.. savanna.. something, sits atop of his lap, bouncing off of his thighs like a jacked up rabbit.
he’s clawing at her back, trying and failing, to keep a steady grip on her wild body. appreciating the soft squeaks that left her mouth with every bounce.
and before he can really think about it enough to stop his mouth, he says it. wanting to dig his own grave the second his lips spread.
a long, drawn out iteration of your name.
she stops, immediately. breathless as she grips his shoulders, “what’d you say?”
his cock aches and his cheeks burn, any hope that she’d just ignore it and continue had flown out of the window, “what?” acting clueless, “i didn’t.. didn’t say anything.”
eddie knows full well what had slipped out of his loose lips, muscle memory from the embarrassing amount of times he had whined your name while imagining that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.
“you said somebody else’s name,” she frowns, sounding far too close to a possessive girlfriend rather than the one night stand that she actually was.
“did i? i don’t really remember.. does it matter?” with full sincerity, wondering if she was going to stay on his dick or climb off and throw him out.
“if i’m having sex with someone, i at least expect them to know my name,” she scowls, clambering from his lap to the empty space next to him.
“shit,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “fuck. i’m sorry,” sobering up instantly, embarrassed by his blunder.
she sighs, taking pity on his pathetic self, “is she your ex or something?” re-dressing herself with an old t-shirt, rightfully putting an end to their encounter.
“no..” eddie frowns, shaking his head, “she’s my.. my friend.”
best friend actually. making it all the more confusing and complicated. he’d spare her of all the gory details, for her sake.
“oh,” the girl gawps, stifling her laugh. “you should tell her,” leaning over to grab her phone, no doubt to tell all of her friends about eddie’s embarrassing freudian slip.
he’d deserve it.
-
eddie perches on the end of your bed, not daring to move any closer for fear of losing it and touching you like he dreamed of doing.
it had been four months, two weeks and five days since you’d jerked him off in that tiny bathroom.
not that he was counting.
and still nothing more had happened between you. a few instances where eddie had thought you were close but nothing of any real consequence.
nevertheless, a day hadn’t passed since where he hadn’t thought about it at least once.
he’s memorised every single frame of that video, all the times you pant and twist your hand. the exact second his phone falls onto the counter and the video changes to an image of the back of his head.
every. last. detail.
you jab your foot into his back, peering over your phone screen to frown at him, “what’s wrong with you?”
eddie sighs, letting his shoulders slump, still staring at the torn ac/dc poster he had ripped off the wall for you. it reminds him too much of times where things weren’t so complicated.
“i hooked up with someone the other day,” he states monotonously, uncaring anymore about telling you what had really happened.
“okay?” you jab him again, “why are you sad about that?” confusion echoing.
“i’m not sad.”
you sit up, the mattress shifting behind him, “then what the fuck’s your problem?” leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, in that similar position you were in all those months ago.
sometimes he wishes you’d never touched him. that he had just settled with chrissy and you had never been an option. not that you really were now, still unobtainable, taunting and teasing him.
“i said your name,” he exhales in one big breath, “i said your name while i was having sex with her.”
his shoulders felt lighter now, despite you still resting on them. something about the relief of finally letting you know how he felt. embracing his stupidity.
“really?” your mouth falls open, “holy shit, that’s funny,” he can feel your hands creep up his back, sending shivers over his skin.
eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words. he could see how you’d find it funny, but he couldn’t see the humour in it himself. in fact, it was a marker for the absolute desperation he felt towards your new complex relationship. not only had you taken over all of his waking thoughts, but you’d somehow subliminally crept into his intoxicated mind thoo.
“what were you thinking about? when you said it,” you pry, head twisting around to look at him.
“you.”
“me?” you rasp, right into his ear. “what about me?” feeling your breath against his cheek, transporting him straight back to wayne’s cramped bathroom.
his eyes fall shut, like he’s in some humiliation ritual, getting off to the way you teased him so.
“that video.. that stupid video,” he whispers, tuned in to every twitch of your fingers on his back, your soft breaths in his ear.
“oh,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, unwilling to open his eyes to see it again, “is that it? just the video?”
he doesn’t understand why you’re asking so many questions. obviously enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch, antsy and reluctant to say anything.
“i was.. picturing you were her,” he squeezes out, blood rushing to not only his cheeks, but his cock too.
“aw,” you coo, hand sliding higher, “tell me how it felt,” voice thick with desire, fingers circling around his shaking shoulders.
“good..” his eyes squeeze together, feeling his jeans shift uncomfortably, “not as good as you did,” almost begging, pleading for it.
you hum, your other hand finding the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his jeans.
if you kept this up, he’d cum all over his fucking pants.
you squeeze the skin, a low grumble from yours lips, “what position were you in?”
oh god.
“w-why?” eddie chokes, seeing stars behind his eyelids.
“i just wanna know, eds.. so i can picture the scene.”
his head tilts back, allowing you the opportunity to creep into the crook of his neck, traces of your lips just barely touching the sensitive skin.
“please tell me,” you mumble, vibrating against his trachea, making his toes curl, grounding himself with the rough carpet.
“she was on top,” he spits, balling his fist around your blanket.
it didn’t feel real between his fingers, poorly substituting your body for the cotton.
“oh,” you shift, the bed frame creaking as you clamber into his lap, resting atop of his thighs. “like this?”
he doesn’t open his eyes. can’t, not without cumming his pants right there. but he can feel you, perched just below his crotch,
“what’d she do now? hmm?” dragging your nails down his chest, your fingers prod at his skin, forcing him to flop back against the mattress.
the space allows you to shuffle upwards, your cunt brushing against his aching cock, leaving him no choice but to turn into pure mush beneath you.
“fuck,” he breathes, daring a glance in hopes to keep the image ingrained in his mind forever.
your hips begin to grind against his crotch, groaning softly with your palms flat to his chest.
“you like that?” you purr, rocking back and forth on top for he rough denim of his jeans.
“i need you.. fuck, please,” he keens, fingertips so firmly pressed into your waist that they’d leave indentations for days.
you don’t respond, sighing softly as the friction between you grows stronger, cruel and twisted in the way you tease him.
he doesn’t understand what all of these almost-encounters mean. it’s like you want him but not fully. holding yourself back for the right moment or perhaps just trying to keep him going until somebody else came along.
his hands slide around to your ass, moving with every jerk and cant of your hips. gruff, frustrated sighs leave his mouth, mixing somewhere in the air with your whiny moans. need and urgency ricocheting around the walls of your room, yet neither one of you prepared to take it all the way.
“jesus eds, are you gonna cum?” you breathe, as much as this was for his benefit, you were getting off as well.
that alone makes this other worldly. even if he was doing absolutely none of the work, you were writhing and gasping just as he was.
it’s almost incomprehensible how much you using him to get off was frying his brain.
eddie was about to combust, the closeness of it all, so near and yet still so far apart. two layers of clothes felt like a million miles. finally brave enough to open his eyes, hoping to keep this image seared into his brain forever.
“yeah.. yeah i’m gonna cum,” he whines, jerking his hips up to meet yours, rocking against each other in perfect rhythm, “please.. oh fuck- fuckfuckfuck,” his cock positioned perfectly between your folds, covering your pajama shorts with your slick.
“good boy,” you breathe, fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, not letting up on your torturous grinding.
your tone is somewhere between mocking and sincere, but he doesn’t care. doesn’t have the brain capacity to if he’s honest.
his cock twitches against his boxers, hips shuddering into the air as an uncomfortable warmth overtakes his crotch.
“oh god.. shit,” the sudden realisation of the mess in his pants, how grotesquely down bad he was for you, hits all at once.
your lips curve, shuffling down to the top of his thighs. you don’t exchange words, just a sly glance that erupts into giggles. leaning down to peck his lips as your hands let go of their hold on his chest.
eddie’s hands don’t move, gripping onto your hips, hoping you’ll stay there for the rest of eternity. not only had he cum in his pants, he had done so at a disturbingly fast rate. a few minutes of what was essentially dry humping had left him sticky and full of shame.
“are you ever gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, practically begging for your mercy, needing to know for his own sake.
he likes to think that if you said no, he’d be able to walk away with his dignity, to never let this embarrassing display for pathetic yearning happen again.
yet deep down, he also knows that that’ll never happen. you could string him along forever and ever and he’d never do a thing about it other than cherish the moments you let him touch you.
your laugh topples over, slinging your leg over his waist to kneel beside his lifeless body, “one day,” kneeing him softly in the side, “go get changed, i’m hungry,” climbing off of the mattress, disappearing from his eyesight.
his head flops back onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, ignoring the feel of his boxers clinging to his skin and the inevitable wet patch seeping through to his jeans.
an insatiable churning in his stomach for more, for you.
but eddie is eddie, so instead of doing any of the things that he really wanted to do, he rolls off of your bed with a sigh, shimmying out of his jeans just as you’d asked him to.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie’s munson one shot
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gulity as sin ; eddie munson
synopsis: since eddie joined your friend group, you’ve fallen for him. but sometimes the feelings you’ve harboured for him make you feel guilty—but he’s just too dreamy, so how could anyone blame you?
warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of weed & alcohol & partying, mentions of sexual thoughts, downbad!reader & eddie, love confession & makeout!!!!
note: i just had to get this out of my system but i’ll write my next ttpd fic based on the winning things on the polls don’t worry!!
“just so you know, you’re staring at eddie like you wanna fuck him” robin whispered in your ear as she came to your side with extra vcr tapes to stack near the back of the store.
“jesus! am i really?” you asked in a hushed whisper, face crowing warm with embarrassment. you couldn’t help it when eddie just looked so good as he leaned on the front counter talking to steve.
while you mentally face palmed yourself, robin gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “just a little bit”
peeking back over her shoulder at eddie to make sure he wasn’t looking at you (because you’re anxious & paranoid), you let out a breath of relief. “you think he noticed?”
she laughed “i hope not”
letting out a quiet gasp, you shoved robin’s shoulder “thanks for the vote of confidence, rob” you said sarcastically.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!—but seriously…” she paused for moment to create dramatic effect. “when are you gonna fess up & tell him how you feel?”
the big question.
with a big sigh, you shook your head in retreat. “probably never. it’s just some stupid crush—& besides, we’re just friends. i don’t know if he’d like me like that, rob.” you said while getting back to work, trying to get the image of eddie’s ring clad hands out of your mind so you could focus.
“is that really how you feel? or is your fear of rejection speaking for you?”
narrowing your eyes at her, you rolled your eyes knowing she was kidding (but was she? were you really hiding behind a guise so you wouldn’t get hurt?).
“you know,” she paused to look at eddie. “if he doesn’t want to jump your bones, i’d be floored” she said cheekily, causing you to nudge her rib cage.
“he doesn’t” you stated, but in your mind you hated the thought of it.
“if that’s what’ll help you sleep at night” she chided before moving onto a different shelf, the open space letting your eyes drift back to eddie, only to find that he was looking right at you.
“you coming to the party by reefer rick’s place on the weekend? i convinced stevie boy here to tag along—“
“—& to be the DD. i don’t know how i got roped into this” steve cut eddie off with an exasperated expression.
with the spotlight (eddie’s eyes) on you, you couldn’t help but feel stuck in place & your mind was running a million miles a minute.
clearing your throat, you nodded. “yeah sure! i should be able to if keith doesn’t make me come in last minute”
the last sentence caused eddie to roll his eyes.
“who cares about what keith says—you’re coming & you’re gonna have fun! you’re deserving of blowing off some steam, right?” eddie said convincingly.
“he’s right! fuck keith & his stupid last minute shift calls“ robin agreed with steve soon following suit.
jokingly with your hands up in surrender, you finally agreed. “maybe you guys are right…”
“of course we are, babe!”
the pet name eddie called you made your stomach flip in six directions, your face growing warm until steve beat you to speak.
“when the hell did ‘babe’ get into your vocabulary, munson?” he asked eddie with a quizzical eye.
“oh calm your tits harrington—“
“hey man, i don’t have tits & i am calm so shut—“
“hey!” you yelled, shutting them both up. “no bickering on my watch, idiots” you pointed to them both, causing eddie to place his right hand in his heart in apology.
“what do you expect,” robin chimed in. “they’re five year olds”
you both laughed a bit at her comment while the guys just rolled their eyes.
“well, i’m gonna head out & prep for my next campaign. butttt, i’ll see you geeks saturday?” he asked while twirling his van keys around his index finger.
before steve could try to rebuttle against eddie about him calling you all “geeks”, you beat him to it.
“yes—we’ll be there! bye eds” you waved sweetly, your hand flattering when eddie shot you a wink before heading out the door.
as the glass door chimed & shut after his departure, you immediately turned to robin.
“he winked at me!” you mouthed to her with excitement.
“are you guys secretly talking without including me, again?”
turning to steve, you gave him an apologetic look. “she was just fawning over how eddie winked at her” robin said with a nonchalant smile, causing you to gasp.
“robin—“
“why do you care if he—wait… ohhh… that makes sense” he lit up like a light bulb, going back to checking through the return log on the computer.
you stood there stumped at his reaction.
“is me liking eddie predictable?” you asked aloud, causing steve & robin to share a glance.
“yes” they said collectively, leaving you to sigh & turn back to the shelf to finish stacking the pile of tapes.
**~*~**~*~*~**~*~~*~**~*~*~~***~*
it was now saturday, & you were on speaker phone with robin as you were getting ready for the party.
you had decided to wear a short flowy black skirt, fishnet tights, your favourite black boots, & a dark green babytee with your favourite band on it. it was simple, but cute (& you secretly hoped eddie would think the tights were a nice touch).
“do you think you’ll tell eddie how you feel once you get some liquid courage in you?” she asked genuinely.
with a thoughtful sigh, you stopped applying blush to your right cheek. “gosh, rob—i don’t know. i don’t think it’s a good idea”.
you could tell she was shaking her head from the other side of the phone.
“remember when i was too afraid to tell vicky i liked her?”
you knew what she was gonna say. “yes, i do”
“so, you remember how you told me i should just ‘go for it! do it before it’s too late—what’s the worst that could happen?’, right?”
you slumped in your desk chair, fidgeting with your makeup brush. “yes…”
“sooo, you gotta practice what you preach—tell him before you regret it!” she encouraged, but still, you were horrified to.
“what if—“
she shushed you. “no what ifs. don’t do that to yourself—just be honest when the right moment comes along”
staying silent for a moment, you thought it over in your head before coming to a conclusion.
“maybe you are right, robin”
“i’m always right—regardless of what steve says” her words made you laugh, relieving you of a little stress.
**~*~*~~~*~***~*~**~**~*~*~~*
it was now nine-thirty on the dot & you could hear steve’s beamer honking from your driveway, signalling that it’s time to go. as soon as you stepped onto your driveway, you were met with hollers & whistles from your friends in the car—including eddie.
as soon as you saw him with his head out the window, whistling & vocally saying “shit y/n, looking good!”, you could’ve sworn you were going to collapse then & there.
shushing them before their hyper annoyed your neighbours, you (coincidentally) got into the backseat with eddie.
“you have everything?” steve asked before reversing the car.
“yes, dad” you joked before a silver flask was shoved into your lap.
“got you your favourite” eddie told you with a smile, causing you to audibly “awe” & thank him before taking a swing from it.
despite steve having a fancy car, the backseat was surprisingly small, so you knew it was going to be a long night with how your thigh is already pressed into eddie’s & his fingers were tapping his jean clad thigh dangerously close to your exposed one.
you caught him every now & then staring at your tights too, which didn’t help the fantasies brewing in your mind of him taking them off you.
“you excited?” you asked him while steve & robin were caught in their own conversation.
swiping his tongue across his teeth, he looked at you with a gaze that made your stomach tighten. “as long as you stick close by, then yeah i’m excited” he nudged you gently, allowing you a moment to process what he just fucking said.
tucking your hair behind your ears (a sign that you were nervous & liked him & were going insane), you let the conversation drift into comfortable silence as steve turned the radio up.
thank god for that.
**~*~~**~**~***~**~*~~**~**~*
the party eddie brought you guys to was packed at some random house on lover’s lake.
& it reeked of pot & beer, which was normal & expected.
with the flask eddie gave you in your right hand & eddie’s hand in your other (because the front lawn was packed & he didn’t want to lose you), your group maneuvered your way inside to disco party lights, sweaty bodies, more pot & more beer.
your grip on eddie’s hand was taut as you continued sliding past more & more people while muttering “excuse me, sorry!” over & over until you guys arrived on the dance floor.
“do you want anything?” eddie leaned down & whispered into your ear so you could hear over the music.
you took a second to answer because of how warm his breath felt against your skin. “no i’m okay, i got this remember?” you said with a smile, holding up the flask he gave you.
returning you a smile, eddie let go of your hand because robin was pulling you to dance a little.
“be back in five!” eddie mouthed to you, holding up five fingers & looking at you until you waved in acknowledgment.
“okay there’s no way he doesn’t want you” robin yelled into your ear as the song changed & people roared happily.
laughing & shaking your head, you disagreed.
“cmon! let’s just dance, yeah? destress!” steve yelled to you both before bopping his head to the music, causing you & robin to look at each other before laughing & join in.
the more songs played & the more you swing back eddie’s flask, you could feel yourself letting loose a little—possibly even making you feel courageous.
so much so that when eddie returned with a red solo cup with some sort of drink, you slung your arm around his middle for a quick hug.
“missed me?” he yelled in your ear.
“just maybe” you replied, feeling his right hand rub your arm up & down before fetching a joint from his pocket.
“missed me more now?” he asked again, laughing when you nodded your head, eyes glassy from the smoke in the room that was building.
“outside?” he yelled again, & you were the only one that agreed.
*~*~*~~*~~*~*~~**~***~*
departing from steve & robin to go smoke, eddie grabbed your hand once again & kept you close as you both made your way to the back porch that outlooked onto the water.
the backyard was still filled with people, especially jocks who were doing dumb keg games, but you didn’t mind. with your back against the siding of the house & eddie in front of you, caging you in, all you saw was him.
& god he looked hot. his hair was a bit frizzy, but his leather jacket managed to showcase his muscular arms & his slightly cropped band tee allowed you to see the happy trail on his abdomen.
it took everything in your power not to fold then & there.
“you want the first hit?” eddie asked as passed you his drink & pulled his lighter out of his pocket.
with a simple nod, you placed the joint between your lipstick covered lips & leaned forward for eddie to light the end of it for you. the action felt extremely intimate & already hand your skin tingling.
with the joint slotted between your fingers, you took a few hits & relished in the buzzed feeling it already gave you. & knowing eddie & is interest in pot, you knew whatever was wrapped within the joint was the good shit.
while you were taking your hits, eddie was reminding himself to not get hard at the thought of your lipstick rubbing off onto the joint or how you looked pretty with smoke exhaling from your mouth—he could feel his pants start to feel the tiniest bit tight at his view of you.
when you handed the joint to him, eddie stood beside you on the wall & took his time (possibly so you could look at him a little longer?).
& you didn’t care because he just looked too perfect with his head tilted up, the veins in his neck showing in the porch light, the joint rested between his ring clad fingers—you could already imagine yourself getting off to this image of him later—but you reminded yourself to stay cool.
everything was fine! you guys were just friends!
“you feeling okay?” eddie asked, turning to you who was already giving him soft doe eyes.
“better than okay” you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder because you felt too warm under his gaze.
“wanna get off inside?” you heard him ask, causing you to cough & blink for a moment.
“shit—what did you say?” you looked at him, feeling his hand begin to interlock with yours again.
“i asked if you wanna go back inside—you sure you’re good?”
oh god, now you were hearing things.
“y-yeah, good idea” you mumbled as you followed his lead, holding on tight to avoid getting broken apart through the sea of teenagers & college students.
you only broke apart when robin pulled you in for a hug, hearing her say “it felt like you were gone for ages!”
for the rest do the night, you told yourself to he lost in the music rather than thoughts of eddie munson doing nasty things to you, which was going pretty successful until you felt his breath on your neck again.
“wanna dance?”
& how on earth could you say no?!?!
you let him pull you into his arms, his hands firm on your waist while yours were loose around his neck.
with the pot & other alcohol mixing in your system, you felt on top of the world. especially with eddie’s eyes on you. he’d twirl you around in circles & give you room to dance your heart out with him in your grasp & steve & robin would give each other knowing glances about whatever was brewing between you too.
you felt hot, sticky, & tingly all over your skin (not just because eddie was touching you) so you pulled his head down a bit to yell in his ear. “i’m gonna find a washroom!” & he was leading you around the house to find one without a question.
once you both found one of the third floor of this outrageous house, you pulled eddie in with you & turned on the light, thankful there was a dim setting.
“jesus, that was bright!” eddie shielded his eyes, causing you to laugh as you hopped up onto the counter.
exhaling a sigh of relief, you let your head lean back & rest against the mirror while eddie leaned against the closed door.
“do you need me to like, turn around or something…?” he asked, wondering what you were going to do.
“no—i just wanted to go somewhere quieter. less sweaty bodies”
he nodded understandingly before shamefully looking you up & down, telling himself to not get hard at the sight of you so pretty. you were already falling down a rabbit hole of all the things you want to do with him right now, each more dirty than the next—it would be just so easy for him to take off your skirt & unbuckle his pants—wouldn’t it?
but the guilt started to seep in & make you hide your face to groan in annoyance because why on earth were you spiralling like this?
“is something wrong?” he walked to you, holding your wrists & pulling them away to uncover you.
“just going insane is all” you replied, causing you both to laugh until he reached up to wipe off some of your smudged eyeliner from your under eye. he just needed to touch you somehow.
“guess what an old friend told me while i was getting a drink earlier”
you tilted your head in wonder, staring directly at eddie’s lips as he spoke.
“he saw us walk inside & told me that we looked like some couple from a movie—don’t remember which one though…” he ended with a murmur, too focussed on swiping his thumb on your cheek until you spoke up.
“is that a bad thing?” you asked, suddenly feeling small in this washroom with his hand directly on your skin.
eddie was closing in on you now, & you didn’t want it to stop.
you instantly felt sober now. especially with how each swipe on your skin felt like he was making you his—which was definitely an exaggeration but how could you need feel that way when he was holding you so delicately?
shaking his head ‘no’, eddie’s brows furrowed. “of course not—it’s not a bad thing. i-i just thought it was, i dunno, cute—“
“cute?” you questioned softer than him, a smile in the beginning stages of forming on your face.
was this your moment that robin was talking about? you sure hoped so.
