#nervous and lovesick eddie

[hitlikehammers]

You Have Bewitched Me, Body and Soul

or: The Secret Life of Daydreans 🦋

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

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

And this, this:

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

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

His cause for hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Porcelain.

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

And Wayne chides him for being over-bold.

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

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

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

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

And Eddie was, he was…

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

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

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

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

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

And now, now that there is hope—

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

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cannot do otherwise.

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

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

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

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

Yet. And he…he still…

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

He hopes.

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

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

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

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

Steven leans for his touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But: he is here. Now, he is here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🦋

also on ao3

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

[thepastdied]

Eddie as a friend would be so sweet to you- cause everyone knows of his little crush.

But you, cause you're dumb.

Pure, sweet, sweet fluff.

"Eddiiiiie?" You'd call from the kitchen, the rest of the group in the living room.

"Sweeeeetheart?" He'd respond with his head perking up. Everyone would look over at him due to his high-pitched tone, giving each other giddy smiles.

"Can you help me grab something?" You'd ask while trying to reach a box of cereal that's on the top of a cabinet.

He'd trot into the kitchen and easily grab the box, handing it to you and pulling it away before you grab it.

"What's in it for me?" He'd quirk up an eyebrow and bend down so his face was level with yours.

As always, you'd blush as his chocolate eyes looked into yours.

"For such a hard task..? Hmm." You'd pretend to think, even though you're well aware of what he wants. It was just platonic, right?

You'd give him a quick peck on the cheek, and he'd give you the biggest cheeky grin before winking and returning back to the living room.

And it was reoccurring. Any time you'd call for him, no matter what it was.

"Daaaaarlin'?"

"Preeeeetty girrrl?"

"Hooooneeeey?"

Your heart would skip a beat every time. But you tried not to think too hard. It was just platonic, right?

Sometimes he'd want a hug, or he'd kiss your knuckles and say "It was an honor, my Princess." While giving you a fond smile with hearts in his eyes.

You were just too sweet, he'd think. You were a dear friend- and maybe you just liked the attention. But he never, not once, missed when you would blush, or tuck your hair behind your ear, and put your hand on his arm and rub your thumb there without even realizing. It was just platonic, right?

But that one night where the gang ditched on you for the planned little campfire in the back of your yard. Of course, it was planned.

You'd tell Eddie to come over anyway and laugh at his hushed yes! ( that wasn't meant to be heard by you) while he fist bombed the air. And you'd sit together, thighs touching but hands remaining on your lap. You'd watch the orangey glow of the fire glow on his face, his nose scrunching up when the smoke blew in his direction. You'd giggle, and he'd look at you with that lovesick expression.

His breath got taken away as he, too, looked at the glow on your face, your eyes glistening.

And then he'd turn his body to yours, his knee against your thigh and eyes unmoving at they stayed connected to yours.

"Sweetheart.." He'd whisper.

You'd chew on the inside of your lip, a nervous habit. He noticed, and almost chickened out.

He'd tuck that piece of hair that was in your face behind your ear that's been bothering him for the past hour, and then rub a thumb across your cheek, smiling at the way you looked down and blushed. He felt the warmth. It was just platonic, right?

"Eddiiiie?" You whispered back, mimicking the tone he always gave you.

He'd give you that wide signature smile, teeth and all. And then he couldn't hold back anymore when he saw you peek quickly at his lips.

He would snake his hand to the back of your neck and pull you in, lips firmly pressing against yours for several seconds before he pulled away.

Both of you would let out a breath, and then you'd laugh while he covered his face and chuckled.

"That totally wasn't platonic.. right?" He'd ask, lips puckering out like a 'duck face' and eyes narrowing.

You'd shake your head and lean back in, and he would grab your hands, placing them around his shoulders and really taking your breath away.

It was never platonic.

[chronicowboy]

His breakup with Marisol is about as unremarkable as the rest of their relationship. There's no catastrophic muffin mess in his kitchen or divorce papers. Just a quiet I don't think this is working out, I'm sorry. Marisol hadn't even cried. She'd just nodded like she'd been waiting for it and left, didn't even need to grab anything from the house before she went and really that just reassured Eddie that this was the right choice.

So, his breakup with Marisol is unremarkable, except that it's not. It's pretty fucking remarkable when he thinks about it because it's not just that they weren't working out, not just that he really didn't care about spending time with her, not just the clench in his gut every time she touched him. No. It's pretty fucking remarkable because he realises he's in love with his best friend.

That's what pushes him over the edge, gives him the last kick he needs to actually break things off with her. Because Eddie may have sworn himself to secrecy about it the moment he realised, but he could never string someone along just because he couldn't have the real someone he wanted.

It's a fucking revelation once he has it. Not a ton of bricks, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on the greyest of days, bright and blinding. And the way Eddie has always thought of Buck in terms of sunshine maybe should have tipped him off sooner, but with the way Buck has been beaming over the past few weeks. Well. Eddie doesn't really think he can be blamed for only just taking his sunglasses off and daring to look directly at the light.

And, okay, so Eddie maybe makes it a full week before he decides his self-sworn secrecy absolutely is not a viable option when Buck walks through life now like a drop of sunshine in human form. It's after Buck leaves the Diaz house, walking out from a day of giggles and joy at the go-kart track they'd finally managed to convince Chris to be seen with them at, leaving behind a cosy heat like sun-warmed skin, that Eddie realises he cannot go another day without telling Buck that he's desperately, deeply in love with him.

And so, that's how Eddie finds himself at Buck's door on a random Sunday morning, knocking for the first time since Natalia waltzed out of the picture. Buck opens it a few moments later looking perfectly sleep-rumpled and soft and downright golden where he's backlit by the early morning sunlight pooling in the loft.

"Eddie," Buck breathes out, eyes darting up the stairs before refocusing on Eddie and what must be the most hopelessly lovesick expression painted across his face. "H-hey, what are you doing here?"

"I, um." Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Now a good time?" And Buck must hear the slightly shaky steel in his voice because the surprise on his face morphs into a concern so quintessentially Buck that Eddie just wants to kiss it away.

"Y-yeah, of course, come on in." Buck holds the door open for him, and Eddie migrates to the fridge as Buck closes the door with the gentlest touch. "So, um, what's up?"

"I..." Eddie swallows against the heart in his throat, loses himself in the shining blue of Buck's eyes like an ocean he'd be more than happy to drown in. "I broke up with Marisol last week."

"Oh, Eddie." Buck slumps, and Eddie tries not to think that it looks a little like relief. "I'm so sorry, man. That sucks."

"No, no." Eddie waves him off with a laugh. "It's good. Was a long time coming actually." He shakes his head at himself. "I think I was dating her just to tick a box, you know? Realised you probably shouldn't be more excited about a phone call from your new buddy than one from your kinda long-term girlfriend. You definitely shouldn't be relieved when you see your best friend in the restaurant you're taking her to and disappointed when you realise he's just leaving."

And then, Buck blushes, ducks his head, does that little smile that could light up every house on South Bedford Street just like Eddie had been hoping for.

"Yeah." Buck looks up at him from under his lashes. "Probably not."

It bolsters Eddie. Buck's sunshine giving him that one last push he needs.

"There was something else I wanted to say," Eddie starts. And there isn't really any fear in him, knows they'll make it through this no matter what, just an overwhelming sense of peace to come. "I..." A deep breath, gathering all his love and devotion in his lungs so it's ready to pour out on his next inhale and—

A groan from upstairs has the words dying in his throat. A masculine groan. And then:

"Evan?"

