#eddie munson x anxious!reader

[whoahoney]

A Girl Called Honey Pt. 2

Eddie Munson x Trailer Trash!Reader

Part 1

Summary: Eddie begins to see through the cracks in the walls Honey built around herself, little by little

CW: 18+ mature themes & language, mentions of abuse, depictions of poverty, trauma, drug use, Juniors got a gun, slight angst, a little fluff, and Eddie’s pervy thoughts

A/N: this took me forever to finish, this chapter has been so many things before this final form, so Im posting it before I decide I hate it 💀 we’re gonna get into their backstory soon, I promise! Thank you to my pal @boomhauer for inspiring this story, go check out her masterlist bc Disjointed is a MUST READ!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“HONEY!” Jun called to the house one evening as he arrived home from work with the kids. He was the first one out of the truck, bolting to the porch and almost running into his sister who burst out of the house, shushing him profusely.

Eddie stuck his head out the door, passing it off as if he were checking on Wayne who smoked a cigarette on the porch couch. The old man held out his pack of cigarettes, wordlessly inviting him to sit next to him.

“I swear ta God—If you wake up the babies, I’m gonna—“

“—They needa wake up, anyway, or they ain’t gonna sleep later! ‘sides, look at what I picked up off the side of the road!”

“Please don’t tell me you found another deer, I don’t wanna do that again.” Honey whined defeatedly.

“S’not a deer!” Aaron called from the back of the pickup, Junior made Honey cover her eyes before joining him. Honey peeked from behind her fingers, glancing over to Eddie’s porch and blushing at his gaze on hers as he smoked. He smiled, sending her a wink that almost had her weak in the knees.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “What is it, Jun, I got dinner on the stove!”

Cal ran around the front of the vehicle with wide eager eyes ready to explain, “Jun worked on a roof in Loch Nora, the fanciest neighborhood here, and the owners had this—“

“What did y’all take?!” She shrilled, eyes popping open as she tried to get off the porch before they could unload the mystery object.

“They were gettin’ rid of it—it had a sign and all, right Jun?” Aaron hollered over the top of the truck as he strained and the ear piercing screech of metal against metal reverberated throughout the lot. The smaller kids clamped their hands over their ears until it stopped.

Cal finally let Honey down the steps so she could see from the side of the yard, her eyes widening as it hit her, her hands flew over her mouth as she began to practically bounce in excitement. “Oh my god!”

“Your very own dryer!” Jun tapped the top lovingly.

“Wha—Jack! Jack are you messin? Does it really work? Don’t fuck with me, I mean it— if this is just another one of those jokes—“ She pleaded as her eyes stayed glued to the seemingly untouched machine.

“—Yeah, yeah, it works and everything! The owner lady said she wanted a different color for her house, can you believe it? I went and got the vent hook up and everything. Now we just gotta… figure out how the hell we’re s’ppossd to get it down...” He put his hands on his head and tried to figure out from his options of Cal or Janie which would be the most useful.

Aaron’s eyes shifted to Eddie the same moment Wayne tapped his shoulder and stood. “C’mon, boy, time to be neighborly.” Eddie followed without hesitation. Honey turned quickly at her siblings' gazes falling on the approaching figures behind her.

“We can lend a hand.” Wayne nodded at Junior, who nodded back respectfully.

Honey watched them with eager eyes raking over the pristine powder coated white. The knobs were intact and the labels were clear as day! No dents, no scratches— it looked like it came right out of a store. To Honey, it might as well have been.

Eddie hopped up in the bed of the pickup with Aaron while Jun and Wayne surveyed the situation from the sides and found the best spots to grab. “Alright, boys,” Jun started, “If y’all will just scoot it till ‘bout midway, then jump down to help us ease it offa there?”

Honey made her way back up to the porch, thankful she didn’t get roped into doing the heavy lifting again. It had been so long since she had a dryer, sometimes not having the washer at her disposal either. Gone were the days of scrubbing at the blood and mud stains on their clothes in the old sink back home. Gone were the days of frozen britches standing up against the wall in the winter time.

She looked into the house, only having to worry about clearing the way to the laundry room.

After lots of cussing and smashed fingers, the men got the dryer in the house, and all hooked up.

Wayne, being more lithe than Jun, settled himself between the two machines and the wall to cut the hole in the drywall for the vent. Eddie watched from the door way, seeing Honey’s giddy eyes watching them as they worked.

Eddie took the opportunity to take in the home, smiling at the ways it resembled his own; an ugly old couch, stained carpet, peeling linoleum in the kitchen, and smoke stains lining the walls. The little fridge was covered in magnets, art work and graded homework displayed for all to see. It all made his heart warm.

The plates in the sink didn’t match, some of which were chipped at the edges. But they were all beautiful with the floral patterns ringing the edges. Eddie turned his attention to the stove, a smoking pot of Mac and cheese sat burning on the burner.

“Uh, Honey?” He asked calmly, turning to the eager girl sitting on the washer as they worked.

“Yeah?” She asked with an easiness in her voice he hadn’t heard yet. And he was about to ruin it.

“Uh, your maca—“

“MY MACARONI!” She cried, jumping off the washer and flying past Eddie to turn off the burner and assess the damage as she attempted to stir the blackened Mac. “Fuck.” She let her head thud against the cabinet in defeat.

“Y’know, it isn’t all that bad.” Eddie tried to say assuringly, peeking into the pot and spotting the hardened shells. “Shit, maybe it is.” He mumbled, a chortle slipping from Honey as she nodded.

“Is it done yet?” Janie hollered from the other room.

“Oh, yeah, it’s done. For sure.” She joked, making Eddie smile, “It’s like a casserole in a way.” She shrugged, straining as she tried to stir the solid blocks of pasta and cheese.

Eddie snorted and took the pot from her, “Allow me.” He walked it outside, Honey following closely behind until he walked down the porch steps and went behind his trailer. She stopped at the corner of her house and cocked her head.

Eddie turned to her when he noticed she was no longer walking with him, “C’mon, I’ll show you.” Her feet moved before she could think about it, walking around the back of his house to see a few mismatched bowls laying around the concrete slab. Eddie flipped the pot over and the giant block plopped onto the ground with a wet thud. They shared a look and wrinkled their noses before they laughed.

Eddie walked back to stand with Honey, the girl turning to leave before he caught her arm. “Wait.” He said quietly. She scrunched her brows at him and looked back to the pile of pasta. In a few moments, one by one, cats crawled out from the tall grass or out from under his trailer, licking at the offering. Honey smiled at the sight, a few kittens milling around the larger cats.

“Aren’t they cute? The most I’ve counted out here at once is 20! People really need to spay and neuter their pets, man. But these guys are pretty cool, I think.”

“I’ve always liked the strays.” She mentioned, leaning against the house and looking to the west, the sun was setting. Tonight it threw magical gradients of orange and pink, half the sky already shrouded in gray blue. The clouds were massive, the colors breaking through the cracks in beaming rays. Honey sighed contently and took it in.

“Me too.” Eddie agreed. “The strays are always the best.”

Eddie looked at her again, glancing to the sunset she admired before looking back to her, his gaze going unnoticed for a few moments much to his delight. This light made her golden. Her eyes were even more spectacular in this moment, like shining, melting ice. Then she looked at him. “What?” She asked.

Eddie shook his head, not bothering to look anywhere else. “Nothing. Just looking at you.” He said.

Honey chuckled and shook her head with pink cheeks. “Alright then.” She stared back at him, noticing how pretty his eyes were in the light too.

“Want me to stop?” He asked. She tried to place the color of his eyes in the sunshine. She used to think his eyes were black, too dark to be brown. But now she knows she was mistaken.

She shook her head, “No.” she said simply.

Eddie’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Good, cause I’m not gonna.” His smile widened when he saw how she rolled her eyes and blushed deeper. He loved how he could make her change colors.

She stared at him a moment longer before it hit her, his eyes reminded her of raw honey right from the pot. She averted her eyes to the ground beneath her bare feet. “C’mon, I gotta fix new supper.” She said, easing back toward the house. Eddie followed her without question.

Before they could make it around the front, they heard Aaron calling for Honey. “Where’d they go?” He muttered.

“Ran off to Mexico.” Honey answered as she turned the corner, making Eddie chuckle as he carried the pot limply at his side.

Aaron chuckled, “Yeah, like you’d ever go back down south.” he said as he went back through the door. Honey rolled her eyes and climbed the steps.

“Next time I burn something, I’ll be sure to feed your cats.” She said without turning around. Eddie smiled as he followed her back inside.

“I think they’d like that a lot.” He said with a smile, placing the pot in the sink and watching her start anew.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Munson.” Jun said when they were done, offering the old man a glass of ice water and a handshake.

“Anytime, and jus’ call me Wayne.” The older man smiled with his tobacco stained teeth. Honey smiled right back at him, giving him an eager handshake of her own, “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” She said giddily before running off to start the laundry.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another day, Aaron walked over and knocked on the screen door, knowing Eddie and Wayne were inside. “Come in!” The old man hollered.

“Hey there, Aaron.” Wayne said as he tied his work boot laces on the coffee table. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just coming to see if you and Eddie—“

“What about Eddie?” Eddie exited the bathroom, looking at Wayne first before he saw Aaron. “Hey, man.”

“Howdy. Honey wanted me to see if y’all wanted to eat supper at our’s tonight.” Eddie’s heart leapt at the offer.

“Oh, I’m about to head out to work, but Ed’s free.” Wayne clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I’m headin out. Be good.” He said like he always did. The screen door snapped shut behind him.

“You wanna eat?” Aaron asked.

“Is that even a real question?” Eddie answered as he headed towards the door.

When he crossed the threshold, Eddie took it all in; the wood paneling, the long worn couch that looked so tempting to sink into, eyeing the long table in the center of the room, pillows thrown around it where they’d sit to eat their meals. He could smell the cheesy hamburger helper simmering on the stove, his mouth watering. Honey stirred the large pots, then checked the oven for her roasted vegetables and dinner rolls.

He smiled when he saw how wild hairs escaped the bandana and bun atop her head, then shifted his gaze to the way she bent over to open the fridge for the butter dish, his favorite part of her greeting him from under her red shorts. He bit back his smirk at the sight.

Before he walked in here, he was looking forward to the canned ravioli he set out. But now all he could think about is the way Honey had something cooking on every burner of the stove, large portions with spices that he’d only describe as homey tickling his senses.

He looked back at the table, traces of the dark brown wood showed through the worn paint. But the green was still prominent and beautiful.

If they were in a larger house, like the Harringtons, a table like this would’ve been compared to one of those traditional Japanese dinner tables, and would perhaps be presented with a sushi spread across the top complete with saki and matching decor. Something rich people would’ve loved to see and experience.

Here, it was just an old table with the legs cut down, but Eddie hadn’t seen a sight that made his heart feel the way it did right now, his heart’s smile reaching his mouth.

Aaron took two couch cushions and tossed them down on two spaces near the end of the table. “S’not much, but, uh, we try to eat together. Honey said something about it keeping us out of jail or somethin’” he shrugged as he settled himself on the floor, Cal joining them on the other side of Aaron with his own bed pillow acting as his seat.

“She said she read a magazine with a statistic that said having family dinners decreases the risk of kids engaging in sexual activity and drugs, so for the past year she makes us all sit down together and eat.” Cal explained easily. Eddie raised his brows at the thought, thinking of how long ago Wayne started the night shift and then tried to remember if he ever ate with his parents.

“Janie! Would you put out the plates, please?” Honey hollered from the other room.

Janie rolled her eyes from the chair she always seemed to occupy and tossed her book back on the shelf. “I guess.” She said exasperatedly, walking to the counter and grabbing the large stack of mismatched plates.

“It’s not like you do it every day, or anything.” Cal said with an eye roll as he joined her to scoop up the tin of forks and knives and set them out behind her as she went.

Honey’s voice rang out once more, “Cal, could you—“

“I got it.” The boy called back.

Honey finally reappeared from the bedrooms, Frankie walking in front of her, stark naked, with a blanket trailing behind him, Randy on one hip, and a baby on the other. Eddie remembered the baby from the first day, though he couldn’t remember ever seeing or hearing it since.

Terry and Tommy ran out of the hallway behind her, arguing about who was at fault for the broken mobile above the baby’s crib, Honey biting back her thoughts as she worried her lips and set the baby in the play pen.

“Jesus Christ, Honey, get his pants on!” Janie whined at the sight of the feral child. Aaron rolled his eyes and pulled Frankie over to his lap, covering him up with the blanket he brought with him from his sleep, smelling faintly of detergent and… urine maybe?

“Fuck off, Janine.” Honey mumbled from the laundry room, tossing a load of clothes into the new dryer. Eddie and Aaron stifled their laughter, Cal disappearing for a moment before returning with a pair of small briefs, and tossing them at Aaron’s head.

Frankie stood, shamelessly naked and looked at Eddie as he worked on putting his feet in the leg holes. Eddie noticed the marred burn scars trailing down the boy’s shoulder and arm. Eddie averted his eyes to the tabletop, an etched face in the wood staring back at him with a downturned mouth. Frankie, now properly covered, then turned to Aaron. “Will you read me later?” He asked with difficulty in his R and L sounds.

Aaron feigned a groan as he stretched, “Oh? I s’ppose.” He drawled, and ruffling the boy's brown hair that stuck out every which way, resembling Junior’s, now that he thought about it.

Terry and Tommy were shaggy little menaces, their bushy bangs reaching well below their eyes, their smiles wide and silver capped. They were currently turned towards the staticky television, their hands pushing their bangs back to see the screen.

Eddie assumed Junior looked like their dad, the youngest boys resembling him the most, while the older kids favored Honey. But it was obvious they all belonged to the same people.

Aaron and Janie were the only two with deep dark hair, resembling each other the most at first glance.

Cal favored his oldest sister the most, through and through. His eyes were the same shade of gray while Aarons were brighter and bluer like Janie’s.

Honey’s eyes always seemed gray and heavy, though they never lacked depth, containing a story to be told about whoever had stolen the light from behind them. Nevertheless, Eddie always loved the color gray.

It was then her eyes fell on him, and his place at her table. “Hi.” She said in her southern drawl, managing a shy smile in his direction.

Eddie smiled back unabashedly, fighting the urge to stand up to greet her properly. “Hey, Honey.” Is all he managed, too enthralled with her eyes on him to realize how gooey and dreamy he might’ve looked himself.