“i-i think that’s the right word” he stumbled over his words, feeling your right hand brush some hair out of his face.
“i think so too”
& then there was comfortable silence.
you weren’t sure how to move forward from here. do you tell him all your feelings for him that you’ve keep hidden in a vault at the back of your mind? do you tell him that you’ve been fantasizing about him for weeks? that he’s the only one that makes you feel so many things?
you wish this part was easier.
“would it be, i dunno, uncalled for if i told you that you’ve been driving me crazy?” eddie asked, immediately unlocking said vault inside you.
“are you serious?” you asked, completely sober now as you pulled his hand away from your face & fixed your posture, eyes locked on his for the answer.
“as serious as the dead” his breath hitched, unsure if he made things worse or misread whatever signs you sent, but before he could apologize your hands were already on his face to pull his lips to yours.
it was a messy, top lip & hungry kiss that you’ve been dying to experience since you first laid eyes on him. & god did it felt right, with his tongue meshing with yours & his hands gripping your fishnet covered thighs as he pulled you closer to his body with aching need.
it was the kind of kiss that tried to convey just how you felt about him, the wanting & lusting from afar, the longing glances & lip bites when he made you feel a certain type of way.
it was catastrophic & heavy but sweet with laboured breaths of beer & smudged lipstick.
“holy shit” eddie breathed out against your lips, chasing him for another kiss because it was just that good but you were smiling & clashing your teeth against his & giggling from how silly it all felt.
“that is why i’ve been going insane” you panted against him, hands falling to grip the cotton of his shirt.
“i’m crazy about you eddie. & it’s not the drugs talking, i promise” you swore, scouts honour.
with his forehead pressing against yours & laugh escaping his lips that had little bits of your lipstick, he squeezed your thighs. “i would hope not, ‘cause i’m really crazy about you too”
you closed your eyes now, relishing in the weight lifting off your shoulders & how his touch felt electric. “eddie” you exhaled.
“yeah, sweetheart?” his fingers were pressing different patterns on your thighs to the point where you asked in yourself if he was writing ‘mine’ across the fishnet material.
“can we do this again tomorrow?” you asked, already longing for this feeling to last, praying this wouldn’t be just a one time thing at a party.
“i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, so yeah, i think we can make it happen” eddie smirked, kissing you quick before pulling back to see your swollen lips.
“wanna go back to the party & surprise the geeks?”
“i’d love to”
& with eddie whisking you from the counter, hand on your hip as he lead you back downstairs, you both immediately saw steve & robin jumping up & down happily when they witnessed you two looking like love sick idiots who finally fessed up.
young love, am i right?
#l0vergirlwrites💌#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things fanfic#steve stranger things#stranger things netflix#fanfic
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His Onlyfans Girl- Eddie Munson.
Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Eddie Munson x onlyfansgirl!fem!reader
Summary: your best friend’s father becomes one of your subscribers on onlyfans, when you confront him about it things get a little heated. (3.7k words)
Warnings: 18+ mdni, modern AU! age gap (Eddie is late 40’s, reader is in her 20’s), masturbation, pornography, confrontation, slut shaming, arguing, oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie.
Author’s note: this is a continuation of this post!
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3
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When he heard about this "onlyfans" thing he rolled his eyes and brushed it off thinking it was just another porn site. He normally sticks to what he likes and what he knows is reliable, but he kept seeing things online about onlyfans and wanted to see what all the hype was about.
He scrolled down the main page and saw all the random women posing in scandal clad clothes, pretty faces that he'd forget in five seconds once he scrolled past. All of the accounts were locked because he had to subscribe to them and he didn't see a reason to pay for porn when he could get it for free. He scrolled and scrolled until something jumped out at him, your page. He couldn't believe it, you and his daughter had been friends for a long time and he had no idea you were doing these things on the internet.
He immediately kept scrolling and tried to pretend he didn't see that...but part of him was curious. He sighed and scrolled back up and clicked on your account. He knew it was wrong in every sense of the word but fuck, he couldn't look away. He couldn't see anything at all because he wasn't subscribed to your page, he had a strong feeling in his body and he knew exactly what it was. Desire.
His mind raced with a million reasons why he shouldn't do it but his urges were just too strong, he caved and put in his credit card information and subscribed to your onlyfans. His eyes lit up when he saw all of your photos and videos, he knew he would regret this in the morning but he didn't give a fuck. He needed to get off, get off looking at your body.
He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest as he saw you laid out before him on his screen, he always thought you were attractive but this was a whole other level. He could hardly blink because he was afraid he would miss a detail of your body, you were perfect to him, your body was like it had been crafted by god himself just for Eddie to admire. His hand found its way into his boxers as he memorized every line of your figure, the curve of your breasts, the shape of your hips and how they lead perfectly to your pussy.
He started to stroke himself faster as he clicked one of your solo masturbation videos, he breathing became more labored the faster he pumped his cock, he couldn't tear his eyes off of dildo that stretched you out. He wished that was him, that he was your toy, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring you pleasure. "Fuck" he whispers under his breath as he feels his orgasm nearing rapidly, he works himself faster until he finally released all over his hand. He falls back into his pillow, he pants hard as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air, when he comes to his senses he realizes what he had done.
He quickly clears away the website, he deletes his search history praying that no one will ever find out about his taboo acts tonight...especially not his daughter. Guilt and slight paranoia sets in as he thinks about the consequences he would face if she found out, he knew this would hurt her and that was the last thing he would ever want to do, he cursed himself for being so weak and giving into his desires. He took a deep breath and tried to erase you from his mind as he wiped himself clean with a tissue and laid his head down to rest, he closes his eyes and very slowly drifts off to sleep. His dreams were plagued with the images of your body, making for a very restless night.
-
The next morning you woke up to the sun beaming through the curtains filling the room up with a warm light, it was just like every other morning, you allowed your eyes to focus and adjust to the brightness before reaching over and grabbing your phone off the nightstand. You unlock your phone and do your daily check of social media, you scroll through different timelines on various apps to catch up on any news you missed while you slept. When you've had your fair share of meme consumption you take a trip over to your onlyfans account, when you started it a few months ago it was just as a little way to make some extra cash apart from your regular 9-5, but you soon started to gain a following and it became your biggest source of income. You didn't find anything wrong with what you were doing, everyone needs to get by somehow plus you had a lot of fun making your videos, not to mention the positive attention really boosted your confidence.
You scroll through your new notifications, you read all of the comments and saw who liked your posts, you checked out the accounts that had just subscribed to your page most of which go by pseudonyms to remain anonymous. Everything seemed normal until you saw it... "Ed Munson" had subscribed to your onlyfans. Your heart sunk to your stomach and you immediately sat up in bed, you couldn't believe what you were seeing, was this really him? You frantically clicked on the account to find anything to prove it wasn't him, but you were met with a blank page, no profile picture, no bio, absolutely nothing.
Your hands started to shake with nerves as thousands of questions run through your head, maybe it was someone else? If it is him, why did he subscribe to your account? Oh god, what if she finds out? How many Ed Munsons could there be You couldn't believe this for a second, you had known Ed since you were eighteen that's when you first became friends with his daughter, you and her met in a college math class and instantly clicked. You would go over to their place to hang out and he was always kind to you whenever you spoke, but he always kept things brief because he didn't want either of you to feel like he was barging in on your fun. Never once did he ever show that he was interested in you sexually or try to make any advances on you, he was a respectable man and a man that you could trust, but this, this threw you for a loop.
You got out of bed and tried to forget about what you saw, it really couldn't have been him... at least that's what you tried to convince yourself of. You went through your normal morning routine because you had to be at work in an hour but all you could think about was this situation, you were very open with her about your onlyfans and its content but this would crush her. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't let her know about her father paying to see your explicit content, you felt so bad just thinking about how this could affect your friendship, and losing her was something you couldn't afford.
Once you finished getting dressed you grabbed all of your stuff and headed out the door, you got into your car and started it, as you waited for it to warm up you tried to think of a way to make this situation better. You knew it was probably best to leave it alone and pretend it didn't happen but something in you was dying to know just why he decided to subscribe to your account when there are thousands to choose from. Despite your better judgment, you couldn't handle the not knowing part and decided to go straight to the source, you pulled out of your driveway and set off to the Munson residence. Your heart raced as you got closer to the house, there was still a possibility that it wasn't even him and if it wasn't then this already awkward situation would become even worse.
Your hands start to sweat as you grip the steering wheel tightly, you're so anxious about what will come of this, whatever it is can't be good. You pull into the Munson's driveway and shut off the engine, you stare at the front door through the windshield for what feels like an eternity before unbuckling your seat belt and stepping out of your car. You take a deep breath and rehearse what you're going to say to him in your head as you walk up the pavement that leads to the door, you raise a shake hand to the polished wood and knock three times.
-
Eddie was in the kitchen sipping his morning coffee when he heard the knock, he wondered who could be popping in so early, he let out a sigh as he sets him mug down and heads to the front door. You hear the click of the lock being turned before it was opened revealing the man you were looking for. When he saw you his heart immediately fell to his stomach and images of the night before rushed to the front of his mind, he thought he was dreaming because you were the last person he expected to see this morning.
He quickly composes himself and speaks as nonchalantly as possible "Oh uh hey, Y/N, what are you doing here? She left for class an hour ago-"
You take in his appearance, he definitely had just rolled out of bed because he was still in his pajamas and his hair was a bit messy. His smile lines were deep, showing his older age and years of laughter and joy he must've experienced, you could tell he also hadn't shaved in a few days by the salt and pepper stubble on his face. He wasn't an ugly man by any means, in fact, you'd known him to have a few girlfriends over the couple of years you'd known him. His daughter told you he never wanted to get married because being held down to one person just wasn't his style, you never said anything about it but often wondered if he was very lonely.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Munson, I'm not here for her," you start and immediately feel your mouth become dry with nerves as you realize what you're about to accuse him of. "I need to talk to you."
Shit, she knows he thought to himself, he knew he would get caught at some point but not this soon, he nods slightly and steps to the side allowing you access to his home "Please, come in." The tension in the air was so thick you could almost grab it with your hands, you walk into the door and step into the medium-sized living room that was furnished with a couch, recliner, and a flatscreen mounted to the wall. You walked over and took a seat on the suede sofa and he follows behind you taking a seat next to you but keeping a respectable distance. You could hear your heart beating as you fidget with your fingers working up the courage to speak up "So, Mr. Munson-"
"Please, call me Eddie" he cuts you off
You look up at him, his big brown eyes staring back into yours, "Eddie... do you know what I do for work?" You ask him while trying to find any sign of discomfort in his expression
fuck. "You work in retail don't you?" He replies referring to your normal day job
You sigh softly, he's gonna make you say it, "Well, yes I do but-" you pause and look down at your hands, you couldn't look at him when you said this "But... I also do onlyfans."
"Oh" he blurts out, he didn't expect you to be so straightforward about it "I- I've heard about that before... I didn't know you did that sorta thing." He lied through his teeth, his palms started to sweat and he awkwardly wiped them on his pajama pants.
You look up at him and see the blush in his cheeks had become more prominent, you tried so hard to not show your emotions on your face as he lied straight to your face but you couldn't help but grimace "Right." You say flatly "Well this is awkward but... I know you subscribed to my page" You said it. You actually said it. The words hung in the air for a moment before he spoke
"What? I wouldn't do-" he starts to protest but you cut him off
"Please, don't lie to me. It'll just make things worse"
You can see the gears turning in his head as he debates on coming clean, he knows it's the right thing to do but fuck, it was so difficult.
He sighs, he had been caught. "Okay, yes I did subscribe but I- I can explain" he knew he couldn't but he was gonna try his best. "You see, I went on the website and I was looking at all the different models and uh, I subscribed to a page and didn't realize it was you till afterwards" he didn't sound too convinced himself and by the look on your face he knew you weren't buying it. He swallows the spit that was starting to fill his mouth "I'm sorry... I hope you can forgive me"
"Look I don't want to pry into your personal life or anything but I really can't have you looking at my pictures...what if she finds out?"
Something about the mention of his daughter puts him in defense mode, he straightens his posture slightly and speaks in a lower deep voice "What I do in my private time has nothing to do with my daughter. It's none of her business."
You're taken aback by his shortness with you, you've never seen this side of him before "Are you serious? If she finds out about this it would crush her, I'm not gonna have you ruin my friendship just because you're a pervert." You realize what you just said but it was too late, you didn't mean it, well you didn't mean to say it out loud. There were just so many emotions running through you, you couldn't stop yourself.
He scoffs "Excuse me? Young lady I'm no pervert," he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest "I'm not the one selling naked pictures online."
Your mouth drops open slightly, you couldn't believe what he just said to you, but you weren't going to hold back now. "Oh, I bet you didn't have a problem with it when you were getting off to me last night" Your tone was full of sass and was also slightly raised, he was starting to piss you off with his lack of concern so you decided to test him "what if I told her, huh? What if I spilled your dirty little secret?"
His heart sunk, and his anger level began rising at your proposal, he wouldn't let you do that to him...his daughter means everything to him and he wasn't going to let one mistake ruin their relationship. "Don't fucking threaten me, I told you she doesn't need to know anything. I don't need a little slut like you trying to ruin my life, now if you will, get out of my house." He stands up abruptly and grabs you by the arm pulling you up and dragging you towards the door. You try to pull your arm away from his grasp but he doesn't let you go, you plant your feet as best as you can on the linoleum making it harder for him to pull you.
"I'm not going anywhere, we're not done talking about this" you protest
"Well I am." He says with finality "Matter fact, I don't want you to hang around my daughter anymore, clearly, you aren't the sweet innocent girl I thought you were."
This angered you, he had no right to dictate who you could be friends with, his daughter is an adult and he's acting like you're going to corrupt his precious Angel. Before you could think you brought your hand up to slap him but he caught you by the wrist and pulled you into his chest, he looked down at you, rage filling his eyes as he whispered harshly "Don't you dare." Your knees almost gave out on you by the sheer force of his movement, you were so close to his face you could smell the coffee that lingered on his breath. This awoke something in you, something that you knew would bring you nothing but trouble, but oh, would it be worth it. Your eyes flicker down to his lips then back to his eyes before slowly leaning in, Eddie stands still and doesn't move a muscle as he watches you lean in. You gently brush your lips against his, giving him an out in case he didn't want this but he doesn't put up any resistance, you connect your lips together in what starts as a soft kiss but quickly escalates.
His hands grip your waist tightly as he slides his tongue into your mouth, he slowly guides you back to the couch and lays you down before climbing on top of you. You knew this was wrong, he's your best friend's father for Christ's sake, but you knew you couldn't stop this from happening...you needed it to happen. He slips off your shoes leaving you in your socks, you moan softly into the kiss as you feel his hands unbuttoning your pants, the thought of him seeing you naked made you wet, he pulls down your pants and your panties at the same time exposing your lower half. He breaks away from the kiss and sits up a little, he grabs your legs and spreads them apart. "Fuck," he mutters as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy "It's even better than the photos."
He dips his head between your thighs and begins to feast on your sensitive flesh, you let out a moan as his tongue flicks your clit softly, the prickling of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver down your spine as the pleasure builds within you. "Oh god," you say breathlessly as you feel your orgasm coming, his hands tighten their grip on your thighs and he looks deep into your eyes as he continues his relentless assault on your folds. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you gently rub yourself against his tongue as you go over the edge, your body trembles beneath his touch, and your pitiful whimpers fill the living room as you ride out your high. When he feels you've had enough he comes up for air, he takes a few breaths before attaching his lips to yours once again.
Your taste on his lips is intoxicating, the severity of this entire situation has heightened all of your senses making all of this even more pleasurable for you, you would regret this for the rest of your life but who cares right now? You're about to get fucked. Eddie pulled down his pajama pants revealing his hard, throbbing cock, he strokes it a few times before whispering huskily against your mouth "Get on all fours." You nod and flip over, you rest your forearms on the arm of the couch and arch your back to give him better access, he grabs hold of your hip with one hand and uses the other to guide his dick to your entrance.
He slowly slips himself into your tight hole, you let out a shaky gasp as his thickness stretches you out, he groans as he slowly starts to buck his hips "So fucking tight, baby" he picks up speed slowly before giving it his all, you can't hold back anything as he fucks you hard, all of your moans and whines fly from your mouth without a care. Eddie wraps his fingers around your hair and yanks you back to him making you arch your back even more as you turn your head to look at him. "How's this cock feel?" You could hear all of his lust for you in those words over the sound of slapping skin" Better than that fucking toy huh?" He asks rhetorically before releasing your hair and pounding into you even harder.
As you feel all of your limbs shake as he pleasure you, you hear him say all sorts of dirty things out loud like "Should post this for your fans" and "You take cock so well", you don't have the will to reply because your brain can't form any coherent thoughts. Your heart was racing a mile a minute after your third orgasm, Eddie's groans became louder and his breathing much heavier as he was about to cum, "s-shit" he stuttered out, his hips bucking hard against your ass as he unleashed his seed into you. He loosens his grip on your hips and slowly pulls out of you leaving a trail of his cum to drip on the couch, he slumps back onto the couch and pants hard, he wipes some sweat off his forehead before looking over at you as you flip back over.
It was like he came back to his senses immediately after he came, his eyes widened before he buried his face into his hands "fuck- what have I done?" you could hear his muffled voice cry out, he fucked up big time and there's nothing to do to change it. He sighs and looks up but he averts your gaze, "Not a word about this to anyone, agreed?"
You swallow hard before nodding, "Agreed." You felt terrible about what just happened. "I- I'm sorry about this." You apologize weakly
"Don't be," his voice was calming but still raspy from the sex "It's not all your fault. We'll pretend this never happened."
You reach for your pants and try to put them on as quickly as possible, fuck you think as you remember you have work and you're now an hour late, "I've gotta get going" you say as you stand up and quickly button up your pants and slip on your shoes and stand up, you look down at him laid out on the couch. "I'll see you later?"
He looks up at you, clearly debating what to say, he sighs before saying, "Yeah, see you later."
You give him a final nod before quickly walking towards the door.
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⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ୨ ୧ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃.
summary: in which you show your best friend the new christmas lingerie you bought for a guy, and he finally snaps and shows you how much better he is for you. (wc:2.8k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up irl), possessive!eddie, slight breeding kink, degrading, praises, kinda dom!eddie, but v soft dom/sub tones, kind of a daddy kink (its used like 2 times i can never properly do daddy kinks im stupid) no use of ‘y/n’, nicknames!
pairing: best friend!eddie munson x bratty!fem!reader
authors note: so i was just looking for christmas lingeries, and saw those bow ones that wrap around your body. and i was listening to sabrina carpenter's fruitcake ep and this was made oops. not proof-read ignore any mistakes pls or ill bite u. [EDIT: sorry for posting this a million times tumblr won't co-operate w me so i got rid of the dividers. i hope it works or im gonna bang my head against the wall.]
“Do you think Chris will like it?” You hummed, admiring yourself against the mirror, moving around with a giggle as anticipation pooled in Eddie’s tummy, his breath getting more ragged, and pants getting tighter around his relentless bulge.
Speechless.
Eddie stood speechless, gaze darkening the more he admired you, he didn’t even know which part of you he wanted to take a mental image of.
It was like you stepped from his filthiest fantasies, giggling up at him with that alluring smirk on your face. God, you had to know what you were doing to him.
The red bowknot wrapped around you perfectly, cradling your curves, tantalizing him further and further. You were his precious Christmas gift, just waiting to be unwrapped by him, and him only.
Not that stupid jock who probably couldn’t even make you cum no matter how hard he tried.
No, you needed him, you needed Eddie to unwrap you, and show you how to properly be punished for even suggesting if this was good enough for you to surprise your boy toy with.
“N-no!” He spat quickly, getting up from the comfortable way he was sprawled on your bed.
Your head cocked to face him. “W-what? Do you not like it?” You jutted out your bottom lip, and he so badly wanted to bite those plushy lips, shut you up, and show you who fucking owned you.
You had been teasing him non-stop lately, and this had been your last resort, you knew Eddie always fell for your jealous antics, but this had been too much, you knew this would finally push him off the edge, finally handle you the way you wanted to be handled, rough and possessive.
Neither of you were good at communicating your feelings, but this, this is what you were good at. And you had been wanting Eddie ever since the two of you became best friends.
There was something unspoken there, a line the two of you always wanted to cross, always handsy with each other, always too close, but never stepping over that boundary. And you were growing tired of it, the nights you spent with your fingertips circling over your clit, imagining his calloused hands, mewling for him.
And the nights, the mornings, the showers he spent, abusing his hardened cock with the images of you sprawled out for him, begging to fuck him had been torturous enough.
He deserved this, he deserved you.
This was it, and Eddie was willing to fuck over the friendship once and for all. To finally make you his.
“N-no, I like- love it.” He stammered, taking a step closer to you, “but there’s no fuckin’ way he gets you like this.”
You wanted to smirk, the excitement you felt in your tummy was unexplainable, heat pooling with a need for him as you wanted nothing more than to have him push you against the sturdy beige wall of your room, exploring you, marking you as his.
“That inexperienced asshole, doesn’t deserve you,” he spat, pushing his body closer to yours, merely inches away from you, and you nodded dumbly at his words.
“You need someone who can take better care of you, princess. That can handle you like you deserve to be handled, don’t you think?” He coos, hand dipping to the lacey bow that adorned your curves, everywhere he touches feels hot, so hot that you almost whine, just at the sensation of his rough hands.
“Do you think he knows you better than me, angel?” He tsks mockingly and you’re quick to shake your head.
“That’s what I thought too, baby…” He hums, running his fingertips over the soft fabric that barely covers your slit, “Do you think he can handle a brat like you? D’you think he can actually put you in your place like I would?”
His fingers now dance over the wrapped bow, teasingly, wanting nothing more than to unwrap it and see you fully, naked, and begging for him.
Your thighs rubbed together with need, “Honey,” he hummed dangerously close to your ear, breath fanning against your cheeks, and you melted into him, “if I unwrap you, am I going to find you soaking for me?” He pressed open-mouthed kisses down the shell of your ear, tongue striping a lick down to your throat.