"D-down here," Buck calls back.

Eddie can't take his eyes off the loft, stuck there like a car crash he can't look away from as a very shirtless Tommy Kinard appears at the top of the stairs and quickly blanches.

"Shit. Um..." He looks down at Buck in a panic.

Eddie finally manages to drag his eyes away from the very chiselled curveball that just hit him at a hundred miles per hour and finds Buck's face. Small, scared, shaken. He knows the feeling. And because he loves Buck, because of just how deeply he loves Buck, it's the easiest thing in the world to lock that love away and let his face crack into the most genuine of grins. Because if Tommy's been the thing making Buck shine like every fucking star in the sky, well Eddie will absolutely not be getting between them.

"You've been so happy," Eddie chokes out, still smiling.

"I have," Buck whispers.

"And I'm so happy for you." Eddie covers the distance between them in three long strides and pulls Buck into a hug so tight and clinging he's sure it's a confession in and of itself, but Buck only buries in deeper, taking shaky little breaths in the crook of Eddie's neck.

"Thank you," Buck murmurs into his skin. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears.

"Sorry you didn't get to tell me on your own terms," he murmurs back, letting Buck pull away, but lingering with a hand on his hip, on his shoulder. He should maybe be worried about what this could look like to Tommy who had basically never heard anything apart from rambles about Buck, except when he glances up the stairs, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

"I was going to tell you," Buck rushes out. "I-I just wasn't sure how."

"That's okay," Eddie says. It's okay. It's okay. "Well, I'll stop gate-crashing for the... Second time?" He raises an eyebrow, and Buck flushes a pink Eddie will never ever get to taste. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense." He remembers the pure fear on Buck's face, the indecision on Tommy's and the sudden tightening of his own chest despite his smile. "I'll leave you guys to it." He clears his throat. "Kinard, if you hurt him, they'll never find your body," he shouts up the stairs.

"Copy that, Diaz," Tommy shouts back.

"I'm really proud of you, Buck." Eddie wraps him in another hug then, a quick thing, just one last touch before Eddie seals every desire away for good.

"Thanks, Eddie." Buck walks him to the door, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie wants to hug him again. Wants so badly it hurts. But if he hugs Buck again, he doesn't think he'll ever let go. "See you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work." Eddie prays Buck is too distracted to hear the wobble in his voice.

"Wait, sorry, what did you want to talk about?"

Eddie freezes on the threshold, the stutter of his heart painful like he's back in a suit store, and he catches himself on the doorframe with a shaking hand.

"It can wait."

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮‍💨

Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words

The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault. 

“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole. 

“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.” 

“You didn’t say she was coming.” 

Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.” 

He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.” 

Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.” 

“Go!” 

“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row. 

You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say. 

“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.” 

You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.” 

Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead. 

“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.” 

“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”

You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.” 

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.” 

“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?” 

The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.” 

“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did. 

You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper. 

“So?”

“So, I’d feel bad.” 

“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.” 

“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.” 

“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?” 

You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again. 

“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.” 

Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 6

A collaboration with the incredible and amazing @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: It’s your first official date with Eddie, and what’s almost as exciting as that is seeing how the boys react to the news

Note: I will never get used to the kind comments and sweet words you send me over this series. It truly makes me so incredibly happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of oral, age gap, older!eddie, Eddie’s breeding kink should be a given at this point tbh

Words: 8.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie knocks on the door of the trailer he grew up in, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. It seems like an eternity before his uncle opens it, a huge grin on his face at the sight of his nephew. 

“Ed!” he says, holding the door ajar so Eddie can walk in. “What brings you back down to Forest Hills?”

“Can’t a guy just visit his uncle without needing something?” Eddie teases, leaning against the counter, careful not to get any grease stains on it. “I, uh, did need to talk to you, though.”

A concerned frown tugs at the corners of Wayne’s lips. “Y’okay? The boys good?”

Eddie nods, all-too aware of Wayne’s omission of Brittany. “We’re all fine,” he clarifies, “but Brittany and I are definitely splitting up. I filed the divorce papers, then she filed custody papers.”

“Shit,” Wayne mutters, rubbing his palm over his coarse gray beard. “‘M sorry, kid. This kinda stuff ain’t easy, even when you know you wanna end things.” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’ll find the right one for you.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, and he has to avert his gaze from his uncle. “I, um…I think I already did,” he sheepishly admits, massaging the back of his neck to relax his nerves. 

Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up, but he can’t say he’s all that surprised. “The babysitter?”

“How did you—”

“I may be an old man, but my eyesight is just fine,” Wayne jokes, “and I could see the way you looked at her at Ryan’s birthday party last summer. Like you damn near worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about her.” 

“She’s good with the boys,” Wayne says. “It was nice to see.” Nice for them to have a maternal figure who loves them is what they both think but don’t say aloud. 

“They love her,” Eddie agrees. He opens his mouth to continue, but his uncle cuts him off.

“So do you.” It’s not a question. It’s a knowing statement from the man who knows Eddie better than anyone. It didn’t take much observation for Wayne to see the possibilities of what could be. Of what are, now. 

“I really do,” Eddie answers. The lovesick expression on his face makes Wayne smile. He’s not seen that look on his nephew’s face since he was in high school. Even then, Wayne thinks, he didn’t light up quite like this. 

“Take it slow though, boy.” Wayne didn’t give a shit that Eddie was in his 30’s now; he’s still going to call him “boy” because he’ll be Wayne’s boy until the day he dies. “You don’t want to rush into anything. That’ll just be trouble for everyone involved.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I, uh, actually want to take her on our first date this Friday.”

“Do the boys know?” Wayne asks.

“Not yet. But they will. I'm not going to lie to them about where I'm going and who I’ll be with. They get that from their mom, and I will make damn sure they know I’ll never lie to them.”

“Good man,” Wayne says with an approving nod of his head. “Can’t imagine their mom feels too keen about watching the boys while you go on a date, though.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t give a shit how she felt about it. But fortunately for everyone, she’ll be out of town. So, that’s another reason I stopped by. Wondered if you could watch the kids. It’d be up at the house still since I’m staying there while Britt’s gone.”

Wayne’s face lights up. “You know I never need an excuse to spend time with my grandkids,” he chuckles. “Now I just gotta figure out what kinda candy I’m gonna get ‘em hopped up on just in time for you to get home.”

“You’re the best,” Eddie says gratefully, pulling his uncle in for a quick hug. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne appears to brush off the compliment, but he’s beaming on the inside. Being a grandpa is his favorite thing in the world. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, anyway. Made a little something for those two rugrats.” He disappears into his room—what used to be Eddie’s room—and comes back with two of his woodworks: a miniature bookshelf with an R carved on the side, and a small box with an L on the lid. “Figured Ryan could use another place for his books, and Luke can put his Hot Wheels in here.”

“Someone just earned himself a #1 Grandpa mug for his birthday.”

“Hey, rugrats.”

Eddie strolls out of his bedroom—former bedroom, and down the hallway. The muffled sounds of some animated movie he knows he’s seen before become louder the closer he gets to the living room. Both boys are sitting at a Scooby-Doo themed table and chair set that Luke had gotten for his last birthday. They’re sitting too close to the television, but Eddie decides to let that slide for now. As he gets closer, he sees the boys are drawing, peacefully sharing a single crayon box for once. 

