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strangersmunsons · 1 month

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Eddie goes shopping with you. eddie munson x gn!reader, ~900 words

“Okay, now what do you think of this?” You hold out a crisp white button-down shirt.

“I think that’s great,” he says automatically.

“Eddie,” you sigh impatiently, “you’ve said that about every article of clothing we’ve seen today. I need like, an actual opinion.”

“That is an actual opinion.” He sounds offended that you might suggest otherwise.

“C’mon, I’m trying to look professional! You gotta help me.”

“I am helping!” Eddie holds up both arms to emphasize his point — he’s laden with bags from the stores you hit earlier in your shopping venture, weighed down with the new clothes you’re purchasing so as to better look the part for your new job.

A small giggle escapes you in spite of your exasperation. “I told you you don’t have to carry any of those,” you remind him, folding your arms across your chest.

Eddie scoffs. “And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you haul this crap around all day?” He shakes his head, dark curls tumbling about his soft face. “No way. Wayne raised me right, thank you.”

“Well, that he certainly did,” you admit, a rush of affection warming your chest. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and pinch his little cheek between your thumb and index finger.

He pouts at the gesture, pretending to be annoyed; but really, a thrill shoots through him at the brief moment of contact. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for you to be touching him always.

But it’s not like that. Not for you two.

Eddie tells himself that it’s okay, that he’s accepted it, he’ll content himself with daydreams and fantasies as he always has —

“Do you think black looks classier, though?” You’ve turned back to face the clothing rack again, thoughtfully fingering the silky fabric of a dark shirtsleeve. Your eyes narrow. “Or is it almost too formal?”

Eddie blinks dazedly, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wear black all the time, no one’s ever put me up for best dressed.” He frowns. “I suppose it’s a little different when it’s a Metallica t-shirt, though.”

You poke him playfully. “Or ripped jeans.”

Eddie swats your hand away, heart leaping.

You snicker in response, then soften. “For the record, I do like the way you dress. It goes with your whole thing, y’know?” You motion towards him vaguely, hands waving up and down his figure.

“My thing?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “The hair, the attitude, the music. Even your name. The whole thing.”

“What does my name have to do with any of that stuff?”

You shift your weight from foot to foot as you think about how to word your answer, tongue poking ever so slightly out of your mouth — an unconscious imitation of the face Eddie often makes when he’s focusing. He swoons a little when he realizes that you’re picking up some of his habits.

“I mean, if I didn’t know who you were, and someone told me to pick out the guy named Eddie Munson from a crowd of a hundred people, I could do it like that,” you tell him, snapping your fingers on the last word. “No one has ever looked more like they should be named Eddie Munson than you.” Your eyes cut over to his. “Does that make sense?”

Bewildered, Eddie’s eyebrows have shot up so high they’ve all but disappeared under his bangs. “…kind…of?”

You pat his shoulder, amused. “Don’t worry about it. Just look at the shirt.”

Obediently, his gaze flits back to the top. You smile expectantly, and he works to offer some sincere judgment.

“Um, it looks comfier than the white one? Not as starchy.”

You nod sagely. “True.” You examine it more closely, a flicker of uncertainty clouding your features. “Do you think it’d look okay on me?”

Of course he does. He thinks you look nice in everything. In your pajamas, in your dressiest formalwear — it doesn’t matter. He never wants to hold you any less. To him, you’ve always the most beautiful person in the world. Whatever you happen to put on your body is irrelevant.

But this is the whole point of him accompanying you; he practically begged for you to let him tag along, swearing that it would be fun and that he’d help you. You’d been a smidge embarrassed at first, certain he’d grow impatient with your indecisiveness and bored with the constant vanishing into dressing rooms, but you seem comfortable now, letting him tote your bags around and asking for his advice. He hopes you’ll take him again next time, and then the next time, and then again after that…

“Yes, I do. I think you’d look really wonderful,” he finally answers. “You look incredible in everything you wear. Honest. You don’t need to worry about anything you buy today.”

Your eyes shine, a bashful smile spreading across your lips. “Really?”

“Of course,” he replies, face reddening. “You — you could wear a potato sack and make it look good, frankly.”

You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would be very flattering on me.”

“Hey, I think you could rock it.” He knows you think he’s teasing you, but he means it. And he’ll tell you again, and again, and again, until you believe him.

He’s got nothing but time.

#just a quick lil thing here :^) kinda just jotted this one down #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #lovesick!eddie #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

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loveshotzz · 1 year

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Lovesick!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Made For Loving You

summary: Eddie’s in love and can’t keep his hands to himself.

warnings: 18 + mentions of drinking, smoking, public making out, semi public oral (f receiving)

word count: 2k

authors note: distance makes the heart grow fonder and I missed Eddie a whole lot. Here’s him being in love with you and eating you out from his POV. thought I’d try something new. Eddie moved away from Hawkins and to a city where he could be loud and himself in this AU.

Eddie watches white smoke billow from between your parted red lips, faded and just slightly smeared from cupping your hands over them when he made you laugh inside the bar you stood outside of. He was still enamored by them. By you. Your cheeks hollow out when you take another long drag of his cigarette after you’d asked for only one swearing that you only did it when you drank. He’d sit here and watch you smoke his whole pack if you’d let him.

The city skyline shines bright behind you, it's beautiful but its glimmer pales in comparison to the way you smile as you tell him a story he’s already heard before. He doesn’t care, you could tell it on a loop if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that. When you finally hand it back to him he notices the way your eyes glaze over when your fingers brush against his rings.

The urge to kiss you is strong but he’s enjoying this moment too much.

Nodding his head in agreement to a new story about an argument you had with a customer at the record shop he’d met you at, his chocolate eyes catch a glimpse of the faint crimson stain now adoring the butt of his cigarette before pressing it to his plump lips. This was good enough for now.

You're all leather and black and somehow wearing his flannel, the wind kicking up after night fell — you blamed it on the summer chill. He knew he’d never see that shirt again, not unless it was wrapped around your curves.

Exhaling his last drag he flicks the remains into the street earning him the scowl from you he was waiting for. Using it as a distraction so he can press you against the brick lining the outside of the dive bar, he silences your scolding with a smile in his kiss. A soft chuckle rumbling in his chest when you meet his advances with a more than eager mouth.

The drinks you both had makes the swipes of your tongues messier when you lick into each other’s mouths. His hands settling deep and bruising on your hips as you find what he’s learned is your favorite place with fingers tangled in his curls. The light tug you give at his roots pulls a moan deep from his throat.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee just enough to slot a denim clad leg between yours, pushing your skirt up just enough for him to get a view of the lace underneath. He nips at your bottom lip when he feels you immediately start to wiggle against him for more, your neediness that you’d been better at hiding than him sends him into overdrive.

“Eddie” His name slips out from between desperate kisses broken and whiney. He loved getting you like this. You tug his curls again when his lips travel to your neck. Nipping at your sensitive skin, he wants to hear you say it again.

The sound of the music inside goes from a dull thumping to loud enough for the two of you to break apart when the door slams open, drunken laughter joining the rest of the city noise that both of you managed to block out. Still caging you in with two hands on either side of your head, he reaches down to tip your chin up to look at him. The rough pad of his thumb tugs your sucked in bottom lip, his darkened eyes watching the way your tongue glides over your top row of teeth after.

Lipstick smeared even more, he knows he’s wearing some now.

Dimples poking his cheeks when he smiles at you, the look in your eyes matches his as your lips finally give in and pull up at the corners. A giggle bubbles from you as your nervous fingers pull your skirt down one more time and he swears each one he earns is better than the last.

“Wanna get out of here princess?” It's his turn to bite his lip when he catches the way you clench your thighs. Your converse tap against the pavement as you shuffle side to side at the thought.

“My place or yours?” Smirking up at him with mischief twinkling in your eyes he wondered if it was still too early to tell you the three words that he swears have been on the tip of his tongue since the day you met.

—

Eddie’s apartment ends up being the winning destination with the promise of his roommate being out for the night. The awkward run in with yours the last time makes him thankful for his home base advantage. Walking side by side cutting through the neighborhoods to avoid the major streets, your shoulders brush and fingers interlock under the glowing yellow street lights.

The sound of your low humming catches his ears, curious chocolate eyes giving you their undivided attention. It was the song that interrupted you back at the bar and a hint of a small smile plays at the corners of your mouth when you feel his stare on you.