The anticipation is killing you and you want to answer him, but his slight touches on your body are making it impossible, he’s fucking perfect, and could probably make you cum undone with just his words.
You whimper slightly, glossy bottom lips still jutting at him and he tsks, “Nuh-uh… baby, I thought I told you not to be a brat.”
“Use your words, sweets.”
“Yes,” You breathed, barely, eyes opening wide to see the way his amber gaze darkened.
“Yes, what?” He taunted, grip on your body getting tighter.
“Y-yes, sir,” you gulped, gauging Eddie’s reaction obediently.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he smirks under his greedy moan, quick to let his hands roam around everywhere, fingertips slipping underneath the fragile fabric barely covering your slit, he groans when he realizes just how wet you are.
“Is that all for me, baby?” He hums into your mouth, swirling your slickness inside of your clit, grinning while having no mercy on your lips, all biting and nibbling.
You’re quick to nod, breathless when he’s basically everywhere, and it isn’t long before he frustratingly unties the stupid bow getting in the way of him and you.
With a growl he almost rips it apart, tossing it aside, and his eyes widen at the sight in front of him.
“F-fuck, princess, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he moans needily, eyes taking in the sight of you, naked, pooling for him. Perfect tits, waiting to be sucked by him, bare ass waiting to be marked up by him, crimson red handprints would look perfect on it, he decides.
He presses his plushy lips onto yours, desperate and sucking on your tongue, while his finger slides inside of your tight cunt, other grabbing onto your breasts, and you can do nothing more than mewl for him.
Then his finger retracts from your sloppy walls, you whine at the loss and he’s quick to shove his fingers down your throat, you happily accept it, sucking greedily on his fingers, tasting yourself on his fingers, it’s all so filthy and you throb more and more for him.
His darkened amber gaze is on you, almost groaning at the way you suck on his fingers, wishing he could fuck your greedy throat with his aching cock. But not now, because fuck, he needs to be inside of you.
With a growl he wastes no time picking you up, tossing you against the bed with a soft plop, and you giggle when he settles beneath your thighs, enjoying how rough and attentive he is.
His grabby hands are everywhere, hips rolling into you, but he’s far too clothed, yet you can still feel his bulge pressing against your thigh, making your sloppy cunt clench around nothing. You’re desperate, and he feels big, so big that your mouth waters at the thought of him not fitting into your mouth, his cock stretching you out, fully.
You tug at his pants, almost signaling for him to take them off, so that he could finally be inside of you. He taunts your desperate attempt with a breathy laugh, “Patience, doll,” he tuts, voice low and gravelly, making you hum sweetly.
He wets his lip before his lips attack you again, hands giving more attention to your breasts, pinching your nipples to earn more whines out of your pouted lips, wasting no time to dive down into your aching cunt, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your breasts, your stomach, and your dripping inner thighs, doing it all with a grin while he watches you shudder beneath him.
He takes his time admiring your pussy, padded thumb slightly playing with your clit as he watches your eyes squeeze shut at his movements, he groans at your lips glistening with arousal. Perfect, just fucking perfect. And he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle not being inside of you.
His cock is strained against his zipper, and it hurts, just the thought of your velvety walls engulfing him is enough to have him explode in his pants. He needs you.
“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he growls, head dipping between your shaking thighs, inhaling and tasting you once he places open-mouthed kisses on your pussy lips, and your clit, giving you all the attention you need.
“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, too,” he hums into your walls, lapping up at your juices like a man-starved, and you’re too far gone to register anything, nodding dumbly and trashing beneath him.
“Need you to sit on my face after we’re done, baby,” he purred. “But I need to fuck you now, doll, need to feel this tight cunt wrapped around my cock, yea?” He pulls back slightly, and you pout at the sudden loss of contact, it makes him grin, knowing how desperate you are for him.
Frustrated, and restrained, he unbuckles his belt quickly, even quicker to take off his boxers, with a hiss, his cock slaps against his stomach, your eyes widening with it.
No wonder you felt his bulge against your ass every time he passed by you, his cock slightly brushing against your ass, making you whimper quietly. No wonder you always felt the need to rub your thighs together when he wore those slutty grey sweatpants, he was packing.
Slightly curved to the left, thick, and deliciously beading with pre-cum, his angry crimson red tip faced your inner thighs, you nearly whined at the sight. “S-so big,” you murmured, doe-eyes looking up at him with so much promise.
“I’m going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated,” he grins up at you. “Gonna ruin you for everyone else, sweetheart.” You whine at that, his possessiveness slicking your thighs further as if that was even possible.
“P-please,” you looked up at him, desperate.
He tugs at his cock at your mewls, teeth drawing on his bottom lip at you. All sprawled out for him, legs spread apart, glistening pussy greedily waiting for his cock.
He reaches for the condom but you’re quick to stop him. “No, no. ‘M on the pill,” you murmured. He nearly groans at your words. The thought of fucking you raw, feeling your walls hug him sweetly shoots pleasure through his entire body.
“P-please, sir, wanna feel you,” you cry out, nearly wailing, glossy eyes looking down at him, pleading.
And who’s he to deny you?
“Want to feel you inside, fully, been waitin’ for this so long, Eds.” He groans at that, his cock aching, wanting to spill his load inside of you.
“Already, beggin’ honey?” A teasing throaty chuckle escapes his lips, he’s more than amused, letting just the tip of his fat cock tease over your entrance, pre-cum smearing all over your throbbing clit.
“Mhmm,” you unashamedly moan. “I need you, been spendin’ too much time, touching myself to the thought of you, your cock… Need you to stretch me, ruin me, wanna be yours so badly,” you whined, voice cracking as you desperately thrashed beneath him, his teasing making you pathetic and dumb.
That’s all he needed to hear before he slammed inside of you with a rough thrust, he couldn’t help himself, knowing that he could’ve had you all this time, made you his, and you were fucking touching yourself to the thought of him?
He was about to lose it, and you were quick to cry out at his size, your tight walls trying to accommodate his fat cock, feeling him stretching you fully.
“F-fuck!” He gritted through his teeth, holding onto your hips with a bruising hold. Your whines and your pussy clamping around his cock was enough to send him into a frenzy, wanting nothing more than to fill you up.
“Eds, t-too much,” you wail out, glossy eyes looking up at him.
“Ssshh, I know, baby, I know,” he coos condescendingly, making you whine more. “But you can handle it, can’t you, princess?” He bit on your bottom lip with a grin, “Look how well this greedy cunt is pullin’ me in,” he thrusts further into you with a groan.
You cry out at the intrusion, welcoming the way the slight pain turns fully into pleasure, his cock driving into you with such force that you can almost feel him everywhere. “See? Such a good girl f’me, mmpf, just like that, honey,” he praises, flutters fill your stomach and heat rushes to your cheeks.
He’s so perfect and you’re so proud to be his good girl. His padded thumb is quick to find its way to your clit, circling it gently to elicit more pretty whines from you. “This is mine, now.”
With a groan, “you’re all mine.” He continues to gloriously pump into you, enjoying the way you look so fucked out, his fingertips rubbing against your clit, you feel so full, so fucking full. Eyes lulling the more his cock dives deeper into you.
“All yours, daddy,” you breathe, not realizing what you just said, it makes Eddie hiss loudly as his movements pick up, eyes rolling to the back of his head with a delicious growl spilling from his lips.
You’re going to be the fucking death of him.
“P-princess, fuck, Jesus fuckin’, you can’t just say shit like that to me,” He spills out through gritted teeth, enjoying the way you move your hips against him, desperate for more friction.
“Look at you, shit,” Eddie groaned, pressing his thumb into your clit with more pressure, circling it with a grin, cock hitting that spongey spot deliciously while your back arched in pleasure.
Babbles, and incoherent pleas left your lips, and Eddie grinned at the way you looked so cockdrunk on him, clenching around his cock, letting him know that you were getting closer.
“Such a whore for me, aren’t ya?” He mocked, rough hands squeezing your cheeks as he made you look at him, “Love the way you go so dumb on me, pretty girl, not a single thought in that lil’ head of yours, only my cock, isn’t that right?”
Your breathing picks up at his words, orgasm pooling in your tummy, you know you’re about to lose it soon, “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, not even knowing what you were begging for, it was all too much, his filthy words, his thumb on your clit, the way he was deep inside of your walls, hitting spots you didn’t know that existed.
He growls at that, sinking further into you, “I know, baby,” he murmurs into your heated skin, reveling in the way you claw at his back, freshly manicured nails marking him. “You wanna cum, pretty girl? Go ahead, and cream my cock like the good girl you are, hmm?” His hold on your hips was rough, his other hand still circling your swollen clit, hips smacking against yours with such force that you were sure you were entirely gone now.
“Come with me, Daddy,” Is what you managed to slip past your lips before you couldn’t handle it anymore, head falling back, mouth forming into a perfect ‘o’ shape, you felt that tight coil snap in your tummy, making your vision blurry as you sobbed beneath him.
Your pussy squeezed and gripped his cock deliciously and with one more of his hips rutting into you, your orgasm was quick to trigger his. “Shit, gon- gonna fuck my load into you, angel.” He growled through gritted teeth, thrusts becoming shallow.
“Gonna fill you with so much cum that y-you won’t get it outta you for days, f-fuck!”
“Feel s-so fuckin, good, baby, shit, shit, shit!” He grunted, and finally spilled his load inside of you with a loud groan, painting your overstimulated walls, cock twitching inside of you as his groans mixed with yours.
Breathless, fucked out, and just a little sated, he was quick to slip out of you only when he made sure your pussy milked him dry and that every single drop was inside of you.
Both of you struggled to come down from your highs, all those years of pent-up sexual frustration too much to even sate.
“We’re nowhere near done,” Eddie hummed breathlessly, his head cocking toward you.
With a smirk, you turned to him. “Oh, yeah?” You quirked a brow, excitement, and pleasure were quick to pool at your tummy.
“Mmmhmm, still need to punish you for that whole Chris thing, princess. Even though it worked,” He gave you a hearty chuckle, “Don’t think you can tease me like that and get away with it, pretty girl.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“Those Christmas lights you hung up on that tree,” He pointed toward the giant tree, decorated with lots of flashy lights.
“I’ve heard they were a really good substitute for ropes, hmm? And the best form of punishment for bratty girls,” he grinned wickedly, attacking your lips again without giving you a chance to breathe.
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𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
eddie wakes up with a red string tied from his finger to yours, no idea where he got it, and no idea how to tell you that you're caught on the end of it. soulmate!au. fem!reader, 16k.
content warnings mentioned issues with self image, implied body dysmorphia, reader is insecure/a touch shy, alcohol, a short kiss after one character has been drinking, weed mentioned but not used by eddie or reader. please read with care! requested here ♡
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Eddie remembers the party in flashes. The feeling of his thick-soled creepers caught on the floor, wings in fly paper. Someone's headphones cracking like a wishbone between two hands and a fist fight in the backyard. Your hair touching some degenerate's cheek as they leaned down to kiss you, and the shudder that ran through you as you opened your mouth. Beer. Beer, cheap wine, another beer.
While he realises the beer may be fogging his memory, none of the fractures explain the piece of string tied to the marriage finger on his left hand.
He stands in the tiny trailer bathroom with his back against the door, the hustle and bustle of his Uncle Wayne's morning routine filtering through the flimsy door. It bends under his weight. Anymore pushing and it'll fly off the hinges.
The string withstands reasoning. Eddie wasn't particularly alarmed when he couldn't slide it off of his finger that morning, half-falling out of bed and desperate for the bathroom. He figured himself the victim of an elaborate prank, toppling out of bed to follow the red string where it stood taut. He chased it to the door and gave up when he realised that it disappeared down the dark stretch of road leading out of the Hills.
Panic set in somewhere between peeing and a pair of scissors falling apart around the string in the kitchen. Like even the touch of the string was an insult, uncuttable.
From there he tried yanking, buttering, slicing. The butter made his fingers greasy and the knife went dull. To the touch, the string is thin. Twelve pieces of strand like doubled embroidery thread, plain cotton to the eye, maybe polyester if the minimal iridescent shine is a clue. He can spread it out between his fingers and thumb, he just can't cut it off.
"Eddie, what the fuck did you do?"
Eddie winces and drops his hand from his eyes. The string slides down the doorway where it's trapped with a light shushing.
"What?" Eddie shouts back to Wayne.
"Don't what me, son! Come here."
Eddie groans and hangs his head. Pissed, he scrounges through the laundry for a shirt that's in acceptable condition and attempts to put it on but the insufferable string refuses to play nice. It bends, snags, and Eddie can't find a way to get it off —he has to pull the string toward him, pleased if sceptical to find that despite its taut nature, it will allow him enough length to get an arm through his sleeve.
"What the fuck," he mutters, looking at the mirror in disbelief. The purple-yellow bruise haunting the hollow of his right eye has shrunk since last night, to his relief. Upon reflection, Eddie doesn't think it'll draw much attention.
The string doubles back on itself, a red line up the length of his arm to his armpit where it disappears into the sleeve. From there, it snakes down his stomach to pull out from the bottom hem.
If whoever has the other end of the string decides to pull, his shirt will rise up. Awesome. Really great. He's a fucking streaker.
"Edward Albert Munson, if you don't get in here!"
"Wayne," Eddie says, pushing open the bathroom door with a suffering sigh, "what do you want me to say? I can't get the fucking thing off'a me."
Wayne is thoroughly unimpressed where he stands in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and gaze on the countertop by the sink.
Eddie's confused at first, complaint dying on his lips as he remembers the mess he made in a mad dash for freedom half an hour ago. Butter shines yellow and melted on a small plate, the broken scissors tossed frustratedly aside, a useless knife in similar fashion at the bottom of the sink.
"What the fuck, Eds?" Wayne asks.
Eddie holds up his hand. "I don't know!" he says, exasperated, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. "I woke up with it, I can't get rid of it."
Wayne's turn to be confused. But, like his newphew's, his confusion doesn't last long. "What happened to your eye?"
"The string?" Eddie asks, waving his red string around for emphasis. Bruises are commonplace, were nearly normal the summer between nine and tenth grade, this weird magic string is anything but.
"That what kids are calling shiners?" Wayne asks, taking Eddie's face in a rough hand. "At least say you got one in too."
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember?" Wayne asks, a mixture of unimpressed and horrified.
"No, I…" He bats Wayne's hand away, giving his tired-faced uncle an abashed smile. "It's fine, Wayne. I was at Gareth's last night."
"Ah, well that explains it. What does your bruise have to do with the state of my kitchen? You try cutting it off?"
Eddie turns from Wayne to grab the scissors and knife. He wraps both in paper towel until the sharps (or not so sharps) are covered and tosses them in the trash, scrounging for a bottle of bleach under the sink to wipe away his buttery mess. "You're focused on the wrong disaster, Wayne. Like, I tried following the string out the door and it's a half a mile long. I'm gonna follow it in the van."
"Is this, like, a trend? Speaking in tongues to get out of trouble?"
"What are you confused about?" Eddie asks, spinning back to hold his hand in Wayne's face.
Wayne doesn't look like Eddie, he's not so dark in the hair or eyes, and he obviously doesn't look like Eddie's mom, but the smile he gives him now was one Eddie's mom wore all the time, enduringly fond. Wayne takes Eddie's hand, turning his nephew's palm this way and that as the string slithers against pale knuckles. It almost writhes.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
"Wayne," Eddie says, his shirt rising as he pulls on the string to catch the light. It shines in a way that isn't normal, too many colours like the scale of a deep sea fish. "This!"
"Right… I can't see whatever it is you're seeing. How hard did you get hit? Jesus, I asked you to stop getting yourself in these messes, you could get seriously hurt."
Wayne doesn't waste another second looking through Eddie's string. The weight of a long shift rests between his shoulders, abates as he brings the chipped rim of a Garfield mug to his lips. Eddie swears the chubby cat is mocking him, cruel eyes smirking at his misfortune.
"Unbelievable," Eddie mutters, ditching the whole scene in search of his dingy black sneakers.
Wayne chuckles and opens the cabinet where they keep their cookies and coffee cakes, calling, "You want breakfast?"
"No! I have delusions to attend to. Need anything while I'm out?"
"A new pair of scissors."
Eddie pretends to stab himself in the eye by the front door, over and over. His frustration calms. He slips into loose laced sneakers and grabs his jacket where it's hanging on the coat rack, digging for his keys. He elbows the door ajar, and doesn't notice his van isn't in the driveway until he's standing at the bottom of the porch steps, flabbergasted.
"Did you wanna borrow the sierra?" Wayne asks from the door.
Garfield looks on in silent judgement.
Wayne generously lends Eddie the sierra. He's relieved when he shuts the door on his string and it behaves like regular old string (which is to say, it doesn't buckle the metal), but then he tries to grab the steering wheel and his finger almost pulls from the socket, stopped by the string. His relief ends.
"Fuck fuck fuck," he says, opening the door, gathering some string and closing it again. Righted, he pulls his shirt back down his torso and starts the car.
Eddie's hoping he can follow the string to its beginning, but at this point he's sure he got his shit rocked hard enough to forget being hexed by a devious yet loveable warlock —the string can't be a real string. It doesn't tangle around the wheels of the car as he drives over the faint line of it leading from Forest Hills into Hawkins' town centre, it just vanishes, like Eddie's winding it around a bobbin.
He takes the first exit on the traffic circle reluctantly, away from the string and toward Gareth's house, where Eddie assumes he left his beloved van. He can't believe how wasted he must have been, and now that he's accepted the string as an irksome constant but prioritised it below van retrieval, the hangover he should definitely have rears a head. His stomach hurts, his eyes are sand, you were fucking kissing somebody else last night—
Eddie might throw up. He rolls down the window and sticks his head as far out of it as he can justify while driving. The roads are quiet, a late morning in Hawkins pockmarked by the burr of lawn mowers chewing up perfect lawns and the spray of illegal sprinklers. The sun emerges slowly and then all at once, licking his naked arms with the promise of sunburn should he continue the day unprotected. Eddie never seems to tan. He hates the sun, anyway, the glare of it bouncing off of the road in a blinding dotted line. He unfolds the visor over his seat.
Needless to say, he's in a shitty mood when he finally gets to Gareth's house, spying his van wedged in the driveway between a miscellaneous ford and a buick.
Hungover, too hot, trying not to panic about the red string choking his knuckle. It can't seem to decide on how tight or loose it's going to sit. It tightens as he climbs out of the sierra, loosens as he walks toward his van.
"Hey, gorgeous," he says, patting her freshly lacquered body with love. She's all jet black now, rust buffed and wheels shiny.
There are bikes crowded against the house wall like toppled dominoes. The window shades are closed but the door is wide open the hinges, the sharp smell of booze wafting out into the sun. Give it enough time and Eddie's sure the sun'll bake all the milling bodies into a brand new smell.
"Hey, man," Jamison greets, sitting on the kitchen counter and unfairly put together considering the bottle of sours he demolished alone last night, "you survived."
Gareth is face down at the table next to a plate of cold toast, jelly congealed. Jeff stands by the patio door smoking a cigarette that smells exciting, and Macy stands doing the dishes at the sink.
"Got the girl doing the dishes. Classy," Eddie says.
Macy drops the sponge she's using into the water, soap bubbles dripping from her fingers. "Thanks for offering."
He relents. The mess they've made —and it is generous to call it a mess, more apt might be an explosion, or a weather event— is extensive. Pizza boxes upturned, tomato sauce and stringy cheese smashed into the fridge like a modern art piece you'd see at MOMA. Eddie wouldn't put it past drunk or high him to have done it, declaring some statement of pretentious high horsery, so he doesn't comment on it. If it was him, he doesn't wanna know.
"Some party," Jeff says through smoke.
Eddie pulls the stopper out of the sink to let the water drain. He doesn't roll like that. "What the fuck happened?"
Gareth rouses at Eddie's question, said as it is with vigour, and remembers his toast. He takes a bite and turns in his seat to blink blearily at Eddie. For a second, Eddie kids himself into thinking his friend can see the string currently spilling water onto the floor like a tightwire.
"You lost your shit and wrecked my house, you stupid bastard."
Eddie looks to Jamison, as if to say, that true?
Jamison pushes a long arm behind his back and stretches. "Y/N was hooking up with Cory Wilson and you took it like a champ, in my opinion. We had a good time."
"She hooked up with Wilson?" he asks, dread pooling in his stomach. The string shudders as you had, Eddie remembers, your chin tilted up and your eyes closing into sweet dark lines, painted lashes squeezed together.
"She took you home," Macy says, muffled, a hair tie between her lips. She lets the thin blonde strands of her hair fall back to her shoulders. "She didn't stay the night?"
"That would've been kind of sick," Jeff says.
"He could barely walk," Jamison agrees. "Okay, I'm lying. You were fine."
"I figured she'd have to stay, the way you were begging her. Ditch Wilson, baby, he doesn't know you like I know you. We can make it work, just say you'll stop seeing him."
Eddie drops a plate in the sink with a splintering crush. The answering roar of laughter tells him what he hadn't had breath to ask. No, he didn't really say any of that shit.
"You were drunk, not stupid," Jeff says.
"Not that stupid," Jamison corrects.
Eddie frowns down at the broken plate in the sink for a breather. Nerves abated, total loserdom escaped for another day, he holds his damp hand up in the air. "Any of you fuckers seeing this?"
"Get a new tattoo?" Macy asks.
He shakes his hand, the string (still caught in his sleeve, line like a bright vein up his arm) shaking. "You don't see it?"
"Your artist is gonna be pissed, they hate cheaters."
Eddie sighs. "Can someone pass me the trash can?"
They clean the house together in fits and starts, all nauseous, all wishing they'd had the sense to have a chill get together, just the five of them. Gareth declares his home a no go scene for the rest of summer and Eddie doesn't bother offering, nobody wants a party at the trailer park. Seeing the disco ball missing a rainbow lense under the stairs, a jumbo box of popcorn sprayed over the entire downstairs bathroom, and poor Manny Gomez cup-locked where he snoozes on the Persian rug in the lounge, Eddie wouldn't agree to host a party ever, even if he lived in one of the rich kid cribs like Harrington. It takes hours to put it right.