Cal noticed before Aaron as he settled back down in the seat next to him, nudging his brother with his elbow and nodding to the scene. Aaron glanced at Eddie, who was still smiling dumbly at his sister, too wrapped up in her attention to notice when he turned to share a snicker with Cal.

Janie kneeled in her seat next to Cal, setting various cups of ice onto the table. “S’there tea and lemonade?” She asked her sister, though Honey didn’t notice, still stuck on Eddie as she stepped through to the kitchen.

“Honey!”

“What??” She bumped into the cabinets and finally looked at Janie. “—yeah, in the fridge, Y’know that.” She ducked down into the fridge to pull out the two pitchers and set them on the counter. Cal and Aaron picked up their cups and walked to the pitchers, Eddie following suit.

“I’ve been lookin’ forward to this tea all day.” Junior groaned as he entered the room with a wet head and clean clothes, a towel still slung around his shoulders as he walked past the table and grabbed a cup, joining the crowd gathered by the refreshments.

Aaron and Cal fell into conversation that blended in with the rest of the chatter as Eddie found Honey again, except she was setting the food out on the table and getting the youngest kids back in their seats— or cushions. Frankie and Randy sat in their places across from Janie and Cal, sword fighting with their forks as Honey settled the baby next to her place at the end of the table.

Next to Eddie.

He blushed at the realization, and smiled at her when she glanced at him with her own flushed cheeks.

“Y’all knock it off.” Junior said from the kitchen, Terry and Tommy dropping their forks on their plates with stifled smiles that showed they weren’t afraid of a little trouble. Eddie and Honey chuckled and met eyes again, the moment feeling shorter than it really was.

Cal cleared his throat, twice, before his sister looked up at his and his siblings expectant and waiting faces. Honey crinkled her brow and shook her head, “What?” She whispered, clueless.

Junior takes a seat on a short stool at the other end of the table and sets down Frankie and Randy’s plates, stirring the pasta and meat entree and blowing as if he were the big bad wolf, oblivious to the googly eyes set on his sister.

“Can we… eat?” Aaron asked with raised brows, his eyes flickering between his friend and his sister. Honey’s shock was gone in a second, only flashing across her face briefly before nodding profusely, “Yeah! Yes—eat. There’s enough to go ‘round but don’t get greedy.” She looked at Aaron, piling three dinner rolls on his plate before he passed the basket to Eddie. Honey reached over and snatched one off her brother's plate, leaning over Eddie as she did.

“Oh, c’mon!” Aaron whined, mouth full of roll as he whined. Eddie snickered and snuck a glance at Honey, her eyes shining playfully in a way he hadn’t seen before, her smile parting to lick the top of the roll and then bite into the buttery fluff she'd been dying to eat since she popped them out of the can.

Eddie couldn’t help but notice how long her tongue was. Or how white her teeth were. And the way her lips bunched when she chewed.

How he wanted to see her lips do different things.

Eddie took a generous sip of his tea, not noticing how Honey’s eyes lingered on his bobbing adams apple. He filled his plate as the dishes came around, not having a home cooked meal like this as far as he could remember. Sure, he’d had hamburger helper, but he never had it served with mashed potatoes and gravy, roasted vegetables, and warm oven baked rolls. The sweet tea was ice cold and so sweet he thought he might fall into a sugar coma later.

Honey had made enough food for every belly to be filled. She waited until the scrapes of silverware against the ceramic plates sounded to scoop her servings. Eddie glanced over to see her portions so measly he wrinkled his nose at it.

Junior asked the kids to tell him something good about their day and something they learned about at school. Honey turned to the baby, spooning mashed potato’s into their mouth. Janie launched into a story about the new friend she made at the library, while Eddie scooped up a mouthful of pasta and plopped it onto her plate. Honey just missed it, checking her plate and then looking at Eddie with suspicion before turning her attention back to Janie’s story.

“Her names Erica! She’s in my grade but we don’t have any classes together, well, we have lunch! So maybe I’ll have someone to sit with now!” Janie shined. Honey smiled at that and nodded, ready to say something until she heard it again, another plop.

Her eyes darted to his in shock as he repeated the action, another mouthful onto her plate. “What’d’ya think you’re doin?” She whispered, turning as the baby fussed for another bite. “Bi! Bi!” They urged with an open mouth leaning towards the spoon before successfully wrapping their mouth around it.

“Your plate is pitiful.” He remarked, another mouthful on her plate.

She gaped at him. Eddie scooped a mouthful of potatoes onto his fork and took a bite, meeting her eye again before he rolled his eyes dramatically. “So freaking good—you should try some.” He garbled. Honey giggled at him, Janie giving Honey the side-eye for giggling out of turn as she talked.

“—and we were assigned our books for the semester, but I dunno about it all that much.” She stabbed her roast carrots on her fork.

“What is it?” Cal asked.

“S’called The Hobbit by some guy—“

“Tolkien! That’s my favorite book! You have Mr. Freeman?” He asked, nodding with her when she did, “He was awesome, he made us read it back in middle school, it’s really good. I’ve read it like 7 times since but that’s probably down playing it.” Eddie smiled, looking around the table as he spoke before he looked over at Honey. Her eyes sparkled as she listened to him, taking a bite of the food he insisted she eat more of.

Janie looked more hopeful about the assignment after Eddie’s review of the book, the conversation falling onto Terry and Tommy as they spoke about rock wars at recess, cleaning chalkboards and erasers for their rock wars, and long division.

“I’s just mindin’ my business when Jacob come walkin’ up to us and kicked my tower over.” Terry explained.

“Yeah, and I didn’t like that shit.” Tommy added.

“Thomas!” Honey scolded with red cheeks.

“M sorry, please don’t whoop me!” He whined.

“Boy, I ain’t gonna hit you, jus—eat your dinner.” She clipped, stabbing another carrot onto her fork. The boys turned their faces back to their plates, scooping up mouthfuls of food to clean their plates.

The baby shoved every piece of food into their mouth, a ring of potatoes and cheese on their cheeks and nose. Eddie smiled at the baby’s light eyes. To his surprise, the baby smiled back with milky teeth and a throaty laugh, smearing their messy hands around their belly.

“Look at ‘em.” Janie muttered to Cal and nodded to the baby, “James Harrison, what’re you doin? Gettin all messy for the bath?” She asked in a small voice that made Baby James cackle. The whole table giggled.

Honey used her napkin and wiped James’s mouth the best she could before cleaning his hands. “Janie will you run his bath, please.” Honey asked without asking. Surprisingly, Janie was compliant and scooped the baby up to take to the other room.

Aaron used his last roll to wipe his plate clean before biting chunks out of it. Honey sat with her knees to her chest as she listened to Cal talk about his first weeks as the youngest freshman, meeting a group of nice kids that were in the A.V. Club that invited him to sit at their table for lunch.

“You think I could hang out with them after school sometime?” Cal looked at Jun first before Honey, though he kept his hopeful eyes locked on his sister. They sat for a moment as she thought for a minute before nodding.

“I guess so. They seem alright?” She asked, looking at her plate again. Cal nodded earnestly, “Total nerds, all of ‘em.” He insisted. Honey chuckled and nodded. “Okay, then. You can hang out with the nerds. Just call me to tell me where you are and when it’s time to come pick you up.”

Cal nodded and ate a few more bites of pasta before launching into a new formula he learned in math. Eddie didn’t miss the way Honey’s eyes lit up the way they did. She leaned forward on her fist to listen intently, nodding along when Cals eyes fell on hers as he talked about algebra I and letters mingling with numbers and how it fascinated him.

Honey shook her head in proud disbelief, looking down into her empty cup as Aaron began talking about their time in Mr. Gregory’s shop class.

“A kid nearly took his eye out with a nail gun today! Who was that guy, Ed, Richard somethin?”

“Ritchie—“

“Ritchie! Yeah! That guy don’t know up from down. Nail when clear through the ceiling, it was awesome.” He chuckled as Jun rolled his eyes.

“I said something you learned, dumbass.” Jun chided.

“Duh, I learned nail gun safety!”

She stood to fill her glass, listening as Aaron mentioned the class giggling at his accent in English when he was called to read aloud. “It was embarrassing at first, but this girl—this beautiful, beautiful girl, Pamela DiSantis— turns to me and tells me she thinks it’s cute.” He gushed to Honey, sinking into his chair with pink cheeks.

Eddie chuckled and nudged the boy's arm, “I heard from Carla and Chrissy that she was talking about you at practice too.” He smirked as Aaron clutched his heart and swooned, the table erupting with giggles.

Honey chuckled weakly before picking up her clean plate and taking it to the sink, slipping out the front door without a word.

It took Eddie a moment to notice she wasn’t sitting next to him anymore, let alone not in the house. Aaron had begun picking up all the plates and scraping them off when Eddie joined him, placing his own cleared dishes in the sink and grabbing the last few. Junior walked over to the middle of the table, reaching under and unlatching a clasp before it popped apart into the two pieces Eddie saw them carrying in about a month ago.

Aaron started running hot water into the sink, eying the pots on the stove as Eddie spoke, “Think I’m gonna step out for a smoke, s’that alright?”

Aaron raised his brows and glanced out the open door and back to his friend with a smile. “Sure, man. Go for it! Hold on—“ Aaron fluffed Eddie’s hair and dusted off his shoulders until he swatted his hands away and rolled his eyes to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Okay, okay!” He fussed, weakly slapping Aaron’s hands away.

“Go get her, slick.” Aaron said, flicking soapy water at Eddie’s back as he walked away.

Junior watched the exchange wearily, his jaw clenched as he debated taking a smoke break himself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Honey hated that she was feeling this way again.

She hated how sensitive she could be.

It was beyond her that physical pain didn’t ache this deeply. Blows to the head didn’t make her this dizzy. It bothered her, that she had no idea what to call this feeling. Or how to make it go away.

She lit her cigarette as soon as she stepped out onto the porch, puffing three quick times and not wincing away when the smoke stung her eyes and made them water up.

She plopped down on the step and ran a hand over her face with a deep sigh, resisting the urge to dig her nails into her palms or thighs the way she had as an angry child.

She settled for biting her nails as she stared at the grass and thought about what pretty girls Carla and Chrissy must be. She wondered how they did their hair, if they wore the skirts she wishes she could afford, if they went to the mall after school to look at clothes and boys. If they were smart.

She wondered how many girls talked to Eddie every day at school. And how many of them he said the same sweet things to. How many of them he shared cigarettes with and called sweetheart.

He only said their names, that they were talking about Aaron. She reminded herself, taking a drag and wiping her eyes as she heard the familiar pop and clank of Junior taking apart the dinner table, and the squeak of Aaron turning on the faucet.

She sighed in relief at the thought of him cleaning up without being asked, hoping he doesn’t throw out the leftovers again, but was too tired to care enough to rush back in to set out the Tupperware.

The tired screen door jolted Honey from her thoughts, “Hey, there.” Eddie said softly as he stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him. Honey turned in an instant, his footfalls growing nearer until he sat in a chair on the porch to light a cigarette.

“Hi.” She smiled, the ache fading. He pulled the chair next to him closer and patted it. She obliged immediately, which Eddie loved.

She looked him over as she got comfortable, his long legs somehow looked sexier as he sat, his knees slightly bent and spread. He must’ve caught her looking cause the next thing out of his mouth was, “See something you like?”

She was stunned at the question, her mouth trying to form all the defenses she could, but none came to mind.

What's so wrong with a little flirting? She wondered. He is flirting with me right?

She nodded instead and averted her gaze to her hands. Eddie scooted his chair closer to her with a lit cigarette between his lips. He took it away and exhaled. “Oh, I see… tell me about it then.” He nodded and waited for her answer as she puffed a couple times. “Clamming up on me now? Cat got your tongue?” He teased.

Honey glowered with a smile nagging at her lips, “No, I just—I uh, I like… your clothes.” She muttered.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek to conceal his growing smile. “Thanks, babe—like yours too.” He said more cooly than he felt and winked. He stole a long look at her legs stretched out in front of her, scarred and bruised in some places.

“Y’know, letting me stay for dinner is just about the same as feeding a feral cat? I’m just gonna keep coming back now.” He nudged her shoulder, his dimpled smile coaxing her own out of her.

Honey shook her head and took a drag. “Well, whenever you wanna meal.”

“Don’t tell me that, Honey, I’m a weak and hungry man.” He chuckled at the lift of the corners of her mouth before they fell again. He glanced down to her hands, her cigarette cradled between her little fingers, her once healthy and polished nails now short, chipped and jagged. He knitted his brow.

“You okay, Honey?” He asked quietly.

“Mhm!” She nodded around her cigarette, “I’m good! It’s been a good week. A really good week.” She reminded herself with another nod. A tether tugging in Eddie’s gut told him she was lying, but didn’t have any reason to believe otherwise so he nodded.

“That’s great.” He nodded.

This is so stupid. He whined internally.

“How was school?” She asked.

Eddie groaned and leaned back, “The usual torture, y’know, iambic pentameter, decimals and fractions, the ever stupid and useless Pythagorean theorem.” He rolled his eyes.

Honey tilted her head in confusion, her eyes seemingly vacant though she was panicking behind those beautiful eyes. Eddie’s eyes widened before he leaned forward, “English and math are hard for me. Along with science and history and everything else. I’m barely scraping by, actually.” He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

She nodded her head as the tension eased. She put out her cigarette and for a moment he worried she would leave again. Instead she turned in her chair to face him better. “Could you tell me?”

“What?” Eddie asked with quiet alarm.

“What’s.. iambic pentameter mean?” She asked quietly.

Eddie could only stare back for a moment before clearing his throat and answering. “Uh, well, it’s uh… S’like…” he took a puff to buffer and blushed when she chuckled. He smiled, comfortable in embarrassment, “—See I told you, I’m not good at school!” He shook his head and continued to struggle for the right words, but met her eye when he heard the sound of her soft laughter. Immediately his thoughts stopped, his heart pinching when her eyes flicked to him behind the cigarette.

He felt the dumb smile tug on his lips as he stared unashamed. She pulled her knees to her chest as her cheeks flushed. “What?” Her smile still lingered as she ducked to hide a little behind her bent knees.

“Oh, uh.. nothin’— just uh—” He shrugged it off casually as he lost all remaining bits of his facade, flaking apart the longer she smiled at him and laughed at his foolishness. Being laughed at never felt so good before.