“Yeah, Daddy?” Ryan asks without looking up from his art. Eddie picks the remote up off the couch and turns the tv off. Luke’s little head snaps up and his curls bounce as he swivels his body to stare in his dad’s direction. 

“Hey,” he protests.

“Just for a minute, calm down.” Eddie sets the remote down on the coffee table and comes to stand between the boys’ chairs. He’s not entirely sure what it is they’re drawing, but there’s a brown patch that Eddie thinks is the dog that Luke is always drawing and wishing for. Someday, pal. I promise. “I want to talk to you both about something.”

“What is it?” Ryan asks, scribbling furiously with a red crayon. 

“Hey, can we take a break from the drawing for a bit?” Eddie drops a hand to Ryan’s shoulder and his oldest son looks up at him for the first time.

“Why?”

“Just so I can talk to you for a minute.”

Ryan sets his crayons down and turns on his seat to face his father better. Luke copies his older brother’s actions and the brown crayon that was in his hand rolls towards the middle of the table. 

“Are we in trouble?” Luke asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to let the two of you know that I have a date on Friday night.”

Both of Eddie’s sons just stare at him. For a moment, he wonders if he actually spoke out loud or just imagined it in his head. Luke seems completely unfazed by the news, like he just wants to get back to his coloring. Ryan, on the other hand, looks a little skeptical. Eddie was prepared for this reaction, but he knows that as soon as the boys know who his date is with, they’ll be jumping for joy—quite possibly literally. 

“A date?” Ryan asks. “Like, with a girl?”

“A lady,” Luke corrects. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, now truly getting nervous for the first time. Ryan continues to stare at him, and Eddie isn’t sure how to read the usually open little boy. 

“So,” Ryan starts, “does that mean we get to spend time with—”

“Grandpa Wayne is watching you.” 

“Why?” Luke whines, obviously bothered by the fact that someone who is not you would be watching them. That says a lot to Eddie because he knows how much they love Wayne. It takes most of Eddie’s nerves away, hearing that the boys’ first instinct was that they get to spend time with you if he’s going out. Actual excitement bubbles up within him and it’s almost impossible to keep the smile off of his face. A part of him almost wants to keep the boys in suspense—this is just too good. 

“Because,” Eddie finally says, “I’m taking her on the date.” 

Eddie watches their faces, eager for the reaction. Ryan processes the information first and lets out a gasp. Luke takes a few seconds longer, but then he’s standing up from his chair—knocking it over in the process—and his eyes widen as far as they physically can. 

“You two are going on a date?” Ryan asks, voice high and excited. “Really?”

“Really,” Eddie confirms with a chuckle. 

“Oh my gosh,” Luke gushes, his small hands coming up to run through his curls. “Yes!”

The obvious love and excitement these two have towards you only further solidifies an idea that has been floating around his head lately. That you and he were meant to be together. Eddie knew that his sons had a far better childhood than he had, but he could still see the struggles they had living with a mom who never cared like she should. Eddie tried to make up for it, but there’s only so much one parent can take on from the other. He’d wonder if it was some bad karma of his that his kids didn’t get to have the happy little family that Eddie always dreamed of. But now there’s you. And all three Munson men adore you to the moon and back. And what's crazier to Eddie is that you love him back just as much. The boys? Sure, they’re easy to love. But you love three of them as a whole. Eddie can’t wait to tell you how they reacted to this news.

“You guys are happy about this, I take it?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says, launching himself out of his chair and wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. 

Eddie lets out an oof as the weight of his son knocks him back a step. But he’s quickly returning the hug.

“Our super-secret plan worked!” Luke says.

Raising his eyebrows, Eddie turns his head to look at his youngest son. 

“Secret?!”

“Okay, how about this?” You hold up a little black dress for your roommate to inspect. 

Jess tilts her head in consideration. “Too clubby,” she determines, and you roll your eyes with a dejected sigh. “Think…romantic but sexy.”

“Fine,” you grumble, rummaging through your closet. “Does this one pass the test?” You show her a floral lilac dress with a small slit up the side. 

“Perfect!” Jess determines, grinning as she grabs a pair of strappy wedges from the closet floor. “Wear these with that, and he’ll be putty in your hands.” She pauses. “Actually, he basically already is. But, still, you’re gonna look hot.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, as well as the thought of Eddie turning into mush when he sees you. “Yeah, yeah. Let me get dressed; this show ain’t free.”

“It is for Eddie!” she trills, but leaves and closes the door behind her. 

You finish applying your makeup just as Eddie rings the buzzer. “Jess, I’ll be back later!” you call out. “Thanks again for the wardrobe help.”

“No problem! Hope you get laid!”

Same, you think, opening the door to find your handsome date standing in front of you. “Wow,” you breathe out. He’s wearing a dark green button-down shirt, black slacks, and his signature leather jacket. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Your palms become slick with nervous perspiration at the mere sight of him. 

“Wow, yourself,” Eddie smiles, pulling you in by your waist and kissing your lips. It starts off gentle, but he gradually deepens it, grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. “If we don’t leave now, I’m not gonna let you leave the bedroom,” he growls in your ear, punctuating his statement with a quick smack to the soft flesh of your bottom. 

“Let’s get going, then,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him to the car. 

You’re filled with anticipation; the secrecy of the evening is driving you insane. “How long until we’re at this mystery location?” you ask, trying to keep your eagerness at bay. 

“Soon.”

“Okay, but what’s ‘soon’?” you press. “Like, five minutes? Half an hour?”

Eddie chuckles. “Jesus, you sound like Luke.”

Your jaw drops and you cross your arms over your chest. “Did you just compare me to your five-year-old son?”

“Are we there yet?” Eddie exaggeratedly mimics in a high-pitched voice. 

“I do not sound like that!” you protest through your giggles. 

“I do not sound like that!” he echoes, keeping the obnoxious tone. 

“Now who’s acting like a five-year-old?” you retort, laughing as he scoffs at you, putting your mind at ease. It’s Eddie, your Eddie, and no matter what he’s planned, you know it’ll just make you fall further in love with him. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls onto a highway, and you head in a direction you’re unfamiliar with. All it does is make you even more curious, but you know that Eddie isn’t going to be answering any questions. As if it’s his way of telling you not to say anything, he turns on the radio and fiddles with a dial until he comes to a song he likes. His hand doesn’t go back on the wheel, though. He reaches over and takes one of your hands into his own. Butterfly wings stir inside of you as he brings the back of your hand up to his lips. After pressing a few kisses to the skin there, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them comfortably on the center console between you. 

It feels like forever until you reach your destination. According to the clock on the truck’s dash, it was just under half an hour, though. Gentleman as always, Eddie comes around to your door to open it for you. He even offers his hand to you to help you out of the car. Once he’s shut the door behind you, he doesn’t let go of your hand again. Honestly, it wouldn’t bother you if he never let it go. 

The parking lot of this mystery date spot is pretty crowded on this Friday night. As the two of you get closer, you inspect the large red brick building. It’s old enough looking to be charming, but not derelict or decrepit. Green foliage adorns the outsides, a few benches every couple of feet—mostly occupied at the moment. The other people you see are dressed at the same level as both you and Eddie so the little worry that you’d be over or under-dressed finally fades away. 