The longer he cleans the looser the string becomes. It drops to the floor (seemingly done with no regard to the laws of physics, having magicked itself out of his sleeve at a point, unnoticed) and trips him up as he walks downstairs. Eddie led a one man search party for Gareth's pet fish who some idiot transferred to the bathtub. The fish flops around at the turbulence of his trip inside of a temporary cup, but Eddie manages to return the poor thing to its tank uninjured.
"It's fucking sick," he says, crouching down to follow the fish as it reacclimates. Its big black eyes are like sequins set in orange glitter, scales glistening, a shimmering of purple and teal blues kissing its underbelly as it swims. "You're a beautiful creature. I'm sorry somebody tried to evict you, babe."
"He's a boy."
"Yeah, and he's a babe." Eddie bites his tongue.
You bend at the waist. With the shades still drawn, the brunt of the light entering the room is from your left, and the right side, the side closest to Eddie, is lit blue by the fish tank. You smile gently at the goldfish puttering around between artificial seaweed, an expression that grabs Eddie by the intestines. You feel his gaze, turning your face ever so slightly to his.
"Don't look as nice without makeup, I know," you murmur.
You're dressed differently today, stripped back in one way and more beautiful all the others, bare-skinned, no makeup or glitters to hide behind. Eddie remembers every detail of what you were wearing last night, the details stamped into his temporal lobe (before he drank his weight in other peoples booze). Black tights that shimmered slick oil as you moved and a tiny dress to boot. You're not a small girl, thighs there and grabbable and so un-grabbed, and when you bent down Eddie's shamefaced to say he followed the line. He loved how you looked last night, loves how you express yourself, but he craves how you are now, the lesser seen side of the same coin.
"You look nice." He cringes, his reflection in the fish tank glass a horror. Eddie never actually managed to shower this morning. If he doesn't smell like pale ale it'll be a miracle. "You do. At least one of us showered."
"I'm surprised you're alive," you say with a fond smile. Eddie never takes your insults to heart because you never say them to hurt. You're easygoing. You're light incarnate. "I haven't seen you drink that much since graduation."
"Macy says you took me home." He stands at full height. You follow suit.
"Kicking and screaming. You told me you were going to drink every drop of Mr. Lashlee's bourbon or die trying, and you tried."
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks. He can be volatile when he's intoxicated, like a fish out of water.
You gesture to his cheek. "Hurt yourself. You were freaking out and your hand kicked back. I didn't think it would bruise. Does it hurt awful?"
Your sympathy melts him. Eddie shakes his head, lying through his teeth, "I can barely feel it."
Your hoodie drowns you, your jeans not as oversized but hiding the feats of your thighs from view. He can't say he's not disappointed, though it's cute on you, your jeans rolled at the ends to showcase mildly mismatched crew socks and a pair of converse, their rubber shiny with newness besides a small sharpie heart on the left toe. Trapped beneath them is Eddie's string.
He tugs it out. You show no sign of feeling it as the string snaps upward like an elastic and stops short. It goes stiff as a stick, tied from the knuckle of his marriage finger and leading…
To the knuckle of yours.
Like matching rings.
Eddie thinks, Sure. If I'm delusional, of course it's something to do with you.
"Don't suppose you can see it?" he asks, pulling against the string. The red band expands to accommodate you, rather than tug you inward. It has a mind of its own, apparently, listening to Eddie only on occasion.
"The bruise?" you ask, confused. "It's hard not to see. But it's not too bad. You could buy some powder for it if it bothers you, but I think it makes you seem cool."
"I don't seem cool?"
You smile as though you're sharing a joke. If you are, Eddie hasn't heard it before.
It's weird, crushing on someone. He can't remember feeling this way growing up, spending sun-soaked days at playgrounds and parking lots and the pool, wet to the knees, you and your friends sitting under the shade of the umbrellas. The first time he saw you there, in your bikini bottoms and your big white t-shirt bent over a book, he didn't feel any sudden revelation. No spark. No pulled string. He thought you were pretty without bragging about it and he met you not long after that at a nondescript barbecue. Then he stopped hanging out with his middle school friends and flunked two years. He forgot you existed. And now he knows you again, he feels more and more of himself bending and twisting trying to be what you want him to be, or what he thinks you want, at least. If you want Wilson, he can be Wilson. Eddie can kiss like a fish and wear too much cologne, he can sell out and cut his hair to the ears.
Well, maybe not that far. I still want to be me, he thinks, eyes on your hands and the string stretched between them. The red seems darker now, onyx hued, ropey as blood.
"What are you doing here?" Eddie forces out. Not surprised, you and Macy are close enough that you've formed friendships with the whole gang of merry misfits, but wondering if his string has pulled you here. Does he have any say?
"I thought I'd help with the aftermath, see if anybody wanted to get burgers, the works."
Eddie catches a flicker of nervousness in your stance, the half-step backwards you take when his shoe nears your own. The string loosens.
He doesn't have any intention of making you uncomfortable. He probably smells like a dumpster, he wouldn't blame you for needing space. And if who you were kissing last night is indicative of who you'll be sidling up to again in the future, Eddie has low hopes for you both.
"Burgers?" Manny groans from the floor.
You turn slowly on one heel. "Hello, Manny," you say, angling your head to line up with his. "Someone's drawn on you."
"What did they draw?" Manny asks, rubbing his smeared face sluggishly.
You look to Eddie for guidance. The reality of Manny's tagging is embarrassing.
"It's a dick, I'm afraid." Eddie offers Manny a hand. "With disproportionate, uh, baubles."
"But I'm sure Benny won't care," you say.
—
Benny makes Manny wear a baseball cap pulled down low, because This is a family establishment, Man. Every time you see the thick-lined drawing on his cheek you smile and feel awful for it, but luckily Manny seems to be taking the joke well.
If you'd fallen asleep at the party last night and woke up with a semi-permanent tattoo of similar calibre you'd be too mortified to bother leaving the house until it was gone. You're not thrilled with your appearance as it is. Any cruel additions would have you housebound.
Guilty, you take a bite of your burger to hide your smile. Eddie's already clocked it, generous enough to pretend he hasn't noticed, and Macy finds it funnier than you do, so she's yet to notice your amusement. The rest of the boys are making ornaments out of plastic straws. Gareth is shit, Jamison better, but Jeff takes the cake with a three layer birthday cake, candles included. It strains to break as he adds another candle. His bloodshot eyes show no signs of anxiety.
Manny grabs a napkin and knocks your ice tea. The cup sloshes but doesn't spill, ice cubes clinking and beads of condensation racing down the sides of your glass. You pick it up to feel the cold. Lately you've been morose. The cold, any sensation, can put distance between you and the heavy for a while, but there's no cure. And now you've gone and let Cory Wilson of all people kiss you for the simple fact that he wanted to.
He's the first person who's ever wanted to kiss you.
But you don't want him to kiss you again, and you're not sure how you manage it. Do you have to tell him you're not interested? Probably not, it was just a stupid kiss. He dipped down, his lips hot, his smell nice if overpowering, and it was right for a while, it was what you wanted, but then his hand dropped down rather than up, searching for something to take rather than something to hold.
It's not how you pictured it.
"You okay?"
You raise your eyes, ice tea in hand. Eddie splits his attention between you and a basket of crispy crinkle cut fries loaded with cheese and bacon bits. He's nonchalant, his shoe tapping into yours as he leans forward for another bite. He chews, and he waits for you to answer.
"I'm alright. Thinking about work." Bad lie. "Gareth said you got a new tattoo?"
"Nope. I've been thinking about getting a new one to fill the gap under my puppeteer," he says, extending his arm to show you it in the light, the ridge and weave of his veins stark against his white skin. They're especially fierce leading down to his wrist, as is the small notch on the outermost side. You reach out to touch it without thinking, fingertip rubbing carefully over the bump.
Eddie pushes his arm closer. "I want something here." He draws a half circle with his opposite pinky in the empty space. "But I can't think of what I want. Sometimes you go to the shop and they have a bunch of flash sheets and you like one of them enough to get it, right? I don't know."
It means a lot to you that he'd let you touch him without asking. You should've asked.
He should've asked you, but he was drunk. You're not sure he was thinking straight.
You sit back in your seat and finish your iced tea, feeling the cold slide down into your chest. You shiver at the feeling.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Eddie asks.
"Why wouldn't she be okay, Munson?" Manny asks.
"Quiet, dickhead."
Manny snorts, grabbing a greedy handful of Eddie's fries as punishment for a low blow. Eddie couldn't care less, clearly, his focus on you and your moping. You step into a sweeter smiling version of yourself that you save for times like this.
"You know I work for Deenie DIY?" you ask.
"Of course I know that," Eddie says, and not in the way people do sometimes where they assume you're insulting their intelligence, but the nice way. Like knowing where you work is easy information to carry.
He's the nicest of his friends, which is a credit to him; they aren't a bad bunch.
"So, I have this coworker that keeps bringing soup to work, and she swears that someone is syphoning off a couple of spoonfuls before lunch every day…"
Eddie listens to your story with a weird expression. You bumble through the twists and turns of the world's stupidest fable, how she blamed a bunch of different people and now no one likes her, and the soup was getting warmed up by the fridge lights —it was her own fault. He listens, he smiles and nods and offers commentary that's funnier than the original story, the entire time with a downturn to his lips. You hate seeing him like that, but you don't know what to say.
Plates left streaked with ketchup and mayo, glasses dotted by greasy prints and lip smackers, you and your friends tip as generously as twenty-somethings can afford and decide to head back to Gareth's for a couple of hours. It's barely past noon on a Saturday in late July. Nobody has to work for at least thirty six hours. You pile into two cars, arguing about what tape to play for the ten minute drive. Eddie ends up in the seat beside you somehow, and he doesn't shy away when the car takes a bend and you lean into his side.
He puts his arm behind your shoulder. "Sorry," he says.
"It's okay."
You lift your head. The memory of his face hovering close to yours, the sweet smell of cheap cherry wine on his breath, his hand clumsy with drink but kind as it climbed your back, your dress thin enough to catch your death, thin enough to feel like he was touching bare skin. Sorry, he'd said, you're just so fucking beautiful.
"I gotta take my uncle's car back. Wouldn't do me a solid and come with?" he asks.
—
You follow Eddie in the van. He can see you in his rear view mirror, your hands on his steering wheel, the window down and the breeze ruffling your hood.
Jeff was too high to drive and Eddie wouldn't trust Jamison to drive a moped. Gareth can't drive and okay, Macy can, she's good, but Eddie chose you for a reason. The string tied between your hands clings from door to door.
Eddie pulls the sierra into the driveway in front of the trailer, holding two fingers up to you as he hops out and jogs up the steps. Two minutes.
"Wayne? Brought the car back."
"How's your bruise, Eds?"
Wayne's laying on the couch with a blanket over his legs, coffee cup swapped for a plate of cookies and a bag of chips. Eddie leans on the doorway, Wayne's keys on his finger. The string bobs back through the door, as if to say, Hey, she's over here, dipshit.
"It's fine, what are you eating? Did you have breakfast after I went?"
"Yeah I had breakfast, I'm a grown man." Punctuated by the crunch of potato chips. "It's lunch time. This is my lunch."
"Let me make you a pot pie or something."
Wayne waves him off. "You're going back out. Who's in the van?"
"That's Y/N."
Wayne smiles knowingly. "Ah, is it?" He stands up with remarkable speed putting his plate of cookies on the table. He ducks down to peek through the window, and you must see him or wave, Wayne waving back. "Make her come say hi."
"I won't be making her say shit."
"She was nice last night."
Eddie cringes, having forgotten you were his saviour. "Do I wanna know what you said?"
"I said you were an idiot and an embarrassment, and that your safe return deserved a reward. You should invite her over for dinner."
"No, because that's, like, a couples thing. Come and meet my parents," Eddie says, shoulders jumping, hands up in jazz hands, "laugh at my baby photos."
"I don't have many of those. Got a bunch of you when you were fourteen and deep in the glam rock obsession."
He used to say Eddie could wear whatever he wanted and paint his face a hundred different colours as long as Wayne got to take a picture.
"Great, I'll invite her, and you can show her your nice album of reasons not to date me."
"Son, why don't you just ask her to dinner? Worked in my day."
"You're not even old. And I was going to," Eddie whines, rubbing the flat of his forehead ineffectually. "Then she was kissing this idiot Cory Wilson last night. I blew it. Lost my chance."
"I still think you should ask her for dinner. Any sense about her and she'll say yes."
It's one of those reassurances your mom says to you when you're down on your luck. Handsomest guy in the world, how could anybody say no to that face?
"Maybe I'll ask her." Eddie smiles nervously. "We're gonna go hang out, cool? You going to Dean's?"
"None of your business. Yeah, I'm going to Dean's, just to help him fix his hand saw. I'll be back before six. See you then?"
Eddie tosses Wayne the sierra keys. "See you. Don't drink too much."
"Ironic, Edward!"
Eddie leaves the trailer feeling vaguely hopeful about you; maybe Wayne's right. Kissing somebody doesn't mean you're married, but the window of opportunity to let his feelings be known is getting smaller the longer he waits. And seeing you standing against the grate of the van with your hands in your pockets, slice of your calves peeking out between your socks and jeans, big sleeves on your hoodie falling up one arm, he doesn't know if he can wait anymore.
"Hey, would you wanna get out of here?" he asks. "Like, ditch Gareth's for a bit?"
"And do what?"
The string shortens as he closes the gap between you. He twists it around his finger. It's tied to you —it must be a sign. (Or he's imagining it and he has, like, a paralytic brain worm eating its way across his eyeballs.)
"I don't know, hit the goodwill? I have somewhere between twelve and sixteen dollars with your name on it if you're interested." He tries not to shrug, can't help it. "Only if you want."
"Yeah. I want to." You worry your lip. "I'm not dressed to go out."
"Are you kidding? You look fine. You look good."
You rub your wrists together, grimacing.
Eddie can roll with the punches. "Or you could go home and change first?"
"Would that be okay?"
Eddie's glad for offering to witness the spectacle of your bedroom. The string seems to hate him but love you, giving you space all the way here and yanking him like a bad dog when he strays too far. You change behind your closet door and it forms hearts at your feet, unperturbed by the mountain of rejected shirts and skirts.
Eddie lounges in a bean bag by the door, taking in your belongings as he waits. You've crafts on your desk, little origami cranes made of paper you've painted with watercolour. Phthalo blue and alizarin crimson foiled with short, skinny strokes of gold etching. Intricate and simple, time and care poured into each sheet.
"Are you sure I'm okay by here?" Eddie asks.
"Can you see me?"
"No." Eddie can see shelves of books with creased spines, your made bed and all your mismatched sheets, the candles on your window sill —moonlight meadow, half-burned and sun-bleached; candied sweetheart, untouched; white lily and freesia, a double wick with only one melted tunnel—, and the soot stain unfurling like a soft-edged flower around the curtain pole. "Can't see anything."
"Then don't worry."
The sun ticks higher into the sky as an hour stretches into a second since you left Gareth's together. Eddie likes his room, his dense kingdom of the stuff that make him him, but he likes yours for the quiet. He can picture you sitting cross legged on your bed with a book in your lap, your back arched uncomfortably forward, a day old drink of water on the ceramic coaster with tiny bubbles clinging to the sides of the glass. He thinks he'd like that, to sit here and watch you, listening to one of your CDs, the string between you bouncing with each turn of a page.
Eddie pulls on the string experimentally. Determined to fuck with him, it becomes a tauter thread, and the momentum of his tug tips you over. Your hand follows the line and the sudden slip pulls you into view without a shirt. Eddie flinches and looks as far away from you as he can.
You laugh to yourself, but the sound is bitter, like burning coffee grounds on the tongue.
"Is everything good with you?"
You and Eddie are friends. Not great ones, but enough to have been able to ask you to ditch the others. There have been hundreds of seconds alone, the two of you sitting together at tables edged by arcade machines, diner booths, bowling alley benches, waiting for the others to get back, and those are moments where Eddie found time to fall in love with you. The string must be a manifestation or those seconds, threads of time tied together that join you forever, even if you can't see them. They're there. Eddie cares about you and it makes his throat hurt to hear your unhappy sounds; you have a morosity to you that he isn't heartless enough to ignore. He doesn't want to.
Everybody has an unseen misery weighing them down. Eddie needs to find a way to hold yours for you. Just for a bit, however long you need.
Unless Cory Wilson is going to take that mantle. Maybe that's why you're sighing; Eddie would be pretty upset if he had to remember being kissed by Wilson. He was already upset about it, and Wilson didn't kiss him.
"Hey," Eddie says, peering between his fingers. With you definitely out of sight, he lifts his head. "Seriously, are you good?"
"I don't know what to wear, that's all. Sorry for taking so long."
"We could sit here till tomorrow and that would be cool. We don't even have to go, but you don't have to stress about what you're wearing. It's goodwill."
"I always get stressed about what I'm wearing."
"Is that a girl thing?"
You toss a pretty flowered dress over the closet door. It slinks under its own weight and puddles on the floor. "I've always been like this, I get too focused on looking nice, it winds me up."
"You always look nice."
Your laugh says you certainly don't believe him. "Thanks, Eddie."
"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better. You'd look nice in a potato sack."
"Like Marilyn Monroe."
"Who?"
You appear in a sliver, naked arm linked to an unseen but unignorable naked chest, your face over your shoulder and a beatific silkiness to your smile. "You know who she is. Happy Birthday mister president? Blonde, with her beauty mark." You tap your top lip with your pinky.
"Oh, right. Did she wear sacks often?"
"Someone said she was beautiful because her clothes were designer and made to fit, so she did a photoshoot in a potato sack to prove she was beautiful."
"You could totally do that."
"It's not other people I need to convince." You retreat behind your closet door again, your voice half as clear as you confess, "I think… I've always been like this. I look in the mirror and I don't even know who I'm seeing. She doesn't feel like me."
Eddie's ridiculous sitting on a beanbag while you bare your heart. He swears in his head and climbs onto tired legs, his hangover beating like a dull knife between his eyes for a moment while he gets used to standing.
You take his silence for something else. "Sorry, ignore me. It's weird."
"That's not weird. It's not." He tries to say what he means and not the first words that come into his head. "You know, I used to feel that way. Growing up, in junior high, I felt like such a poser. Even when I started being myself, I didn't feel authentic. Does that… is that similar?"
"I guess so. How did you make it stop?"
"Okay, this is gonna sound bad, but my mom died." Eddie twists a ring around his knuckle, the string tangling between fingers. "And I didn't care for a while. And then I got older."
"I'm sorry," you murmur.
"It's okay. I didn't say it for sympathy. That's just what happened." Eddie sits gingerly on the end of your bed. He doesn't want to intimidate you —after all, you're a young woman alone with him in a state of undress. A vulnerable young woman, if you're as upset as you're beginning to sound. "I'm trying to make you feel better with the worst personal anecdote ever."
"You don't have to make me feel better. I shouldn't have brought it up, I don't…"
"You can tell me anything," he says.
You appear again, this time fully clothed. Black skirt to your knees —the sickest skirt you've ever worn— and a thin gauzy camisole, you look beautiful, and insanely uncomfortable. "Really?" you ask, hands wringing.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I promise."
"Well. Last night," —Eddie sees flashing lights, the carbon bubbles in a spilled beer— "I let somebody kiss me."
He knows. It's agony. Eddie waits for you to continue with an open expression despite the feeling your confession inspires; he assumes this is what a knife to the eye feels like, the willing horror of letting you use it.
"Nobody's ever wanted to kiss me before, so I let him. And I'm shit scared that I'm never gonna recognise myself in the mirror, so I'll keep letting him kiss me." You wring your hands meanly. "Sorry, I know I sound like a bad movie. Why is talking about your feelings this awkward?"
"That was your first kiss, last night?"
It's not the right question. You wince visibly. "I know, I'm in my twenties, it's embarrassing."
"No, that's–" Eddie sighs. "That's not what I meant." What did he mean? Fuck, I wish it could've been me, and Jesus, that doesn't make a lick of fucking sense. You aren't right, for starters, Cory Wilson isn't the first person who's ever wanted to kiss you, he's just the bastard that got lucky enough to have you reciprocate. "Wait, was it okay? Did he corner you?"
You sit on the end of the bed with a small smile. "No. He didn't pressure me."
"Was it what you wanted?"
"Not really… I guess I don't know what I want."
Is that rejection, or is he self-absorbed? Should he take the hint, or is he just another guy making it about himself? Eddie leans back into your bed to escape the heartbreak of being close to you, the string anchoring his hand in place as he tries to scratch his chest.
"It's not embarrassing to get your first kiss in your twenties," he says, eyes roving over the lines of a small paper butterfly, black cardstock like ink against your white ceiling. "That's what your twenties are for."
"Don't bother, I know exactly how you lost your virginity."
Eddie scrunches his eyes shut, can't stop himself from smiling as his wry voice scratches out, "Listen, everyone knows how I lost my virginity, but that's not the point."
"You'd think a seventeen year old would make marginally better decisions." You're teasing, not shaming, your smile playful.
"No, you wouldn't. Seventeen year olds are stupid. I thought I knew what I wanted at seventeen and now I'm twenty three and the only thing I know for sure is that I don't know a thing. The point of being twenty is doing shit for the first time. It's our first time being grown ups."
"That's wise," you say.
"Fuck off."
You lay down beside him. The string whips like a ribbon in the wind before falling into the shape of a heart again, clearly pleased to have you near.
"It's not embarrassing," Eddie says quietly. "But when you get your second kiss, I think you should save it for someone you want to kiss. Don't just let someone have it because you're not sure of yourself."
"That's a nice sentiment, Eddie, but I already gave it away."
He swallows his surprise, a tiny spike of agony. "How was that one?"
"I'm not sure about it. I don't think it counted."
"Do I wanna know?"
"I'm not sure about that, either."
"Was it Wilson?" he asks.
You turn your cheek into the bedsheets. He can hear the fabric brushing your skin, turns ever so slightly to meet you, a few inches all it would take to breathe the same air.
"Eddie," you say, very, very softly.
His heart eases into his mouth a beat at a time until it's thrumming between his ears.
"Yeah?" he asks, his tone a twin.
"I think I need to cancel our plans."
It's not what he's expecting you to say.
—
There's a black velvet jacket dotted with embroidered stars hidden under your bed, their silver thread like cosmic dust. Music pounds the floor and shakes the house's foundations, seeping down into Macy's damp basement one rippling riff at a time, the bass of it deep in Eddie's chest, but he can't stop thinking about your jacket. Did you know it was there?