“—Saw something you like?” She asked daringly just above a whisper. Eddie chuckled and blushed, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling as wide as he wanted to. He failed as he nodded and leaned forward.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She took a long breath in and out to steady herself and bit back her smile. “Tell me more.. about school.”

“Tell me more about you.” He countered. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t answer my question yet!” She shot back, leaning back in her seat and taking a drag. Eddie’s eyes gleamed at her playfulness.

“Iambic pentameter…” he thought with searching eyes, “It’s…like a way to write poetry. Like a rhythm you follow or something.” He shrugged, “Your turn.”

“I… uhm,” she sighed, suddenly rigid. Eddie softened, the playfulness fading away.

“You said you like to be outside?” He offered. Her eyes caught his, questions forming behind glossy crystalline eyes. She nodded, “Yeah, yeah, of course.” She chuckled.

Eddie smiled, “What else do you do outside?” He handed her his cigarette.

She smiled as a thought hit her, “I like to garden, plant flowers an’ all.” She nodded and smoked. Eddie smiled, because of course she would.

“Ooh, are you gonna have flowers in the spring?” He asked with an interested smile. He could already picture her long hair tied up while she spent time weeding and mulching— bare knees on the grass and hands stained with soil clinging to her fingernails.

“I sure hope so!” She smiled in wonder, “Tulips, begonias, marigolds, roses, ugh. And all the colors!” She gushed.

For a moment Honey forgot about the girls and even the worries following her from Oklahoma. Eddie listened intently and asked little questions about planting just to see her eyes widen and make more words come out of her mouth.

But then a white Pontiac pulled up to Eddie’s trailer, the top down and stuffed full of cheerleaders and letterman’s.

Eddie sighed, “Shit.” and stamped out his cigarette. “I have some business to attend to, sweetheart, but will you be here when I get back?” Eddie asked with a small pout and puppy dog eyes. She looked nervously from him to the waiting car, Eddie whined and gave a pathetic “Pwease?” that made her grin until her eyes almost closed. She pushed his shoulder with her hand.

“Yeah, I will. Go on now.” She answered softly with a tensed smile, unable to look at him and looking ahead at the trailer across from their lot instead. Eddie’s eyes softened as he nodded at her, “I’ll be right back.” He stood up and took large strides towards his home with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Honey didn’t miss the way two cheerleaders hopped out of the car, smiles on their faces as they bounced over to Eddie with eager greetings. She glanced to the rest of group in the backseat, the remaining boys looking at her shamelessly and exchanging murmurs.

She knew their kind, too well. She hardened her face and took another heavy drag on Eddie’s cigarette before closing her knees and drawing them to her chest, suddenly aware of how short her shorts were.

Her eyes darted back to Eddie, hearing his easy laughter as he held the door open for the girls walking inside. He didn’t spare her a glance as he followed them, the ache in her chest blooming again.

“Hey, cutie!” The boys whooped and hollered to Honey. She didn’t look their way at first, opting to take a drag instead. “What’s a pretty little thing like you hanging around the likes of the freak?” A blond boy hollered, catching her attention at the mention of Eddie. The guy hopped out of the car, two more of him following as he approached her.

Honey hopped up and turned to walk back inside, “Oh, c’mon, I just wanna talk! How come I haven’t seen you around before?” He asked before she spun around, letting the door snap shut before she grabbed the abandoned shovel from Terry and Tommy’s hole digging.

The boys let out amused chuckles, staying on the grass before the first step to the porch. She clenched her jaw and stared the boy down. “I’m new.” She gritted.

The boy nodded, “You, uh, you goin’ to Hawkins High?” He asked as his eyes raked her over again, his friends snickering behind him.

She shook her head no, looking to Eddie’s door again, willing it to open any second. “You should come hang out with us.” The boy said, the other boys agreeing. “Got some drinks, some snacks, getting some party favors from Munson… gonna go down to the lake to swim later. Do you like to swim?”

He seemed almost genuine, Honey almost answered his question, but before she could answer, the screen door behind her busted open, Aaron charging outside with Jun hot on his heels. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Aaron asked with bile on his tongue.

The boy looked surprised when he saw Aaron behind Honey. “Oh my gosh, Aaron Haller! Why am I not surprised to see you here of all places?” The jocks snickered yet again, the scene being good fun for the likes of them.

“I asked ya a question, Jason.” Aaron took a step forward before Honey blocked the way and Jun placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Nope, nope.” Jun muttered quietly, as if to say ‘not yet.’

Jason turned his attention back to Honey, “To answer your question, Aaron, I’m here to pick up from Munson. But you should know all about that don’t you, farm boy?” He asked, mocking his accent.

Honey scrunched her brows and looked to Eddie’s trailer, where the girls were emerging with a fairly large brown paper bag in hand, Eddie behind them, smiling until he followed their line of sight. His eyes were wide when he saw her, clutching her shovel and looking like a wild animal backed into a corner.

“Jason!” The blondest girl shouted from the car, “Quit messing around, we got the stuff.” The two girls looked at Honey once more before exchanging words and smiling to one another, it made Honey’s stomach churn. Jun sighed and turned to the door, disappearing inside.

“That’s enough.” Eddie muttered, shoving his way between Jason and Honey on the stairs, the boys retreated slowly as if they didn’t even want to risk touching him, except Jason.

“Why don’t you let her tell me that?” Jason asked, his eyes back on Honey.

Her mouth opened to respond, but Eddie was faster, a mocking chuckle leaving his smile before he said, “You think she’s holding a shovel for fun? Get outta here, man, you got your stuff, now get lost.” Eddie’s jaw was clenched as he waited, wondering if this was about to turn as bad as he suspected it would.

“Last time I checked this isn’t your property, freak.” He spat.

Just as Eddie was going to speak, the door burst open, hitting the side of the house to reveal Jun looking more tired than anything as he held a broken over shotgun at his waist, casually sliding shells inside, “Yeah? Well, it’s mine,” he racked it, Aaron yanked Cal and Janie backwards against the house at the sound, “—so get the fuck out.”

“—Honey?” Terry rasped through the screen as he rubbed his tired eyes. Janie made a break for the door, scooping up the boy and wordlessly running into the house to lock the door behind her. The sound made Jason almost shiver.

Jason stared at him with wide eyes, fear filling them before they eased as of a realization came to him, making him chuckle half heartedly. “D-Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t care who your daddy is, you little shit.” He raised the gun, “I ain’t afraid of another charge. I suggest you get a move on.” Jun warned one last time. “One…” He started.

Jason stood, the only one still left on the patchy lawn. Jun cocked his brow at him daringly.

“Jason, come ON!” Another girl shrilled.

Jason swallowed hard at the vague threat. “Just trying to be friendly, sir, that’s all.” He raised his hands as he retreated to the car.

“I’ll see you around.” Jason muttered, his eyes not leaving Honey’s until he was in the car, driving away.

No one moved until the car turned onto the main road, then Honey sighed and dropped the shovel with a heavy clunk.

“Fuck, Jun, you didn’t have to pull a gun on em!” Honey scolded at her brothers back, the man knocking in a set rhythm before the locks clicked and the door opened back up to reveal Janie’s tear stained cheeks. “You really wanna be that family here too? You want people to think you’re a criminal??”

“And what, let ‘em get comfortable on the porch? Not everyone that turns up on our step is the welcome wagon, Honey!” Jun hollered as he unloaded the gun, letting the shells clatter to the floor.

“I didn’t say that—I coulda handled it!” She followed him as he went to hang up the gun on the wall.

“Yeah, sure looked like it, were you planning on using that shovel or?”

“If you would’ve given me a chance to—“

“Jason Carver doesn’t take no for an answer.” Eddie piped up by the open door, his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against the frame. Aaron nodded. Everyone’s eyes were on Eddie.

“He may seem real nice and all, but when he isn’t with his girlfriend,” Eddie stared into Honey’s eyes, “He’s with anyone else.” The words were sour even at the sound. The phrase burned Honey’s chest.

Anyone else.

“Thanks.” She said dryly, her tone cutting through Eddie and making him almost flinch. “Janie, will you put Terry back in bed?”

“Aaron’s gonna read to all us.” Terry said into his sisters shoulder as she walked, the older boy sighing and walking along reluctantly, tossing Eddie a ‘be right back.’

“I’m gonna hit the hay.” Jun said, walking down the hall to his room.

Then it was just Honey, Eddie, and Cal, standing in thick silence. Cal cleared his throat and made an excuse about homework before escaping to his room with the boys.

Honey sighed when she heard the door shut and finally took a peek back up at Eddie. His eyes were already on hers with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked.

She nodded unconvincingly, “Yep. ‘M fine.” She unfolded her arms taking a couple steps back, Eddie spying the slight tremor she had in her hands.

“I don’t believe you.” He whispered, taking a step closer, daring to catch her hand as she turned. Her eyes snapped to his again, her heart pounding in her throat. “Those guys—those guys can get very scary, very fast, you know what I mean?” He asked gently. Honey’s eyes softened as she nodded understandingly.

“I know you’re tough, Honey.” He stepped closer again, still not dropping her hand, “I know you can handle your own. Hell, if I needed someone to fight, you’re the first person I’d think of— don’t tell Aaron I said that.” He joked, smiling a bit when her frown cracked from its place. “But I don’t want, uh, I don’t want Jason Carver—or anyone else— messing with you—guys. So if anyone starts shit with you, you tell me. Okay? You tell me.” He nodded, moving to bring his hand up to her cheek until she flinched away.

Eddie’s mouth parted with a gasp before she yanked her hand back, stepping into the kitchen and wiping her face with her hands as she assessed the dinner mess. She nodded, “Yeah, uh, I will. I’ll let you know, Eddie. Thanks.” She glanced at him as she opened the fridge, putting on a semi-convincing smile before she ducked to grab the lunch meat, bending at the waist.

Eddie watched the fabric stretch over her ass as she did, but the sight didn’t bring him joy the same way it always did. A heavy sigh escaped him before she shut the fridge and opened a cabinet, pulling out stacks of Tupperware and brown paper bags. “Thanks.” He said dejectedly.

He watched her work in silence before walking up behind her, closer than he’d ever been before. He placed his hand on the counter next to hers. She smelled him before she felt him behind her, the heady sweet smoke following him and making the back of her mouth tingle with want. “Honey, are—are we okay?”

Honey looked at his hand first, debating on slipping her fingers through his right there to tell him what was on her mind. About the pretty girls that made her feel bad about herself, about the weird, scary way Jason looked at her. She wanted to tell him a lot of things. She put down the spoon but didn’t turn, their fingers brushing but not overlapping just yet. She sighed as words failed her and settled for “Course we are.” instead.

Eddie’s eyes looked sad when she finally peeked up at him. He shook his head ever so slightly, “I don’t—“ the sound of a bedroom door opening jolted them apart, Eddie stepping back to lean against the sink while Honey returned to her leftovers, boxing the last of it up for Jun’s lunch.

Aaron came out of the hallway with a sigh, “Dr. Seuss never lets me down. S’like magic sometimes, don’t you—” He stopped just short of the kitchen, looking at his sister and then Eddie, “What’s up? We good?”

The pair nodded and confirmed, “Yeah! Great!”

“Absolutely.”

Aaron looked less than convinced before he flopped on the couch, “Alright, weirdos.”

“I’m gonna go.” Eddie said, turning for the door.

“See ya, man.” Aaron said as he looked around for the remote. Honey was setting out all the bread she’d need for the kids sandwiches when she looked back to sneak a peek.

When her eyes landed on the door, she found him waiting for her with one foot in and the other on the porch, his eyes set on her, “Bye, Honey.” He said in the quiet, dreamy way he always did sending a little wave her way. He waited for her to say something back— for that assurance.

She sighed before her face softened, “Bye, Eddie.” She wiggled her fingers the way he did, turning back around before he could spot the blush and smile blooming again on her face no matter how much she bit it back. She shook her head at herself as the warmth faded into that ache again, and slapped some mayonnaise on the white bread.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day at lunch, Aaron flopped down in his chair next to Gareth, digging out his sack lunch from his bag as he voiced his loud opinion on the schools ‘no hats’ policy, then tossed another to Eddie at the end of the table.

Eddie looked at the boy like he had two heads, “What’s this?” He opened the top and peered inside.

“Sister sent it for you.” Aaron said through a garbled mouthful of sandwich, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively. Eddie dumped the contents out on the table, a ham and cheese sandwich, a ziploc bag of chips, a small red apple and a Twinkie. He smiled to himself before he noticed the yellow sticky note still stuck inside the bag.

“No fair! She gave you a Twinkie and I got a ding-dong, what the fuck!” Aaron complained, looking at his own lunch. The guys chuckled and made awful ding-dong jokes as Eddie carefully extracted the note from the bag without drawing attention. He took a bite out of the apple and looked to the paper in his lap, only to find a simple smiley face looking back at him.

-

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💖Taglist darlins (please lmk if you wanna be added or taken off!) 💖

@gaysludge @feminist-mina-harker @superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter @superbreblogger @dylanmunson @miarosso @madmaxoolitchi @bimbobaggins69 @cherrycolas-things @big-ope-vibes @k8loo @loving-and-dreaming @jadequeen88 @josephfakingquinn @v0relino @newshade

[nothing2-c]

THIS JUST IN: Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin, has arrived at the Met Gala.

As a longtime fan, here’s a contribution to @putting-eddie-munson-in-places since I know you have a ton of requests right now. I made it my mission while on a break to put these images together.

[powderblueblood]

Lacy asking Eddie if he fucked Cass Finnegan in the ass completely out of the blue and in the middle of such a high tension situation is now my undisputed favourite scene of any fan fic ever written ever.

i am not kidding when I say this is the highest fuckin praise u could ever give me because I think it’s among one of the funniest things I’ve ever written. it’s my you look shitty! goodnight Denise! from hot rod

[lemonnbug]

Eye Contact

Here have this Eddie comforting/being nice to reader fic i definitely didn't write bc I was feeling bad about my anxiety '_' Eddie is a very nice weirdo in this and I love him.

Warnings: reader has bad anxiety, mentions of an anxiety attack, minor mentions of tactile hallucinations bc those fkng suck, cussing, I think that's it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Open your eyes."

The demand throws you mentally off balance, eyes shooting open to stare at the teacher standing in front of you, the sentence you were in the middle of dying on your lips.

"What?" You smile nervously, feeling the looks from the other students sitting around you.