Above the front door, there’s a white and gold sign that says “Scott & Ollo’s.” Eddie holds the heavy brown door open for you and, regrettably, you have to let go of his hand to step inside. You don’t have to go long without his touch, however, as he steps up behind you as soon as you both enter, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The first thing that you register is the music. It’s loud—not overbearingly so, but enough where you can tell its live music instead of a recording being played over the PA system. Next, you take in the waiters in their all black attire that are buzzing between tables covered in white tablecloths and an array of foods—that smell delicious, you also notice.

“Hello,” the hostess greets you and Eddie as you walk up to her podium.

“Hi,” Eddie says, keeping one hand on your waist as he speaks to her. “Should have a reservation for two. Under the name ‘Munson.’”

Your eyes are flitting around the space and Eddie watches you with a fond smile on his face as the hostess searches for his name. 

“Ah, here we are. Right this way, please,” the hostess says. 

Eddie once again laces your fingers together and guides the two of you through the decently filled restaurant. As you walk, you notice that the restaurant is arranged in a circular fashion, and that people at the tables keep looking in towards the center of the room. You try to crane your neck to see around some of the patrons, but you’re unable to see what they see. The hostess leads you down a few steps that lead down to another landing where tables are laid out. From here, it’s easier to see what has everyone’s attention. The middle of the restaurant has a live band playing and a dance floor that a few couples currently occupy. 

“Here you are,” the hostess says as she presents your table. She sets a menu down at each place setting as Eddie waits for you to sit in your seat so he can push it in for you. “Your waiter will be Harris and he’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say before she steps away. Now seated, you let your eyes take in everything a little bit more. The small lanterns on the middle of every table, some women looking longingly at the dance floor while the men they’re with look terrified of it. At the grand chandelier that hangs over the whole space, the crystals on it reflecting the light all around. “Eddie, this place is beautiful. Where did you find it?”

“A buddy of mine from high school proposed to his girlfriend here. I’ve never been but they both said it was incredible. So far, they’re right.”

“And are you actually going to dance with me?” you ask with a small giggle as you pick up your menu. 

“Getting to hold you close to my body while we listen to slow music? Hell yeah.”

You shake your head fondly at how unromantic he makes it sound; but you know that’s just him messing around. There’s no way he would’ve chosen this place to go if he didn’t want to have a romantic evening and dance with you. 

“Should we get some wine?” Eddie asks. 

“Sure, but you’ll have to order it.”

“Why would—oh, right,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I forget your age.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you ask.

“I don’t really think of it one way or the other. You’re just…you. My person. Not my person who is twelve years younger than me, just my person.”

His words have your heart picking up speed, and it’s quickly pumping heat up towards your face. His person. It felt not too long ago you could only dream about Eddie ever saying that to you. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and you look up to see what’s so funny. But he’s just smiling at you.

“What?” you ask.

“You haven’t stopped smiling since we walked in the door,” Eddie says. You hadn’t noticed, honestly. But now that he points it out, you can feel the tightness in your cheek muscles at the long-held grin.

“You just make me really happy,” you tell him, love practically radiating out of your every pore. Eddie sets his menu down and reaches across the table to take both of your hands in his own.

“Baby, you’re it for me. Always. Don’t forget that, okay?”

The only response you can give is a nod, as you feel the emotion welling up behind your eyes. After taking a moment and clearing your throat, you think you’re able to speak.

“You’re my forever.”

Harris comes and takes your orders: Eddie gets a New York strip, medium rare, and you choose the chicken florentine. They’re delivered on intricately garnished plates; so beautiful that you’re almost afraid to eat. 

“Been awhile since I’ve been to a restaurant that didn’t serve a Happy Meal,” he jokes, dragging his knife through the tender cut of meat. 

“At least you have your kids as an excuse,” you tease him. “Before that, you were just a grown man eating a very tiny pouch of fries.”

Eddie laughs, popping a bite of the steak into his mouth. “Speaking of those two,” he starts, “I told them.” About us, is what he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

You offer him a nervous glance. “What…were they okay with it?”

“Oh, yeah. They were only upset that you weren’t watching them until I told them that you were my date.” He chuckles at the memory of their excited little faces, leaning in to add, “and did you know that their ploy to get us together was a secret?”

Clapping a hand over your mouth to keep your giggles from escaping, you widen your eyes. “I think we can cross ‘CIA agent’ off of their list of future career choices.”

“And professional poker player,” he agrees, running his thumb across the back of your hand. “But I really can’t believe my luck. Y’know, how much they love you, and how much you love them.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “Even if you and I weren’t together, I’d adore your boys. They’re great kids, Eddie. The best. Because of you.”

Eddie stands slightly to reach over and kiss your forehead. “I love you so fucking much,” he declares. Part of him wishes he had a ring so he could propose right now, make you his forever. 

Once you’ve finished eating, Eddie’s by your side and offering his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks. He keeps his tone serious, but he waggles his eyebrows as he says it. 

“Such a gentleman,” you smile, placing your palm in his. You can feel every crease and callous, and you’re immediately overtaken with a sense of safety and belonging. “Of course you may.”

He leads you to the dance floor, taking you into his arms. Your left hand rests on his right bicep, and your right hand takes purchase in his left. His free hand is soon pressed to the small of your back so the two of you can sway impossibly close. 

The band plays the opening chords of “Something,” by The Beatles, and your face lights up with joy. 

“I love this song,” you tell him, adjusting your stance so your left hand can travel to the nape of his neck. 

Without missing a beat, Eddie says, “I’ll learn how to play it for you.” Shit, he thinks, I’d go home and figure out the chords right now if I wasn’t on the best date of my life.

You’re not totally convinced, tilting your head in disbelief. “Even though it’s not metal?”

“Only for you, my love.” His response is sincere, and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you had to take bets, you’d guess that yours was beating in perfect tandem. 

After you’ve finished dancing, you both agree that you’ve worked off some of your delicious dinner and have room to split a decadent dessert. You settle on a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping and Harris serves it to you with two forks. Eddie tuts you when you go to take the first forkful, but when you look at him in confusion, he spears a generous bite of the dessert and holds it up to your lips. A bubbly feeling floats through your body as you open your mouth and accept it from him. It’s amazing how the littlest things Eddie does give you full body reactions. 

Once the cheesecake is devoured and the bill is paid (which Eddie snatched up the moment it hit the table cloth), Eddie offers you his hand and you walk out of the restaurant and into the chilly evening. There are no clouds in the sky, revealing the black canvas dotted with tiny diamond stars and a luminescent moon. You’re so busy taking in the view, you didn’t even realize Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket until he’s draping it over your shoulders. It’s pure instinct to clutch it tighter around you, wanting Eddie’s scent and essence as close as can be. 

The band can still be heard outside, muffled, but clear enough to tell that they just started playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The two of you are approaching the first row of cars in the parking lot when Eddie tugs on your hand, pulling you to a stop next to him. Before you get the chance to open your mouth and ask what’s wrong, Eddie wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you up against his chest. He takes your left hand in his right and laces your fingers together as he begins to sway from side to side.

“Wanted one more dance with my girl tonight,” Eddie mumbles, giving you a warm smile. 

“Dancing in the moonlight? Who knew you were such a romantic, Munson,” you tease. He leans in and nips at your earlobe, causing you to giggle. 

“You would’ve thought you’d caught on by now,” Eddie retorts, giving your hand a light squeeze. Letting your eyes slip closed, you lean in and rest your head against the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“This is perfect,” you say, tone dreamy and light. 