“I didn’t peg you for an Eddie Money fan.” His teasing words turning your hint of a smile into a full blown face splitting grin.

“Sometimes I dabble in the mainstream.” Shrugging nonchalantly you throw him a sideways glance pleased when you see the whites of his teeth. “It doesn’t always have to be hardcore and heavy metal all the time.”

Snorting he throws his head back in a loud mocking laugh knowing damn well you have the same taste in music as him. Too distracted he doesn’t catch the way your eyes stay trained on his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in the white gleam of the moon. His pale skin illuminating under its glittering light, the dark ink that covers every inch of him stands out even more, making all your words catch in your throat.

Eddie finally meets your gaze and he swears he can see the stars in your eyes, suddenly the ten minutes left of the walk seem like a lifetime. You couldn’t look at him like that and expect him to be patient. Smirking with devilish intent he doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips the way he’s wanted to all night.

Dipping into the alley he presses you hard against the quiet apartment building. Crowding your space he wastes no time letting his calloused fingers explore the sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and skirt. Relishing in the way your chest moves with your heavy breathing, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You always did.

Collecting your lips in a bruising kiss, he hums against you when you meet his advances. The whiskey still lingering on your tongue tastes bitter sweet against the bourbon on his. Cherry red just like your lips, your nails drag against the roughness of his happy trail hidden under his shirt. He shivers from your touch - a growl he can’t stop releasing from his throat, your tongue catches it with ease and lets it mingle with your own.

The blunt ends of your nails drag across his sweat slick skin, the humidity from the day finally setting in. He knows there’s going to be marks as they dig in when he sucks that special spot behind your ear. His badge of honor.

“Let me take care of you real quick.” He always wants to but his body aches with the kind of need that could set a whole forest on fire. “I need to taste you baby.”

There’s a ringed hand already under your skirt, fingertips skimming across the damp fabric between your legs. His words make your hips search for more, the smallest amount of pressure hitting against your bundle of nerves has you moaning his name.

“You’re gonna have to try and be quiet for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” Smirking to himself, he knows he’s asking for the impossible when he gets you worked up like this.

He pushes your panties to the side as two fingers slide through your wet folds. Coating them instantly — he doesn’t think you understand the power you have when you drip like this — just for him.

His shushes are gentle when his lips cover yours to swallow your gasp when he dips them in. Filling you till he hits the metal of his rings, your velvet walls constrict around him. Fluttering when he curves them to the side he’s hard enough to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. Too lost in the way your body reacts to him, he ignores the pain.

Pulling away just enough to whisper “Be quiet” against your lips with a smile, you watch him with an open mouth and pinched brows when he drops to his knees. The loose rocks on the asphalt dig into the exposed skin from the rips in his jeans, but when he catches sight of the way you glisten on his rings he’s only got a one track mind.

He catches your whimper when he removes his fingers and another one when he sucks them clean. Sugar in your drinks all night he swears you taste just as sweet. Your hands twist themselves into the curls on his head, a soft yank and a nudge forward he can’t stop the way his eyes roll back. Pressing kisses to the inside of your sticky thighs, he nips at the dip of your hips before smoothing over them with his tongue.

Quick hands remove your underwear, stuffing the wet lace in his back pocket. Another one to add to his collection.

Usually he teases you more but the strain in his pants is getting worse and the looming threat of someone interrupting what he’s been thinking about all night has him burying his face in record time.

Closing his eyes when you coat his tongue, his hungry mouth starts lapping you up. The roundness of the end of his nose bumping against your clit with every stroke of his muscle in and out of your hole. With strong arms wrapped around your thighs he can hear the way you muffle your cries from under the hood of your skirt when he starts shaking his head from side to side.

The way your legs start to shake and your thrusts start meeting his face he knows you're close. Licking a stipe up your slit he starts focusing his efforts on your button of nerves but not before asking “Are you gonna cum?”

Nodding your head with eyes blown wide and the pink tinge of your lips peeking through the barely there lipstick that once coated them— he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than just like this.

“I want you to give it to me, baby.”

Maybe it was the liquor at the bar or maybe it was just you, but he felt like making you come apart like this was his sole purpose on this shitty earth. Especially when he hears you say his name all pretty like this, like you’re his.

Your fingers pull at his roots when you finally let go, gasping with a hand over your mouth. Nectar of the gods he’s always greedy when he gets what he wants from you so he doesn’t stop till you’re whimpering with a gentle hand to his forehead and a soft “Eddie” falling from your lips.

He leaves more open mouthed kisses on your thighs before coming up for the air he forgot he needed. His hands move to hold your wobbling waist. Dimples in his cheeks again when he smiles satisfied, he’s not expecting the way your fingers curl into his shirt and pull him down to your needy lips. Pressing his body weight against you again he thinks he could die like this.

——

tags: @munsonology @elthreetimes @munsonmunster @eddiesprincess86

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #lovesick!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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could you write something for eddie bagging an absolute goddess of a gf and how he is completely and utterly in love <33

lovesick!eddie is the love of my life and personally i'd kiss him but that's just me !! this is just a little scenario for this concept, feel free to request more parts!

"Here." Eddie holds out his hand, ring-clad and calloused, "Can I try?"

"You want to try putting on lip gloss?" You raise an eyebrow at Eddie, the cool metal tube pinched between your fingers. You imagine a sheen over his lips, and you itch to smear some of the gloss over then to see how he'd look.

"I wanna try putting lip gloss on you." He corrects, eyes shining with excitement, "Can I?"

"Okay," You giggle, unsure of why he's so insistent on it, but giddy at how his fingers feel when they brush against yours, snatching the tube away from you.

The wand makes a wet pop when it comes out of the tube, excess product glopped onto the tip of the applicator. He frowns disapprovingly at the messy waste of product, wiping it off on the lip of the bottle before looking at you.

He kneels in front of you where you're sitting on your bed, looking down at your lips in intense concentration. He raises the wand to your lips, the fuzzy applicator stick with gloss. It's tinted a soft pink, and he dabs it so carefully across the plump skin of your lips that you barely feel it. He drags it across the outline of your lips, filling in the extra space when he's deemed your lips properly lined. His tongue worms its way out from between his teeth, sticking up against his top lip as he coats yours in product.

His fingers curl around your chin, his eyes laser-focused on your lips. You find it increasingly hard not to kiss the tip of his thumb that's hovering oh-so perfectly over your bottom lip, but you'd smudge his hard work and feel bad about it.

When he deems you properly glossed, he breaks away, a confident grin sliding over his face in a split second, "Perfect."

He stares at you proudly, admiring his hard work as you stare at him adoringly.

"Thank you, Eddie." You croon sweetly, taking his hand in your own, "Don't know what I'd do without my lip gloss applicator."

"You'd be shit out of luck." He concludes drearily, but puffs with pride, "Lucky for you, though, I'll be here as long as you need."

You grin at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling with the expression. Now it's his turn to fight the urge to kiss you, but he bares his own cheek as you stuff your lip gloss into your purse.

"Well you said thank you," Eddie muses, puppy eyes gazing imploringly at you, "But I really think you owe me a bit more than that."

"Oh? What more do you need?"

"Stamp me." He declares, waiting expectantly with his cheek turned, "I worked hard on that artwork, I want something to show for it."

You lean forward eagerly, nearly bowling him over with an overzealous kiss to his cheek. He laughs incredulously at your near-tackle, grabbing your arms to steady you as you wobble on the edge of your bed.

"Thank you," He gushes, a sticky kiss print proudly popping against the skin of his cheek, "My services have been sufficiently paid for."

"Mm, not entirely." You hum, a hand cupping the back of his neck as you press a similar mark to his own lips. He's careful with the kiss, not wanting to smudge his hard work, and when you pull away, product shines over his skin. A bit smears down his chin, a miscalculation on your part, but he smiles proudly instead of wiping it away.

"There." You conclude, "Now it's perfect."

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 6 months

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Nowhere to run

Ghostface!Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Nowhere to run. but you kept doing it. Eddie was there with you though. But running away from the problem you created seems too easy, don't you think?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere!Ghostface!Eddie, Lovesick!Eddie, fem!reader, family issue, toxic relationship, knife, murder, jealousy, manipolation, chasing, angst, bad ending.