Mrs. Silmore, the history teacher, looked less than pleased by your question, her hands resting on her hips as she stares you down.

"You keep closing your eyes when you talk, and avoiding eye contact. It's very rude."

You hadn't noticed you were doing that, but the flood of embarrassment washes over you like a cold front, palms suddenly sweaty and mouth dry. You believe her, you knew you struggled with eye contact because of your anxiety, but you didn't know it was that bad, and certainly not that noticeable. And you didn't know you closed your eyes, but now that's all you can think about as you try to say something.

You had been answering a question about the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, feeling somewhat proud for making yourself raise your hand, something you were now regretting.

"Oh, oh um, I'm sorry.." You stutter out, feeling the heat flush to your cheeks as a few kids snicker, your mind going blank, "I was saying that...that uh..if he hadn't, hadn't been..there…" The snickers get louder, or maybe they don't, maybe they're just echoing through your head, bouncing around and ricocheting off the thoughts of "you're a freak" "who closes their eyes while talking?" "You're not normal" "you're not normal you're not normal you're not normal"

"Sorry," you mumble, voice pathetically small, willing yourself to keep eye contact, "I lost my train of thought."

"Hm," Mrs. Silmore walks back to the blackboard, finally looking away, "anyone else?"

Your eyes drop to your desk and stay there for the rest of class, trying to ignore the anxiety induced itch creeping along your arms. Freak. You just can't be normal, can you? The bell signals the end of your quiet suffering, and you stand to hurry out of the room, apologizing when you accidentally bump into someone in your haste, speeding out of the room before they even reply. Out in the hall you side step and avoid the barreling masses as you try to make your way to the bathroom, a ball forming and growing in your chest, crawling up your throat and making it hard to breathe. You burst through the bathroom door and grab hold of a sink, taking deep shuddering breaths as your fingers grip the basin, eyes squeezed shut. In, 1 2 3 4, hold, 1 2 3 4, out, 1 2 3 4 5 6. Repeat. The feeling shrinks and crawls back into your chest, nestled against your breastbone where it normally resides, smaller but never gone. Always there.