The string tied to his marriage finger grows restless the longer you and Eddie are apart, bouncing like a shockwave whenever he thinks your name. In fact, all it takes is the idea of you, the slightest memory of your smile, your hands, the way you tell stories to the group with your shoulders turned to him like he's there alone, and the string flinches.
"Are you okay?" Manny asks.
Eddie drags his way up the couch. "Hey, Man. You got the dick off your face. That's great."
Manny lifts his cheek. "Had to steal some of my mom's make-up. Can't tell, huh?"
The colour match is dubious, now he's mentioned it. Eddie doesn't have the heart to tell him, flopping back into the crisp, cracked leather seat beneath him. A circle of his face is sticky where it clings to the couch. It's among the worst feelings of this earthly plane, grim as ice cream dripping down your hand on a hot day, or perpetually gutting heartbreak like he suffers now.
"I think I'm seeing things," Eddie says.
"Jeff has stuff for that."
Eddie groans loudly. With the way he feels it's not melodrama. Just pure human anguish. He groans again when nothing changes, fisting his hair in two aching hands. He's clenched and unclenched his hands for hours all day, trying to force the hurt away from his chest, chasing breathlessness to the tips of his fingers. Pins burn his palms.
He knew in the back of his mind that you weren't going to want to date him. Realistically you have options, even if you think you don't, and his being your only option wouldn't inspire romance anyways. Being someone's last resort isn't love. None of it was love, you aren't in love, but Eddie thinks he could've been. He was halfway there, falling, whatever the poets might say —Eddie wants you. Wants to do stupid shit with you. He can picture the scene like he has before, that first bouquet of flowers, lilies with big white petals and purple sunspots. The cellophane would crinkle in trembling hands pressed to his chest, their stems leaking dew into his hardly worn button up. He'd pass them to you with more confidence than he feels and tell you that you're pretty. You're always pretty.
He's not pretty, he's barely funny. He was stupid for thinking you'd like him too.
The string is pale pink. Eddie loops it around his finger thoughtlessly, worsening the sting of pins and needles.
There were times…
He clutches his chest. The nausea he's feeling can't be understated.
There were times when you could've been in love with him, he thinks. Splitting a cigarette you had no business splitting on the steps of Jeff's porch, your vanilla chapstick softening the filter. Holding his hand for support as you made the hike down to the lake, your fingers curled around his like you worried you might hurt him. In the passenger seat of his van on the way to your house, laughing as he sang along to a Van Halen guitar solo. You could've been in love with him.
But Eddie didn't ask you out. He didn't do what Wayne said, because goodwill is not dinner, and now you're probably happily sequestered in Wilson's BMW. He jumped the wrong gun and he blew it.
"Seriously, Munson, are you good?"
"Peachy." Eddie holds up the sign of the horns, pinky and index finger up, thumb holding his marriage and middle finger down, face buried in an old cushion.
"Let me go get you a joint."
"I gave it up."
"Dude. Pizza it is."
Eddie waits for Manny to leave before he turns onto his back. Last night in the shower after a knowing shoulder squeeze from his Uncle and a frankly overflowing bowl of microwave spaghetti, he pressed his forehead to the tile and let it all ache. He might have cried or water may have streamed from his hair, he genuinely doesn't know, but he knows he's in danger of another round of the same if he keeps thinking about you.
He's a big boy. He can cope with your decision.
"Eddie, what are you doing?"
Eddie sits up with a handful of clicks. "Robin?"
"Hey," Robin says, "whaddya know, I followed the smell of sadness and rejection and here you are."
She's dressed fancy, her hair in a rare updo, faux pearls dangling from her ears to kiss the collar of a leather jacket. "Shit, you're so cool, Buckley."
"Thanks. You okay?" Robin asks, sitting on the arm of the couch.
Eddie's stomach churns as her perfume reaches him, the sweet, subtle smell of vanilla under white musk. He leans his face against the starched denim of her jeans. "Who told you?" he mumbles.
"Steve. Who else?" Robin pats his head. "But Jeff told him. And I was talking about your bruise."
Eddie waves off her concern. "Where is Steve in my hour of need?"
"Smoking a not secret cigarette with Jeff," she says, a melodic cadence to her usual light rasp.
"I wouldn't risk Jeff's cigarettes."
She snorts a laugh, "Steve would risk his life for a cigarette. He loves to say that quitting was easy, but he drinks half a beer and starts gasping like a fish." Robin mimes Steve's apparent desperation, to Eddie's delight.
She smiles as his laughter peters out, tilting her head to the side. "So… was it bad?"
"I don't know." He rubs his eyes. "The last time I got rejected was in senior year, and it was– I didn't even like her, you know, thought she was pretty, but this is different."
"Sorry, Eddie," she says, pushing her bottom lip up into her top one, a bubbled pout that betrays how out of her depth she feels.
Eddie isn't trying to make it awkward. "That's okay. I liked her, she doesn't like me, it's cool." The string flails. The music from upstairs gets louder. "What the fuck is happening? I thought Macy said it was a quiet one."
Robin and Eddie start up the basement stairs to the main body of the house. The air is warmer and thicker, the faint smell of hotdogs and burgers grilling in the backyard filtering inside through the patio doors. "You know," Eddie says, glaring at the sudden crowd, "there's an atari down there."
"Sorry, I think I'll have to keep my idiot out of trouble." Robin points at Steve near the stereo with Jeff, the two of them laughing hard enough to bruise as they mess with the pitch of the music. "Steve! You'll go deaf in your good ear if you don't stop!"
"What?" Steve shouts.
Robin rushes over to drag him away from the stereo. Eddie doesn't want to be your best friend, but if it was a friendship like Steve and Robin's he would consider himself lucky to have it, smiling as she wraps her arms around his chest from behind and pulls him away, sniffing at him, her nose wrinkled as she gives a reprimand too low for Eddie to catch. "I'm serious," she says as they grow closer, weaving around the living room coffee table and retreating back into the slim hallway leading to the basement stairs, "where are your earplugs?"
"In the car, Rob. I'm fine, I promise."
"Sure. Alright, Eddie, would you keep him away from the stereo?" Robin shoves Steve toward him. "Thanks so much."
"I'm not high," Steve says as soon as she's gone.
"While that's uber convincing, honeybear, I don't care if you are," Eddie says lightly. "Not a cop. Wanna go get a burger?"
They move away from the living room and into the kitchen, where Steve nearly trips over the door jam and Eddie forgets for the first time in days how awful he feels.
He sits Steve down at the glass table next to Macy herself and a younger friend of Manny's. Jamison and Gareth stand at the grill arguing about who's doing what, but Jamison proves to be the better grillmaster and the better friend, dropping two burgers on paper plates in front of them not more than twenty seconds after they've sat down. "For you, my poor little Munson," he says, smacking the ketchup and mayonnaise down between them. "Eat up."
"I can't get the cap off," Steve complains, welding a bottle of mayonnaise at him like a dagger.
Eddie sighs. Steve is definitely high. "You know Jeff doesn't smoke plain rolled cigarettes, right? Like, you knew it was weed?"
"Whaaaat?" Steve asks exaggeratedly. "Open my mayonnaise."
"Plausible deniability," Eddie says. "I like it."
He finds that taking care of Steve is a good distraction, but there's only so much care a grown man needs, high or not, and Eddie's gaze is pulled to the string. It's impossible to stop thinking about you on the other end of it. He tries not to look at the string at all, but he can't, being as permanently tied to his finger as it is. What's worse is seeing people tread on it. The colour fades slowly, once a strong red, now a meek pink. At this rate it'll be bone white by the end of the night, like a vein with no supply. Maybe that's how this ends. You stay kissing Cory Wilson and the string dies.
As he thinks it, the string tightens. The pink turns rosy, turns healthy, red as a rose, vice-like on his finger. Eddie knows without knowing that you're near. He could've guessed without the string's shifting, your presence the antonym of sixth-sense chills. He turns back toward the house and catches a glimpse of you as you walk past the patio door in your black velvet jacket, those tiny sparse stars like needlepoints from this far away and glinting as you turn to let Robin pass.
"Holy fuck!" Robin mouths, Steve's earplugs in a small pouch meant for coins in hand as she speed walks down the short path to the table. "She's here!"
"I can see that."
Robin sits on the chair next to Steve's. He passes her the last half of his burger and takes the earplugs from an outstretched hand, shaking them from their pouch. You'd never look at him like this with mayonnaise on his top lip, thigh to thigh with loser-sweetheart Robin Buckley, and think he'd be violent. He isn't, truly, his hearing loss the result of getting his ass handed to him hard, and the motivation of a pacifist who wears ear defenders to the movies.
"You're gonna have to speak up," Steve says, pushing the plugs in.
"Yeah, man." He doesn't have much to say anyhow. His stomach is curled in knots, the string a tightrope without walkers between him and you in the kitchen. You're talking to someone, walking one way before rushing the other. "What the fuck?" Eddie asks, sitting up.
Macy stands as somebody gasps. Eddie's quick to follow, Gareth jumping back out of Jamison's reach as the grillmaster swings a long pronged fork his way. "What?" he asks cluelessly.
Eddie follows the string to you, stepping over the patio doorjam and into the cacophony of the kitchen. Blaring rock music vibrates through Eddie's worn shoes, but it doesn't occlude the vehemence of Cory Wilson's slurring. "I should've known," he hisses.
Eddie would stand in front of you, he should, he's going to, but he doesn't and he can't fathom why. He's glued to the spot as you defend, "I didn't know. And I didn't do it on purpose."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"No." You sound startled rather than scared, but the cagey way you've moved back and the curl of your hands into fists says otherwise. "No, I didn't kiss you to–"
"To what? Guess it doesn't make a difference. I should've known. Two guys in one night's a good night for a girl like you, huh?"
You flinch away. It could be the pull of the string or the panic on your lips as you struggle to speak, or maybe Eddie's done being a coward who half-asses his life even if you're not gonna kiss him like he wishes you would, whatever it is, it has him standing in front of you unafraid.
Cory Wilson is rough. Eyes bloodshot, evil on tequila sliders from the sugary brown stain on his collar, he takes one look at Eddie and starts laughing.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, a girl like her? Why don't you explain it?" Eddie asks, his voice burnt, almost acrid in his own mouth. "What, you plant one on her and you think it's alright to talk to her like that?"
"Eddie," you say.
He reaches back gently, his fingertips brushing your abdomen.
"You're a fucking classless act, Wilson, you always have been. You don't talk to her like that."
"Why don't you stay out of it, freak?"
"Dude," Jamison says. "No way. Get the fuck out of here."
"You can't stay out of it, can you? It makes sense now I'm seeing it," Cory rails.
This is so teenaged angst and Eddie's over it. You'll have to forgive him but he's feeling territorial. This is Macy's house, they're your friends, and Cory was a dick before he kissed you. "This is embarrassing, dude," Eddie says over the island, meeting Cory's eyes straight on. "Don't do this shit."
"It was you, right?" Cory asks, nodding, mind made up already. He peers around Eddie's shoulder to stare at you incredulously. "Him?"
"It doesn't matter!" you insist, stepping forward. "Why does it matter? I said no, I don't wanna go home with you, I'm sorry, I told you more than you needed to know because I thought it would help you get it, and I'm sorry I let you kiss me! I'm sorry, I thought it was best to be honest with you."
Eddie's thinking you don't have to say sorry for anything. Cory's thinking about the milling crowd of young adults haunting the corners of the kitchen and pressed in from the hallway, rounding the island with his chest puffed up.
"It was Munson, wasn't it?"
You take a step back into Eddie. "It's fine," he says to you quickly, because coward or not he'd never let someone hit you, but you're pushing him behind you. You're protecting him.
"Yes, it was Eddie!" you say. "So what? It has nothing to do with you."
Macy cuts in, all red hair and glare. "Okay, enough. Cory, you have to leave, man. You can't yell at girls in my kitchen because they don't want to sleep with you."
Eddie stares at the back of your head.
Did you kiss him? That second kiss, that was with him?
"You kissed me?" he asks quietly.
Your lips part as you look at him from over your shoulder. Macy and Jamison argue with a red-faced Cory, Steve asks Robin what someone just said and Robin shouts the answer, but Eddie couldn't tell you what anyone's truly saying if you paid him to, his attention on the pillow of your bottom lip and searching upwards as you exhale.
"Eddie, you kissed me." Your eyes are soft, the starts of your brows hooked together. "You really don't remember?"
"I kissed you? When?" He grabs your arm, pulling you toward him. "At Gareth's place?"
"I took you home," —you drop your chin, a new panic about you as your voice drops, waning, tenuous as spider silk— "you were wasted, you'd been drinking Macy's wine and Mr. Lashlee's bourbon and I didn't mean for it to happen. I wasn't trying to get you to kiss me, Eddie, I just asked why you were upset."
"What did I say?"
"You said that I was beautiful. That you wanted to kiss me, and then you did."
Sorry, he'd said, you're just so fucking beautiful.
"And then you freaked out like you'd been laced about string between your fingers. I took you to your room and told Wayne you ate a bunch of hotdogs on the turn." You won't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I never meant for it to go that far."
A glass smashes. Eddie takes your hand, pulling you away from the scene and through a curious crowd to the back door. He closes the patio doors behind you and half jogs you down past the smoking barbecue and all its leftovers, chairs pulled out haphazard from the garden table and food discarded.
He has to be quick, he doesn't know how much time he has before everyone comes flooding back out of the house.
You're strangely timid, shame having sewn your brows together. "Eddie, I'm sorry," you say, your hand wriggling weakly in his to be let go. He lets it fall.
"Sweetheart, stop. Just stop. I'm the one who's sorry… I think I–" He sighs, you're so fucking beautiful on loop in the back of his mind. "I remember. I know I made a move. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I should've stepped away faster. I wasn't expecting you to kiss me."
"I shouldn't have kissed you."
"It was just a peck, Eddie. It's okay, 'cos it's not that I don't want you to kiss me ever, but you were drunk. I should have–"
"You didn't do anything wrong," he insists, cutting you off before you can criminalise yourself with a vehement shake of the head. "But that's– that's–" He chokes on his question. "What did I say about the string?"
"The string?" you ask, and fuck! Fuck, you look beautiful now, beautiful still as the night moves forward and the day's last lazy dregs of sunlight dapple your skin through the hanging branches of the surrounding sycamores. You stuff your hands in your pockets and pull your jacket around your tummy to hide from the cold, the string tugging with you. Your eyes are wide with confusion. "You wouldn't stop talking about it. That's when you hit yourself, your bruise?"
"After I kissed you, or before?"
"After, but… why does it…"
"I'm going to sound crazy."
You laugh softly. "No different than usual, then."
Eddie opens his hand and holds it out for yours. The string on his finger is loose but not long, moreso when you give him your hand. "I know you can't see it, I get that it's ridiculous, but there's a string tied from my third finger to yours. This red piece of thread like my nanna would use. I woke up yesterday morning and it was there. I thought maybe I was going crazy, because I like you," —he swallows air, no idea why this is so hard— "and I saw you kissing that loser and I figured it was some quasi manifestation of how much I want to be near you, like torture, but it was after I kissed you. It appeared after I kissed you."
"So we're connected by a string?" you ask slowly.
Eddie's genuinely ecstatic that you'd even entertain it. "Yes!"
"Show me," you say.
"I can't."
"Well, where is it?"
The string is tight as a wire again. Eddie runs his finger along it, hoping that'll help. You can't see the string but you can see the ease with which he follows it, how his finger slides from one end to the other seamlessly. Inspired suddenly by the memory of your bedroom, Eddie grabs the string near the middle and pulls.
The string deigns to do his bidding, yanking your hand forward.
You pull it back instinctively. "Is that a trick?"
"There's a string. I've been losing my mind trying to show people, I tried to cut it off. It's impenetrable." Eddie stamps down his excitement in the face of your less enthusiastic frown. "It runs from me to you."
You rub your marriage finger, the string a strong and shimmering crimson at your touch. "I can't feel it, but you pulled me." Your eyes are shiny. "Eddie, you like me?"
"Yeah, I do." He can't believe he's admitted to it out loud. No escaping it. Of the two secrets he just told you, it's the least terrifying. He wants to say more and he wishes he could take it all back, your confusion tangible in the lines of your frown, your gloss-sticky lips drawn thinner.
He's interrupted.
"Hey, Y/N!" Macy calls, slipping through the doors, Robin on her heels. "You okay?"
Eddie steps back from you guiltily.
"I'm fine! I'm fine, Mace, I was trying to let him down easy and I kept saying the wrong thing." You drop your hand out of the air. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's okay, I don't care. I don't want people yelling at you, that's all." She spies on Eddie out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm not yelling at her," he defends.
"Yeah? You should both come back inside, then. Have a drink. That's why you're here, right?"
She smiles until Eddie realises, defeated, that she's not gonna leave you alone out here with him. That's fine, he's glad people are looking out for you, but fuck is it annoying. He's finally told you about the stupid impossible string that links you together and you almost believed him, he could see it, and worse, his confession lays at your feet unanswered.
Macy pulls Eddie back by the t-shirt as you walk on ahead, where you're quickly commandeered by a concerned Harrington, a chocolate milkshake in his hand that he instantly attempts to share. "Eddie," Macy says, jaw dropped in emphasis, "you kissed?"
He covers his eyes with his hands, palm out, solid rings digging into his eyelids. "Not really," he says, a pounding headache emerging between his eyes. "No. I guess not."
—
Hawkins library smells musty with disuse. Dust motes swim between beams of light shining down through dirty windows, an aged yellow colour painting the pages of the book splayed in front of you. You'd originally retreated into Hawkins library in the pursuit of one thing alone: resolute, guaranteed solitude. You'd considered disconnecting your phone, but your address isn't a secret. The only sure fire way to be alone was to leave, and to hide.
No twenty-two year old Hawkinite spends their Sunday mornings at the library. You'd carried a litre bottle of water and a tupperware of sandwiches into the recesses of the old building and dropped into a creaky desk bright and early. For a blessed, blissful half an hour, you set your cheek to cold wood and closed your eyes, content to be unreachable.
It's not that you don't want to see people. Not that you don't want to see Eddie. You don't want to be seen. Not today.
Some mornings you wake up and feel wrong. You can shower, dress in new clothes, wear makeup and nice shoes and pretty bangles, but none of it makes any difference to your poor self-esteem. You figured every woman feels this way —what is there to love in a world that advertises solutions to problems you didn't know you had until they printed it in magazines? But it's been getting worse.
Now you're lonely enough to let acquaintances kiss you for the simple reason that they want to, and insecure enough to attribute that want to a specific motive, but Eddie said he kissed you because he thinks that you're beautiful. Because he likes you. Because a string runs from his hand to yours that can't be severed.
The latter feels as mythological as the former.
It's a mess. You've asked a thousand questions. Would the situation be cleaner if you rejected Cory? Did Eddie kiss you because he realised he could, that you'd let him do it? Cruel. Not his style, and mean to think of him, but a worry nonetheless. From there the questions broaden, immature in root. Does Eddie actually like you? Would he be your boyfriend? Does he want that, do you want that, is he okay? Was he high last night? Was he ill?
You flick through tomes with sweat thumbprints pressed deep into the corners and sides, scanning mildly then feverishly for an answer. Love myths, old legends, everything the librarian can give you on fantastical sweethearts —soulmates.
Eddie thinks that there's a string tied from his finger to yours to torture him as a link to what he wants, but can't have.
It doesn't make much sense. Eddie Munson could have you if he asked nicely enough.
That might be the problem. He's never asked anything of you. Eddie's a giver, constantly, a thousand little gifts. Your hair is nice like that. Do you want to sit here? You'll get the next one, but he never lets you get the next one.
His very best gift was small. Waiting for Gareth to bring the car around and hiding from the early summer rain under the Hideout's short veranda, you and Eddie sitting on a cold wall, his jacket underneath you as he insisted to stop you from catching a chill. You remember thinking he was pretty even with his hair in his eyes, his cheeks hollowed in concentration. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, offering a glimpse of a guitar pick tucked inside of the plastic photo window. "This is my best kept secret, okay? Don't go spreading it around," he'd said from the corner of his mouth, deft fingers folding the length of a receipt into a square. He tore the excess, leaving himself with an incredibly small scrap to start with. From there he made the paper crane swiftly, folding neat corners and twisting the snout, placing the finished craft on your stocking-clad knee. "Here."
"How did you do that?" you asked, awed.
He made you a square of your own, shuffled closer to you on the wall, the heat of his hands near yours to correct you and his patient demonstration booting your heart into overdrive. You remembered every step of his origami even weeks later, folds of paper brushed by the soft memory of his fingertips on the back of your hand, accidental touches, and the smell of him, so close.
Those paper cranes in your room, tens of them sewn like popcorn strings at christmas…
You shake the thought from your head and close the book. Maybe you do like Eddie. Maybe you have all along (tenuously, waiting to get let down, and thinking there wasn't a chance in hell he could ever like you back). And now he likes you back?
This obsessive retrospection is bad for your head. Sighing, you stand from the desk you've monopolised and stretch your arms over your head, taking a breath to peer down at your fruitless investigation. The string is in his head. He punched himself pretty hard the night you took him home —he's reeling from the after effects of booze and a mild concussion, no doubt. His mind is playing tricks on him. As far as you're concerned, there's no string. (But your hand moved when he pulled. But you want it to be real.)
You pull the books to your chest and ferry them back to the lonely shelf they came from toward the back of the aisles near the audiobook stand.
Fuck, you think to yourself, kneeling by the mythology section to begin putting your books back in a vaguely organised manner. Your reading provided no answers, and you're starting to worry it's none of the scenarios you'd contemplated, but a mean-spirited joke. What would Eddie ever want with me? you think, neatening the edges of the books slowly.
Realising you like him, his chaste kiss, the red string, it's a lot to take in. You aren't sure what you believe, but you'd love to believe Eddie, in both of his confessions.
You're standing and dusting your knees when you see it, a small cloth bound book shoved between encyclopaedias on the shelf above. It's more like a personal notebook than a novel. You reach for it on a whim. The cover is selenite white, slightly coruscating in the light and broken only by the weighted lines of Chinese characters painted with the bristle of a squirrel mop brush. You trace the last of the characters mindlessly, the English translation beneath it reading, Chinese Folk Mythology.