𝐀/𝐍: So. Bringing a smut with Eddie Ghostface seemed too corny. I tried something that works better for me. Hope you like it. Sorry about my English, this is not my native language. Support and reblog! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

You ran through an isolated parking lot and, recognizing the place, you realized that you were close to your home. You looked over your shoulder to see if he was still behind you.

You were in total panic, you were crying and you wished this was just a simple nightmare.

You heard the heavy footsteps of his boots and you sped up your run until you arrived in front of your door. You opened it and locked it, locking the locks attached to the door as well. You wasted no time, you went upstairs and hide inside your large closet, hoping he wouldn't find you.

You were chased. But not from just any person you might find on the street, but from Eddie Munson. He was a boy in his late twenties who still attended the same school as you due to his failing grades. He had a low reputation and was called a freak along with his friends. Even though he had a scary appearance, he was actually a boy with a heart of gold. You knew it very well. You knew him. And what's more, you were dating. You were engaged. So why?

You wished you knew.

But you thought this was triggered because of you. You were his girlfriend, his first girlfriend to be precise, and as such, he was afraid of doing something wrong with you. In short, the little complexes you have when you start a relationship, but he had overcome this complex, and you knew it very well, you had helped him. You had always been so available to him and Eddie did the same thing to you. But your boyfriend, beyond this, was in love with you, he was really in love with you, to the point of madness. He was overprotective and jealous to say the least of other guys who got close to you.

You never said anything, but apparently you should have. Eddie started acting strange and you always felt a bad feeling. But you trusted him, so you let it go again. One night, though, you caught him coming home in his Halloween outfit, Ghostface. A ruthless serial killer with a white mask that is nothing short of frightening. He had taken off his mask while carrying someone's body.

Jason Carver.

Jason Carver lately, he wanted to give trouble to the metalhead, playing tasteless games on you or he approached you and made fun of you by flirting with you. All to make Eddie jealous, and therefore annoy him. He had always done it with him. Jason and Eddie hated each other because they were opposites. But both never raised their hands. Eddie didn't like this kind of thing unless he had to, but he always thought that if he got into a fight with anyone he would lose from the start. He wasn't incredibly strong like Jason, but that didn't matter to you. But that night you changed your mind.

He had killed him.

And you were paralyzed as soon as he saw you.

You remained in that corner without saying anything while he, with his costume full of blood, tried to justify himself and explain the situation.

You remained silent. Nodding.

But then you ran away. It was as if you realized what had happened that very evening. After two days you decided to go home but he chased you and you panicked.

He had entered. Now there's no turning back.

His boots could be heard on the wooden floor.

"Sweetheart..." He said teasingly. He was in your room, you caught a glimpse of his Ghostface costume as he held a sharp blade.

Your tears continued to fall.

It was your fault. You had transformed him.

"Please come out, I don't want to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

Was it true?

Eddie always said and stated that he would never lay a finger on you, because he loved you. But you were afraid...

Was it the right thing to do? Did you have to stay hidden? Or come out and pray Eddie figures out why you're running away?

You didn't know.

But your instincts suggested staying in the closet.

Eddie, after checking under the bed and the rest of the room, left. From the various sounds you could guess that he was going to your parents' room. Your parents weren't there that evening and neither were your brothers and sisters, you were a large family, but no one was present in the house this evening. Such misfortune was truly unheard of. You came out of your hiding place and ran towards the front door. As dangerous as the situation was, you didn't want to report Eddie. You loved him after all. You wanted to go out and think clearly and think about what to do to make your now crazy boyfriend see reason.

You were in front of the door but you clumsily tripped and fell down the stairs and a searing pain shot into your leg making you scream. It wasn't broken, but you took a chance, it was definitely fractured or something, but the worst thing was that every single movement of your leg hurt. You were done for.

You cried again and again and Eddie walked down the stairs at a slow pace.

He bowed, looking at your tear-filled face as you trembled.

“Shhh…” He hissed as he brushed against your injured leg making you gasp. The metalhead wrapped his arms around you hugging you "That's why you don't have to run away sweetie, otherwise you'll hurt yourself. And you know how sad it makes me to see you in this state" he said as he put the blade down on you and picked you up.

You continued to cry and sniff as you felt Eddie's latex gloves caressing your hair.

"Why don't we go home? So we can treat this leg and explain to me why you ran away?" He proposed as your head was pressed into his chest, you couldn't do anything else. You gasped and sobbed in response.

"Come on pretty girl, don't cry, everything will be fine..." he said taking you upstairs, more precisely to your room. He made you lay down and he sat next to you staring at you for a while.

He took off his mask revealing his brown curls "Now let's do this. If you tell me now why you ran away, I will heal your leg" he proposed. Was he a threat by any chance? Not very likely. Eddie would have treated you anyway, this is because he doesn't want to make you suffer, but certainly when he wants to know something he will always try to make you spit it out.

Unfortunately you couldn't even form a sentence due to the pain and crying. So Eddie sat on the bed next to your face caressing it "Baby, stop crying, nothing happened, you just hurt yourself. If you want it to go away you have to calm down, okay?" His tone was soft, which made Eddie even crazier than he already was. Was he manipulating you by any chance? Or was he sincere? Too many questions and zero answers. Your head was a total mess and you just wanted to regain control. You listened to him. You took deep breaths and he smiled at you "That's right. Good girl" He praised you then placed a light kiss on your forehead.

“I-I’m sorry…” you apologized.

"It's okay baby. Don't worry. If you ran away, was it because I accidentally scared you?" He asked and you nodded "Aw, I'm so sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to. I'll try not to scare you anymore, okay?" You nodded again as more tears rolled down your face.

You missed him. You missed old Eddie. That bastard rabbit heart that was scared of even his own shadow, even if he didn't show it. You missed that boy who pestered you with Lord of the Rings and Dangeon & Dragons all day. You missed Eddie. Edward Munson. The boy you were so in love with. But now he had become an Eddie with a boundless love for you and a murderous madness if anyone dared to touch you.

It was your fault.

Eddie bandaged your leg trying to ease your pain. Your leg hurt but not like before so you felt slightly better "I love you so much sweetheart" he said picking you up again and planting a kiss on your forehead "Me too..." You answered sincerely. Your life had now changed and now the only thing you could do was hope that you could change Eddie. And if you didn't succeed, well then you deserved it. After all, your parents were right.

"You only bring trouble and turn even the best souls into monsters just like you"

Insignificant words. But real today. They were right to think of you this way, they were right to not love you, they were right to belittle you because ultimately this is who you were. A monster who transformed others. This was your destiny, nowhere to run.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things eddie #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #ghostface!eddie #ghostface!eddie munson #lovesick!eddie #scream

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ghostlyfleur · 26 days

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𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

eddie munson x shy!oc

contents: anxiety, curse words, friends to lovers. lovesick!eddie, inexperienced!reader, self-consciousness, first kiss, sharing clothes. eddie’s jacket is oversized on reader. can be read as x reader, but a bit oc too? carnival date.

word count: ~1.5k

eddie munson is in love.

she is entirely inexperienced in anything romantic or sexual; no first kiss, never even got close to it. extremely shy and anxious, has a seemingly innocent aura, is a bit out of sorts, ditzy, with a sort of luna lovegood vibe. doesn’t argue with people, always tears up if confronted about anything, doesn’t have beef with anyone and is a lot more rational than emotional even though she tears up so easily. also doesn’t hold grudges or care what people think of her…

the thing is, she has been introverted her whole life, a very anxious person, and so doesn’t understand that eddie munson likes her because she needs to be told how people feel about her very explicitly otherwise her mind will convince her they hate her. anxiety is like that. and she’s the kind of person that has a hard time realizing that people can perceive their existence and have feelings for them, no matter what type of feelings, so even though eddie is not at all shy about flirting with her and giving her all of the attention in the world in his over-the-top, overdramatic way, he also knows that if anything other than the friendship he’s thankfully managed to build with her is going to happen, romantic-wise, that she has to be the one to initiate it— but she’s oblivious!

on the other hand though, she doesn’t even bother hiding her infatuation with eddie — it’s a lot more than infatuation by now. she’s always looking at him with stars in her eyes and laughs at his jokes and smiles that big, square, goofy smile whenever they lock eyes and constantly praises him because he deserves to feel as special as he is, right? and she goes into detailed talks about lord of the rings with him, likes many of the same bands he does or simply lets him play his favorites for her, and she truly loves to watch hellfire play dungeons & dragons.