A group of girls walk in and shoot you glances, you recognize one of them, Nancy, you think, as she eyes you quizzically. "Hey, are you okay?" Freak. Freak. Freak. Your hands begin to shake as you turn the water on, "Yeah, I'm good." You manage, running your hands under the stream before turning it off, grabbing a few paper towels and brushing past her out into the hall, halfway to your next class when you realize you're still holding the paper towels. Why can't you be normal?

~~~~~~~~~~~

You finally reach free period and it couldn't have come sooner. You'd been stuck in your head ever since history class, well, more stuck than usual. Flytrap level stuck instead of scotch tape stuck. You sit on the bottom bleacher, staring out at the empty football field, mind swarming despite the fresh air and fair weather.

It hadn't even been the first time someone pointed out your social issues, just the most public. You couldn't count the number of times your parents had reprimanded you for not looking at them when speaking, or moving away when they went to touch you during a bad anxiety episode. They didn't understand that none of it was an insult to them, that you wished you could act like everyone else, laughing and talking and not having to worry if you were doing what a normal person would do, wondering if you were sitting like a normal person, talking like a normal person, existing like a normal person. They had no idea what it was like in your head, and boy oh boy, they sure didn't want to either.

Freak. Freak. Sitting here by yourself staring at nothing like a freak.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" The shout comes from a few feet away, from a guy standing on the bleacher seats and walking towards you, arms waving towards the empty field. He plops down beside you with a huff, "Can you believe he fumbled the ball like that?" He shakes his head harshly, shaggy hair whipping around as he sighs dramatically, eyes moving across the field as if watching a game. You remember him from the cafeteria a few times, always loud and energetic, not seeming to care who looked his way or what they thought of him. You had wondered many times how he could be so comfortable drawing that much attention to himself. But then again, dressed the way he was, in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket, chains and a shirt that fits him like that, he had to be more than ok with the looks he must get.

"Yeah," you mumble, wondering if he's crazy or just bored, "what a disgrace to the team." He lets out a snort before adding, "Oh, to the very game itself!" You laugh, deciding he must just be bored. You both sit there quietly, staring out at the field and not saying anything. Which is fine. Sometimes people do this. They just sit. This is normal. You aren't being weird. You aren't being weird. You're being weird. He's probably waiting for you to talk, he spoke last and now it's your turn. But it's been too long since the silence started, won't you look even weirder for a delayed comment as opposed to an absent one?

"Oh look, a streaker." He calmly breaks the silence for you, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles up, sharp and loud, your hand flying up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "Come on," he continues, apparently spurred on by your outburst, "don't laugh at the poor guy, his bits don't look that weird." You laugh again, this time not bothering to suppress it. "You're right," you say, playing along, "I don't wanna give him a complex." He laughs, a deep, full laugh.

"Hey, don't worry about it, by the way," he says after a minute, eyes still fixed on the field. Confused, you rack your brain for what he could mean. "Huh?" He leans forward like he's suddenly enthralled by the imaginary game, then disappointedly slumping down. He's really invested in this bit, isn't he? "You skedaddled outta there before I could tell you." He explains, as if that explained anything. You slowly shake your head, more confused than ever. "Sorry?"

"COME ON COME ONE COME ON COME O- OHH, DAMNIT." He's suddenly standing up, screaming at the field. Nope. Not bored, crazy.

"History class," Oh. Was he there? Did he see? Of course he did if he was there. Was he snickering? The thoughts start flooding back. "You bumped into me," he clarifies, sitting back down. "You left before I could tell you not to worry about it."

"Oh."

"Not that I blame you," he adds, leaning back on his elbows, "Mrs. Silmore is a total soul-crusher."

"Yeah, I guess." Freak. Freak. Freak. He saw you. He thinks you're a freak. He's just trying to be nice because he feels bad for you.

"Yup. Eye contact is overrated." You chuckle at his words, feeling that ball of anxiety staying firmly snug in your chest, sated for the time being. "I'm just.." You start, choosing your words carefully, "not good at it, when..talking to people." He nods like it's the most normal thing, like I'm normal.

"Well, I won't look at you if you don't look at me."

You smile, yeah, definitely crazy. "Deal."

A few minutes pass in silence, although it's a comfortable silence this time, interrupted by Eddie letting out a long sigh.

"Would you look at that score? 0 to 0. What a terrible fake football game." 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Flattery Works With Me

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: with a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask

part two

The conversations that were happening throughout the cafeteria rang in your ears as you headed to the table that you always sat at. The usual suspects were all there and you were going to take your seat right next to Eddie just like always. 

You were nervous to speak to him, not only because you were shy, but also because you had been meaning to ask him if the DnD session for that night could be postponed because you had a lot of homework. But you knew how he felt about that sort of thing so you were dreading it, hoping that he would agree just this once. 

Before you could sit, though, you could see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all arguing a little ways away from the table. From the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty heated and there was no way you were getting in the middle of that. You hated hearing people argue, the loud voices always making you feel anxious because you didn’t have control of the situation. And you liked having control, craved it, even. 

But as soon as you set your tray down on the table, Lucas waved you over. You didn’t know what he was wanting, but you reluctantly made your way over to the boys, your curiosity piqued. You now had to know what their little spat had to do with you. 

“What’s going on?” You asked and Dustin was about to speak before Mike cut him off. That was something that happened often considering that Mike didn’t like how slowly Dustin would take to explain the situation. 

“Look,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. “We have a prior commitment and can’t make it to the session tonight.” You just knew that they were only telling you that because they wanted you to ask Eddie. 

“Correction: Mike was out late with El last night and got grounded so he can’t go to the session,” Lucas corrected with a roll of his eyes. 

“We were wondering if you’d talk to Eddie for us?” Dustin looked at you with hopeful eyes and the smile on his face made you want to pinch his little cheeks. 

“Why me?” You knew exactly why, but you wanted confirmation that Eddie did feel how you thought he did. That you weren’t just being delusional. Because that had happened so many times; you having a crush on someone and your feelings not being reciprocated in any way shape or form. 

“Are you kidding? The man is in love with you.” You scoffed at the comment, but couldn’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks. Could it have been possible? You supposed you were going to have to ask, but you just couldn’t get yourself to. Asking him to postpone the session was one thing, but asking if he had feelings for you? Absolutely not. 

“Yeah, he’ll do anything you say.” There was some truth to that and if you had more confidence, you would have tested just how far you could get by batting your lashes and putting on a flirty tone. “So will you please ask him?” You were going to ask him anyway, but now there was pressure on you to actually make the move.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Surely he would have postponed it for them, right? 

Mike rolled his eyes and made a beeline for Eddie and you watched the conversation, barely picking up what they were saying, but Eddie definitely didn’t look happy. He then waved Mike off and the boy gave you a look as if to say “See?” 

“I told you, he won’t listen to us. But with you? I think we have a shot.” 

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You really didn’t believe them, because why would Eddie have been interested in you? You had barely uttered a full sentence to the man in the few months that you’d known him so there was no possible way that he could have liked you like that. 

“Please?” Dustin begged one more time and the three of them jutted out their bottom lips, their eyes pleading. God, you really were a pushover. 

“Well, I do have a lot of homework to do tonight.” 

“I knew she’d do it,” Mike nodded with a smile and you ignored him, taking a deep breath and heading over to the metal head who was sitting at the end of the table. 

Eddie took no time to turn to you, a bright smile appearing on his face. You were so pretty that it was unfair and he kept wondering to himself what he had done to have been so lucky to have you in his life. He thought your shyness was adorable, the way he’d have to lean forward to hear what you were saying because of how soft spoken you were. 

And the dresses you always wore nearly killed him. The way they swung when you walked and how everyone would stare at you in the school hallway, he wondered how you didn’t realize just how beautiful you were. Surely you had to have known, but with the way you were always so surprised when he complimented you, it was clear that you had no idea. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted him, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him, every time you caught sight of that beautiful brown color, you knew you’d be a goner. They were hypnotizing, so fucking pretty that it should have been a crime. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning fully in his chair to face you. “Take a seat.” If he knew it wouldn’t have made you uncomfortable, he would have offered his lap. 

You hesitantly sat in the seat next to him and he could tell you were uneasy, your anxiety palpable. He let his hand inch towards yours underneath the table, letting his pinky stroke yours gently as if asking for permission to take it. Without a word, you wrapped your pinky around his, ignoring his gaze, unpacking your lunch with your free hand.

You felt your anxiety melt away as you felt his pinky squeeze yours gently, as if to tell you that he was right there for you. And he was. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, because at that point, you were his number one priority and he would stop at nothing to help you. He wished it was possible to go into your mind and quiet the voices that were always whispering to you.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked, feeling your hands shake as you realized what you were about to do. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Eddie just leaned forward so he could hear you. His hearing wasn’t that great anyway, but he actually kind of liked that you were so soft spoken so he had an excuse to get closer to you. 

“Anything,” he replied, giving your pinky another squeeze and you beckoned him forward. Eddie leaned closer to you with no question and you nervously reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, cupping your hand around it before leaning in and whispering into it. 

“I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight and I was wondering if it’d be okay if we postponed the session tonight?” You asked and felt your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for his answer. You pulled away from him and bit down on your bottom lip and Eddie had to stop himself from staring, wanting to pull your lip from your teeth and kiss you, not giving a single fuck about who was looking. 

You were so goddamn adorable that he felt his chest ache. Didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? Just one bat of those eyelashes and he would have even been willing to commit murder if it meant that you would give him even a sliver of a chance. 

“Yeah,” he nodded his head furiously. “No problem. You know flattery works with me," he winked, giving you a nudge. He hadn’t even given his decision a second thought as he stood up from the table, his mushy feelings subsiding as he took on his authoritative role. 

“Alright, everyone listen up,” he said, his voice a little too loud for your liking. “The session tonight is being postponed until next week because y/n has homework to do.” You turned to the others at the table and they all groaned, digging into their pockets and pulling out money that Dustin was gratefully taking, thanking them all for the cash. 

You could hear grumbles from the others, upset that not only was there not going to be a session that night, but also because they now were out five dollars. It was seemingly a lose-lose. You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you, a warm smile playing on his pretty pink lips. 

He then leaned down and put his lips right by your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shudder. His hand fell to your shoulder and the way his hair was fanning around you made your cheeks heat even more. 

“I can help you with your homework if you need it.” He pulled away so that your faces were only inches apart, that stupid smirk still evident on his lips. 

“I-I’d like that,” you nodded. 

“It’s a date,” he said, shooting you a wink before sitting back down in his chair. You lowered your head and began eating your lunch, letting yourself come up with things to do with Eddie because there was no way you were actually going to do your homework.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 1: Xenophilia/Oviposition

Warnings: 18+ smut, dry humping, dirty talk about alien sex

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie tells you why alien sex is so much better. Maybe he can even show you.

A/N: Decided to join kinktober fun because why not so I’ll be posting to catch up . Posting something risky and weird on the main so lemme know what yall think

You’ve known Eddie to be quite stranger ever since the day you met. It was evident considering the differences in your friend circles. He is a pop culture nerd and you’re the popular cheerleader. Somehow, his weird vibes were able to pull you in, unafraid of the odd rumors associated with him. Hell, you took it as a challenge then. But you’d soon come to fall in love with one another, appreciating the differences as it made teaching each other all the more exciting.

But you’d say the best part of being with Eddie is that neither of you had to hide any of your most intimate and sometimes down-right bizarre secrets from one another.

Like when Eddie learned of your secretly nerdy enjoyment of stargazing and tracking celestial events, he’d purchased a telescope for you where he’d spent the night listening to you explain away the galaxy. And like as of now, when you learned of your boyfriend’s alien sex fantasies while watching the new Alien movie.

You’d noticed the way he shifted in his seat during the movie, adjusting himself in his jeans. You playfully questioned him and he was a mess of stutters and stammers.

“It’s fucked, I know,” He says, avoiding your eyes and twisting a lone ring around his thick finger. “Bet you think I’m a real fucking freak.”

“I mean, I do think you’re a freak,” You say, bringing his face back up to yours. “But that’s exactly what I like. So…if you could have alien sex…how exactly does that work?”

“W-well, there are like some sex toys to make it happen.”

“And the whole egg implanting thing? Is that like when you creampie?” You ask excitedly.

His cheeks grow redder, coughing in embarrassment. “No—So like there are these gelatin egg kits that you can purchase at a sex shop. And they’d get deposited inside through sex and would eventually melt inside you—o-or any person for that matter not just you, of course. I’ll just use us as an example for clarification. But it’s only a fake scenario. Totally not real. For shit and giggles. Hypothe—

“I get it, babe,” You impatiently interrupt. “Get on with it.”

“Right,” He swallows. “So, imagine me wearing this cock sleeve thing that’ll look pretty gnarly because it’ll look kind of like a blue tentacle with all these ridges and bumps—

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Oddly specific.”

“Y-Yeah but it’s only to help with the visuals. Not because I have one. Psssh, what?” He says with a anxious high-pitched tone, eyes shifting side to side.

“Mhm,” You say, moving from your spot on the couch to sit in his lap. “Anyway, so back to you naked and wearing that little toy. Will the gelatin eggs be in it already?”

“They would. Then, I’d have to lube up the toy so you can take it. I’d get real nice and slick to the point where it’s dripping like slime just so we’re on the safe side.” He says, letting his hands glide up your thigh, lifting your skirt a little higher.

“Ooo, it’s that big?” You gasp, rocking back and forth against his growing erection. Every now and then, the tip would slip either between your clothed wet core or your soft thighs.

“Uh-huh,” His face in your neck, planting light kisses. “Or maybe you’re just that tight.” He emphasizes the last word while gripping and kneading the inner fat of your thighs.

“Then, what happens?” You mewl.

“Then, I’d stick it deep, deep, deep inside you.” He groans into your ear.

“Would you still be able to feel my warm walls around you? Feel clenching around you so you’d stay inside me?”

“That toy is specifically meant to give you pleasure,” He breathes hotly. “No, I won’t get to feel your tight, wet pussy directly around me. But I’d get pleasure enough seeing your face when I plant my seeds in you. You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, babygirl?”

“Yes, fuck, why do I want that so badly?” You take his hand to place over one breast. Through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, he quickly locates your pebbled nipple and plucks at it repeatedly.

“Because I just taught you how great monster sex can be.” His teeth sinks into your earlobe.

“You mean there’s more than just alien sex?”

“Mhm, I can show you.” He says, loving that he’s corrupting a girl like yourself.

“Yes, please, master. Show me more.”

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[caxde]

bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, your's an Eddie's relationship takes a new turn, while navigating life with her little girl (4.3k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

a/n: the support has been insane, so enjoy part2 <3 part 1 part 3 (they can be read seperatly)

“Munson! There’s a girl here asking for you.” 

The raspy voice of his college snapped him back to reality. He had been working on the same bike for a while now, and had become unaware of everything else that was happening around him. 

But if there was a girl to see him, it could only be you, or maybe Robin. 

He really hoped it’d be you. 

Heads followed him as he crossed the dusty garage floor as he found his way to the opened mechanical door. Lucky for him, you were anxiously waiting there, your hands playing with the hem of your sweater. 

You had been lucky, if you actually think about it. You had left the café you started working at a few weeks ago, so you could go to the trailer park and get some sleep. This last weekend the logistic center that was 30 minutes away had called you, begging you to take the night shift since some of their employees were on vacation. You accepted, since they offered to pay you extra, and in cash. The downside was that the sleep you had lost didn’t seem to come back, and your car had been making a strange sound since then. 

Now your car refused to turn right, and if it did it took way too much strength. 

You avoided spending more than you had to, but it looked like it was finally time. Thank god Eddie works here, you kept thinking as you found your way to the mechanic. 

“Hi.” Your voice was lower, barely holding yourself together. 

“Hi princess.” He tried to cheer you up, a big smile on his face and his affectionate pet name he had only for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kept walking towards you, cutting the distance until you were a step away from each other. 

“I wish it was a surprise.” The way your eyebrow furrowed let him know that you were a bit too anxious, a bit too nervous with the situation. “I need your help.” You added as your palm covered your face for a moment, trying to wipe away the panic. 

“Whatever you need, princess.” And maybe it was his sweet tone, maybe it was the nickname or maybe it was the way his hand held your arm, in a supportive and soft way, that let you finally relax. 

You walked with him to your car, while you told him what was going on. He just nodded and let you talk, knowing that that was just what you needed. 

“It just sucks, I don’t know how I’m gonna get to work now.” You kept speaking as he popped the hood up of your car, and he kept looking at the engine, and everything that crept deep into it, what everything did you had no idea. Eddie was used to people talking while he worked, but oddly enough it made him feel more important, when you were the one doing it. 