“You’re the best dance partner I ever had, Sweetheart.”

The words bring a smile to your face, and you press a light kiss against Eddie’s throat before looking up at him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Course baby,” he replies, his hand that’s on the small of your back tracing patterns over the material of your dress. “You can tell me anything.”

You pick your head up and look at him from beneath your eyelashes. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

That’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s taking you by the hand and tugging you to the car. 

“Slow down; I’m in heels!”you protest between giggles, but Eddie is not about to waste precious seconds that could be spent inside you. 

You assume he’s going to drive home as fast as he can, which is why you’re more than confused when he opens the back door instead of the front. He slides in and pats his lap with a mischievous grin. 

“In your car?” you balk teasingly, already ducking into the vehicle and draping a leg over his. “Eddie Munson, you’re a little horndog.”

He doesn’t deny it; he simply closes the door and bunches your dress to your hips. You certainly weren’t lying: there are no panties to be found. He inhales sharply at your perfect pussy on display like this for him, and his burgeoning erection twitches behind his fly. “Fuckin…holy shit,” he manages, letting his middle finger graze your glistening folds. “And already wet f’me, hm? Was it my dance moves?” He gently bites your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation. 

“Was…just you, baby,” you breathe, bringing your lips to his neck and trailing kisses along the side. His hands grip your bare ass, and you use the leverage to grind against the seam of his pants. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle, finally unfastening it with a relieved sigh. “‘S you. So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.” He whimpers when your fingers brush up against the outline of his cock while you unbutton his pants and tug down his zipper. “Tell me ‘m yours, please, baby.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper in his ear, taking in the new sensation of his cotton boxers on your throbbing clit and rubbing yourself against it needily. “All mine, only mine.”

Instinctively, Eddie finds your hole and slips a finger inside. “Bounce on it,” he instructs, pouting when you shake your head. “Whas’ wrong?” Shit, he thinks, was car sex a bad idea?

But you chase away his worries when you tell him, “Need more. Another finger. You’re too big for just one, Eddie.”

He happily obliges, making you feel full in the second-best way he knows how. With that, you take what you need, holding onto his shoulders as your pussy grips his thick fingers. He’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride them, the two of you working in perfect tandem to bring you to your release. 

Eddie knows every last inch of your body like the back of his hand, and he curls his fingers slightly to drive you over the edge. 

“F-Fuck, ‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Eddie laughs and lets out a sshh. 

“You’re gonna get us caught, pretty thing,” he warns you, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “I’ll have to tell the cops that I just couldn’t help myself; ya looked too damn gorgeous tonight. Had to be inside you.”

The thrill of being discovered has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Eddie’s name as it hits. He removes his fingers from your pussy, popping them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to lap up your slick. It’s enough to nearly make you cum again. 

“Gotta feel you,” he mutters, taking his cock out of his boxers and into his hand. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and if you had more room, you’d lean down to lick it off. “Gotta feel you around my dick, sweet girl.”

“Mhm,” you squeak out, aligning yourself over his length and sinking onto it. Inch by inch, you take him inside you as he stretches you in the most delicious way. The thick vein that runs from base to tip is heaven against your walls, and you steal a second to just feel him before you start moving. 

His hands grasp your waist, sinking into the plush of your ass as he helps you ride him. “Thas’ perfect,” he growls, nodding as you bounce on his cock. “You make me feel so damn good. We were made for each other, I fuckin’ swear.”

The tempo is slow at first as you ease into it, trying to balance the fullness within you and the newest setting for your trysts. Gradually, you pick up a bit of speed, and he matches it, balls slapping against you. 

“I love you,” you tell him, adding the promise of, “I’ll always love you.” You brush his hair from his face and kiss him passionately, tongue brushing his. When he pulls away for a breath, he gives your lower lip a little bite. 

“I’ll always love you,” he swears. “Always, always, always.”

You can feel how close he is, and you’re right there with him, so you pull the trigger. “Prove it,” you murmur. “Fuck me so full that your cum drips out of me. Or maybe I’ll keep it inside me and get nice and knocked up for you.”

A string of swear words leaves his lips as he spills into you. “Oh, fuck yes, holy fuckin’ shit. Wanna get you pregnant, y’gonna look s’good havin’ my babies.” He presses his hands into the plush of your thighs. “Cream my cock, baby. Show me who makes you cum.”

Just a few more bounces is all it takes for you to cum again, flopping against his chest as you take big, heaving breaths. 

“Can’t believe I scored on the first date,” Eddie jokes, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation. “Ow!” He rubs the spot dramatically. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble, smiling as Eddie chuckles and kisses your scalp. 

“Faster we get home, faster we can fuck on a nice, cozy bed,” he murmurs, trailing a fingernail up and down your arm. “And I can go down on you like a goddamn gentleman.”

The next morning, you’re barely awake and pouring yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen when two rambunctious boys burst in.

“You’re here!” Luke cheers—which sounds more like shouting, this early in the morning. You and Eddie had talked about how it might look having you in the house when the boys woke up. But you figured they wouldn’t ask questions, and if they did, Eddie was ready to provide a long explanation on how something was broken in your car, and he couldn’t work on it while it was dark outside. 

“Hi,” you say, voice still groggy from sleep. You shuffle over to the table and take a seat. A Munson boy takes a seat on each side of you, and you let out a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“How was it?” Ryan asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you bring the Garfield coffee mug up to your lips and take a sip. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke whines. It’s hard not to smile and play it cool, so you just take another sip of your coffee.

“What is all the racket?” Eddie walks into the kitchen, the palm of his hand rubbing at his right eye. He’s wearing blue plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips and nothing else. You know there’s nothing beneath them because you watched him put them on as he rolled out of bed. He had tossed you a pair of his sweatpants to put on since you’d only been wearing a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Daddy!” Luke calls, making Eddie wince at his volume. 

“Take it down a few notches, kid.” Eddie ruffles his youngest son’s curls before walking over to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“How was the date?” Ryan asks, eyes looking back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Date?” Eddie asks. He walks over and takes a seat at the table before taking a casual sip from his mug. “Did someone go on a date last night?”

“Luke, you had a date?” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He gives an overdramatic roll of his eyes and runs his hands down his face.

“No! You two did!” he says.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eddie says, looking at you now. “I do remember seeing you at a restaurant last night.”

“You guys are the worst,” Ryan sighs, slumping down in his seat. It makes both you and Eddie chuckle. 

“It was a wonderful date,” you tell them, deciding to end their misery. Now that they sense they’re going to get some answers, the boys are very alert and paying attention. It reminds you of how your childhood dog would react when you asked her if she wanted a treat. 

“Was Daddy a gentleman?” Ryan asks. Eddie scoffs, as if insulted by the insinuation that he would be anything but. 

“Of course he was.” 

“What did you eat?” Luke asks. Leave it to him to ask about the food.

“I had steak,” Eddie says. “And…other things.”

Heat comes to your cheeks at the way he eyes you over the brim of his coffee cup. Giving him a light kick under the table knocks the smug smirk off his face, though. 

“Like potatoes,” Eddie says, though you expect it’s more to appease you than anything. 

“Ryan said I look like a potato,” Luke adds. 

Coffee almost shoots out of your nose, and you have to quickly cover your mouth so you don’t spray the table with joe and creamer. This was life with the Munson men. Unpredictably hilarious and quite honestly the best thing you’ve ever had in your life. 