You open the book to the first page, blank; the second, the titular; and the third, contents. You flick through creation myths and cosmology, defeated before you've even begun. You really want Eddie to be telling the truth about this —if he is, it means he's telling the truth about liking you, puts real feelings behind his tipsy kiss.
The first and last burst of colour stops you short.
The red thread of fate.
A red line furls from one corner of the page to the second page opposite, shot through phrases, your eyes catching fast on choice words. Invisible to the mortal eye. Marriage of two souls. Tangled, knotted, but never broken. Fate.
You sit on your knees on the floor of the library, the pages spread flat under your hands and their minute trembling.
—
Eddie checks his hair in the rearview mirror again. "Loser," he says, looking himself straight in the eye. Then he smiles with teeth, kicks open the driver's side door, and drops out of the van with a crushed bouquet of flowers held to his chest.
Today's been a nightmare. Between you (always you, his only thought of the growing mess he's made) and Wayne, he's been flayed.
"Your room is a pigsty, Eds, I'm not happy," his uncle had said, glaring at him over the lip of his coffee mug. Garfield absent and replaced by genial Odie, Eddie still felt abjectly judged.
"I've been busy!" Eddie defended, too worried to eat and instead working his way through five pieces of nicotine gum at once, his jaw aching with each magnanimous chew.
"Yeah, busy turning down shifts and spending all your money on burgers and beer."
"I'm way too old for this," he said through gum bubbles.
"Exactly! Too old to need reminding. If we get bugs I'm kicking you out."
Wayne would never kick Eddie out, but that wasn't the point. "Wayne, I'm having a crisis. Could you have, like, a modicum of compassion for me? Your only nephew? In his time of need?" He clutched his chest. "Christ, man."
Wayne leaned backwards in his chair to fish the trash bags from a miscellaneous drawer. "This is compassion. Don't be gross."
His room was chaos rather than gross, knick-knacks in their wrong places and two hampers worth of laundry piled behind the door. The whole time he cleaned, he debated if it was appropriate to call you, and when he finally bit the bullet and picked up the phone you didn't answer. That's fine, except he called Robin (who was predictably nursing a rumpled Harrington back to health but had enough wherewithal to ask for the hot gossip), Macy (who told him to leave you alone if he was causing trouble), Gareth (who laughed), and Shauna (fucking Shauna) in search of you, and nobody knew where you were.
It got to the point where he couldn't not check on you. Couldn't stay stuck in the narrative anymore of your will we won't we. It hurt his chest too much, a real anxiety with claws to match. He hit Bradley's for a bouquet but the flowers they had were wilted slim pickings, and then he raced to the bakery before he thought about it too much and left empty handed.
Imagine buying a girl baked goods for her to reject you. Eddie in the rain with his paper bag of croissants and dying flowers.
He couldn't find you through the phone, but he has a secret weapon: the string that leads from him to you tied tight to his finger, a compass without magnets. He followed it in the van to this secluded spot overlooking Hawkins town, and knew he was in the right place when he found your car parked on the hill.
His palms clam on the way up, pine needles crushed to mulch under his cons. Dirt crusts their white toes and puddle water splashes over the tongues, seeping into his socks. The rain slows to a pittering that beads down the arms of his jacket and along the ridge of one finger, welled cold at the line of a titanium ring.
The string is trodden and dirty on the ground. Eddie toes at it as he goes, the thread red but not taut, leaving you closer than he expects you to be, perched on a picnic table with an umbrella held loosely on one shoulder.
"Hey," he says, tensing as you tense, softening his voice appropriately. "If you don't wanna see me I understand, and I'll leave, but I wanna talk to you… If that's cool."
You peer down at the umbrella handle under your fingers. "Sure, Eddie. You don't have to leave." He counts his lucky stars, more when he sits on the bench beside you and you ask, "Are those for me?"
He fights through nerves, flowers squeezed to death in his grip. "They're for you. I had to buy a couple of bunches. These are the best of the worst." He offers you the flowers, cellophane crinkled in his hand, not half what he pictured but somehow better for being real. "I'm sorry."
"Don't say sorry for giving me flowers," you murmur in your way, not mindless but small. Not tentative, just careful.
"I'm not sorry for giving you flowers, I'm sorry that they're wilting. I wanted to get you a bunch from Leaven, you know, impress you even if it was too late. I'm sorry for a lot of things, actually. Mostly kissing you without asking first." He doesn't mean to say it like that— oh woe is me. "I want to be honest with you," he confesses, quieter. "Stuff feels weird and awful."
"I know what you mean," you say.
"But talking to you isn't like that. Talking to you is..." He scratched his neck sheepishly. "This is going way worse than I pictured."
"Yeah. Yeah, it's pretty bad." Your voice is calm against his awkward panic. You aren't ridiculing him, the opposite. You're in the same terrified boat. It's reassuring at least to know he's not alone.
You put your hand out without turning his way. Eddie stares at it with another gasping round of chest pain but takes it swiftly in both hands, too much. Why are you this fucking weird? he asks himself.
"I think I believe you."
Eddie bites the inside of his lip. Your hand is marginally smaller in his, softer by yards, and easy to pet at your admission. He feels this bone deep longing to stroke the back of it and he does, the side of his thumb tracing the faint indentation of bones beneath your skin with the care of someone handling a more delicate artefact, the string shortening, shortening, until it's all but disappeared. You're hardier than a rough hand-hold, he's wanted to do this for so, so long.
"About what?" he asks. The string? Or his affection?
"About the string." You struggle with the flowers and the umbrella in your other hand but make no attempt to take the first back from his grip.
He waits for you to say more, seconds turning to minutes, his palm growing sweaty in yours. Eddie wants to be cool like a rockstar who knows you want him and doesn't care, and he wants to be sweet and gentle and give you the respect you deserve, but mostly he wants to make it out of this conversation with you at his side. He's not sure how to do it, but holding your hand as you want him to is a start.
"I have to ask you something," you say finally, as though the words have been dragged from the root of you. "This string… this isn't all a joke, is it? That would be– that would be sick. If it's not real."
"No!" Eddie interrupts. "It's not a joke, I get if you think I'm crazy but I'm not trying to mess you around–"
"I don't think you're crazy. This whole situation is crazy. It doesn't make sense."
"But you believe me?" he asks. What he's really asking is Would you believe me, please? He's so tired of being alone with this.
"I found this book at the library." Your hand livens in his, your fingers pushing between his to twine together solidly. "Talking about the red thread of fate. There's a myth that people who are destined to get married have an invisible string tied from their fingers. It gets bigger and smaller, and you can't cut it no matter how hard you try, but I still didn't know if I believed you. You could've read the same book."
Didn't know. Past tense. "What changed your mind?"
"How would you know where I was if you were lying? We're twenty minutes outside of town."
"I could be a stalker."
"Do you want me to believe you?" you ask with a laugh.
"Of course I do," he says warmly, spurred by your laughter, pulling your arm bodily into his and encouraging you closer. "You don't have to believe that we're destined to be together, but the string is real."
"And you like me."
Eddie's turn to laugh. "I do, yeah. So much it's embarrassing."
"Everybody knows but me?"
"Kind of."
"Oh." You lay your cheek against his shoulder. Almost like you're testing his limits to see if you're allowed.
Rain dots lightly on his jacket arm, the chill of the weather sudden and obvious. He covers your wrist with his hand to hide you from it, knowing he should offer to take you somewhere warmer but needing to stretch this moment, his chest alleviated of anxiety pangs for the first time in almost a week.
"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask quietly.
Eddie stares at the top of your head. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Even if you don't believe it yourself, you're beautiful."
It's not that Eddie thinks you're going to cry but you come apart, slow fissures in the last of your strength. He takes the bouquet from you to lay on the table behind and closes your umbrella, letting the drizzling rain kiss the tops of both your heads. You look as nervous as he feels. "Come here," he says, desperate for you to feel better. "C'mere."
You sew your arms under his as he wraps his around your shoulders, the string stretching so as not to hurt you. Your voice comes rushed and low, honesty now that you're no longer face to face, "I like you too, Eddie. Ever since you made me that paper crane, I think."
He rubs your back. "You don't have to sound upset about it," he teases, trying to rescue you from tears. He'd hate to see you cry.
"This has all been such a mess."
He hugs you harder. "I know. I promise I'll make it up."
"But it's not your fault."
"Maybe, but that's kind of the point of being with someone. Looking after each other, cleaning up messes. I want to."
"You're with me," you repeat carefully.
Eddie pulls back, taking your face into his hand. The string lines your cheek like a teardrop curved down the slope of it. He strokes the red thread gently with his thumb. "I want to be. You think that could work? Us?"
Your fingers curl into the crook of his elbow. You nod into his touch. "If this isn't a trick."
"It's not a trick. I'm in love with you," —he wants to lean in, and he can't, not yet, not while a fraction of you still thinks he couldn't want you sincerely— "everything about you. I think I have been for a while."
"In love…" you murmur into yourself.
You lean forward slowly, stilted, and when Eddie leans in to meet you your eyes flutter closed. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thinks. He might have kissed you before but he doesn't remember it anymore than a phantom, a ghost, the echo of a memory. He remembers what he said and the blooming pain of his hand kicking back into his eye a thousand times clearer than how your lips felt, he has no idea what you like, where to put his hands—
You kiss him first. You lean in, and you kiss him gingerly, waiting for an impending cruelty or rejection that's never going to come. He keeps it gentle, holding his breath as the tip of his nose slides across yours and his head tilts to allow better access, a proper, full kiss.
For someone who hasn't had very many, you're a good kisser. A little too still. Eddie sees no harm in it, moving back a millimetre to wade in again immediately, his left hand rising to join the right on your warming face and prompting you into a braver reciprocation.
He smiles at the feeling of your bottom lip pressed against the seam of his mouth. His jacket sleeve creaks as your grip tightens.
It's a lovely kiss, even if it's tenuously taken. It's everything. For a while the rain doesn't matter, steams off of him, but it must fall too harshly for you to ignore, peeling away from him, so, so carefully. He meets your softened gaze with a similar expression. For once, you seem completely present, and better, your smile is real.
"Was that okay?" he asks, sliding his hands down the lines of your neck, feeling for nothing in particular. Feeling to feel, wanting to learn every hill and bow of you.
"It was better than the first two," you say, an endearingly bashful answer.
"That's not difficult. One was from a wet-nosed, mouth-breathing imbecile and the other one was from Cory Wilson."
You laugh without restraint, a full-bodied sound that echoes down his arms. "I think you mixed that up," you say nicely.
Flirting! Eddie could burst into tears. "You think? How about slimy, frizzy loser?" His hand lives a life of its own, squeezing your shoulder as he suggests, "Desperate and unobsequious uggo?"
Raindrops catch your forehead as you tip your head back briefly, laughter bubbling on your lips, your relief a palpable saccharine. "In what world are you an uggo?"
"What, do you like me or something?" He takes another kiss, lips lingering, longing for just a few more seconds. "Notice how you didn't disagree with 'desperate'? 'Unobsequious'?" he murmurs, a quarter inch from your mouth.
"You're not desperate," you murmur back, almost inaudible under the patter of rain.
"But?"
"But I don't think unobsequious is a word."
"No?" he asks, kissing you again. The awkwardness is gone, replaced by a melding need. "You don't think so?"
"No," you defend. He can hear your fondness.
Eddie presses a tight kiss hard enough to feel the impression of your teeth over your lips before tearing himself away. Kissing you isn't a tenth of what he wants from you; there's a lot to tell you. He needs to start now.
Your lips part as though you've a question to ask, too, but you bring a distracted hand to his hair. "Your hair's getting curlier in the rain. It's…"
You falter.
"I'm drowned, huh?" he asks.
You try to say no. Your hand wavers shy of a coil, listless, "No way," you whisper, eyes on your hand now, on your marriage finger and the red string playing at your knuckle, shimmering with a fish-scale sparkle as you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger on the opposite hand. "I can see it."
"You can see it?" Eddie asks, leaping onto his feet.
Your face is transformed, infinitely, impossibly prettier by your beaming smile as you clamber to stand in front of him, stretching the string between your bodies experimentally. "I can see it!"
"You can see it?" he asks, vaulting his weight into you, his arms working around your back in a squeeze.
You pull your arm up between you both and twist your wrist this way and that, the string following your whims as you lean back in the circle of his arms. Your eyes flicker between him and the string, as though you're working out which one is an illusion. Eddie and the string are both real.
"We're really soulmates."
Eddie doesn't know if he believes in soulmates, but he believes in the hopeful colour to your voice as you say it, and the tacky skin of your cheek as he leans in for your fifth kiss, your sixth, each one better than the last.
If his soulmate were going to be someone, he'd want nothing more than for it to be you.
—
"Come on! We're so late!"
Steve detaches himself from the frankly killer novel in his lap to turn, his sunglasses casting you and Eddie in a sepia tone as he drags you bodily down the path to their picnic spot. You giggle girlishly at Eddie's telling off and the bodily nature of his pushing, flopped like a fish out of water in his arms.
"I'm hurrying, Eds, you're just faster than me."
Eddie pretends to drop you, to your roaring delight, your laugh echoing across the park and drawing the eyes of Steve's summer club.
"Here comes happy and happier," Robin groans.
"You wanted them to date," Steve says, turning to his best friend where she lays on the blanket beside him, his jacket a pillow under her neck. "You have sleep in your eyes."
"I'm tired," she defends, struggling into a sitting position. She wipes her eyes with the bottoms of her palms, mean, words stretched with a yawn as she continues, "Please tell me Eddie has the basket."
"Nope," Max says, slamming down on her knees next to Robin, her jeans already grass-stained.
"Y/N has it," Lucas clarifies, sitting down with them in similar fashion.
Steve's daunted by them when they're together, but he leaves his commentary at an unintelligible curse word, his head tipped back in annoyance. They're constantly pulling the carpet from under him, practically manufacturing flaws to tease him about, Max whip-smart and Lucas loyal to a fault.
Still, he likes them.
More than he likes Dustin when the curly-haired boy sits down next to Steve and takes his hat off. "Feel how sweaty this is getting."
"Rather not, dude."
Eddie speaks, closer now, and Steve misses the words but not the tone of them. Dripping, almost sleazy affection, the kind that knows what it is unabashedly. You stand on toes to kiss the highest point of his cheek as quickly as you can, your hand on his trap.
"Hey!" Eddie shouts to their turned head, waving a hand of rings, calluses and bandaids. "You guys look like meerkats."
His cheeks are rosy red with blush despite the moderate temperatures today, the sun set to come out in an hour or two when the cloud cover moves. Said meerkats make room for you on the picnic blanket, where you share the bounty of your basket, sandwiches and cut fruit. "There are chips in the car," you say.
"You cut up fruit?" Robin asks.
"Eddie did. I watched."
"And ate the best cuts," Eddie says proudly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to drown you in a hug. You slink an arm begins him to hug him in return, your face pressed with delight to the curve of his neck. "As is her right."
"Don't be disgusting!" Mike calls, a baseball bat in unconfident hands.
"You sure you know how to use that thing?" Eddie calls back. "Lucas, I thought you were helping him, man? Help him!"
"Some people are beyond help."
"Shut up, Dustin."
Despite an abundance of company and a ton of shit to do, you and Eddie are distracted by one another, and Steve isn't stupid enough to not get why. They didn't see you both for a week, and then you emerged from your self-imposed quarantine as grossly in love with one another as Steve has ever seen two people be. Like, maybe the happiest couple ever. In some loud ways but mostly quiet ones, hands held, fond cheek kisses to say hello, these weird paper birds you make for each other whenever there's a scrap of paper left lying around. Eddie's doing it now, having stolen the sticky note Steve was using as a bookmark to craft a teeny tiny crane, Steve, their called cranes. One second it's a pink diamond and the next he's performing an intricate twist, four last folds, and placing the finished product on your knee.
Steve's sort of jealous, but you guys are too in love, honestly. It's nice if you're in it but too intimate if you aren't (nothing maliciously done, of course), so he rounds up the troops for the first round of baseball to give you guys some privacy.
If he's expecting you two to start French kissing when he leaves, he's not correct. He wouldn't know it, back turned to you as he takes first bat, knees bent and waiting for Erica to serve, but you guys talk. Talk talk talk. Eddie can talk for Indiana and you listen in your way, wryly amused, promising any minute now that you're gonna get up and spread out on the field.
"Is this a bad idea, sports? What if it beheads someone?"
"It knows how to behave," Eddie assuages, hand on the blanket next to your thighs, turned toward you, effectively locking you in. "We don't wanna get that involved. You look too good right now to ruin."
Nothing can fix the insecurities you hold instantly, but knowing someone wants to kiss you regularly has helped. Eddie's constant compliments have done even better. He's easy about it, no fuss, no bravado, praise said like fact. Come here, pretty girl, I got a present for you. Hey, gorgeous. You should do my hair, yours always looks so good. And the photos —he has a disposable in the glove box, and insists on taking photos of you when you're especially happy. Now that he's your guy, that's often.
"You're saying I wouldn't look good if I sweat this off?" you ask, gesturing to your face and your makeup.
"I know you'd look good." He dips down for a kiss, as if daring you to suggest otherwise. It's a touch rough, twice as devoted. Things are heady for a time, the two of you stealing another short moment to add to the list, your kiss made of twin smiles. "Maybe we can use it to our advantage," he suggests, pulling back to stroke your cheek.
"The string?" you ask.
Eddie steals a last quick peck before his hand climbs onto your leg, giving your denim-clad thigh a pat. "We'll use it to trip people up. Come on, it'll be fun. We'll get Harrington flat on his ass," he says, clambering onto sure footing.
"No way," you say, leaning back to see him, your hand nudging aside a plate of sandwiches. You shield your eyes from the sun as it comes out, sunlight like spun gold spilling down your arm. "I'm not helping you hurt your friends."
"What, those guys? They're just my D&D subs."
You shake your head at him in disapproval.
"I'm kidding!" he says, reaching down for your hands. "Get up, sweetheart, we'll only trip someone if we need to win. Stop fighting me, you know it's useless. I always win."
"You cheat," you sigh, letting him help you onto your feet.
"I cheat," he agrees, kissing your cheek, then the opposite, before holding them in both hands and leaning in. "I love how you sound when you know you're losing–"
"Shut up–"
"You get all breathless," he says, his face drifting closer, and closer, "all shy on me."
"If I knew you were gonna try and embarrass me this much I never would've said yes to being your girlfriend," you say, half-glaring at him with a wave of affection brimming behind your poor acting.
"Really?" he asks. His voice is low, a little rough.
"No. But you have to stop, okay?" You laugh, nudging him in the stomach with your knuckles. "I wanna play baseball."
Steve waves Eddie over from home base to field on his team while you join Max, Robin, and Lucas in line to bat. "This isn't enough people for baseball," Eddie says, crushing emerald green bluegrass beneath his shoes. The rainfall last week made for lush vegetation.
"Yeah, which is why you were supposed to invite more people," Steve quips.
"I was busy." Eddie rolls his shoulders. "We don't need more people to win. We got this."
"We do not got this! And no going easy on Y/N, okay? I don't care if you're together, we need to play to win. Loser's buying the winner's pizza and I just got Sheila out of the shop."
"Are you kidding?" Eddie asks, stretching his arm behind his head, his eyes across the field where you laugh at Robin's side. "Obviously I'm not going easy on her. Why would you think that?"
"Seriously? This is the worst honeymoon phase I've ever seen. I figured you guys wouldn't even be able to play on different teams, like, major separation anxiety."
Eddie does this thing with his hand, his thumb plucking an invisible string. "I don't need to worry, man. I know exactly where she is."
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading, especially if you got all the way to the end! hope you enjoyed ♥
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4
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Polaroid Evidence pt.1 - Eddie Munson
Summary: Your brother Jonathan doesn't approve of your boyfriend even when he's always over, but your mom and younger brother love him.
0.8k wc
Read pt.2 -> Here!
The first thing Joyce said when you admitted to dating Eddie was "Bring him around for dinner!" While Jonathan sulked quietly in the corner, definitely not expecting this reaction from your mum after having blackmailed you into telling her.
He'd been in the car with Will after school waiting for you to finish working on your english project when he got bored, eyes distractedly trailing to your bag sat in the passenger seat, completely zoned out of the story Will was recalling. Deciding to do what an older brother does, he dragged the bag over the controls and into his laps, snooping around for something good. Something secret. "Jonathan? What are you doing?" Noted Will, well aware of his sister's violated privacy. Fortunately, Jonathan found something better than a secret. He found evidence.
When his fingers grazed the familiar plastic of a polaroid image, he immediately pulled it out to see what it was, hiding it away from the sun's reflection in his palm. His eyes widened at the sight: Your arms wrapped around Eddie's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss, and Eddie's hands definitely too close to your ass, pressing your hips against his tightly. The date was marked in black sharpie underneath as '14.09.1986'. Last Friday.
"Is that Eddie Munson?" Jonathan felt Will's eyes widen from behind him, now gripping the car seat in front of him to help pull himself forward, observing the image in his brother's hands. "Y/N's dating him? Cool!" Jonathan grunted, tearing the photo out of Will's ray of vision. "No Will, not cool." Just as Will opened his mouth to ask why, the passenger's door slammed open, your voice filling up the small space almost immediately. "Hey... Jonathan." Will pushed himself back to sit flat against the car seat, preparing himself for another loud argument.
"What is that?" You seethed, lunging forward to snatch the photo out of Jonathan's hand, which he stuck out the window, away from your reach. "Why are you going through my things, you fucking asshole!" You yelled, grabbing your bag from your older brother's laps. "I told you I don't want you around him." He replied calmly, turning on the car's ignition. Since he was driving, he was safe from any more of your attacks. "What difference does that make? You think I'm gonna stop seeing someone because you don't like him?"
The hum that came out of Jonathan almost had you disregarding everyone in the car's safety, but you stayed put, taking a deep breath. "Well you know what? Will loves him." Jonathan scoffed, taking the polaroid out of his pocket. "Will doesn't know him. He just thinks he's cool." Turning the wheel, Jonathan pulled into the drive way, finally removing the key from the car, cutting its engine. "Well since you think he's the best person you could be dating and that your judgement is so great, how come mum doesn't know?" You tried for the printed image again, but gasped as the seatbelt locked you into place, pulling you back into the leather seat.