“I could drive you.” He replays. His body stood up from being bent over. He was tying his hair up, and you had lost any and every train of thought you had. You had never seen someone look as pretty with a ponytail, even when they were covered in car grease. Black stains in contrast with his white muscle top, decoration his arms in places tattoos didn’t. “I don’t mind, as long as you’re okay with carpooling with Lua.” Eddie’s nervous smile came back, an upside down grin while his eyebrows raised, eyes locked with yours. 

“I’d love that.” 

-

Breakfast was Lua’s favourite. 

A piece of toast with some sweet jam, a cup of warm milk, and some cut up fruit. 

Eddie let her eat it wherever she felt like, time proved that was the better option. She usually preferred to eat it sitting down on the kitchen counter, while Eddie sat on the stools, eyes on the same level. He usually ate the rest of the fruit that he didn’t give to her, while he downed his black coffee. Though if he was honest, he had never cracked how to brew a good cup. 

Lua would babble whatever she had on her mind, she was chattier in the mornings, unlucky for her, Eddie was not a morning person, his energy drained from another poor night’s sleep. 

Everytime he thought about it, it made him laugh. Before her little girl came into his life, he’d sleep until way past noon, usually skipping school, having a cigarette and a coffee -if anything- for breakfast, without a job - a legal one- and with no real reason to do anything with his life. 

Maybe that’s why he cares so much about her, her little light, his reason to keep going, and be better. 

While he looked at her, the world seemed to quiet down for a moment, and everything was fine. 

Three knocks at the door, and he already knew you were on the other side of it. 

“Morning.” Amusement in his voice, in a hush tone. His dippels appeared, as his smile grew wider, they way your hair fell, in a tangled mess, being the reason for it. He was just happy to see you, though he wasn’t going to admit it. Not yet. 

“Hi.” Your voice came out raspy and hoarse. You hadn’t talked to anyone yet, and it made him chuckle even more. He moved his body out of the door frame, letting you plenty of room to walk through. “Coffee?” 

“Already done.” He muttered back, pointing with his head where the mug in his kitchen was. 

You felt your face relax as soon as you saw Lua enjoying her breakfast, quietly. Your eyes closed when your earnest smile came, once her voice rang with excitement as she said your name, as her hands moved through the air. 

“Hi dude!” You matched her energy, the momentary excitement winning the battle for your remaining energy. 

Lua gave you a high five, which you celebrated with a funny face that made her laugh. She offered you a piece of fruit that you accepted in a way too exaggerated manner, that only made her giggles multiply. Unbenoughts to you, Eddie was watching attentively. 

He was memorizing the way your hair fell on your back, and the way it swayed everytime you moved. The way you fitted in your dark washed jeans, the little red shirt from the café hugged your waist and he suddenly had the wish to place his hand there. He didn’t do it. 

Instead he handed you a mug with watered down coffee, that you accepted. He grinned at  the way your nose scrunched once you took the first sip of it. 

“Yeah, I’m not the best coffee maker.” He confessed while he suppressed a laugh. 

“Clearly.” You answered in a joking manner, it wasn’t bad, you just weren’t used to black strong coffee,  not the way he was. “I’m making you breakfast tomorrow.” 

You meant it. He knew, so he accepted with a nod and another smile. 

“Wayne’s sleeping, so we try to not wake him up. It’s difficult when little miss sunshine has all the energy in the world.” He explained while looking at Lua, her beaming smile and giggles made him light up, his thumb cleaning her cheek that had some purple jam on it. 

“There’s no one else in my trailer, she can be as chatty as she wants there.” Lua understood that, as soon as she realised what you were talking about she started to clap and cheer, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips. 

Eddie could hear that symphony for the rest of his days, he thought. 

-

It became a new way to start your days. 

You’d brew some coffee, and prepare an extra mug for Wayne, that Eddie left on the counter of his kitchen before you left for work. 

You’d actually cook, eating something in the early hours for once, a new habit you never had before. 

Lua always knocked on your door whenever they were ready, the little sound on your door followed by her sweet hi, as her arms swanged up in the air. She was becoming more and more comfortable with you, letting you hold her. She even gave you a thank you kiss on the cheek once. 

Today you had some pancake batter sizzling in the pan, orange juice for her, milky tea for you. 

“Dada?”

“Yes?” Eddie raised his eyebrow as he took his first sip, his voice softening at her.

“Music?” She answered with another question. 

“Ah, yes. The beautiful melody that connects us all together.” He babeled, in that voice he used when he was talking as what he was saying was written in an antique book. He tended to do it more when he knew you would smile. 

He took two cassettes out of his back pocket, letting her choose. He wished she’d actually choose the mix he finished last night, but as always, she picked the one that had a drawing she did as a cover. 

He nodded and walked to your radio. 

It hit him in that moment, just how tangled your lives were becoming. He knew where (almost) everything in your home was, and the same was starting to happen for you. He knew that you kept honey in a reused jar, because Mr.Felix gave you local honey from a friend in the first cupboard to the right. He knew you had extra plasters in the second drawer of your bathroom because you had a tendency to cut yourself when you used a knife when you had to chop something up. He knew that the drawings on your wall were painted by you, but that the one that hung over the orange lamp was gifted to you by a kid you took care of when you worked in a hotel two years ago. He also knew that you knew where Lua likes to put her toys away, under the table of his living room. You knew that the only way she had to eat vegetables was if they couldn’t be seen. You knew that Eddie liked to have it all under his ‘controled mess’ as you called it. 

In just a few weeks you had become such an important person that he was scared of you leaving. Which people had a tendency to do in his life. 

Now he couldn’t only care about his life, he had to care about Lua’s too, and he had been trying to talk to you about it. But everytime he summoned up the courage to do so, you’d look at him with your pretty doe eyes and everything he had wanted to say left, he could only focus on how pretty you always look. 

You focused on other things. Silly, non important things. 

Like how his tongue went over his upper lip every time he concentrated to fasten Lua’s seatbelt. Or how he played with his rings when he was deep in thought, whatever it was, his thumb played with the middle one, while his left hand focused on the one in his index finger. Or how when he had a clear idea, and had to start working on something, he’d tie his hair up in a lazy ponytail, his thick neck exposed. Or how he rotated his shoulders when he sat down on the driver's seat at the end of the day, half exhausted, half excited to go back to his home. 

You walked to the car shop at around eight, as you always did. Knowing that he’d already be waiting for you outside. Since Lua was back in the house, Wayne coming to pick her up as soon as he wakes up, he always enjoyed that small frame of time to actually smoke a cigarette, his little moment, all for himself. 

Before he met you, he’d spend this moment thinking about what he needed to do, what he needed to buy, or what Lua wanted for dinner. Now, the only thought was you. You and your sweet voice, you and your angelic laughter, you and your soft skin. You, everytime you called his name. 

“Hey princess.” His pet name had also become a familiar sensation. Your heart still races a bit when it hears it, nevertheless. 

“Hey moon.” Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the earnestness of your tone, or the new nickname, but he felt his heart jump around his chest, and his cheeks changing colour, a pretty pink flush taking over them. 

“Should we go?” He added, happiness crystal clear, not only by his higher tone, but by his overall demeanor. 

“Please. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go straight to bed.” You let out in a whisper, rubbing your face in an attempt to wake up, so you wouldn’t fall asleep on the drive back to the trailer park. 

“You should eat something first.” It was his way of showing you he cared, making sure you were taking care of yourself half as well as you took care of others. 

“I know, I just really hate cooking for myself. It's boring, and then you have to clean it, and do it all again…”

“You make breakfast for us everyday,” He pointed out, his eyebrow raised in synchrony with his pitch, as he opened the passenger door so you’d climb in. 

“Yeah, but that’s different. It’s mostly for you.” You stop as you wait for him to sit on the driver sit, taking the time to make sure your seat belt is fastened. Looking at the backseat, a new habit you had developed thanks to him and his baby. “I didn’t eat breakfast before you guys came.” You admit, and he knows you’re not lying. You never do when your eyes shine that bright. You also know he is a bit worried, a frown appearing on his forehead. “I’m okay, moon.” 

“Hey, it’s not fair that you use the nickname to your advantage.” He points out, his index finger raising to the air as he speaks, his car engine starting, heading home. 

“Sorry?” You jokingly ask. Knowing that everything’s fine by the way he laughs it off. 

“Then, we’ll come over and cook you dinner.” 

“Tonight?”

“If that’s okay.” His tone showed a bit of concern now. Maybe he was pushing it a bit too much. He was just excited to spend time with you, so he tried to grab every opportunity he had to do so. 

“Yeah, I just… My fridge’s a bit empty. We should stop by the shop.” You were embarrassed. 

It was stupid. Or at least it felt stupid. Being embarrassed about it. But the only actual thing you had been buying was dedicated to the breakfast you shared together, once you were home by yourself, you usually had a soup, frozen pizza or a simple grilled cheese sandwich. You really didn't care that much, you just ate if and when you were actually hungry.

And it wasn’t that often, if you were honest. 

Eddie knew. He had a tendency to be over observant, and he had noticed, but never dared to say anything. Life was complicated enough, and that was a mantra he stood by. So he took the chance, and planned to cook you the meal he was actually proud of. 

-

The Never Ending Story played in the background. 

A familiar scene in your trailer. 

Eddie’s cooking filled the air with a delicious smell, he was concentrated in it, wanting to impress you while he cooked his ramen noodles with seared shredded chicken. 

Meanwhile, you and Lua layed on the rug in your living room, the T.V on a low volume. She had found your nail polish, and cheerfully asked if she could paint your nails. 

“What colour do you want to paint them?” You had asked, the calmest your voice has ever been, the tiniest trace of exhaustion in it. 

“Blue!” She beamed as she held the bottle. 

“Okay, careful though.” You opened the bottle for her, and looked at her as she looked at the puzzle before her. “Do you want me to do the first one?” You asked, knowing that she needed some sort of guide. You realised, she had the same face of concentration as her father, tongue out covering her upper lip. 

She started painting, the smell of polish annoying her a bit, you encourage her. Telling her in a kind voice how good of a job she was doing, even if she was getting more colour on your skin than in your nail. She giggled as she covered her face in a shy manner, proud of the job she had finished. 

“They look beautiful, bug” Eddie’s voice came right between both of you. As he sat down between you, she held your hand so he could look at them closer. “You did this all by yourself?” Even if he didn’t look at you, and even if his eyes were looking at the proud look on his daughter's face, you could feel the electricity travel from your body to his. And the warmth his touch leaves on your soft skin. 

“Yeah.” She whispers in a shy, proud giggle, nodding along, waiting patiently for his compliments. 

“She didn’t help you?” He asked again, this time his eyes were on yours. It had changed, you noticed. His eyes weren’t shining with a second intention, or a jokey flare. They were full of something else, if you had to put a name on it -without having to say it out loud- you’d say it was adoration, though you weren’t sure. You were right regardless. 

“It was all her.” You tell him. He nods, catching himself falling deeper into the abyss. 

“Dinner’s ready” He ended up saying that. He thought that saying what he was really thinking would have been too weird. Tough if he really thought about it, telling you that you had never been more beautiful wasn’t a total lie, or that out of character for him. 

Lua sat on his lap, knowing that she would be fed, since she couldn’t be trusted with noodles. Not since she had used a fork to catapult them into the wall a few months back. She was smarter than Eddie realised, and he loved her more for it. 

Eddie waited silently for your reaction, and was pleased with himself when you whispered an amazed my god once you took your first bite. He took his chance to look at you while you were eating, distracted by the food. While you took your chance to look at him when he fed Lua. 

This was something you could also get used to, you find yourself thinking. 

Having company. Having them as company.

It was complicated, and you knew that. 

And it was even harder when he acted as nice as he was doing. Even if he had cooked, he was still offering to clean up. It was also harder seeing how Lua wanted you to hold her, exhaustion after a nice meal, she was sleepy and needed comfort. You looked at Eddie, a question written over your face is this okay? He gave you his usual grin, the upside down smile that showed his dimple of course it is.

You held her, close to your chest, her little arms hanged by your side, her head resting between your shoulder and your breast. You were softer than the strong arms she was used to, and your swaying was more delicate -probably because you were afraid to do something that might upset her- you hummed along the final song of the movie that was still playing, and as she felt deeper and deeper into dreaming, Eddie finished cleaning up. 

“Is she…?” 

“I think so.” Your voice was so quiet he could barely even understand you. 

The image of you, holding her with such care, with such softness, with that much love… It became an image he would end up thinking in a recurring manner. 

“We could set her down in my room.” You point at the closer door that he had never walked through. He nodded, trying to mask his boyish excitement. 

He half expected your room to be as colourfull as the rest of your house, but your walls were white, decorated with just a couple pictures of a city he couldn’t name on the wall, your white sheets that had witnessed your meeting on your bed. 

He walked over to you, a bit closer than he had to be to hold Lua, so he could put her down. Enjoying the way his skin graced yours. 

He sat down on your mattress, and laid Lua in the middle of it, resting in deep sleep. You followed closely. Your body hitting the usual comfort that your mattress always seemed to have. He waited a second. Another image he wanted to remember happening right in front of him, your body laying down on a bed next to her baby. In another life… Maybe it could have also been yours. 

He laid down carefully, and you saw as both of you were lost. Not really sure where to look, but dying to just look at each other's eyes. As these things go, you could only avoid each other for so long. 

So you ended up lost into his gaze just as much as he was lost in yours. 

It was a bit too much. 

“Moon…” You whispered, trying to not wake her up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is this weird?” Even if you tried not to, your words still came out as worried as you were. 

“Is it weird that it isn’t?” He asked back, the sincerity in his voice made your body relax, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Maybe.” You admit, with a hopeful smile. You turned your focus on her for a moment. “She looks so peaceful.” 

“You should see her when she wakes up.” He adds with a smirk on his lips. His fingers pushing a hair out of her face. “She’s calmer when you’re around.” 

“We should be careful, then.” You were measuring your words now, not only speaking about her. He knew, so he just nodded. 

“You know…” He started speaking after a few minutes of comfortable silence, his body sinking deeper into the comfort of your bed, smelling your perfume in the pillows that hugged his head. “When I had her, it was only me and Wayne, her mother doesn’t want her in her life, and it was scary, and nauseating. I had no idea what I was doing.” His eyes flickered back to you. His shyness was gone, he was calmer with you near. You and the admiration in your eyes. “But I figured it out pretty quickly. She needed me just as much as I needed her. I had help, of course. But still, I wouldn’t change it for the world. She keeps me sane in a way… I know I’m a better person because of her. But I think I’m becoming an even greater person because of you, too.” 

You weren’t sure what you could say back. It was a warming feeling, having heard him say it, knowing that somehow you were in the same position as him. So you decided to be brave, to be honest for once. 

“I just worry Edds, that’s all.” You admit in a sincer whisper. He knows you’re not done talking, and he doesn’t rush you. He waits patiently, with an understanding nod and a smile on his face. “Meeting you, both of you, has been a blessing. Honestly. It’s been lonely, moving away, being here… And you guys have been so kind, and so welcoming… I really don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“I know, princess.” 

“I just… I don’t know where’s the limit. I think… I think I kinnda like you, and if this complicates things I… I don’t know.” You were a bit embarrassed. having finally confessed what has been on your  mind for days. But seeing the beaming smile that escaped from Eddie’s lips was all the confirmation you needed. 

“I think I kinnda like you too. And I know it sucks. In another life, I would have asked you out, and we would have gone on dates, and we would spend days together but… All I can really think about, all I should think about…” He gestures to the little girl, sleeping soundly. “But we could still figure out a way…” 

“You think?” 

“Maybe.” He echoes your first maybe, the same tone, the same expression you had given him. “If you want to, we could try it out, go on a date, see if we…” 

“Work?”

“Yeah.” A lovesick grin was plastered in both of your faces. 

Hope could be felt in the room. Maybe it could work out, maybe you could have something, even if you weren’t sure what that was. Normally the uncertainty would make you nauseous, and anxious. Not this time, it actually made you excited, the promise of a something with them. With him. 

“You’d go out with me? An actual date?” He finally asks you. His soft spoken words can’t really hide the excitement that laid deep in his question. And you weren’t that good at lying, and he could read you like a book. 

“I’d love to, Moon.” It had been easier than you had anticipated. Complicated and easier seemed to go hand in hand when he came into the picture. “As soon as you fix my car.” You add in a joking tone, sticking your tongue out. 

“Oh, your car’s been done for a couple days.” He said in a sirius yet humorous tone, he covered his mouth with his index fingers as soon as a chuckle escaped your lips. 

“Asshole.” You whispered in disbelief. 

“I just liked having an excuse to hang out with you.”

Just like that, your heart was warmer once again. And soft giggles and conversation followed all the way through the night. 

Until the exhaustion caught up with you.

 You fell asleep right there. A picture that both of you wanted to remember, the little promise of something more. 

-

there might be a part 3 if you guys would like it ! xx

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference &lt;3

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n

part 2 is up, thank for the support dudes <3

[munson-blurbs]

Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend gets a lot more than he bargained for when he walks in on you wearing only your Hellfire Club t-shirt.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), dry humping, thigh riding, cumming in pants

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Reader is described as wearing an oversized Hellfire t-shirt. This is her shirt, not Eddie's. There is no indication of her size whatsoever.

--

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Your toothbrush is clenched in your hand, but instead of cleaning your teeth, it serves as a microphone while you dance around your bedroom. The stereo is playing loudly; you can’t even hear the creaking staircase floorboards over the music. 

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love’s gone be—AAAAH!

Your palm flies to your chest when you see Eddie standing in your doorway, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“And here I thought I was the rockstar in this friendship,” he smirks, arms folded across his chest. 