“You don’t look like a potato,” Eddie responds.

“He did as a baby!” Ryan rebuts. 

Eddie rubs his thumb and index finger over his eyebrows as he lets out a sigh. “It’s too early for this,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Are you going out again?” Ryan asks, and you’re thankful for the subject turning back on track. 

“I don’t know,” you muse, tapping your fingernails against the porcelain mug. Both Ryan and Luke frown at your response. “I haven’t been asked yet.”

“Daddy, ask her!” Luke chides. 

“Pretty sure I did ask,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow at you. You know what he’s referring to, but panting out “fuck, when can we do this again?” while you’ve got his dick down your throat doesn’t count. 

“Did you? When?” You smirk at him, backing him into a corner. Now he has no choice but to ask you properly. Eddie’s eyes narrow at you, and you can practically hear him saying you’ll pay for this later. 

“Fine,” he grunts. He takes another sip of coffee before setting the mug down and clearing his throat. “My darling, would you like to go out with me again?”

It feels so infinitesimal to be asking for a second date. This is something teenagers do in high school, not adults with someone whose body you’ve already memorized or when you’ve already declared you’ll love them forever. But it makes the boys happy to hear and he does want to take you out again. 

“I would be honored.”

Your reply still causes Eddie to break out in a beaming smile and reach across the table for your hand. Happily, you lace your fingers with his and don’t even notice the two boys watching with glee. 

“Can we come?” Luke asks.

“Luke,” Ryan groans, “that’s not a date, then.”

“Did you kiss?” Luke asks, ignoring his older brother. Suddenly, Ryan is leaning on the table, eager to hear the answer as well. You see the heat you feel in your face reflected in the pink of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Boys—” Eddie starts before being interrupted by both of them whining.

“Daaaaad!”

“Come on!”

Trying to stifle your giggle, you give Eddie a nod to let him know it’s okay with you if he tells them. Receiving your signal, Eddie nods his own head in reply and shifts in his seat.

“Yes, we kissed.”

Both boys cheer; Ryan throwing his arms in the air and Luke dancing in his seat. You laugh in amusement as you watch them. The fact that they’re almost as happy as you are about you and Eddie being together warms your heart in a way that’s new. It feels as if a new compartment of your heart has been unlocked and all of this love is flooding into it. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, trying to calm the boys back down—even if he’s still grinning himself. “We’re all going to the Harrington’s today, so after breakfast I want you both to get dressed.”

“Uncle Steve’s?” Luke asks. “Why?”

“For a play date.” Eddie shrugs and rises from his seat. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you tell him. He picks up your mug and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Neither boy misses the act of affection, and it feels like a surge of adrenaline spikes your blood. You’ve always been so careful not to let the boys know what’s going on between you—ever since that very first night. But now, getting to be so open about it, knowing they’re going to start seeing you as their dad’s girlfriend instead of their babysitter…it’s a lot. It’s not bad, but it’s a bit overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat under their gazes. “You can play with Theo and Natalie for a while.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how Ryan flushes at the mention of Natalie’s name. You force yourself to bite back your smile but make a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later.

“Alright, Munson’s,” Eddie says as he places your coffee mug back down in front of you. “What do we want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Luke says.

“Daddy burns those,” Ryan reminds him. 

“Good thing I’m here,” you say, standing up from your seat. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, ghosting a hand against your waist. 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Sit.”

“No, let me help you at least.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Can you help me get everything I need together?”

“Course I can.”

Ryan nudges Luke across the table. The younger brother raises his eyebrows in question. Ryan nods his head in the direction of you and Eddie. Luke turns his head to see the two of you moving in tandem to get things out of the cabinets that you’ll need. You share passing words, gently touching or brushing up against one another as you work. It’s so domestic and comfortable for the two of you. But to Ryan and Luke, they’ve never seen something so peaceful. An activity as simple as making pancakes was a potentially explosive event in their lives up until now. It’s the first time both Ryan and Luke are realizing this is how it’s supposed to be. It’s meant to be, “can you pass me the flour?” instead of, “Jesus Christ, where did you put the goddamn pan?” like they’re used to.

The boys stay silent, just watching you and their dad help one another and him make you giggle. It’s possibly the warmest moment they’ve ever felt in this house. Ryan has the sudden urge to hug both of you, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment and have it stop. Luke watches in awe at the easy smiles you and Eddie give one another, never shooting the other a glare when they aren’t looking. It’s happy and it’s soft and it’s warm and tingly in a way he didn’t know existed. He’s never been so happy to have to wait for food to be made. 

“Luke,” Ryan whispers, never taking his eyes off of you two.

“What?” Luke’s gaze never falters either. 

“Daddy’s so happy.”

Luke nods enthusiastically. “And it’s all because of our super secret plan.”

Eddie rings the Harrington’s doorbell not once, not twice, but five times. 

“Will you stop that?” you snap, but a smile dances on your lips. “You’re like a child.”

Eddie doesn’t have the chance to retort before Steve swings open the door. “Munson and Munsonitos! And, uh,” he stammers when he gets to you, “Lady Munson?” he tries, nervous to see your reaction. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lady Munson, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.”

The four of you pile into the living room, and Steve encourages the boys to head into the family room where Natalie, Theo, and Danny are playing. “Amelia’s napping, but she’ll be awake and demanding Uncle Eddie cuddles soon,” he promises, laughing when Eddie huffs impatiently. 

Steve walks over to the old record player a little too nonchalantly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Let’s set a little mood music, shall we?”

Your boyfriend catches on before you do. “Nope, Harrington, no way. Absolutely n—”

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

“I hate you,” Eddie grumbles, but his eyes give away his true feelings. 

Steve doesn’t buy it, either. “Look at that shit-eating grin,” he teases. “You can’t even listen to this song without making eyes at her.”

“Harrington, I will throw all your hairspray in the dumpster if you don’t shut up.”

You’re spared from breaking up their ridiculous fight when Nancy comes in the room, twisting the cover onto a bottle. She waves you over, and you dutifully follow, not wanting to witness whatever nonsense the two men were about to engage in. 

When Steve realizes that there are no women around, he leans in and whispers to Eddie, “I told you, didn’t I? Came to your work and said you should be fucking the babysitter.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head. “Overachiever that you are, you went for the whole relationship.” 

“Overachiever, huh?” Eddie muses. “Never heard that one before.”

“I figured. She probably only says you’re not so tough, just because you’re in love with an—”

“HARRINGTON, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

You and Nancy can vaguely hear the end of Eddie shouting something at Steve, but you’re both in the playroom now and the kids drown them out. Ryan and Natalie are using an array of crayons and markers to create masterpieces that are surely destined to hang on the refrigerators of their respective houses. Luke, Danny, and Theo are playing with Legos and Hot Wheels. The three young boys try to make obstacles for the toy cars to overcome out of the small plastic blocks. 

“I can’t lie,” Nancy says as the two of you take a seat on the couch at the far end of the room. “Steve and I were really impressed by the way you handled Theo and Luke’s candy bar argument.”

The praise catches you off guard but brings on a smile so large that it hurts your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, thank you! It wasn’t anything major,” you tell her. The music playing in the other room suddenly switches off and Nancy lets out a melodious chuckle. 

“I told Steve not to play Billy Joel,” Nancy says with a shake of her head, “not unless he wanted Eddie to kick his…” she trails off as she looks at the kids, “…butt.”