"You tell mum," he started, turning the picture in his hands with a wicked smirk. "Or I will." You groaned loudly, gathering your things before slamming the car door behind you as you exited, your younger brother following you instantly. "Y/N?" "I'm sorry you had to see that Will, but some times Jonathan just makes me want to rip my hair out." You stated, turning to face him.
"Why don't you want mum to know that you're with Eddie? And can I meet him?" You laughed at the end of his sentence, crouching down to meet his height. "Well I care a lot about mum's opinions, and if she doesn't like Eddie, it'll completely change my relationship with him. So I'm kind of scared to tell her about him because she only hears things about him. Things that might not be true." Will nodded seriously at your words, a grin immediately forming on his face when you added "And of course you can meet him."
When you trudged into the living room, Jonathan was being coddled by Joyce, the polaroid threateningly sticking out of his back pocket. You stealthily walked by him, trying to slip the image out of his pocket, but apparently you'd been too loud, and the older boy turned to face you just in time. "Hey mum." You greeted, accepting the hug she gave you, mentally preparing yourself to tell her about your scary boyfriend.
To your surprise, her first words had been "Eddie Munson? Well bring him around for dinner." When Jonathan's eyes shot wide open, exclaiming "What!?", she added "Anyone good enough for my daughter is good enough for me. I'd love to meet him." Your shoulders dropped in relief and you sighed in relief. However when Jonathan added "Well let's invite Hopper for dinner too then! He's pretty much part of the family." It was your turn for your eyes to widen as your mum agreed, the knowledge of your drug dealing boyfriend around the chief of police at Hawkins sending a chill down your spine.
#eddie x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson stranger things#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#jonathan byers#jonathan byers x reader#jonathan byers fanfic#byers#will byers#joyce byers#byers family#stranger things#stranger things fics#stranger things x reader#rainydayathogwarts
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Single Blind Study
Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington
Word Count: 3k
Based on this prompt, originally by @stillgoingsteddie
Summary: After Steve and Eddie have discussed their fun times with the reader between themselves, they want to know who's the better lay.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Blindfolds. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V. Multiple partners.
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"What is happening exactly?" you ask, your pulse picking up as Eddie's nimble fingers tie his bandana over your eyes. "You guys weren't really all that specific when you said you wanted to hang out."
"I suppose you could call it a trust experiment," answers Steve, sitting next to you as he pats your thigh.
Eddie snorts. "Experiment is a good word for it."
"But," Steve insists, "a good chunk of this is about trust, sweets. Eddie and I have been thinking, and talking."
You chuckle. "That's never a good thing."
Eddie gives your head a gentle shove when he finishes tying the bandana, muttering an amused "smartass" under his breath.
His weight shifts on the couch as he settles in, at the same time Steve is moving forward, seemingly kneeling before you.
"Do you trust us?" he asks, his hands on either of your knees.
Your hand lands on one of his, your fingers giving a gentle squeeze. "I'll trust you more when you actually tell me what's going on. Why am I not allowed to see?"
"Okay, here's the deal," Eddie says, scooting closer to your side; you feel his warmth through his jeans, his thigh pressed against yours as Steve's hands move from your knees up to your hips. Your body tingles in response to their touches, waiting in earnest for their explanation. "Though, full disclosure, we were kinda high when we started talking about this."
You snort. "When aren't you kinda high, Eds?"
"Get to the point," Steve says impatiently, thwacking Eddie on the knee. He offers a gentle apology to you as he caught your knee with the reproach, too.
"So, we were having a conversation the other day about how you and I have done the horizontal tango before and how you and Steve have also..."
"Fucked each other's brains out," Steve finishes, his fingertips gripping into your hips for a moment.
"Oh?" is all you say.
It's no secret between the three of you that you've opened yourself up physically for them both. It all started on a boring summer day last year while you and Eddie were waiting for Steve to get home from work. The two of you started talking about past experiences, and one thing led to another. Shortly after, Steve was lamenting another failed dating attempt, and you found yourself on his lap in his car after you dropped the kids off at the arcade. Since then, whenever the fancy struck you, or Eddie, or Steve, it was a given that you'd roll around in the sack together.
The images of either one naked and writhing under you, above you, behind you, moaning your name, hands all over your body stream through your mind, tingling through your bloodstream and straight to your core.
"We started comparing notes," Eddie continues, his tone getting softer as he moves closer to you; you feel his hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.
"What notes are we talking about here?" you ask.
"Things you like, things you don't like," Steve begins. "What you sound like, what you look like."
"And weirdly enough, there's a few discrepancies we noticed," Eddie says.
"Yeah, like we both know you like to fuck in public," Steve says, "but for whatever reason you and I only fuck in the car in public, but with Eddie..."
"Dressing room at JC Penney's, movie theater, in the middle of a show at the Hideout, I could go on..."
You can hear Eddie's grin as your body heats up, remembering especially the night at the Hideout where he took you up against the wall with a full crowd around you.
"Steve, do you wanna fuck in more places?" you giggle, pressing your thighs together for just a little bit of friction.
"No," he says before he grumbles. "I mean yes, but that's not the point of this conversation."
"The point is, Steve and I compared notes about you," Eddie says, "but we don't know how we compare. I would say that some of our experiences match up, but there's not enough information to tell which of us fucks you better."
"Ooohhh," you reply. "So, you want me to just tell you about it? I can do that. Don't see what the point of the blindfold is."
"Nah, sweetheart," Eddie says. "This is more of a live comparison."
It takes a second, but as soon as the idea clicks, your body floods with arousal. Your tongue slips over your lips as you imagine what's to come, and you feel your cunt squeeze in anticipation.
"Right," you say after a steadying breath, "but why the blindfold?"
You can practically hear their smiles as they each take one of your hands into theirs.
"It's a proper single blind study," Steve said. "We're taking away some factors that might influence your decision making."
“We’re gonna watch in real time,” Eddie adds. “We’re gonna watch which one of us makes you feel better.”
Heat floods your body, the pulsing between your legs ticking up exponentially. Your heart pounds at the thought; you’ve never had both of them at the same time. Not that you’d never thought about it before, you just figured that it wasn’t necessarily something that they’d go for. But now, the opportunity of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson fucking you simultaneously has arisen, and you have never been more up for anything in your life.
“One thousand percent yes,” you say, nearly stumbling over your words in your enthusiasm. “I would love to participate. Please, yes.”
“Told you she would, Harrington,” Eddie chuckles, and you hear another thump that could be Steve punching him on the shoulder.
“Alright, then,” Steve says. “Stand up, sweetheart.”
You follow the direction, getting to your feet as they hold onto your hands for support. With your other senses on alert as your vision is obscured, you finally notice that neither of them is wearing cologne, but they’re both possibly wearing the same deodorant. With their intentions bared, it makes sense; knowing their scents like you do would be a dead giveaway. Now that you think about it, both had also been cleanly shaven, no stubble on their cheeks to give either away. Even now, you're realizing Eddie wasn't even wearing his rings.
“Strip,” Eddie commands gently.
Your shirt comes off first and you drop it to the couch, the boys humming in appreciation.
“I might need some help with this bra,” you say, feigning helplessness. “Would one of you gentleman want to give me a hand?”
At once, there’s a pair of hands at your back that unhook the clasp as another pair slips the straps from your shoulders. The boys are just as needy as you are it seems, wanting to touch you in anyway they can. If only you had been there for their conversation about you, to hear their comparisons, and how you turn each of them on. With your tits on display, you feel your nipples pebble at the thought of each one being suckled by a different mouth, a different tongue swirling over the sensitive buds.
“God, these tits,” you hear Eddie groan, and you smile.
“The shorts next?” you say with the same faux helplessness.
Someone’s fingers tug at the button and zipper of your shorts before yanking them down your legs.
“Wait,” Eddie says, “didn’t I rip those panties off of you at the carnival that one time?”
“I bought her a new pair,” Steve answers. “Those are her favorite. Also… at the carnival?”
“Yeah,” Eddie replies, “we fucked on the Ferris wheel. That little mini skirt she was wearing drove me insane.”
You feel Steve pull you close, getting a gentle grip on your jaw as he directs your face to his. “We are fucking in more places, you hear me? I want to fuck you on a Ferris wheel.”
“Anywhere you want, Stevie,” you giggle, rolling onto your toes to press your mouth to his, but he doesn’t let you.
“Not yet,” he directs, pressing on your shoulders to get you onto solid footing.
You feel Eddie’s fingers grip the lacy panties you wear, pulling them down your legs and helping you step out of them. You hear him inhale deeply and you know for damn sure that Eddie just sniffed those panties.
“I’m tucking these away,” you hear him say.
“Don’t ruin those, too,” Steve replies quickly.
“Before you sit back down though,” Eddie says, changing the subject; you can hear his belt unbuckle, sliding through the loops on his jeans as he tugs it free. “We gotta make sure your hands are tucked away nice and safe so they don’t touch anything.”
“Why can’t I touch anything?” you counter, almost whiny in your inquiry.
“Well,” Eddie says, turning you around, looping his belt around your wrists, “it’s safe to say that there are definitive differences to the way me and Steve feel. Our hair feels different, our bodies feel different. You gotta remember this is a blind study and you’re not entirely blind if you can still use your hands.”
He guides you gently to the couch, making sure your hands are tucked carefully behind you. You get comfortable, listening to the rustle of their clothes as they strip, too.
“How are you that hard already?” you hear Steve gripe.
Eddie chuckles. “Like you’re one to talk. I’m surprised you haven’t cum yet.”
“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m probably wetter than I’ve ever been right now.”
“Don’t make it worse, babe,” Steve replies. “Can’t wait to get into that pussy.”
“You’re telling me,” Eddie agrees.
“Now, one of us is gonna start,” Steve explains. “All you need to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy it.”
“How are you gonna figure out who goes first?” you say, but they’ve already gone into a game of Rock, Paper, Scissor, and you laugh. Best two out of three and they’re mum as to who won. You listen for any clues at all, anything that might give away the identity of who is about to please you, but it seems they’ve covered all their bases.
Neither of the boys speak, but you feel a hand on your knee as someone kneels before you, spreading your legs wide. The mystery man exhales before running a finger between your dewy lips, stopping to rub your clit gently.
“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, relief at finally being touched warming your core.
Two fingers slide into you, slowly pumping to get you started. Your restrained hands clench behind your back, eager to touch the one touching you, but instead, you simply moan, widening your legs to give him better access.
He continues, not making a single sound but the one his fingers make pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt.
“Oh, fuck,” you keen as he begins to curl his finger against your G-spot, pressing harder on your clitoris as you squirm beneath his touch; he quickens his speed, listening to your body as it nears climax. “I’m so close… oh, fuck me…”
Your cunt squeezes his fingers before releasing with an orgasm, your body twitching as ride out the high.
You haven’t even begun to come down from that one before he hitches your legs over his shoulders and leans in, his tongue lapping up the mess he made with his hands. While this may be a classic Eddie move, you’re confused by the fact that you don’t feel his hair on your thighs. He must have pulled it all back for the experiment, but there are other ways to tell that it’s him.
He always grips your thighs with his callused guitarist’s fingers, pulling them apart to fit his head between your legs. His tongue lingers in your hole, dancing with the nectar that drips from you. When he’s satisfied, he glides along to your clit, lapping with the whole tongue before teasing it with the tip. He winds you up and you writhe beneath him, whimpering as the grip of another orgasm threatens to take over.
“Fuck, yes!” you nearly shout as he doubles down, coaxing that climax from you; your body shudders, ecstasy coursing through every vein. Your thighs clench around his head, your feet scrabbling to pull him closer to you.
The mystery man - presumably Eddie - pulls away shortly after, though, taking with him a whimper from your lips as he leaves.
It's not long, though, until you feel a pair of hips bumping against your thighs, spreading them apart once again. The hard tip of a cock tickles your heat, gliding up and down before notching into your entrance. Slowly, he enters, spearing through you until he's fully seated and your chest heaves with a satisfied sigh. He stays there, stretching your pussy as his thumb presses against your clit.
"Move!" you demand, hardly able to take the anticipation of waiting. "Please, fuck me!"
At once, he rears back, almost exiting you before he slams back in again. A moan dances from your lips as he enters a rhythm, steadily splitting you wide open with every thrust. His thumb still plays with your clit, tightening the coil in your belly as he circles it. You moan again, your body bouncing as his hips slam your ass.
You wrap your legs around Eddie's waist - you'd know that slutty little waist anywhere, especially between your legs - and he responds; keeping his thumb on your clit, the rest of his hands splay out over your hips, gripping you as his rhythm quickens. You grin, knowing damn well he's close to finishing.
Your cunt throbs, so close to a climax that you can practically taste it. With just the right stroke, you burst, ecstasy spilling down to the very tips of your limbs and back before you're suddenly empty.
He strokes himself above you, trying so hard not to make a sound as he spurts onto your belly.
You lay back on the couch, your chest rising and falling with hurried breaths before he pulls away.
"Oh!" you say, surprised when the next body takes his place and bends over you, running his tongue along the mess on your skin.
Bold of Steve to do so, you wouldn't have expected it of him.
Before you can say anything, however, he presses his fingers into your pulsing heat, drawing a moan from you as he massages your g-spot. He meets your lonely clit with his finger tips, not circling like Eddie would, but keeping a steady back and forth rhythm. It isn't long before he pulls the orgasm from your writhing body, overstimulated but basking in every minute of too much ecstasy.
Steve doesn't stop, though, leaning forward and lapping at your clit. He's hungrier than usual, seemingly rushing through his usually thorough routine of getting you off. His free hand grips your thigh open, his fingertips pressing into your flesh.
"Fuck," you sigh, making to move your arms and forgetting they're tied by Eddie's belt.
Your hips press up the closer your climax comes, wriggling against Steve as he brings you to a swift orgasm.
"Give me your cock," you moan after a spell and, on command, you feel him slip inside your soaking cunt, stretching you just as much as Eddie did.
Steve is definitely impatient, not teasing you like Eddie had, but getting straight to the point; his hips slam against your ass like he'll never be able to fuck you again as his hands grip your hips, holding you steady. You wrap your legs around him too, his body a little thicker than Eddie's.
"Yes," you gasp, growing closer to your next orgasm.
Like he's conditioned at this point, Steve's fingers find your clit again, pressing on it until you squeeze around him, moans dancing through the air from your mouth. He must think you can't hear him with all the noise you make, but he whimpers almost imperceptibly as he pulls out of you, his spend joining Eddie's on your tummy.
It's almost dream-like, the way your head swirls; you couldn't see a thing but your boys had you going like they've never done before.
"Okay, babes," you hear Eddie say, close to you. You feel his hands wrap around your head to relieve you of your blindfold. "There are those pretty eyes."
You blink against the light of the room, opening your eyes to see your boys head-to-toe naked, both with their hair pulled back. Eddie is standing close to Steve now, his cock hard once more. Steve's cock, on the other hand, is taking a well-deserved rest.
"Well, if I didn't know already, I definitely know now," you say with a giggle.
"What do you mean?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie.
You point to Eddie's member. "If Eddie would've just finished he wouldn't be hard like he is right now."
Both their gazes aim for Eddie's dick.
"Okay," Eddie says, "but who was better?"
"What do you mean if you didn't know before?" Steve asks at the same time.
You sit up, allowing Eddie to remove his belt from your wrists. Steve picks up the discarded bandanna and cleans your tummy of the come.
"Eddie's a guitarist," you state simply. "His calluses gave him away almost instantly."
Eddie looks at his hands like they've betrayed him, then wraps one around his erection.
"Honestly," he says, "watching Harrington go at you was probably one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Not to mention, he licked my jizz off your stomach, babes."
"I was trying to throw her off," Steve says defensively. "I thought maybe she would think it was you licking my jizz."
"You want me to lick your jizz, Stevie?" Eddie teases, wiggling his tongue at him.
Steve seems to consider it for a moment before you pop in.
"The next person to say 'jizz' gets a beating. And not the fun kind."
"Seriously, though," Steve says, lowering to the couch next to you. "Who was better?"
The two look at you expectantly, each one eager to hear their name, but you can't let them have that satisfaction. A wicked grin pulls your lips toward your ears.
"Well," you say. "I can't decide."
"What?" they say together.
"We're just gonna have to keep studying, I guess."
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#stranger things
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I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…
Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.
*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.
OH MY LOVE.
hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.
18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.
**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤
<1k
send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)
Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.
Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.
“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”
One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.
Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.
You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?
Eddie was naked.
Pale-moon colored ass on display.
Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.
His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.
Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.
Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.
And then you hear it.
A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.
Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.
Oh—fuck.
His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.
Jesus.
Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.
Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.
The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.
Fuck.
Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.
Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT
With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.
What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!
Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.
Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.
You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.
A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?
It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.
Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?
The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.
How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.
The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.
You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.
Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.
You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.
“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.
You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.
Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.
“We need to talk.”
part two
steve tied up
#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie drabble#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson blurb#eddie blurb#eddie munson smut blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst
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This or That | Steddie x Fem!Reader
Summary: You can’t seem to figure out what you like better between Steve and Eddie (basically about who gives the best head..)
Warnings: EXPLICIT AF Minors DNI 18+ threesome, f & m receiving, m/f giving, oral f/m, filth filth FILTH
Note: This always happens...I ovulate and right very horny and filthy shit. This is becoming a pattern...Anyway, enjoy!
Reposts and comments are always apperciated!
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Watching Steve get Eddie off is your favorite pastime.
Eddie is usually a talker when you all have sex. Always saying how good it feels when you clench against him or how hot it is when Steve spills his cum against his chest. Or any other dirty filthy thing that comes out of his mouth. But when Steve goes down on him, he’s always quiet. Too stunned to anything as he watches Steve fucking Harrington lick him from his balls to tip before swallowing his length down his throat.
And seeing Steve with Eddie’s cock in his mouth does something to you. You clench against nothing, your holes begging to be filled as you lay your head on Eddie’s thigh and watch Steve drip spit from his mouth onto Eddie’s red tip.
Licking your lips you see Steve lock eyes with you and smile before going back down on him. He takes on hand off of Eddie’s length and places it against your cheek. His hand still a bit wet as his thumb rubs against your lips, you eagerly open you mouth as needy as Steve knows you are, sucking and licking on his thumb. You let out a gasp when you feel two wet finger dip inside of you and curl with a skilled way that always gets you to come.
Maybe your favorite is when Eddie gives Steve head. His hair acting as a curtain, covering the filthy image of Steve’s cock between his lips. The only way you can know for certain that it’s happening is by the way Eddie moves his head up and down and the pretty noises Steve makes when Eddie goes an inch deeper.
If Eddie doesn’t say anything when someone’s going down on him, Steve always becomes a whimpering talkative mess. His cheeks flushed and his chest moving rapidly as Eddie takes him inch by inch. You kiss Steve’s chest, licking any and every place you can, and Steve can’t get enough. He whines and whimpers and curses at the actions, and you love to shush his cries with a deep kiss.
Wait, no, it’s the way Steve eats your pussy. Yeah, with his head in between your thighs and his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you from moving. Steve alternates sucking against your clit with putting his tongue inside you. Steve is good at what he does, you know it and Eddie knows it.
Eddie, who's right next to you, palming your tits, squeezing your nipples ever so harshly and whispering praises to you. His eyes focused on Steve lapping at your wet folds. Eddie never lasts long with being the one to watch and praise you while the other eats you out. He always loses focus and gets distracted and jealous. So he never stays next to you for long.
He goes down next to Steve wanting in on the action so within seconds you feel both of their tongues against your pussy which causes you to come a lot quicker than usual. Unless Steve doesn’t push him off and order him back to lay next to you.
Actually, it’s the way Eddie eats you out. How could you forget? The way he talks to you with his lips right against your pussy, rubbing almost his whole face in your heat. His lips, nose and cheeks glistening with your slick as he drowns in you. He talks a lot, mumbling against you but you and Steve know it’s mainly to himself. Eddie goes dumb when he eats you out. A mumbling mess that will only be brought back to life with you having an orgasm on his tongue.
Steve, ever so caring, gives you the extra care and praise you need to get there quicker. His kisses, all tongue and swollen lips, the way he sucks on your tits and flicks your wet nipples with his fingers. Sucking and biting your neck as your back arches.
And he talks to you so sweetly. “Is Eddie making you feel good sweetheart? Do you like what he’s doing with his tongue? Fuck, just look at him, all drunk and dumb on your pussy. You're such a good girl baby, your pussy so good it’s makin’ Eddie lose his mind. You wanna come baby? Huh? You wanna come with Eddie’s fingers inside you?”
Honestly, you couldn’t really choose one or the other. Either way, it's always good with them.
#steddie#steddie x reader smut#steddie x reader imagine#steddie smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve and eddie#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#steve x reader#steve x eddie#steddie x reader
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eddie: *listens to honkytonk badonkadonk*
eddie: *looks at steve's ass*
eddie: i've connected the dots
eddie's laying in bed one night, his nose tucked into a paperback, when steve walks into the bedroom from their ensuite. eddie looks up from his book to say something as steve circles the bed to his side, but the words die on his lips as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend, slackjawed and wide eyed, his brain oozing out of his ears.
"shut my mouth, slap your grandma."
steve crinkles his nose, stopping in front of the bed. "excuse me?"
eddie can't take his eyes off the image in front of him. steve's chosen sleepwear for the night is the shortest pair of basketball shorts eddie's ever seen. more importantly, he can't stop staring at the absolute dump truck the tiny shorts barely contain.
"stevie. baby. are you tryin' to send me to an early grave? good lord."
steve snorts and lifts the covers to get into bed. eddie blinks and tosses his book onto the nightstand, sending his phone and glasses to the floor, and pounces on him, effectively pinning steve on his front. steve only hums and wiggles to make himself more comfortable.
"you're ridiculous," he says, looking at eddie over his shoulder, a smile playing on his lips. "they're just sleep shorts."