Your heart rate slowly returns back to a pace that won’t send you to an early grave. “Jesus, Eddie! What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he replies nonchalantly. “Y’know, you probably shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked while your folks aren’t home. Anyone could walk in off the street.” He flops onto your bed with an exaggerated exhale, looking pointedly in your direction. “Nice pants, by the way.”

Nice pants? You’re ready to sleep; an oversized Hellfire tee serving as your pajamas. You’re not even wearing—oh. 

You tug at the hem, but even after years of wear, it doesn’t stretch below your thighs. Heat blooms in your face. “Yeah, well,” you sputter, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Eddie pouts. “You mean you didn’t wear that ‘specially for little ol’ me?” He ducks as you hurl your toothbrush at his head. He opens his mouth to say something before quickly clamping it shut, but not before you notice. 

“What?”

“N-Nothing.”

You cross your arms, more firm this time. “What?!”

“When you, uh, threw the toothbrush…your shirt…” His face turns bright red as he scrambles to explain. “…it, uh, kinda rode up.” His Adam’s apple bobs nervously. 

“It’s just underwear. You’ve seen me in a swimsuit before.” You try to hide your own embarrassment, playing it off coolly, but all you can think about is the fact that Eddie Munson saw your panties. 

He nods, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Right, yeah. Totally the same thing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I should get going.” He pushes on his knees, starting to stand up, but abruptly stops. “Actually, um, maybe I’ll hang out here for a bit, if you wanna maybe put…put something else on.” Pink embarrassment blooms in his cheeks, spreading down his neck. 

“No, I’m going to bed, and you’re leaving. We can get breakfast tomorrow morning or something.” You sigh when he doesn’t move, making your way to where he’s sitting. “C’mon, time to—”

Eddie attempts to hunch himself over, but there’s no hiding the hardening bulge straining behind his zipper. 

It’s only natural, you tell yourself. He’s a twenty-year-old guy; he’ll get a boner if the wind blows the wrong way. It doesn’t mean he’s into you. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. This is super weird, and I shouldn’t have come in without knocking.” He buries his head in his hands. “Just…give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Now’s your chance. If there’s any time to find out if he’s into you, it’s when he’s sporting a stiffie in your bedroom. “Or…I could help you with it?”

His head whips around so fast that his curls are a blur of brown. “Wh-What? Like, help me…?” He’s desperate for you to finish his sentence, not wanting to say something that makes the situation even more awkward. 

“I can help you get off. If you want. Or you can just use my bathroom and, I dunno, rub one out.” You cringe at the phrasing. “No pressure.”

“Um, yeah. No pressure.” His thumbs circle each other, an anxious habit he’s had for years. “So if you were gonna help me out, what would that look like?”

You shrug, a half-smile gracing your lips. “I guess I’d do this first.” You place one hand on each of his shoulders, straddling his waist with your bare thighs. “And then I’d kiss you?”

“Mhm, please.” Eddie grips your hips as you lean in, mouths finding one another in unhurried splendor. He tastes like stale Camels and spearmint gum, only breaking the connection to trail his lips down your neck. 

It’s your favorite spot to be kissed, and the way his teeth nip at your flesh, tongue gliding over the mark as though sealing it in, has you grinding down on him. 

“Christ, honey,” he breathes, “you look so goddamn perfect like this.” His fingertips dig into your asscheeks possessively before one hand snakes its way up your shirt. You expect him to lift it above your head to expose your breasts, but he doesn’t. 

“Y-You can take it off,” you stammer, feeling silly as you say it aloud. 

Eddie shakes his head in refusal. “Next time.” Next time. It’s a promise you hope he’ll keep. “I just love the way you look in this shirt.” And nothing but this shirt, he thinks to himself. 

The friction of your cotton panties on his denim pants is delectable, providing just enough pressure to your aching clit. You’re greedy in your movements but make sure to give him what he needs, too. Your pussy rubs against his clothed cock; Eddie uses the hand on your ass to help guide your hips. 

“Thassit, oh, fuck,” he grunts, teased with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Right there, baby. Ohmygod, I’m gonna cum in my fuckin’ pants.”

“S’okay,” you murmur into his ear, gently biting the lobe, “‘m close, too. So close, holy shit.”

Sweat beads along his upper lip, his groans more needy and guttural. “‘M coming, ‘m coming, ‘m coming.” He babbles pathetically as sticky, wet warmth floods his boxers. You follow his lead, finishing on his somehow still-hard cock. 

The immediate aftermath is filled with panting breaths and sporadic giggles as the pleasure high fades and reality sets in. 

“Did we just—” Eddie starts, eyes wide in disbelief. 

You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “Mhm. We sure did.”

He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy from perspiration and activity. “So, um, what do we do now?” There are many unspoken questions woven into it. What does this mean for our friendship? Do we even have a friendship anymore? Was it as good for you as it was for me?

“Well…” You sit up a bit straighter, toying with the chain of his guitar pick necklace. “We can throw your stuff in the wash, and maybe while we’re waiting, we can get started on that next time you’d mentioned earlier?”

Eddie grins, kissing you with a fervor like you’ve never seen. “What are we waiting for?” He tugs off his pants and boxers, unashamed of the way he’s painted them with cum. When he notices you staring, he winks. “‘S a lot, isn’t it? Imagine how much it’ll be when I’m actually inside you.”

It doesn’t take long for either of you to find out.  

--

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Warnings: Language, slight smut, touching, body-issues, reader has insecurities over big chest, ass slapping, oral sex (f receiving), self-esteem, mentions slight panic and anxiety, mirror play, and NSFW.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Plus size Reader

Wordcount: 1,945

A/N: I’ve had a lot of negative comments from people/my family about my weight lately, so… This is self-indulgent. I need Eddie to make me and my body type feel appreciated.

Buying lingerie to show Eddie and he’s honored that someone dresssd up for him.

You had fumbled with the bags all day, caught between regretting your decision and ready to take it on. Eddie wasn’t like other guys… other people, really. It wasn’t that you feared what he would do, no. It was the humiliating dread of him being nice to spare your feelings, the worst possible outcome equaling out to disgust at your surprise. But you had pushed it aside, freshened in your shower, applied a different makeup look to frame your features, then slipped an old parka on over the black lace.

You’d forgone heels and kept your boots on, those easy to take off once you had arrived at the trailer, your giddy boyfriend greeting you like he’s never seen you a day in his life. With the air conditioner properly placed in the trailer, Eddie’s hair was down, curled around his shoulders, a simple white tank top and black cut off sweat shorts over his trim form. He’s always beautiful to you. The amused smirk on his face did not go unnoticed, however, upon taking in your parka in this sweltering Indiana heat (even at night). It was an automatic “it’s cooler in my room, if you wanna?” offer, with him grabbing two bottles of coke from his fridge on the way.

Time to do this thing…

~*~

When he pushes his door open, the coolness that carries his Old Spice, nicotine soaked scent, it hits you square in the face. You relax a little, already sliding your fingers into your jacket buttons, popping them open and working the zipper. His back is to you as clears some space on his dresser, going on about why you’re wearing a coat, if you’re okay, what is it about. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, an anxious reaction, and you’re shoving the coat off your shoulders, exposed skin immediately stimulated with the prickles of electrifying goosebumps. And Eddie, god love him, he isn’t at all prepared for what he sees when your voice hooks into his attention span and gets him to turn around.

“Eddie?”

Initially, you take his shocked look as something bad. His widened eyes and slack jaw, the way he runs his fingers and tugs at his own roots. You feel an immature burn of familiar tears, reaching to pick up the coat and apologize. His voice leaves zero room for that energy in here.

“No, baby. No, sweetheart.” Layering on pet names to help soothe you, he calms the panicked nerves he can see escalating.

Though his own heart rate is out of control, his tongue’s tip on fire, touching his cheek, sweats suddenly tighter. You are his personal goddess on the daily — something he never expected, nor looked for. And you did this for him? The devil freak gets something special from an Angel like you? Temporarily halting your actions, you do notice the way his eyes expand into the depths of midnight black, how he reaches to adjust himself in his sweats - it keeps you here.

He reaches for you with that outstretched, tattooed arm. “Baby? Let me in. Let me see? I’m just not used to this…” He rushes to correct his phrasing, already knowing what it could do to you. “I mean, I’m not used to a hot fuckin’ woman getting dressed up for a guy like me, y’know? Takes a minute to sink in. And honestly? I’m waiting for Wayne to wake me up right now.”

It all clicks for you. It isn’t just about your insecurities, but this also giving something special to someone who also struggles to see confidence and self-worth. You’ve never been more proud of yourself than in this moment, overcoming your fears to get Eddie Munson this excited? You take his hand with a soft smile, albeit, still shy as he brings you around to pinch your chin between his fingertips, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose’s tip. His voice is gravelly, soaked in heat. Eddie’s mouth ghosts across your own, barely touching as he asks, “Permission to touch?”

You give into him, hand still in his, the other raising to hold onto the warmth of his shoulder, twirling his curls into your grasp to ease some nerves. His eyes immediately widen as he truly gets to look you over. Overflowing thighs in a beautiful thong, your thick curls peeking out of the sides, your beautiful legs — clad in silk sheer stockings, lace trimmed to meet, your stretch marks, your scars, the way, in which, you carry your plush stomach, to your full breasts that spill over the cups, and even your makeup — different, darker, more smoldering. He tips the digits of his spare hand, rings clinking together as he tickles his way up your forearm, tracing the vein back down, until he’s tapping on your pulse point inside of your wrist. Hands join, his grip shifting you into a twist, with your back pressed against his chest, and how badly he wants you nudging at your bare ass cheek.

You bow your head from immediate reflection in the mirror — something your boyfriend has yet to see. He’s too busy watching the way your ass swallows that thin black strap, this set showcasing all the indents that cascade down your thighs. And even your boots, he loves that you kept it you, that you didn’t force yourself into heels. You don’t like them, he knows this. He lets his fingers path their way along your spine, rubbing across the clasp on your bra, pausing to ask once more, now quite aware that you’re looking awkwardly at his messy floor.

“Sweetheart? You okay up there?” It’s silent for a beats, but then you’re mentioning his mirror.

He fights back a sigh, because how can you not see how perfect you look — without or without all of this. He wants to keep your comfort in mind, but it’s also important that he helps you see how fucking gorgeous you are. So he shakes his head, his curls tickling your shoulder blades.

“I don’t think so.”

You object, stopping yourself when his voice pleads into a softness that you’ve never heard from him before.

“I want to try somethin’. And if you don’t like it, we move away from the mirror, kay? Zero pressure, all your call.”

You have to admit that you’re intrigued, and excitement bubbling beneath your breastbone, dumping molten lava over your flesh. Eddie can see you inhale sharply through the mirror. He does that downward nod, brow raised, and you’re nodding. He’s so giddy that his tongue pokes out in concentration, joined hands freed, one of his dipping backward in a journey to slide the back of his knuckles across your thong strap. You arch into his torso, watching him watch you.

There’s a primal confidence that stirs in your belly, twists inside of your gut, ultimately soaking you between your legs. And as he finds the clasp on your bra, getting it unhooked in one go, only for his hands to dance along your sides, hook underneath your armpits, and immediately begin to tease your areola in languid strokes — you lose it. He allows his chin to rest on your shoulder, his voice the cure for everything you’ve ever needed, or will desire. “Look at yourself. Don’t look at me, just watch yourself.”

Your gaze finds your own body, not even caring at the exposure of your breasts or how they hang (something you are trying to be okay with, you know), heart accelerating full speed ahead, sure that Eddie can feel it. It’s almost like his mimicking the way he runs his fingers across the body of his guitar — easy, languidly, making sure to dip and curve when necessary. He goes with your head tilt, his voice finding your earlobe, hot breath causing your nipples to harden. “This body, it’s like the shield of your secret world. One that only I’m allowed into…” He breaks apart his sentence to drop his hands over your navel, curling into that ticklish spot that has you shivering.

“Eddie…” You watch your lips part, tongue licking to smear your lipstick.

It seems as if you’re watching a private show, beautiful woman and her beautiful lover. You’re out of body, yet you have never been more present. Eddie, he can hardly think, his breaths falling over uneven pants, his cock so hard that his eyes could cross. He can’t stop touching you, won’t dare miss how your eyes have glossed over at the performance your body is giving you. He can cry within this moment, so grateful, so fuckin’ proud of you.

So he keeps going, saying what he feels in several organs. “Your body is a map and I get to explore it with these.” He wiggles his fingers against your tummy, letting them fall above your elastic waistband, before they dip inside. Holy Christ, you’re warm, and he hasn’t even touched you properly.

“With my lips.” His lips find the flesh of your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth — tasting your perspiration, your body wash… you.

He watches your legs spread on their own accord, beckoning him to take what he wants. His fingers brush through your soaking wet curls, a moan leaving his throat so deep that it echoes inside of his diaphragm. Fuck. You’re a mess. Both of you hold your breaths as his fingers glide along your seam, combing through your hair, making it even sloppier, cruder.

And the way you sound…

It is you who looks up first this time to catch the reflection, enchanted by the way his knuckles and the rings adorning take shape beneath your lace panties. He lets his remaining hand smack your ass, one cheek at a time, before it cups your breast to give a pinch. You’re shocked when he releases you to come around and briefly block your view. But he presses his sticky fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without question, enjoying your own taste (something you would barely try beforehand), and Eddie literally gasps, tugging you by a love handle in for a crushing kiss. By the time you part, you’ve left your lipstick stain on his fingers and his own mouth — your claim.

That’s when he licks his lips, dropping to his knees, giving you an entirely different view. He’s at your feet, tugging your panties down, a thick creamy web threaded from you to the crotch, making you swallow harshly. You balance on his shoulder to step out, left in just your boots and thigh high stockings. He rubs his hands along the material, squeezing, appreciating the flesh beneath. His brown irises are left to a simple ring, a murky abyss shadowing his sclera.

His does that thing with his mouth, the one that causes you to fold like a lawn chair. And then he’s speaking to you, using two fingers to noisily part your cunt. “You can even take my tongue captive inside of you, empress.”

Your hands drop, fisting into his curls immediately, as he wastes to time to give you one solid lick, gathering what he has to circle your opening, his tongue’s tip then pushing into you. He’s whining in little grunts, vibrating between your legs, in absolutely heaven on earth. You begin to ride over his face, hand in his curls, unrelenting, one finding your nipple to play with. You’re doing exactly as he’d hoped — watching yourself receive his worship. And this is something he will never let you forget.

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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Thanks for all the love!

[ghostlyfleur]

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.

[mrsjellymunson]

Start Something

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie helps you generate a new D&D character, but that’s not the only thing that gets started that day

WC: ~2.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI! NSFW? Physical flirting and teasing, heavy petting, sort of in public (nobody notices). Smut-adjacent? Thigh riding. Swearing. Nothing overly explicit, but it does get heated. Eddie and reader are both over 18. Trope: oh no, there aren’t enough seats, where will you sit? No y/n, one pet name. No physical descriptions of reader other than she wears a skirt (of unspecified appearance).

A/N: Should I be working on parts for my outstanding series? Yes. Would this not leave me alone until I wrote it down? Also yes. I had fun creating a new character in a different RPG and I have no idea whether this is how D&D works, so if it’s not, let’s just pretend, okay? 😆 Text dividers by @strangergraphics Dice dividers by me 🫣☺️

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 🖤

My masterlist

Eddie can’t believe his luck. You’re pretty (gorgeous, actually), insanely intelligent and have, for some as yet indecipherable reason, decided that you want to play D&D. With a load of nerdy teens. And him.

You’ve joined in with a couple of short campaigns at school, seeming to enjoy them immensely and fitting in well with the group, bantering with the boys and bonding with Erica over your shared ‘take no shit’ attitudes. At first Eddie wasn't sure how that dynamic would work, but you slipped easily into letting the younger girl show you the ropes, and Erica is clearly enjoying having more female energy around.

Eddie knows that creating a new character is one of your favourite things to do. He’d never admit it, but it’s one of his favourite things to watch, too. He adores the sparkle in your eyes, your creative brain and how excited and animated you get when you come up with new ideas. Sometimes they’re sketchy, or even impossible, which he finds hugely endearing. He also loves how you’ll always check in with him, asking his advice and respecting his opinion.

This weekend he’s running a oneshot at his trailer for the younger members and you. New characters, novel plot, the works. The plan is to create new characters in the morning, and play the game in the afternoon.

This’ll be the first time you’ve been to his home, or seen him anywhere outside of school, and Eddie’s nervous as all fuck.

He couched it as ‘a good opportunity to develop a greater understanding of the game’, but he definitely has an ulterior motive for inviting you here.

So far, he’s taken every opportunity he can to make you laugh, sit near you, even touch you. Creating scenarios where a subtle hug, or even a playful tickle is somehow appropriate. He covers it quickly by immediately doing it to someone else, hoping you won’t spot the bulge in his pants and the fact that he can’t stop looking at you.

He’s not sure for how long he can keep it up. He wants so much more, and it won’t be long before he either loses it, takes it too far, or, worst case scenario, you notice he’s being a total creep and ditch the group because of it.

He’s been trying to muster the balls to ask you out for weeks, practicing lines and imagining scenarios, but he’s found it more difficult to plan than even the most complex of his campaigns.

And although it’s unlikely given the crowd of nerds that’ll be around, he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be in your company. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to get you somewhat alone and do it today.

He’s tidied up the trailer as subtly as he can, doing all the dishes and straightening Wayne’s caps, hoping the others won’t notice and ask him awkward questions. But he’s jittery and anxious, terrified that you’ll take one look at where and how he lives and decide you want nothing more to do with him…

Eddie has no idea that you’re just as nervous as he is.