You’re not sure what to say in reply to that. Nancy knows the friendship between the two men far better than you do, having over a decade more of experience with them. Anything you could think to add would be so generic or minuscule next to any of her anecdotes about them that it would be obvious you’re just trying to fill the silence that is becoming more awkward by the moment. But you need to say something. 

“So,” you start, Nancy’s full attention coming back to you at the sound of your voice. “You saw the Innocent Man tour? How was that?”

“Oh, wow.” Nancy blows out a breath and looks down at the floor as if she’s trying to conjure up the memories. “It was forever ago…but from what I remember, it was amazing. He just kept singing and singing.”

Just imagining that brings a smile to your face. 

“Sometimes, I like to just focus on the piano keys and drown out everything else. Helps me clear my head,” you explain. 

Nancy nods along. “I find myself doing that when I’m driving. If I ever play it at home, the voices of four children drown it out and it’s a little harder to clear my head.”

“You really are a great mom, though,” you tell her. “I can see how much your kids adore you.” 

“Thank you,” Nancy says, a bit of emotion snaking its way into her voice. “And having a partner like Steve is the best.”

As if the sound of his name being spoken somewhere in the house summons him, a loud commotion comes from the room you’d left the two men in.

“Munson, let go of my nipple!”

“Not until you apologize!”

You and Nancy share an amused glance before shrugging at one another. Ryan even hears the ruckus and looks in that direction. When he sees that neither you nor his aunt are reacting, he goes back to his drawing. 

“Well, most of the time he’s the best,” Nancy says. 

The clock is ticking until Eddie and Steve come back in the room, but there’s something you feel the need to get off your chest while it’s just you two women there. 

“I have to be honest with you, Nancy,” you start. “I was so intimidated by you. Like, almost scared of you.”

“Of me?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a huff of laughter. “I mean, just meeting you at Ryan’s birthday I could tell how sophisticated and intelligent you are. And then when Eddie talks about you — because as I’m sure you know, he loves talking about his friends — I heard how well accomplished you are and all that you’ve achieved and while being a mother of four. It’s beyond impressive.”

“That’s really sweet, actually.” Nancy gives you a shy smile and a touch of pink coats her sharp cheekbones. “But I promise, I’m a nice person. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

For the rest of what you have to say, you find it harder to look Nancy in the eye as you speak. Your hands fiddle with a loose thread on your jeans as you cautiously glance back and forth from your thigh to the woman sitting next to you. 

“Plus,” you say before you can lose your nerve. “I know how I look from an outsider’s perspective.” You risk a glance over at the kids, and even though they’re busy playing, you still lower your voice. “Young babysitter starts working for a family and then the parents are separating and I…ya know. With an older man. I know what people are going to assume when they look at me. And I don’t care, I really don’t, because I love him. And he loves me. But I care what the people in Eddie’s life think. What his family and friends think. Of me.”

Nancy lets out a sigh and there’s a sympathetic look in her eye as she nods her head. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some of those thoughts when I first found out about you two,” she confesses. “Not long, but longer than I’d like to admit. But you know what I said to Steve once we got home? That if you’re the light that lit a fire under Eddie’s ass to get him to dump Brittany, then thank God.” 

Questions you want to ask Nancy about Brittany fly into your head in rapid succession. It doesn’t sound like the two of them were close. Does everyone hate her? It’s not hard to believe at all, but you’d love to hear it from a perspective other than Eddie’s. But between not wanting to look like a gossiper and the fact that the guys make their way into the room, you keep your mouth shut. 

Nancy must share this sentiment, and possibly doesn’t want to discuss Brittany much in front of the kids, because she changes the subject as the men settle into seats around you.

“You’re in school, right?” Nancy asks you.

“I am,” you reply. “Finishing up my basic education courses.”

“Do you know what you want to do once you graduate?”

“Not a clue,” you admit with a sigh. “Right now, I’m really enjoying babysitting.”

“The kids love you,” Nancy gushes, leaning forward and resting her hand on your arm. “Not just Luke and Ryan—Natalie and Theo couldn’t stop talking about you, either.”

A sense of pride swells in your chest and you can’t help the bashful smile that grows on your lips.

“They’re all such great kids,” you say. 

“Would you happen to have time to add the four great Harrington kids to your schedule?”

Having Nancy ask you that question makes you feel about fifty pounds lighter. Not only is she acknowledging you as part of Eddie’s life, but also has enough trust and faith in you to watch her children. The acceptance by her, Steve, and the kids makes you more emotional than you would’ve thought. It takes a moment for you to compose yourself to answer without your voice trembling.

“Of course!”

Your shoulders sag in relief and you hear a familiar tune being hummed behind you. Turning in your spot to look behind you, you see Steve perched on the back of the couch, a smug smile on his face. It takes your brain a moment to realize it’s Uptown Girl that he’s humming. Letting out an overly dramatic irritated groan, Eddie lunges at Steve, who shrieks and covers his chest.

“Stay away from my nipples, Munson!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Would you look at that? There’s two more kids I didn’t account for.”

[keeksandgigz]

the witch hunt

eddie munson x witch!reader

part 2 of "the love witch"

Summary: You've been good about keeping your magic a secret from Eddie, much to your dismay, so diligent on hiding your true self. What happens when you leave your potion cabinet unattended, he drinks one of your concoctions and turns himself into stone, leaving you to turn him back, right in front of his eyes?

CW: 5k words, no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, eddie turns to stone, angsty angst angst but with a happy ending, witchy casts some serious spells in this one, mentions of witchy being depressed, eddie being a lovesick fool

thank u to my lovely @reidsbtch for beta reading I love u I love u I love u

Read part 1 here, Witchyverse masterpost here

feedback is always appreciated!

You've been good. You've been diligent. You've been following the rules of the coven.

To not share the gift with anyone, a secret kept under oath, hand over the binding of an old spell book, its surface course and rough, centuries of hands- young, old, powerful and weak, all part of the history of how that book came to be.

When you started dating Eddie, you were summoned, warned by your coven to keep the magic away from your human boyfriend, hidden under a veil of thin shame disguised as indifference.

And six months went by, then a year. You thought you were safe, you thought you'd gotten through the worst part of keeping the secret.

You deluded yourself. He loves you so much, there's no reason he would leave you, not even for a secret as big as yours. You've put protection spells around everything that involved actual magic in your house, the potion cabinet you kept in the hallways as decoration, the spell books hidden under a floorboard in your room.

Although he could not feel it, your apartment pulsated with raw magical energy in its purest form. You really thought you were safe.

A rainy November afternoon, you're tasked to bring some ingredients you've had stashed at your apartment to your aunt Hilda's house, a delivery from Janice- ingredients from Bulgaria, after your shift.

What surprises you about your aunt Hilda is that despite being a witch, she does not go unnoticed- living in one of the Painted Ladies house in the heart of San Francisco, all by herself and her cat, Arsenio.

She always invites you in for tea and a reading, so you step into her house, smelling of antique parchment, tea leaves and a mystical smell of pungent resin and wood, much different from your incense and dried flowers smell.

"I need to invite Janice over one of these days" she says in her veiled voice, pouring you a cup of jasmine tea.

"I don't know if she's going to be able to get out of Haight Ashbury, Aunt Hilda. She's like two- hundred years old or something" you laugh, rummaging through your bag for the delivery you visited your aunt for, placing the jars on the table.