"am not." eddie sits up on the backs of his thighs. "prettiest ass in all of hawkins and you're out here hiding it." he smacks steve's ass playfully and gulps as it jiggles under the fabric. steve shivers and lets out a soft grunt, nuzzling his nose into his pillow. "it's a national treasure and should be treated as such, sugar."
steve rolls his eyes but pushes back against him the best he can. "oh really? and what did you have in mind?"
it's been a while since eddie's last prayed but he's willing to get on his knees and thank whatever god that's decided to absolve him of all his past sins and offer him steve harrington on a silver fucking platter. he takes a deep breath and leans down to nuzzle behind steve's ear, making his boy giggle and hunch his shoulder at the ticklish feeling.
"i've got some ideas," he murmurs.
his fingers dip under the hem of the shorts, teasing the sparse hair there, moving up until he's properly groping him now. steve groans and pushes back into his touch, burying his face in his arms.
eddie tugs the shorts down, exposing his ass fully. he spanks him again, steve whimpering and his cheeks turning red. "i'll show you, but only if you can be good." he kisses him softly underneath his ear, his voice low and breath hot. "can you do that for me, baby?"
he smirks as steve nods eagerly.
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ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ
pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader
synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.
an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.
warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks
part 2
It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of.
The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago.
It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him.
He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.
But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.
That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room.
“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement.
“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap.
Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..
“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck.
Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel.
There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.
You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands.
He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers.
Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud.
Let's get away, just for one day,
Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.
Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze.
It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful.
Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock.
“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this.
Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after.
But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure.
You are so going to hell.
“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.”
Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again.
You wouldn’t blame him.
There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror.
You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed.
Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later.
Maybe you were a pervert after all.
Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer.
But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions.
“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up.
Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water.
He’s never gonna speak to you again.
There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand.
“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet.
“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.
“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing?
“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much.
“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick.
“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.
“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.
“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.
Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes.
“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.
“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse.
“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod.
“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?”
“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..”
“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it.
Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock.
“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.
“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”
“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.”
“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off.
“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”
You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed.
“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.”
Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.”
Oh. Oh.
You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak.
“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.
“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.
“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?”
“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face.
“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper.
“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?”
You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.”
“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.”
“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap.
Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you.
“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there.
“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular.
“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses.
“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead.
“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand.
“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out.
But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.
“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets.
“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again.
“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.”
Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.
“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”
You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.”
Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.
The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something.
You’d like to find out.
So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout.
“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily.
“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?”
You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.”
“Fuck, my little minx.”
#if you see me posting this and not updating my other wips no you dont#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#stranger things smut#stranger things fan fic#stranger things x reader#eddie munson
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: frienemies-to-lovers, kinda mean!Eddie? shy!reader, swearing, a lil smoochin', mentions of lack of confidence and poor self image, cute nicknames
a/n: hi bb, will you be my valentine? I don't love writing mean!eddie but its okay because we can always fix him :)
Valentine’s Day.
A day which the Hawkins High elite are positively buzzing over the plethora of cheap red and pink decorations.
Cheerleaders swoon over poorly constructed cards from their popular boyfriends, while dozens of obnoxious mylar balloons take up way too much space in the already crowded hallways.
Beyond the 14th of February, the reason for all the excitement was the annual Hawkins High Valentine’s Day dance—of which you were head of the committee.
Was it because you were the only Senior to volunteer their time to coordinating it instead of attending it? Maybe, but at least it gave you a reason to show up to the dance without a date.
...and avoid looking like the pitiful wallflower you are.
You also knew you’d have no time to rush home and get ready after your last class, so here you are. Standing outside of the AV Club door, decked out in your new crushed-velvet dress. It's ruby red and dangerously short.
This was definitely out of your comfort zone. You typically preferred to be invisible. It’s easier that way; no one can hurt what they can’t see. Right?
But when this dress caught your eye in the mall shop window, it was the first time you could ever remember wanting to be seen. Wanting to try to look like the pretty girls who walk the halls everyday vying for the attention of others.
The dance gave you the perfect excuse. Sure, it’s not like you had a date or anyone asking you to go, but you felt so beautiful. The way the dress hugged your body made all the staring and whispering as you walked down the hallway so, so worth it.
“Hey—whoa…” Dustin’s voice dropped when he walked around the corner, arms full of equipment. “Y-you look fantastic!” He said proudly.
Dustin was your favorite Freshmen, always kind and happy to see you.
“Aw, thanks Dusty! You don’t think it’s too much?” You lifted your boot, inspecting it falsely.
Dustin smiled, “It’s too much for 6th period Spanish, but not for Valentine’s Day that’s for sure.”
He unlocked the door, and held it for you.
Dusting grabbed a pen and paper to write down what you’d need the AV Club’s help with after school.
With hands on your hips, you looked around the room. “Okay, so I definitely need the projector, and if you could set it up before—“
An annoying, loud, cocky voice cut you off. “Henderson! What the hell is takin’ you so long?”
Eddie fucking Munson.
You watched as he sauntered into the room, DIO jacket and all. He clapped Dustin on the shoulders before turning his gaze to you.
“Holy shit. That you, Mouse?”
Mouse. A nickname you loathed.
You’d made the mistake of sitting at the Hellfire table your Freshman year, and he’s never let let you live it down. Once Eddie saw just how shy you were, he made it his mission to get under your skin.
He'd plopped down into the seat next to you, assuming you were there to cause him and the guys trouble. “New girl’s trying to get in good with the freaks, hm?”
You jumped and began to frantically pack your belongings, “I-I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’ll just go—"
When he realized you were nervous, he changed his tone. No longer was he on edge, but rather trying to make you laugh. Show you it's okay to give him a taste of his own medicine. “No no, little mouse. You’re not scurrying away that easily.”
Four years later, you’re both still here and Eddie’s been a thorn in your side ever since. You thought you'd be rid of him once he graduated, but he flunked--twice. Condemning you to another year full of his nonsense.
His obnoxious, overly-confident, doe-eyed nonsense.
“Munson.” You couldn’t help the eye roll. “Dustin and I are working on something so,” you flicked your hand toward the door. “Skedaddle.”
“Oof,” he teased. “You kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”
Eddie walked past Dustin, hands on his hips as he took you in. “Why, may I ask, are you dressed so fancy, princess? Hot date with a frog?”
Okay, guess we’re playing this game.
“The only frog I know is you, Munson.”
His hand flew to his heart. “You hear this, Henderson? Who knew Mouse could be such a brat?”
“If you’ll excuse me,” you attempt to sidestep him, but he blocks your path. Big brown eyes watching your every move. “Don’t you have anything better to do than push my buttons?” It’s a pitiful gripe. You know he enjoys this far too much.
“C’mon, sweetheart. If I didn’t talk to you, who the hell would?”
Ouch.
Something no doubt said in jest, but it hurt to realize just how right he was. You had tons of acquaintances, and you got along great with the teachers. As for friends, the well's a bit dry in that department.
You cleared away the tightness in you throat. “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. I’m actually contributing to society. How about you?” Your face was twisted into a sarcastic smile, attempting to hide the hurt.
Eddie on the other hand thought the two of you were simply playing your favorite game. Seeing just how flustered he could make you before you gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“Yeah, you’re a real Nancy Reagan.” He laughed, gesturing to your dress.
Your eyes honed in on him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” he reached out, sweeping a piece of hair off of your cheek. “If you wanted a little attention, you didn’t have to do all this.”
This.
Said as if the word tasted rotten. Disgusted by what you’d considered to be you at your most beautiful.
I must look like a fucking fool.
The stinging in your eyes got stronger every second you stood in his presence. Your gaze locked onto the floor, following your feet as you left. “Bye, Dustin. I’ll see you later.”
Dustin protested, calling you back before turning his disappointed glare to Eddie.
“Dude…” he chided.
Eddie scoffed, “What? Henderson I was joking—she knows that, okay? That’s our whole thing.”
"Eddie, she was crying!"
Were you? No, no way. This is what the two of you do.
"No, she wasn't." He said unconvincingly. "You don't know her like I do, little buddy. She's a good girl, loves the cat-and-mouse of it all." Eddie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Dustin.
Eddie had a fuck of a time in O'Donnell's class, and now on top of all of that, he's late to set up Hellfire.
He moved a bit quicker down the hall, easy enough since most of the school left to get ready for the Desperate Dance. He intentionally always schedules DND on nights like this, that way he'd never have to be caught dead--
Eddie's stopped in his tracks at the sight of the trashcan at the end of the hall. He spots a familiar piece of red fabric hanging out of the bin.
He pulled it like a magician, revealing more and more of the velvet clothing until its fully removed,
A dress.
Your dress.
Why the fuck did you throw it in the trash? You we're the most confident Eddie had ever seen you while you wore this thing.
...and you looked drop dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.
He heard your voice coming from the gym, and abandoned all thoughts of DND.
Eddie burst through the double doors, ignoring the frilly pink and red decorations for the dance. He weaved between the underclassmen carefully setting up the tables and backdrops to make his way over to you.
You, who now instead of being in your beautiful fucking dress, are in you school-supplied gym uniform. Your hair was pulled back, no longer falling in the perfectly natural way you had it earlier. Your makeup was gone--Eddie didn't mind that, he didn't think you needed it anyway.
But you'd never looked so small to him.
He called your name more gently than you've ever heard him speak. When you turned and saw your dress in his grip, you wanted to disappear.
Had he come to gloat?
"Why the hell was this in the trash?" he's not smirking, or sarcastic when he says it.
"Didn't like it." It's all the pain in your throat will let you get out.
You walk away from him, hurrying to find something else to do beside stand there and be made fun of by Eddie Munson.
"Bullshit," he calls after you, quick on your heels. "You don't wear a dress like this and look the way you look in it and just decide you don't like it."
You could feel the tears returning as soon as you stopped walking. "I don't know what you wanna hear," your back was to Eddie, but you felt his gaze regardless. "I just didn't like it...anymore, okay?"
The fake organization of the ribbons in front of you didn't deter him, he remained behind you in silence until he couldn't take it anymore.
"Did...did I say something? Earlier, in the AV Club." He spoke so softly, and with such sincerity, you'd never know it was Eddie talking to you.
You sniffled, angry at yourself for letting him hear how upset you were. "I don't know what you mean."
"Henderson," He's quick on your heels. "Henderson said you were crying when you left."
You don't--can't say anything. Trying desperately to will the tightness in your throat to go away and the tears to dry before they fall from your eyes. A small, shaking breath passes your lips.
"Please look at me, Mouse." His voice is hushed when he calls out to you.
You turn to him begrudgingly. Hoping if he saw the mess he made he'd leave well enough alone.
But when he sees your face, with red eyes and damp tear-stained cheeks, his heart falls into his stomach.
"Oh, oh sweetheart--"
You beat him to it. "I'm fine, Munson. Just...just give me the stupid thing, okay? I'm better off invisible, anyway."
"You've never been invisible to me." Eddie hands you the dress, and watches as you wring it between your hands. "I'm sorry, Mouse."
You scoff, "You didn't--"
"Yes I did," He says firmly. Eddie steps into you, closer than he's been before. "I made an asinine comment thinking we were playing our little game, but it's not a game if someone gets hurt, especially you."
Eddie swipes away the tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You looked beautiful. You're always beautiful, but that dress? Honey, I couldn't think straight. I'm a dumbass half the time, but I turned into a god damned Neanderthal when I saw you in that."
Your brain couldn't process what was happening. It almost sounded like Eddie...liked you?
"I thought," You looked down, embarrassed to even say it out loud. "I finally felt pretty, pretty enough to be seen and not just in the background."
Eddie's brow softens at your words, "Mouse, I see you. You're one of the only things I look for throughout the day. Always lookin' out for the pretty shy girl with the smile that makes me go weak in the knees."
You laugh at that. "I guess I always look for the obnoxious metal head that's way too good at getting under my skin."
Eddie chest rumbles with a laugh, too. "You're too good at calling me on my crap, what do you expect me to do?"
A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and it has Eddie clearing his throat. "Can--can I give you a hug? Hate that I made my favorite girl cry."
The smile on your face speaks volumes, but you nod anyway.
When you're wrapped in Eddie's arms, his warmth seeps through your bones, relieving any tension or nerves. His scent invades your senses, warming your belly and heart. You melt into him completely.
Eddie can't believe how well you fit in his arms, like a damn puzzle piece if you asked him. He smells you shampoo, and memorizes the fragrance, filing it away in his mind as his new favorite smell.
When you pull back, he leans his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I really am."
You nod, moving his head a bit as it rests on yours. "I know."
Eddie steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ya know, uh, if you're not busy, I'm running a DND campaign tonight. I'd love it if you sat in and maybe after...I don't know, maybe I could take you to Benny's?"
You smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "You asking me out, Munson?"
His eyes widened in sheer panic, "Oh--oh my God, I read this all wrong, huh? Please just forget--"
You're quick to ease his worry. "I'd love too."
Putting the dress on the table, you offer Eddie your hand. "Show me the way, Dungeon Master."
He takes it eagerly, but doesn't walk anywhere yet.
"Eddie?" You giggle.
"One second, princess. Damn knees turned to jelly again."
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Text Me The Details
Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader
18+ MINORSDNI
cw: gossip magazines, reader being horny on a live stream, cocky!Eddie, drinking, drugs mention
a/n: I kinda want this to be a series? So expect a part two at some point. But yeah this isn't an original idea so, credit to literally everyone who's done this before me. I gave reader a last name because if I have to write y/l/n one more time I'll sob. ANYWAY I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you like this!
WC: 1.2k
...
You are never drinking again. Ever.
Your management would agree after what happened last night. You didn’t mean to spill the secret you’d been keeping. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, however, you had an image to keep up. The party girl, the kind one, the one with lots of friends, the girl who had good grades in college, the one who always donated most of her fortune to various organizations.
Now, every tabloid was writing articles about your celebrity crush.
Party girl and influencer drunkenly admits she’d love to sleep with lead singer of Corroded Coffin Eddie Munson. Sources have said they’ve been together for a while but decided to keep it under wraps.
The dating portion of that article wasn’t true and you silently vow to figure out who the fuck these ‘sources’ were. However, you admitting to wanting to fuck Eddie… did happen. You have no one to blame but yourself.
Now, there are three reasons why you’re so stressed about this. First, even though you party all the time, you were good. You know, like only went out on the weekends, did every single assignment, tutored people on the side, was probably the most unproblematic influencer out there. Second, the last thing you wanted was Eddie Munsons attention. You had this thing where you didn’t want the people you were fans of to perceive you.
Theoretically you knew they did, most of them followed you on social media. But there was a difference between being a fan of someone, and them semi-knowing you vs your actual crush who you own a poster or two of? That makes you want to throw up and pass out at the same time.
But, finally, the third reason this stressed you out was because Eddie and his crew were not good. You know like, partied every single day, smoked a lot of weed and snorted coke off of his groupies and fans. It was all over the tabloids and the band has even posted about it a time or two. You didn’t do that. And if the tabloids caught you doing that, you’d lose everything you worked towards.
“So this is how we’re going to fix it,” Case, your manager, says from where she’s standing next to the fireplace in your apartment. “You’re gonna go back on live and say it was an accident.”
You look up from the article you were reading, eyes finding his. “That is the worst idea ever. I was tipsy not black out drunk. No one will ever believe that was an accident.” You huff, locking your phone, “and I have tickets to their show next week.”
You loved your team, but sometimes they made the most insane comments on how to fix the unfixable.
You stand, pacing the room, “he isn’t one to read gossip magazines. And-and I’m not on the same level as his band. They’re A listers and I’m C list at best.”
Your manager and publicist look like fish after what you said. Anna, your publicist speaks first, “I swear to god if you ever say that again I am uppin your therapy appointments. You hear me?”
You huff, sitting back down on the couch, “I’m not kidding though. I’m not giving up this ticket. It’s one of the few things I’m looking forward to.”
Case answers after rubbing her temples, “you better pray this blows over without him seeing it. You may party but his partying is a whole other level.”
…
The call came two days later, an unknown number popping up on your phone.
You knew, you knew before you even accepted the call who’d be on the other end of the line.
It felt like it started in slow motion, first came the gossip mags with the original story. Then came Eddie following you on instagram. He’d like a few photos and stories you put up. Then came his interview. The interview where he said, “of course I know who she is. I’m flattered really. I hear she’s a sweet girl.”
Now, your phone is buzzing in your hand and you can’t bring yourself to answer the phone.
“Yes just a fucking person. Just like you’re a person. Answer the phone.” You look down at the phone and are thankful it’s just you in your house. You tap the answer button, a fake smile on your face, as you put the phone to your ear.
“Hello?” you use your best interview voice, the one Anna has drilled into you.
You can hear him breathe in before letting it out, long and slow, it’s clear he took a drag of his cigarette. Is he nervous too? There’s no way. Eddie always seemed to be this cool and calm guy, never afraid of anything or anyone. He gets into more fights in a week than you have in your entire 25 years of existence.
“Good afternoon, Miss Asher.” You can hear the grin in his voice and it sends a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s Eddie.”
He didn’t have to introduce himself to you, you’d be able to pick out his voice in a crowded room. But only because you’ve listened to his music so often… only reason.
“Oh! Hi! I’m s-surprised to hear from you.” You cringe at the stutter that came out of you. You had more than enough practice dealing with any situation thrown at you. From the funny to the uncomfortable to the scary. You were trained for this and you were fucking it up. “How can I help you?”
“The band and I will be in town next friday, we’re playing a show.” You know where this is going and it makes your heart beat faster, so fast you’re scared it’ll burst. “I was wonderin’ if you were goin’?”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
“I am, actually. Me and a few of my friends actually.” You rub your hands down your sweatpants, nerves making them sweat.
“Oh! Well that is fantastic,” his tone is chipper as hell and you know he’s high. On what, you have no idea. “I was thinkin’ that maybe ya friends and you’d wanna join us backstage. VIP area for the show? What cha think?”
All of sudden you forget how the english language works, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. This is what you’ve been wanting for so long. Well, in your dreams of course. But looking at it from a business perspective, it could bring his fans to your page and your fans to his page. It was kind of a win win. Well, win win lose because then Corroded coffin knows who the actual fuck you are and you arent just some fan. And that, terrified you,
“Heeeeeeello? Are you there?”
His voice breaks through your clogged mind, forcing you to respond.
“Hi, sorry. I’m here! I um I got distracted. But, yeah that sounds great, actually. We-we’d love that.”
“Good! I will have my people call your people, yeah?”
“O-or you can just send me the information,” you say it before thinking and now you really want to punch yourself.
He chuckles to himself, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll text you the information. See you next friday.”
He hangs up before you can say another fucking stupid thing. You press the phone into your hands, foot bouncing on the floor with nerves. You can think of seven different ways that conversation could’ve (and should’ve) happened. One of which was with your entire team, another being with your friends, another being with your parents. Not alone to make a fool out of yourself. Your management team was really going to kill you.
#stranger things#stranger things fic#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson fic#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!Eddie x fem!reader#Rockstar!Eddie x influencer!reader
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💖 2024 Steddie Fic Recs 💖
@thefreakandthehair and i were talking about how so many of the fics we can name off the top of our heads are from right after the show came out because we were still actively making rec lists back then, so:
in no particular order i present to you an incomplete list of fics i love that were published or completed within the last two months
short fics (<10k)
Found God In A Tomato by @beetlesandstarss
5.7k | rated M | fluff, text fic
syrupy sweet strangers to first date fic. without spoiling anything, eddie is a flustered cutie and steve is a fuckin' menace who's lucky he's so hot
he tightened he grip by @steddieas-shegoes
1.3k | rated E | crack not treated remotely seriously
Mickala beloved your commitment to the bit makes me wanna commit myself to you 💍
Slide It In by gayhandshake
1.8k | rated E | multimedia crack
another truly impeccable work of crack fic, i laughed so hard at the first image that i made it the icon for my private discord server
what's that sound? (there's a funny man at my door) by @jewishrat420
4.8k | rated M | spicy six text fic
laughed out loud at this fic so many times i really don't know what else to tell you. as a matter of fact, i went to look at my bookmark note to see what else i had to say about it when i read it, and my note just says "fucking hilarious i laughed out loud like 6 times" 💀 did not do not will never know what else to tell you except that the phrase "the goyim of gender" just randomly pops into my brain once every four or so days now
medium fics (10-20k)
In the Kitchen or the Tulips by @teddywesworl
44k | rated E | telepathic soulmate AU
this fic said "watch me flip this trope inside out like a freshly cubed half of an avocado" and then DELIVERED. i finished this fic and then stared at the side of my husband's head for long enough that he looked over and went "wtf are you doing" lmao hush baby i am contemplating the implications
they're going to send us to prison for jerks by @greatunironic
16k | rated E | social media AU
okay firstly the premise of this fic is so specifically and delightfully unhinged; love that i'm not the only one who looks at a random tiktok account and manically whispers to myself "there's a fic in there somewhere." secondly the execution is a 10 outta 10 outta 10 outta TEN
long fics (50k+)
Sneaky Link by @morningberriesao3
152k | rated E | onlyfans au
the sex is HOT the boys are dumb as goddamn ROCKS what more do you need? oh, what's that? you do need more? sick because this fic also has: the tags "cum slut eddie munson" and "everyone is gay (because i say so)", chrissy the homophobe slayer being the cutest little spy, and jason getting his ass whooped, like, spiritually. on a spiritual level. physically unharmed but that boy's soul is missing teeth do u understand what i am saying
podfics!
it was love, love alone read by @reena-jenkins
21min | rated E
am i technically reccing my own fic on my own fic rec list? you bet your sweet ass i am, i don't even care how tacky that is reena's performance is hilarious and deserves to be listened to at least 40 more times while doing the dishes
relax (lay it back) read by @flintandfuss
1hr 10min | rated E | yogi dom steve x sub eddie
listen if i'm already being gauche then i gotta include my internet wife's belated birthday present to me, like i gotta. morally and lustfully obligated.
Schiava by @teddywesworl read by aheada_lettuce
1hr 30min | rated E | kas!eddie AU
said it once already today and i'll say it again, i cannot believe one of the best reading voices i've ever heard belongs to a person i mentally refer to as fucking lettuce LOL anyway this read is incredible and i have listened to it Times(tm)
and lastly, if you want more recs (like, 348 more specifically), you can browse my full list of public st bookmarks here
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fic recs#i'm still playing catch up on tbrs from 2023 so don't have a ton of new fics to rec just yet but these are all excellent i promise <3#steve harrington#eddie munson
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