You’ve enjoyed the Hellfire campaigns so far, but haven’t really managed to get all that close to the Dungeon Master, much to your chagrin. Sure, the game is enormous fun and you love all the members and how welcoming they’ve been. But the DM? Holy hell, he’s hot as sin, and being able to spend time around the larger-than-life metal-lover only adds to your enjoyment of the sessions. But you can’t imagine it’ll ever go any further than that. You doubt that a geeky D&D novice who he’s hardly spoken to is his idea of the perfect girlfriend…

But god, the physical touches? Christ. It’s as much as you can do to hold it together. You’ve shared a few celebratory hugs, and he’s even tickled you a couple of times, all of which you’ve enjoyed far more than you’d let on, and filed away in your memory for retrieval when you’re alone at night in your bed. But you know that he’s like this with everyone, and are under no illusions that you’re special. So you relish each and every contact, wishing there could be more.

What if he looks at you for too long with those gorgeous, huge, chocolate-brown eyes? And what if you forget how to speak? It’s already happened an embarrassing amount of times, but you’ve managed to pass it off as being stumped because you’re a beginner. You don’t know for how much longer that excuse is gonna fly.

And, if all that wasn’t already enough to send your anxiety levels skyrocketing, you’re also acutely aware that you haven't spent time with any of the group outside of school as yet. You’re worried that you’re going to ruin their social dynamic, or mess up the game. Or embarrass yourself with no easy way to exit, having to wallow in your shame until the mums come back later to pick you all up. Your spiralling makes you realise that although it was really kind of Mrs Wheeler to offer you a lift, you’re now really wishing you’d brought your own car…

All kinds of anxious thoughts are running through your mind, from what if your ideas are stupid, to what if everyone (okay, specifically Eddie) dislikes the cookies you’ve baked??

Neither of you should’ve worried.

As you enter his trailer, Eddie seems a little flustered, running a ringed hand through his gorgeous chestnut waves and unnecessarily straightening a pile of magazines on the coffee table. He smooths down his (new) black tee (that he totally didn’t buy especially for this occasion), and you pay it no mind, assuming he’s just always like this with visitors, and is excited for the campaign.

You barely glance around Eddie’s home, smiling softly at the trinkets you spot, and offering to help plate up the snacks in the kitchen area. You don’t look uncomfortable, and you certainly don’t pass judgment. Eddie eyes you as indirectly as he can, noticing the unusual skirt you’ve got on (that you totally totally didn’t choose specifically for today). He likes it.

Just like at school, you slot easily into the melee of pencils, paper, dice and snacks. Everyone loves your home baked cookies, including Eddie, and Erica even badgers you for the recipe.

Eddie thinks you couldn’t be any more perfect.

You think this isn’t so bad after all, and relax a little.

The morning’s character building is going well, the fact that it’s a oneshot not diminishing anyone’s efforts or attention to detail.

You still haven’t quite got the hang of the dice and numbers parts, always asking for Eddie’s help with that. His help, not any of the others, he muses with a certain amount of pride and delight. (Selfishly, part of him secretly hopes you never get the hang of it, and will always need to seek his input.)

With you now added to the group, there aren’t enough seats at Eddie’s modest dining table. Nobody notices. Initially Dustin and Will are deep in a discussion on Eddie’s battered sofa, and Mike and Lucas are rifling through the fridge, both at that ‘hollow legs’ stage of teen development and constantly ravenous.

Your character’s almost done, and you just want to clarify a few things, so you ask across the table,

“Eddie? Can I bring this over for you to check please?”

He waves you over, putting on a fake English accent and saying,

“Of course you may, my dear. You know I’m always happy to assist my flock.”

You chuckle lightly at his endearing foolishness as you get up from your place next to Erica, taking your character sheet over to Eddie for his perusal. Behind you, the younger players all convene at the table to share their progress, and all the seats become filled.

With no free spots near him, and assuming you won’t be here for long, Eddie pats his leg absentmindedly and says, “Sit here, lemme see.”

You end up on his lap, facing sideways at ninety degrees.

You initially turn towards him and bring your sheet between you, but there’s not enough room for him to properly examine it, so you turn the other way and lay it on the table in front of him, turning so your back is to him, your legs straddling one of his knees. He leans forward and begins to check it over, confirming some details and asking for more particulars on others.

Eddie’s been admiring your enthusiasm and level of engagement all morning, and he’s impressed by the depth of information you’ve already managed to accumulate.

You’re absorbed with your new character, getting excited and gesticulating wildly. Ideas bounce easily between you and Eddie, his face smiling softly and his dimples popping as he gets to see you like this.

It doesn’t escape him, however, that you’re also bouncing on… him. He flushes a little, and hopes you don’t perceive it.

As you gesture at a particularly thorny issue on your paper, it dawns on Eddie exactly what parts of you are in contact with him, albeit through multiple layers of fabric. The softness of your thighs and the heat from your core against his leg fully absorb him for a moment, and he has to ask you to repeat yourself. You don’t seem to mind, assuming it was the general clamour in the room that meant he couldn’t hear you. That same clamour covers the sound of him awkwardly clearing his throat and gulping loudly.

It occurs to him that he’s never experienced anything… like this. Occasional hookups in the woods or after gigs at The Hideout are great and everything, but he’s never before felt like he has a literal, real-life angel sitting on his lap.

And you? You are slowly realising how nice Eddie’s lap feels beneath you. It’s warm and solid, and the denim of his dark jeans feels pleasantly rough on the skin of your legs where your skirt’s ridden up. There’s a pressure against your most intimate areas that’s generating a warm feeling of pleasure in your core. You’re trying to concentrate, but it’s not easy.

It takes a few more moments for you to catch up to where Eddie is, and you register that you’re essentially riding Eddie’s thigh each time you move.

Your lips roll inwards and you swallow deeply, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself. It doesn’t help, and only serves to focus your attention even more fully on the delicious sensations beneath your legs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to your Dungeon Master, and for the longest time. And you can’t help how flustered it’s making you.

Embarrassed, you cough and go to stand, but quickly see that there’s nowhere for you to go. Eddie scans the room and notices your predicament, and, in a broken voice that’s almost unbearably soft, tells you, “It’s okay, Princess. You can stay here.”

Fuck. A pet name? You enjoyed that, perhaps a little too much. If you were being rational you could put it down to Eddie referencing your new character, who happens to be an aristocratic mage. But right now? Right now, you’re not feeling particularly rational.

You slowly sit back down, but as you do so Eddie shifts his position, causing you to spread your knees a bit wider than they were and land further up his leg, giving you even more contact with his thigh. You hope he didn’t hear the broken little hum that escaped you.

Eddie leans forward and in a voice that’s far too quiet, and far too close to your ear, he asks, “Are you… okay?”

You can barely breathe, and all you can manage in response is a tiny, squeaked, “Mhm.”

Behind you, Eddie takes a stuttering breath in, letting it out slowly before he resumes discussions with everyone else at the table.

You each become more unfettered as the morning progresses. Further not-so-accidental encounters only serve to increase the tension between you both.

At one point, you lean forwards over the table to get one of the manuals, lifting your butt from his leg. For a moment you hope there won’t be a visible wet patch on your skirt, or on his jeans. But then you wonder whether it would actually be so terrible if there was, and whether it would actually be so terrible if Eddie saw…

Eddie saw. He hums slightly, but it sounds more like a whimper, and he attempts to cover it by clearing his throat for the umpteenth time today.

He wonders whether you’re doing this on purpose, whether you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

As you settle back onto his thigh, one of Eddie’s hands travels to your hip, holding it lightly, just resting it there. A fire travels up that entire side of your body.

You wonder whether he’s doing this on purpose, whether he has any idea what he’s doing to you.

He leans forward to reach for something on the table, and this time brushes his chest against your back for far longer than is necessary. You feel his breathing against your neck speeding up, hot gasps coming from between his lips instead of controlled outbreaths through his nose.

You reach for a die, and as you sit back you half-intentionally push your core down onto Eddie’s leg just a little bit harder. God, he feels so good. And so what if you’ve moved backwards slightly, so your thigh is even further between his legs, and your butt nudges his crotch?

You definitely feel something hard pressing against your ass. The grip on your hip tightens, and Eddie dips his head forward to hide his face and stifle a moan. Christ.

You think you hear him mumble a quiet and stilted, “Sh-it.”

Eddie can barely contain himself, this morning not going at all how he could’ve even dreamed. He had no idea whether you even liked him, and was planning to sound you out and maybe manage to ask if you wanted to do something cheesy like grab milkshakes sometime.

Having you hot and wet on his lap wasn’t even on the edges of the outside of the periphery of his radar. He’s really trying to keep it together, but he’s barely maintaining a grip on his actions.

Attempting to focus, he leans forward again to explain a character point. You turn your head and look into his eyes attentively, whilst simultaneously rocking your hips ever so subtly and chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.

All at once, something shifts. Something big.

Eddie holds your gaze for way too long. Or maybe you hold his.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, as you both silently acknowledge that there’s way more going on here than simple D&D advice.

Simultaneously, you both come to realise that your affections are most definitely reciprocated.

Shit, he likes me.

Fuck, she likes me back.

And then, as your eyes are locked and he sees your pupils blow wide, Eddie loses that tenuous grip.

Suddenly, both of his hands come to your hips, and he presses his forehead against one of your shoulder blades. He grips you tightly and moves you back and forth against him, squeezing, pulling, pushing, dragging. He’s keeping his movements as tiny as possible so as not to rouse the attention of the group, but what he lacks in expansiveness he more than makes up for with strength and intensity.

You think this might genuinely be the most erotic thing you’ve ever done with your clothes on. You’re hot and wet, and you barely care that you’re in a room full of people, supposedly playing a nerdy game.

Eddie keeps moving you. One exquisite movement spreads your sopping folds in your underwear, and your mouth drops open in a gasp, hand gripping the edge of the rickety table. You try to disguise your movements by shoving the end of a pencil into your mouth and hunching over your paperwork.

Eddie totally notices, and stills you. His warm palms continue to press against your hips, his strong fingertips digging into your flesh. Instead of continuing the back and forth movements, he pulls you down as hard as he can onto his lap whilst outwardly retaining his composure, turning the garbled sounds coming from his throat into encouraging noises for the group.

The two of you can barely focus anymore. Eddie hasn’t let his hands travel anywhere above the tabletop, lest his actions be seen by the others, but if your expression is even half as flustered as Eddie’s is red, somebody is going to notice something. And soon.

You take a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

You’ve already completed your character, so you decide to do a faux check in with Eddie, asking, not entirely innocently,

“Eddie? Is there anything else you’d want me to… take off?”

Turning, you add, even less subtly,

“What should I do now, Master?”

Eddie’s face screws up and his jaw clenches, and you feel the rock of his hips as he bucks his hips up underneath you, pressing his hardness into your flesh and muffling a grunt into your shoulder.

His head snaps back up suddenly and his voice becomes clear and piercing, as he inhales quickly and declares to the room, waving a hand,

“Okay, lunchtime! Everybody out!! You guys need some fresh air and I need a break. I don’t wanna see you for at least an hour, and you’d better come back with pizza! Goddit?”

The teens comply, bustling out the door, a few of them eye-rolling and grumbling something about how this is almost like being at home with their parents.

They’re still leaving as Eddie moves his face so close to you that you can feel his breath in your hairline, and his soft, pink lips tickle the edge of your ear.

In a low, velvety voice, he murmurs, in a tone that’s somehow both challenging and pleading,

“Please Princess, turn around and say that to my face...”

You smirk, and reach behind you to pick up a D12.

With all the sultriness you can muster, you raise your eyebrows and indicate for him to take it. He opens his hand, and you place it down, the tips of your fingers lightly skimming the hot, damp skin of his palm.

Looking into his eyes again, you’re relieved to discover that your power of speech remains entirely intact, as you murmur, with more confidence than you thought you possessed,

“Okay, Master. How about this? You roll, and the result is how many kisses you have to give me...”

Eddie swallows and almost chokes, sitting up straight and gently lobbing the die across the mess of paper and writing implements. His chocolate eyes don’t leave yours as it rolls and comes to a stop in the centre crease of one of his manuals. He struggles with the internal conflict of never wanting to break your gaze and a deep desire to check the number.

He has no idea where the rest of today, let alone this, is going, and he’s grateful he has at least the next hour in which to find out. But he does know one thing:

He’s never been so desperate to roll a 12 in his entire fucking life.

Thanks so much for reading!

(This might become part of an anthology of D&D-related adventures - let me know if you’d like to see more!)

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this, it’s honestly like throwing breadcrumbs and roses for your writers 😃🥰

My masterlist

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 😃

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @wonderlanddreamer

[rainylana]

“Takin’ care of my best girl.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: reader has a panic attack during the night.

warnings: panic attack, anxiety, tears and descriptions of anxiety symptoms, hurt/comfort, fear of allergic reaction/throat swelling.

You’re sitting on the porch. The air is cool and breezy against your face, the moon shines a calming light on the grass in from of you, making it shimmer. There’s cats roaming in trash cans. Maybe they’re raccoons, actually. It was a beautiful night, but you weren’t really able to enjoy it.

Your heart was pounding, head aching and body trembling with fear, a fear you didn’t know what it exactly was. Your stomach was so twisted with knots and nerves you thought you’d surely pass out. It hurt to breath. You couldn’t breath. Your hands were cradling your head, holding your body tight and hoping it would pass.

It always passed. It always went away and you were always okay. They didn’t normally get this bad. You were getting so much better at handling them. For some reason tonight wasn’t the case. You debated waking Eddie up, but you hated keeping him up with you when you got this way. It wasn’t fair to him.

You had tried all the things to help you. You squeezed an ice cub in your palm, took a cold shower, tried watching to tv to distract yourself. You couldn’t stop swallowing, testing to see if your throat was closing up, which was now raw and irritated from your constant swallowing. You tried taking deep breaths, hands shaking as you placed a hand over your chest, grasping at your shirt.

Once you thought you were getting better, it would start up again. The sudden racing of your heart that made you breathless. After a few minutes, you began to pace, gripping at your chest and willing it to go away. What if there was something wrong with you? Were your lungs actually closing? Were you having an allergic reaction?

That’s what got you every time. You always thought you were dying, and you never were.

You needed to go to the hospital. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d been to the er many times for panic attacks, but what if it was serious this time? With trembling legs you walked back inside to your bedroom, rounding the bed and shaking Eddie urgently.

“Eddie?” Your still holding your chest. “Eddie?”

His eyes flutter open, squinting in the dark. “Hmm?”

“I’m scared.” You say, bringing up a nail to bite. “I think something might be wrong.”

Those key words had him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. He leans over and switches on the light, looking up to take you in. He knows what’s wrong immediately, lifting the blanket so he can get out of bed. “What’s going on?” His voice is tired and gruff. “You anxious about something?”

You shake your head yes, grasping at your throat. “I- I uh, I think my throat might be swelling up. Maybe I ate something.”

He nods slowly, bringing his hands up to ghost at your arms. “What brought this on? Did it just start?”

“No, I’ve been up awhile.” You say, trying to swallow again. You do, but harshly, pushing out a choked breath that has you pacing around the room. “Eddie, I’m scared.”

“You’re alright, baby.” He’s following you, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go out to the living room.” He guides you out there, sitting you on the kitchen chair by the stove. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Your eyes start to well up and you shake your head. “No, I- I think we should go to the hospital, Eddie.” Your voice came out desperate.

He’d done this with you so many times, yet the urgency and fear in your voice always made him nervous, even though he knew you were completely fine. He puts the tea in the microwave, setting it for two minutes before he’s crouching in front of you. “Hey,” He’s grasping your face. “You’re alright. You know that. We just have to work through it okay? Like we always do.”

You let out a sob that makes his heart ache, a tear dropping town to his wrist. “But I’m scared.”

“I know you are.” He coos, petting your hair. “If you really want to go I’ll take you, but you’re strong enough to fight this, baby. I’m right here with you, right? We can get through this.” He leans up and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, going back to the microwave to let you think.

Your knee is bouncing quickly, your knuckles tapping at the table like you’re trying to communicate through morse code. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier, your head getting harder to keep up. You gasp, groaning loudly as you lean over.

He’s bringing the cup of tea over to you quickly, sitting it on the table to hold your back. “Just breath, sweetheart.” He’s rubbing your back, crouching beside you. “You’re alright.”

You start to sob, head between your knees as you fight to be sick. You hiccup, shoulders shaking with your cries. You reach to grip his arm. “My stomach hurts so bad.”

It wasn’t rare for you to throw up when you got worked up. He quickly brought the kitchen trashcan over to you, sitting it in front of you so you could have it at the ready.

“Keep breathing.” He instructs you, bringing the tea over to you. “Here, try and drink some of this.” He wasn’t ever sure if the tea helped, but it made him feel useful when you got to feeling poorly.

When your tea is gone, after practically gulping down the hot liquid, he’s rubbing your shaking shoulders, trying to get the knots out of muscles. He switches on the tv to gilligans island, the episode where the professor is trying to make a phone out of a coconut and a banana peel.

You keep crying through half of the episode, coiling over here and there. When you did, he rubbed the back of your neck and kissed your shoulder, telling you to breath and that you were going to get through it.

When you’re three episodes in, your tears have stopped and you’re left with nothing but embarrassment and humiliation, your face beat red as you begin to mutter an apology. “I’m sorry.” Your voice is shaky and hoarse. He’s sitting beside you now, his arm tossed around your shoulders.

“Don’t be.” He smiles, tapping your nose. “Just doing my job.”

“Your job?” You sniffle.

“Takin’ care of my best girl.” He kissed you, a quick peck on the lips as he leans over and turns off the living room light, snuggling back into the couch and pulling you into his chest.