her eds even made her a special edition pink hellfire shirt. ‘cause he’s a simp.

one day, as she’s out with chrissy and heather outside a diner, talking and laughing and catching up, eddie is close by somewhere with friends. his van is parked nearby.

it starts getting chilly, and eddie’s girl starts shivering, so she quickly excused herself away from the girls, “gimme a second!” and reaches through the open window of eddie’s van, making a mental note to grill him about it later — “‘cause it isn’t safe, eds!” — to grab his leather jacket thinking of how he has told her over and over that she can borrow it, that “what’s mine is yours, sweets. i don’t mind sharing if it’s with you”, so she figures it’s okay, right? and goes back to the girls who are fucking smirking like they see something she doesn’t.

it’s about fifteen minutes later, and eddie is walking towards the trio, simply because he misses his girl and wants a hug, when he sees it.

she’s wearing his jacket. his jacket.

in typical eddie fashion, he makes a scene— gasping dramatically, he clutches his chest over his heart and falls to his knees, because fuck what anyone around thinks. his precious girl is wearing his fucking jacket! and she looks like a fucking angel.

“eds, what are you doin’?”

“do you know how heavenly you look in my jacket? i just had to get on my knees to worship you.”

the boy shuffles closer to his sweet girl on his knees still while he talks and she’s flustered, okay? she’s shy and her face is on fire and she’s covering her cheeks and giggling. and because it’s eddie, her eddie, she’s not running away to have a panic attack. ‘cause it’s eddie and he’s being sweet, so she can’t focus on anyone else long enough to feel crippling anxiety or embarrassment. doesn’t even care that chrissy is cooing and heather is smirking.

“that jacket is yours now, you own it. you pretty much own me by now.” eddie says, on his knees, in front of her

“it’s okay that i took it right?” she makes sure even after his display of joy, ‘cause anxiety isn’t rational “you said i—”

her eddie knows her, though. he stands up, gets real fucking close to her, so close they’re almost touching, with this look of absolute adoration and “i’d give ya everything i have if i could, pretty.”

fast forward a few days later. chrissy kept yapping on and on to the oblivious girl about how “in love” eddie is, but it’s as though her brain won’t let her even entertain the idea.

that’s until she’s having a semi-regular quote unquote friend-date with eddie, something they’ve done quite a few times before, and this time they go to the fair. they’re doing everything couples might do, eddie is very aware of this, and he’s over the moon to just be enjoying quality time with his pretty girl until she spots a photobooth, “oh, eds! we have to!” and eddie’s desperately counting coins to pay. the pictures go a little something like this:

after coming up blank with pose ideas, they just look at each other and laugh, but at the sound of his free and bright laugh, she just stares at her boy like he’s a dream come true— first pic is taken, looking at eddie like he hung the moon while he’s mid-laugh.

eddie notices her staring and goes from loud laughs to breathless ones, a smile on his lips, and whispers a soft “what?”— second picture is taken as the girl quickly presses her lips to his, her very first kiss, and it’s caught on camera.

the third picture depicts eddie’s sweet girl nervously rambling “i was going to ask for permission first, i promise!” while eddie has a glassy, dreamy look on his face, slack jawed, looking at her lips.

and at the fourth snap? eddie presses forward to shut her up with another impossibly soft and tender kiss, both of their eyes are closed and his hand is holding her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

after they part from the second kiss, eddie acknowledges that it was her first kiss, a shy “was that okay?” to which his sweetheart just smiles really big and nods excitedly over and over with a breathless giggle. that was the perfect first and second kiss and she couldn’t ask for more.

they hold hands the rest of the night.

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

Text

At First Sight Part 3: He’s What?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @ali-r3n @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @sweetmoonlove0214 @heydreamchild @mrsjellymunson @marshmallowgem @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles

A/N: Poor Robin being brought into all this and poor Eddie for not knowing what to do with himself, enjoy the madness and don’t worry you’ll ACTUALLY be in the next part😂💖

“He’s what?” “In love with her.” “I’m not just in love with her Harrington…it’s…way fucking more than that man…it’s like she’s all I can think about until I get to see her again and…and the idea of her being alone right now instead of being safe with me just kills me I need-” “you need to take a few deep breaths and just relax for a moment Munson.” “So…he’s…in love with her? And you wanna know if I know her? Why didn’t you just ask Dustin to talk to her?” “Because he has a big fucking mouth and will just blab that Eddie’s in love and that’ll freak her out.” “Right Steve because her seeing him all heart eyes and mouth open literally drooling at the idea of her won’t freak her out?…you’ve lost your damn mind.” “Do you know her or not Buckley? I don’t have time for this…it’s already been two days since I saw her and that’s about all I can do before I take things into my own hands and go knock-” “you’re not knocking on anyone’s door! We’ve been over this a hundred times!” “Yes…I know her and…yeah I can reach out and see if she has any idea who the hell you are and if…she’d be interested in you having her phone number.” “You know her? Like you’re friends with her?” “Yes Eddie I’m friends with-” “what’s she like? Does she like flowers? Is she allergic to anything? You think she’ll like my hair? I can cut it if she wants I don’t care oh oh do you think-” “you have got to get him away from me Steve or I’m going to gag him with a bag of Swedish fish.” “Now you see what I’ve been dealing with…I made him stay with me because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t go over to her house and embarrass himself.” “Nothing to do with telling the love of my life how I feel is embarrassing…grow up.” “What did Dustin say? Did he mention if seeing her will make him…not so…crazy?” “He said if she feels the same they’ll both have like a moment and then their personalities should go back to normal but they’ll just be….disgustingly in love.” “And if she doesn’t feel the same?” “Why would you say that? Do you know something? Did she mention me?” “Calm down Munson.” “Don’t tell me to calm down Harrington! I’m in fucking love and you’re both being assholes about it!” “Jesus let me just talk to her and get this over with just…go walk around the store while I see what I can do.” “But not by the door…I don’t want you getting any ideas about leaving without any supervision.” “Yeah yeah whatever I’ll be in the horror section…oh shit.” “What?” “What if she doesn’t like scary movies? I’m gonna have to watch…romcoms…” “Oh my god you’re so annoying.” “I’m gonna go in the back and text her…” “oh so you’re just gonna leave me alone with him? Nice Buckley real nice.” “Later losers…I’ll either be back with good news or….I won’t be back at all.”

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queenimmadolla · 11 months

Note

For the blurb prompt Eddie Munson Tickle/playful Fluff

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

“Say it!” Eddie demanded, grin nearly maniacal as he cackled.

You shook your head, voice singing with your own laughter–though yours sounded more urgent and hysterical–as you squirmed underneath Eddie, desperate to escape. You were flat on his bed, trapped by his thighs on either side of your hips and he pinned down various parts of your body every time you fought against his hold.

What had started out as a hang out day, days that had grown frequent in the few months since you’d known Eddie, ended with the two of you lounging around his room. You’d been going through his things, commenting on every item you’d picked up when your fingertips felt the tell tale sign of a glossy magazine cover under his bed.

It had been a raunchy one, the cover depicting a woman’s large breasts pressed up against a wet glass shower door. And the cover had been glossy, but its pages had been crunchy.

Eddie had immediately demanded it, so naturally, you’d gotten up and ran. He’d chased you around and around the trailer until he finally tackled and pinned you to the bed when you’d tried to doubleback.

Then you’d called him a name.

Eddie had no choice but to tickle you into submission as he goaded you to take it back. He stopped only for a moment to allow you to breathe.

“This can all be over, all resolved if you just take it back.”

Your breaths were heavy and laced with giggles as your chest heaved, face hot from how hard you’d been laughing, then you leaned your upper body up towards him a little and stated in defiance, “No.”

“You asked for it,” he shrugged, teeth gleaming and eyes crinkling with glee. His fingers were back on your sides in a matter of seconds and you were shrieking with laughter once more.

“OKAY! OKAY! Stooop, I’m gonna pee!” You laughed out and Eddie snickered, fingers pausing their assault.

He leaned down until you were almost nose to nose, “Say it.”

You bit your lip as you stared back up at him through lidded eyes. Eddie could see the mischief in them and his heart skipped a beat.

“It.”

You let out another shriek of laughter as Eddie’s fingers dug gently into your sides, ready to continue his tickle attack, “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Say ‘Eddie is not a jizz bandit.’”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the both of you laughed at your earlier insult.

When you started laughing a little too hard at it again, he gently shook your shoulders to bring you back.

“Okayyyyuh!!! You’re not a jizz bandit, now get off of me! I have to go to the bathroom now.”

Eddie was still chuckling as he moved off of you, allowing you to rise.

“You just wanted to manhandle me,” you pouted, shooting him a playful look before you ducked out of his room to use the bathroom.

Eddie watched you go, then collapsed back onto his bedding with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut with a small groan.

“You have no idea.”

#vivi's baby blurbs #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #lovesick!eddie muncon #eddie munson blurbs #pinning!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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spiderrrling · 1 year

Note

Lovesick Eddie calling you the mrs or the wife to everyone even though you’re not married 🥺🥺

oh he so absolutely would

"where is my wife?!" eddie kicked open the door to the theatre room, his arms filled with his various stacks of books, loose leafs of paper, and at least couple of pencils

"you're not married?"

"doesn't matter, where is my wife?"

"not here yet, maybe give her a few minutes"

he tried to hide his pout, not particularly well but he'd like to think that he did

"sorry! i had to ask Mrs. O'Donnell some questions and she rambled on and I couldn't get out of there-"

"MY WIFE!" eddie practically bounced out of his seat, taking the steps needed to close the space between you, his arms closing tightly around you to a point you worried you wouldnt be able to breathe

"your wife?" eddie only nodded into your shoulder in response, holding you ever so slightly tighter in his grip "you do know we're not married right?"

"doesn't matter" eddie mumbled, with your hands in his hair he was as good as putty in your hands

"have you been calling me 'your wife' to people?"

"that or 'the Mrs'"

"why am i not surprised?"

"because you love me"

"long day?"finally you dared ask about the vice grip he was holding you in

"no... just missed my wife that's all"

send lovesick eddie thoughts!! comments and feedback very appreciated <3

#eddie munson #stranger things #asks and answers #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #lovesick! eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader

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strawberryspence · 14 days

Text

god, i am so lovesick.

#lovesick by laufey #dae edits #buddie #buddie rants #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #911 abc #911 spoilers

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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Steve and Robin sing "if I were a fish" while they stack tapes.

#eddie got there ten minutes ago and hes just watching them with a goofy lovesick look on his face #stobin #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #that song has been stuck in my head all week #if i were a fish #steddie

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halobuns · 1 year

Text

early victims.

#lani sketches #lani doodles #artists on tumblr #digital art #halo posts #welcome home #welcome home arg #halo's art #eddie dear #frank frankly #lovesick au

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hitlikehammers · 1 month

Text

You Have Bewitched Me, Body and Soul

or: The Secret Life of Daydreans 🦋

A Pride and Prejudice AU based on this scene for @pearynice on her birthday 💙🎉

He walks the heath to clear his mind, or so he tells himself. He knows in the heart of him that he walks, here, so as to muddy his trousers, to feel close to this man, this man who is so fond of walking, this man who holds him, who keeps him—who wants nothing of him and for fair reasons.

And yet.

This evening and the morning hours before dawn saw fit to peak above the tall grass: it’s proven mortifying, Wayne’s brazen notions, to attend the Hopper-Byers home, to call upon Steven in the night—Eddie may forget himself, but to call unannounced, to impose upon Mister Hopper, to impress upon him even the notion of disrespect when—

And yet then further still: such actions have served now to lead him to this, to this—

Such brashness and its consequences, from Wayne’s mouth upon waking, it has done nothing save to usher Eddie to heights of foolishness he’s never touched before; did not dream existed.

These precious hours have taught Eddie to hope, a dangerous thing to the mortal heart in his chest, weak to fluttering whims of impossible notions.

And yet.

There is light now, caressing the heather, limning the blossoms copper, so much like his eyes but so lesser, such paltry imitations. Nature, despite her majesty, could never hope to compare; Eddie prefers to imagine it does not try.

It must know what has been born of it, more radiant than anything it knows for itself. More resplendent than the sun itself.

And it is the sun itself, that reveals true radiance; Eddie is unsure of its truth but only for an instant. He blinks against the trick of light, in case it plays upon the weakness, the fluttering in his blood, the hope in him, but—

Nature cannot compare to the specimen himself; Eddie’s own mind cannot conjure the wholeness of him.

And this, this:

And to behold him across the moors in the slow-breaking rays of day: subtle, coy, glimmering but ever-gentle, as if in deference to his nature cast in this moment so delicate, lips parted as if his lungs conduct the breeze that calls the grasses to dance—to behold him: it is not songs but hymns, then: greater held here in the golden tendril-strands of being itself, more dear and true in these moments than Solomon’s Song in its every measure and metre—more sacred to a sweeter god.

He is a vision, and come daybreak proper not even the dew underfoot could hope to glisten in such measure as to rival his radiance, and if Eddie’s feet move him unconsidered yet conscious in the soul of him, beckoned in his blood and bones—if Eddie takes the strides between them and crosses the expanse to where Steven stands, to where Steven watches, those parted lips nearer now, more plush and sweet like fruit on the vine; those copper eyes more amber at proximity, molten in motion, dancing even as the beloved lines of that face, that face appraise him with just a tilt of consideration, perhaps curiosity. It is not impassive but it is inscrutable, and Eddie’s heart takes pains to fill with all his blood, to pound hard until he’s dizzy with it—though less so than he is with the dancing starshine in that gaze.

His cause for hope.

“I couldn’t sleep,” and oh, oh, but such seraphic tones bathed in sunlight just so, like banked fires behind Eddie’s bounding heart, like the pulses can ride the flames as much as be driven by them: immaculate.

Then the words themselves, the notion: it could ring as a justification, an excuse for being out in these early hours as if Steven Harrington in his glory could ever require justification, something so gauche and pedestrian as an excuse for being when his being is a gift, and then so far beyond such—it could sound defensive, or as an explanation, but no: no, Steven sets it into the space between them like an offering, simple yet simultaneously reminiscent of the beauteous layers of the man himself, his glorious enigma stood before Eddie like dream made flesh: he couldn’t sleep.

“Nor I,” Eddie grasps for that offering, pulls it tight to his chest; “my uncle,” and by all that is good and merciful in the world: if there is hope, if there is an inkling even, to be had only to be dashed but to at least have been known as potential alone, then let his uncle not have offended the patriarch of Steven’s family. Wayne is a kind soul, and a good man, but his humor is acquired to a fault and if he may have—

“Peculiar affinity for porcelain in that dear man,” and Steven, bless him, exalt him, canonize him and damn him straight to hell so long as Eddie may follow and they may be warm and outrageously contented there so as to keep forever the perfect quirk of his lips, like as laughter from the chest but quiet and still, the giddy dance of it all inside the waltzing wonder of his eyes—any and all things, whatever is necessary Eddie will do with effervescent joy, only to keep it on that heavensent face:

“He may have brought me a vase, and promised a tea service in due course.”

And Eddie had toyed with the notion that he couldn’t possibly flush deeper, perhaps in those stray moments he’d spent blissfully distracted by Steven’s amusement, Steven’s sweet lips, and not the likelihood of Wayne’s quirky ways of making a point and this, this, he—

Porcelain.

Only a long-held tradition in his family so entrenched none recall the origin, merely the absolute intent: a token of wedded blessing, or a gift of betrothal. Nothing dramatic or profound in the slightest, of course.

And Wayne chides him for being over-bold.

“Wholly inappropriate,” Eddie coughs into his hand, tries to mask the red in his cheeks with the gesture; “certainly without your, without,” and Eddie casts his eyes to the now-soft lit meadows, seeks counsel and finds none, to say nothing of the pull of Steven before him, nerves pushing his eyes to at least attempt to shy, to defer from Steven’s haze but as so as their eyes meet, it is wholly for nought.

Eddie breathes in deep, tries to steady himself, tries to focus less on the galloping of his heart between his lungs as they expand and more on the faint scent of honeysuckle when none grows here, when the perfume must be of Steven, must be the sweet lure of him for himself alone.

“However can I begin to make amends for such forwardness, uncalled and,” he falters, because the question is heartfelt, the sentiment honest in him but the formality is comfortable familiarity; the root of his worry, the fear that tethers this hope to the ground beneath him, clips its wings: “and undesired?”

For how could it ever be; it wasn’t, and quite rightly so, conveyed definitively in spring last when Steven had met Mister Carver, and Eddie had soured at the reminder of that rake’s transgressions, had let it propel pure jealousy into something fiercer, that made him forget his tongue and speak of himself as some high prize with no thought to the fact that the Hopper-Byers household lived on inferior means in part by choice, their family a taboo of the region but mostly, to a glance, a happy one: the patriarch a veteran of foreign battles and the Missus a force and a household managed by both with all heads covered safe came nightfall and all bellies filled without pain of wanting and no care for which of the children shared their blood if all shared their love.

And Eddie was, he was…

To call him a fool is too lenient, far too forgiving.

He’d spoken low of them even if only in passing, but he believes it was worse for it, for being impudent, thoughtless, and about inferiority of all arrogant nonsense, as if his money outstripped the goodness of those people, of Stev—

Oh, and he couldn’t have stopped there in his imbecility. Even if Eddie hadn’t known quite how Steven’s beloved sister held his heart; even if Eddie had acted for honest reasons to protect his oldest and dearest friend, despite the concern in it no greater than blind hypocrisy, how could he, how could he in defense of his friend not witness the same awkward tendency to babble in the face of feeling—regardless of any and all of it, what he’d done was done callously, and to have seen it crush Steven, the chasm that had opened in the moments Eddie had owned to his deeds—it had only been rivaled for how hateful it settled in him inside the wrath that had emerged to fill that chasm, the disdain, the loathing aimed at Eddie alone when Eddie had thought, when he’d asked, because he wanted so ardently—

He is grateful only that he told no lie in it. Did not try to save himself in falsehoods. The pain, he knows, was never something he could have been spared.

Same as he knows, now, that his feelings in April were sentiments he thought insurmountable. And yet the stirrings in his breast then were but a faint breeze compared to the whirlwind that consumes him now, his heart riotous and rejoicing without even being granted permission, without reciprocation, even before he knew the first lilt of hope.

And now, now that there is hope—

“Considering the lack of pure ruin well deserved yet unsuffered by my fool of a brother,” Steven eyes him knowingly; Eddie had asked Michael not to disclose his hand in shoring up the transgressions made in connection to Mister Carver in the city, but Steven quirks a brow with pointed intent and a warmth, a softness that is offered in something like companionship, like camaraderie, like a confidence shared; “to say nothing of the fortuitous appearance of one Lady Cunningham in our humble sitting room just last morning,” and Steven’s smile, then—and Eddie knows, because he drilled Chrissy through fumbling attempts so very many times, he knows she’d been and he knows it had borne sweet fruit for her affections—but to see Steven smile at him for it, if only in some part, is further still a gift in its own self: “I suspect we both have more than mended our share of transgressions.”

It is more than Eddie could ask for, an even footing steadier in this moment than he could have wished to reach.

And yet.

“You must know,” and Eddie can hear his own heart in his words, in his voice undeniable, inescapable—only rational, for the words passing the thumping in his throat on their way past his lips by necessity: “surely, you must know, it was all for you.”

Steven’s gaze on him is unyielding for a few silent moments, long with only birdsong in the periphery and Eddie’s frenzied heartbeat at the fore: a panopticon than feels all-knowing as it takes him in. Eddie feels wretchedly exposed for it, giddy for the attention in it, and flustered for its sheer intensity all at once.

“I did not wish to make assumptions,” Steven finally speaks, and the words are more exhalation than voice but it lands as poetry woven through a song of him, all of him, as clear as he breathes the music sewn in sonnets; “though to hear it now, from your lips,” Steven’s mouth quirks, and oh, but the apples of those regal cheekbones, their sharpness a threat to man’s sanity—he blushes so sweet.

“But in the measure of mending transgressions, then,” then Steven bites the swell of his bottom lip every so slightly, rewrites the staves of Eddie’s pulse for the indentations as he shakes his head, then lifts his lashes, gilded in remorse; “I fear I’ve—“

“Hush, sweetness, please,” and oh, Eddie has learned well from his uncle to presume, indeed; to be brazen, to speak without a rein on his heart just in this moment, to call him dear sugared things and he almost regrets, almost retreats or seeks apologies but oh, oh but those amber-pooling eyes: they start to drown so dark, the middle-black flooding for more than a pulsebeat but less a moment and—that pesky foolish hope, and Eddie takes not one step, but two steps closer for its pull.

“Anything you have said and done has been more than merited,” and Eddie feels certain in this moment that he must own it in not uncertain terms, even if it risks the heart in his chest; “I was a,” he licks his lips, casts his eyes down in shame, for it because he cannot do otherwise but then he looks up again, pleading in his gaze he knows because once more:

He cannot do otherwise.

“A proper fiend,” and it is true, it is true and he remembers confessing one of his own cardinal sins, his unforgiving tendencies when his opinion of others is sullied and he should not hold so much optimism for the man before him being so deeply entrenched as something different, something better but Eddie has changed himself, for this singular person’s presence in his world; he cannot help but lift his transgressions and pray better than he’s ever managed in a pew for mercies greater than any scripture could serve to the fate of his soul:

“I presumed blindly, and let pride blind my eyes to what stood before me so clear,” he breathes, and it is that, it is a prayerful thing he speaks, and no less.

“And what might have proven such a spectacle?” Steven asks and there’s levity in it, brightness but then underneath: a truth believed, a certainty in doubt. That such a spectacle would be unfathomable, rather than commonplace and a foundational truth among all things.

“The heart of you,” Eddie murmurs without hesitation, reaches toward Steven’s chest on instinct but hesitates before he touches, before he feels more than the suggestion of his heat in the morning chill—Eddie does not have the privilege.

Yet. And he…he still…

“The man you are, truly good beyond all reason or compare,” Eddie murmurs, marvels—he doesn’t touch, but he doesn’t yet withdraw his hand, pull any further away because—

He hopes.

“Beautiful for the flesh of you only as a paltry reflection of the soul in you,” Eddie speaks it so low, pitched close to the earth and deep in his chest because it demands no less, no less, and he wants to touch, he wants to cup Steven’s cheek, he’s wants so deeply to trace those lips in revere and feel him, show his love the best he can, with the remit of action he is allowed for now as a bare echo of what he could, if he’s allowed, if he is granted the joy, the honor of holding this man and reverencing him and adoring not like some idol, no, but as the part of his own heart that conducts all the beating, that makes any living truly worthwhile at all.

Because the value and weight of measuring living has shifted in this new world, with Steven in his view.

“And you, my,” no, no, Steven is not his, not yet, but he can respect what has not come to pass while still lavishing Steven with the ardor full to his heart:

“You, Steven Harrington, are breathtaking,” and now he does presume, the over-boldness his uncle has tried to tame in him but he reaches, and tucks Steven’s soft swoop of hair behind the delicate shell of an ear, and his hand never so much as brushes skin, and Eddie is quick, of ever so gentle in it, so that his fingers have retreated by the time he notices, but: Steven leans for the touch.

Steven leans for his touch.

”And if you are breathtaking,” Eddie lets his eyes roam across Steven’s figure, and he is a marvel, truly, but Eddie’s gaze lingers on the mud-splatters at his hem, stretched over strong calves and it would be impossible not to soften, not to melt within for the bright glow that spreads through Eddie’s chest as he smiles gentle, trusting in the promise of that emanating light as he breathes:

“Imagine what such truths must speak greater truth still, of your soul.”

Steven blinks, and those lashes fan so full: Eddie swears he feels the world around him shift for it, some a divine kind of a blessing.

“You spin such poetry as to treat toward nonsense, good sir,” Steven sighs the words a little over-soft, so gentle, a demure sort of lilt, to poke at him with a familiarity, a casual comfort Eddie aches for; aches for what else it could accompany, could mean.

“You speak with kindness,” Eddie cannot help but to voice the yearning, and his tone does nothing to belie the earnestness of his heart for it; “with lightness to your tone,” he reaches, dares to smooth Steven’s hair once more, slower with the touch to test if he leans again and oh—oh.

Steven cants his chin ever so slightly, and lets his jawline press to Eddie’s hand: more touch of his skin than Eddie has ever known before. He gasps for it, not only slightly undone.

“It tempts me so,” Eddie thinks he breathes; knows it is a shaking thing, much like the thunder of his pulse.

“Tempts you?” Steven leans back, lips pursed to confusion, and Eddie mourns the loss with his blood and bones entire.

“To hope,” because what more can Eddie do now but name it, this feeling beating wings through his veins, propelling his blood as much as his shivering his breath, narrowing his vision but making the whole of being brighter, more flooded full with color?

“To hope as I’d scarcely allowed myself,” his oversaturated wanting bubble forth from him, tongue loose and lungs oddly tight; “as I’d feared never again to know.”

And how he’d feared, he’d feared so deeply that all chance was gone, all hope was lost, that his presumption in the rain that Sunday morning had lost him all possible chance at the happiness his heart understood sooner than his mind, that when he’d leapt without that understanding through and through he’d put fire to the bridge he ever wished to cross.

But: he is here. Now, he is here.

They are here. And Eddie thinks he knows where to leap, his mind seeing the path as his heart trembles for how big the hop has been coaxed into swelling.

“You are too generous to trifle with me,” Eddie swallows hard, tries to even his breath but to no avail; and no matter, not truly: “so I must ask it of you, pure honesty, with no thought to spare my heart for it,” his voice doesn’t crack so much as fade a little, and he prays it does not undercut his sincerity but then Steven moves, reaches.

Tucks Eddie’s curls behind his ear soft, quick as Eddie’d done in reverse but it soothes something in him, doesn’t quieten his pulse but draws enough anxiousness from the drumming for there to be room for wishing, for hoping.

“I swear it,” Steven tells him solemn if soft, and the way he draws his hand away so slow: it feels like a statement of its own.

Eddie sees the path all the more clearly for it, and leaps with the whole of him, now:

“If your feelings have not changed, if your wishes stand firm as they did,” Eddie preludes, needs Steven to know, and to feel no obligation to him, nor guilt in speaking true: “tell me so and I will bother you no longer, this last of my presumptions my final transgression against your kind nature.”

“I swore it, Edward,” Steven speaks with a steel determination, not in kindly but wholly unwavering; “and not lightly done,” and his eyes shine ever-so, as steel in a forge burnt fire-bright.

“I will not lie to spare the heart of you,” Steven promises, then breathes deep with clear resolve; “but neither will I see it handled without due care, no matter your question, no matter its answer.”

And indeed, heart of Eddie is not spared. Because Steven, Steven is being honorable and speaking in vows in ways that tap furious and wantonly around Eddie’s chest but then: he speaks of caring for Eddie’s heart without precedent save for his generous inclinations as a rule—this rings different, though.

And Eddie’s unspared heart—a quandary to be sure, as the point to hand is to hold the very same with care—but his heart is not spared a frenetic pounding that Eddie feels high in his throat, a feathered thing beating to be free.

When his lips part, perhaps he grant’s its wish:

“If,” Eddie starts, breathless at first and understandably so; “if by some kindness I have neither earned nor deserved, your feelings havechanged,” Eddie feels himself on an unexpected precipice, for Steven gazed upon him with…with tenderness. With so much more he has not earned or deserved and yet:

“Then I would have to tell you,” and it’s Eddie’s racing heart giving itself away as not merely frantic but full, so full, and if it takes flight now it can’t help but spill its splendored hopes at the feet of its desire, its best excuse to beat:

“You have bewitched me, body and soul and I love, I love, I,” his breath catches, the revelation of letting the words spill again from his lips now terrifying, for how last they were received but his heart and mind understand it fully, now, and he can speak it with a fullness he didn’t comprehend then, a wholeness he hadn’t tapped to know, then.

And thus so much more than anything: it is exhilarating, to open his heart and hope to be seen truly for all he is, for all that he feels and seeks to give without reservation or reliant: unending.

“I love you.”

And when he breathes, after the world holds those words, when he breathes the air tastes golden, rich and born anew. He makes to speak, to confess further but then—

Steven reaches for his hand, takes it fully in a way Eddie’s never felt before, laces their fingers and stares at them before lifting his eyes to Eddie’s, glistening and stretched so wide. Eddie barely blinks to drink in the whole of him, and when he catches glimpse of the blood-beat at the stretch of Steven’s star-charted throat, the swift rhythm a perfect swell between beauty marks, it swathes something in Eddie that had retained rough edges somehow, smoothes him into whole submission to the way his heart hums for this man’s mere touch.

When Steven pulls Eddie’s hand joined in his own, to press against the source of that perfect beat, and Eddie knows by touch now the way it pounds with the same gusto, the same fluttering testing Eddie’s own ribs: it is magical. It is divinity itself writ in flesh and held between mortal hands.

“I never wish to be parted from you from this day on,” Steven whispers, fierce with it, and Eddie wishes he could move, just now, to bring Steven’s hand close to his chest in turn, to let him feel the tripping slip of beats as it acclimated to a world where, just perhaps, Eddie may have just gotten everything he’s ever wanted.

In point of fact, though: he cannot quite move, because it so happens that cupping a hand against the heart you’ve yearned for so long is momentous to the point of stilling time itself.

But Steven, of course: he proves Eddie’s trust in him, Eddie’s faith and hope, as he does the moving for the both, and draws Eddie’s hand upward, reaches for his other wrist and gathers them together between both his own and lifts them to his lips, kisses fingertips, the peaks of his knuckles, the curve of his wrists.

“Your hands are cold,” Steven breathes, glances up at Eddie and Eddie cannot know what he sees but hopes—since it has not failed him yet—that what he finds is the heart and soul of him for the taking, the sharing, the giving for any and all that’s wanted and received.

Steven’s mouth is only parted the slightest bit but it sends Eddie’s pulse to tripping all the more, but Steven’s eyes are dancing, his inhalations deep but quick, affected as Eddie when he cradles both Eddie’s hands now back to his chest, flattens them to the palm against to feel every beat and breath like a confession or a promise or both of them and more and then—

Then he leans, slow, and Eddie understands this impossible thing: an invitation as much as a query for permission. Steven’s lips are still parted when he pauses a hair's-breadth from meeting and Eddie falls, somehow, although he thought he’d fallen already farther than a man could manage.

But Steven’s pulse under his hand skips, stumbles hard but feels as jubilant as Eddie’s own, so he finds a way to fall further, just the slightest tip forward into that parted pout and Steven; Steven.

Against Eddie’s lips, his kiss is like sunlight.

Against Eddie’s hands, his heart is so warm.

🦋

also on ao3

🤍permanent tag list (lmk if you’d like to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 (again: thank you so much for the beta/wrangling my bad brain™ into its cage) @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #pride and prejudice AU #period romance tropes DIALED TO ELEVEN #specifically: 'you have bewitched me body and soul'#love confessions #aka: THAT meadow scene #nervous and lovesick eddie #coy and equally-lovesick steve #featuring meddling wayne and the lovely lady cunnningham #and most-beloved-sister robin #also one michael wheeler as the most insufferable lydia #stranger things #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest #gift fic #pearynice

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Heeey 😁 Hope you're grand! Thought of a cute request for Eddie x reader, love your writing - maybe Eddie is having a day where he is particularly entranced with reader and needs skin-to-skin contact with her at all times? Not having a bad day, he's just like really relaxed and wants to melt into her. And maybe even when they're standing around at school with friends, he's super close to her, running his nose and lips really lightly along her face, ear, neck and shoulder like he's in a daze, etc... Hope that makes sense!

Eddie never brings a backpack to school, and he's not very fond of yours at the moment. It's blocking his hug, slung over your shoulders and hanging down by your butt. When he slides his hands around your waist to hook his chin over your shoulder, it stands in his way.

So he yanks at it. He slips the shoulder straps off of you, and you turn mid-conversation to throw him an easy smile. Your brows furrow slightly in confusion as he de-bags you, but you're too caught up in continuing your polite chat to ask him what he's doing. You let him bend your arms this way and that until he can drop your bag on the ground, then he's on you like a leech, and Robin grimaces.

"Eddie," You break away to whisper into his ear, "What are you doing?"

"Just listening." He hums, nose in your neck, "Keep talking."

"I have to go," Robin oh-so-gracefully exits the conversation, but she throws you a smile that says she's not upset, and you look forward to your weekend sleepovers where you'll chat more, "Try not to fuse with her, Munson."

Eddie only flips her the bird as she leaves, and tugs you backwards to a bench only feet away. You plop down unceremoniously on his lap, feeling his hands tighten impossibly further around your waist.

"Eddie," You turn, bending your knee awkwardly to tuck your leg over his waist, straddling him, "What was that?"

He's grinning at you, the corners of his mouth ever-so-slightly upturned. The look in his eyes is dizzy with fondness, and you're sure if he were a cartoon character, they'd be hearts.

"I just wanted to touch you." You expect a wink after that, a cheeky smirk that hints at unsavory activities. But none are delivered, only the same lovesick smile he's leveled you with.

He leans up to where you're staring down at him, balanced on his lap as the chain on his jeans digs into his thigh. His lips press once, twice, thrice into your chin, leaving a sticky residue there that he'll take offense at you wiping off. You tilt your face down and your nose brushes his forehead, the warmth of your breath on his face eliciting a soft hum from his throat. You're almost intimidated by his gaze, because it looks like something you'd see in a movie. It's an expression you expect to see at an art museum, a masterpiece in front of you. It's the same expression you've seen in your baby cousin's eyes when she tried ice cream for the first time; pure, unadulterated adoration. it's an expression that scares you when it's aimed at your face, and you balk.

"Eddie," You feel like a parrot, spewing nothing but his name over and over again. He seems to like it, though, because his grin grows.

"Yes?"

"Stop staring," You plead weakly, tucking your face into his neck. It leaves his lips by the shell of your ear, and he pecks it with the same affection he would your nose.

"But I don't want to," He protests, hands rubbing your back with swirling patterns, "I wanna see your face."

You comply, if only for the sincere tone of his voice. He acts like a kid on christmas morning, all droopy eyes and grabby hands. He holds your cheeks like you're fragile, afraid of shattering you if his touch is too firm. He leans forward, and you think he's going in for a kiss, but your puckered lips are met with nothing. Instead, his own graze over your cheek, his hand moving so that his lips can run a stripe up your face.

It's the most intimate you've ever been, the ghost of his exhales washing over your face as he traces your face with his lips. You're afraid he's lost himself amidst feather-light kisses dotted over your nose, and you press one of your own into his chin.

"You're touchy today," You hum, barely above a whisper. His eyes slip shut and he leans his forehead against yours, his lips now brushing yours as he speaks.

"You must have cast a spell on me." He laments, "I can't survive unless I'm touching you."

"I'm no witch," You protest indignantly, barely concealing a giggle, "This is all-natural, Eddie."

"You're right," His contemplative hum bleeds into teasing defeat, his lips pressing to yours and forming a dreamy grin, "I'm just whipped."

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thecluelessdoctor · 9 months

Text

AU DOODLES

so. This AU isn't my AU, and belongs to a friend of my on quotev. He gave me permission to post this and stuff on the AU until he can get a tumblr :D (jack you might know who it is-)

ANYWAY

Obsessive Eddie AU :D yeah. Literally came from his HC that Eddie is kinda clingy and protective. And the fact we both agreed he can be terrifying if done right lmaoo.

Pretty much he made Eddie in the AU and I'm experimenting with how frank is 👍 sorta. It's hard to explain lmao. in the AU they are not together (obviously smh)

AnYwAy

TWs; obsessive behaviors

He spook

I love the shading I did here ajsbdjbsjs

Based on a seen from a test rp between me and my friend/the creator

I FUCKING hate my handwriting lmAo

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collectivecloseness · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x Rockstar!Reader

Eddie got into the nearly nonexistent line, hours before the show he’d saved up for so long for, the sidewalk behind the black rope soon to be filled with your adoring fans, who’ll wait for you to enter the stadium, hoping for autographs. You were so kind, Eddie knew, that you’d give some lucky people your presence! Or the ones who were good attention grabbers, and oh was Eddie skilled at that! Easily he made his way to the front, and he stayed there after being one of the first in the row, and through intimidating the many people who tried to barge in front of him. Body firm as he held tight to the rope, and stuck in place.

Until you came out of your car. Eddie’s body went through a rush then, every cell in him firing up and making his body soar, as he became just another part of the cacophony of screams, jumping up and down in place while you headed down the line to the stage doors, waving at everyone who screamed your name.

He couldn’t believe he was seeing you again! He’d seen you a bunch of times, but he’d never gotten this close! You were so... amazing, this close up, and not just on a poster or record art. This was you, in all your glory, pumped before a show with that intense surge he knew all too well from his smaller gigs. And Eddie was not only starstruck, but lovesick...

You signed two people’s books, who were closer to your car, before you reached Eddie. His smile beaming as he realised you were stopping! And then you took off your shades, just to smile and look into his eyes. Just for him. His mouth dropped open.

“Hey! I think I saw you this morning, outside of Brent St? I recognised your hair. It’s soooo pretty on you!” You genuinely compliment him, seeming enthused at his looks. Asking him, like this was just a normal conversation between two warm strangers. And that was Eddie. You remembered him...!

Eddie literally can’t help but cry. Fat tears blocking his vision of his dream girl, so he swipes them quickly away from his face, even as they keep coming. The charm bracelet he made based on titles from your albums, scratching at his cheek. Eddie nodded hard, his voice loud and eager. “You’re right! That was me! I’m Eddie! I’m your biggest fan I- I’ve been to every show!!! Thank you so much! You’re the pretty one!” He hopes that last one was okay, swallowing a lot of spit as it blurts out. After he tried to cram every thought into his small one on one time with you. Nervous, but you making him higher than any drug in his stash back home would do to him.

But you keep smiling at him, and his breath stops, as you lean over, and so tenderly play with his hair. “Don’t put yourself down pretty boy. You’re beautiful Eddie!” Your fingers are still teasing the roots in his hair and Eddie just about melts. It felt so good. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time someone played with his hair, someone touched him like this. And you’re touching him! You! Trying with near pain not to close his eyes from your caress, your petting, because he wanted to watch you holding him so fondly!

You sign the little autograph book Eddie can barely keep a hold of, that’d he’d almost forgotten about, and he’s thanking you over and over, just word vomiting about how he’s been following your music since day one, how much he worships it! Mentioning an underground concert basement he saw you play in, which he sees your body light up at, knowing it was one of your very first professional gigs. While you keep on signing.

But then you take his hands, cooing audibly over his rings, before letting your fingertips play over them, up to his own pads. “These are guitar players hands, right Eddie?”

Eddie nods, eagerly informing you all about the model he plays, knees trembling as you’re holding his hands. His eyes flitting between how beautiful you are this close, and what you’re writing into his skin, as you take the pen cap lid between your dark lipstick, and focus on his hand. He swears he’ll get it tattooed. Whatever it is, as soon as he’s home.

Eddie looks as you finally (unfortunately) let him go. It’s not only your autograph on his skin, but some random word. Fleeting panic bubbles up in Eddie for a second, was he supposed to understand some kind of reference? But you explained straight away, “It’s a password.” You had leant in to whisper, ducking your hand and your mouth under those pretty curls to press your cheek to his ear. Giving you two some privacy. “Give it to a backstage manager before the show. But don’t worry, I’ll still remember you again, like I did today.” When you finally leant back, you winked at Eddie. A few fans behind you screaming into his ears at the display. But almost like only you and Eddie existed, you stroked those gorgeous curls you couldn’t believe you’d only seen today, knowing you wouldn’t forget them now you had been so blessed.

Eddie can barely nod, his hands gently holding onto yours as it starts to softly slip out his grip. His eyes as wide as his lips were thick, mouth on the floor as Eddie watched you slink away. Not taking your affectionate eyes off of his until the final second, where you put your shades back on, and turned around to sign one more picture. Before ultimately waving to everyone, and heading inside. Disappearing from public view, behind heavy doors, and butch security.

Eddie’s puppy eyes could finally leave you, head slowly creaking down to his hand that was just trembling. Especially as he looked and saw the black ink still there. That just really happened... Now Eddie wasn’t running to get to his front row place through the auditorium’s doors. He was running to any stage door, any, so he could obey you. To see why you gave him this password and why you wanted to see him! And so, just like you wanted, he could go follow his star...

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ghostlyfleur · 6 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

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