She gasps in delight "You can't get those plants anywhere else, she must have paid a fortune for that blood from a vampire's fangs" she squeals, running to her cabinet to find a home for her new deliveries.

"How's your human, dear?" she asks from the kitchen, followed by clattering of glass and metal.

"Oh, Eddie's fine, he should be off work soon, maybe we'll do something after" you shrug, petting her cat, Arsenio, on your lap.

"And his handsome hunk of an uncle?" you roll your eyes at that.

"God, Aunt Hilda, gross" you groan, sinking in your seat.

"Let me know when he's back in town, I need to invite them both over one of these days, it might be nice. Shall we do a reading before I leave?" she sits back down at the small table and takes a sip of her tea, tarot cards in hand.

"Yeah, I'll ask him for his schedule" you finish your tea "Let me do a one card pull, I need to get home"

"You know, dear, you've been awfully nervous lately- so jumpy" She says, as she shuffles the laminated cards for what feels like forever,

"I'm okay, Aunt Hilda, just stressed with work" you lie, exhaling with anticipation as her wrinkled hand holds the deck. Your aunt's readings have always made you nervous.

You'd been jumpy for a while, the thought of Eddie finding out had been making you nervous, but you wouldn't dare to tell your aunt that.

She offers the deck to you, you pick a card and then give it to her. A gasp escapes her upon looking at it.

A panic rises through your body "What? What is it?" you ask, your bag already across your shoulder, holding on to its strap.

"The Tower" she mutters, destruction, unexpected change, awakening.

A shiver runs down your spine, one by one your vertebrae straighten "I just had a really bad feeling, dear. I would check in on your human boy" she places a hand on her temple, heart racing as you bolt out of your seat and leave.

On the train, panic settles in, wondering if Eddie was somehow connected to this.

A call startles you. It's him.

You tremble when nearing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, witchy, I'm at your house- I used the spare key. I just called 'cause I had a question" he says, voice dubious and vague.

"What is it, Ed? I'm on my way home"

"I was just wondering if it's normal that the cabinet in your hallway is open? I had to stop Circe from getting into it a couple times" you hear a meowing in the background, he must be holding her.

"What cabinet?" you feel your chest rise and fall at an incredibly fast pace.

"The one with the wilted flowers on them, it has a bunch of bottles. Are- are these fake potions?" There's an amused lilt in his voice, almost as if he's laughing at you. Fuck. The potion cabinet.

"Eddie don't touch anything, I'm literally here" your alarmed tone freaks him out, but he has no time to say anything as you hang up and enter your apartment building.

You run up the stairs, heart in your throat, as you reach your front door and slam it open. Eddie's head swings violently.

"Hey, witchy, what's wrong?" he stands up from the cabinet, holding Circe on one arm. You're heaving, irregular breaths, as you see he's still standing, alive, and breathing.

You close the door. "You didn't touch anything in there, did you?" you run towards the open cabinet, checking for missing bottles.

"Witchy, honey, I don't get why you're so jumpy about a couple of fake potions, they would actually be really useful for DnD" Eddie chuckles, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bottle, observing it up close. A greyish- blue liquid swirls inside the bottle.

"Eddie! Put it back! It's dangerous!" you exclaim as you reach for the bottle, but he's blocking you.

"Baby, I think you might be getting a little too carried away with this witchy stuff. There's no way you should be reacting like this over some water and dye" he swirls the bottle once again "I'll even drink it, show you it's not actually that dangerous"

A smug smile adorns his lips, as you watch helplessly while he uncorks the small vial and downs its content. 

“EDDIE NO” You aren’t even sure what it is, which makes a panic set into your stomach, hoping you could reverse whatever he ingested.

“No, no, no, no, what have you done?” your head encapsulated in your hands, feeling the beady sweat on your hairline, falling to your knees with the realization. You’re going to have to tell him.

“See? Not dangerous, baby. I love you, but you need to do something about this obsession, it’s getting out of hand” he sighs “I’m hungry i’m gonna get some food” but before he can even take a step, the rumbling of stone fills the room. 

You grab the empty glass vial and examine its label. Shit. He turned himself to stone.

In a panic, he looks at you. 

“Witchy, what’s going on?” his eyes dart from you to his frozen legs, the stone spreading itself upward quickly “Witch-what- is that stone?” He goes still after that.

A statue. His cold, grey eyes staring up at you in a panic. 

Tears brimming your eyes at the sudden realization that once you turn him back to normal he’s going to know. 

His hands feel cold at the touch as you cling on to your boyfriend’s statued form. Mouth agape, eyebrows pinched in fear, it hurt you to see him like this. You were going to lose it all because of a dumb mistake.

A desperate scream bubbles inside your chest as you hold yourself flush against Eddie’s cold surface, wishing his arms could hug you back, having to come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see him in your home. You won’t ever get to hold him again.

Weak and teary- eyed you reach for your phone, wiping under your eyes as you try to stabilize yourself. 

“Hello, dear?” aunt Hilda says through the phone. 

“Aunt Hilda I made a really terrible mistake” you sob, shoulders shaking with the violence of your hiccups. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the concern is palpable through her voice. 

“I left- left my potion cabinet open and Eddie-” another string of violent sobs follow, rumbled deep in your chest, shaking you to your very core. 

“What happened to Eddie?” The question is cautious, though unfortunately you could feel the alarm and sternness in her voice.

“He turned to stone” you sigh, exasperated, letting yourself sink into the sofa. 

“Stone? How did a human man turn to stone?” ever the help, your aunt exclaims. 

A dramatic exhale you feel like you’ve been holding onto “I left my potion cabinet open and he- and he has a spare key” you sob- all your fault for letting your guard down, all your fault for letting yourself care for him so mindlessly. 

“He got into it thinking they were all fake, I tried to- to stop him” a siffle stops you “he was trying to be funny” a string of sobs followed, unable to speak any longer. 

“You need to pull yourself together,” Hilda says, amidst your inconsolable sobs “you know how to reverse this” her voice is stern, yet shaky, she feels for you, having to let your love go. 

“The mirror” you mumble. 

“That’s right, get a mirror- circle of reflection, circle of protection” she reminds you “repeat those words, he’ll be okay, dear” you can tell that she is hurting, breaking the law of your coven, making you face consequences you haven't even thought of.  

Would you be losing your power? Would you have to move away from him? In hindsight that would be a blessing, as you doubt he would want to stay, now that your secret is uncovered. 

Hilda hangs up the phone as you scramble to get a mirror, and smear salt over his heart. Trying to reverse the spell that might have broken it. 

The mirror faces your boyfriend, his features grey and scared- the last time you’ll ever see him in this lifetime.

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

The hand that is not holding the mirror is clutched on tightly to his chest, as you keep repeating the words. 

The sound of rubble breaking makes your heart wrench, selfishly wanting him to stay a statue for a little longer, so you won’t have to say goodbye to him just yet, but the stone armor sheds, and his eyes are brown instead of dull and grey, and his arms move, as well as his mouth, closing in itself, breathing as if he’s come to life for the first time. 

He rubs his eyes first, drowsy, like waking up from a one- hundred year old slumber. He looks around the room, it’s familiar to him, the smell of incense that was there, and then it wasn’t, blocked by the earthy smell of rubble and earth. 

“What happened?” he mumbles, shaking his stiff limbs, kicking the broken suit of stone armor at his feet, your hand still on his heart “Witchy?” 

His eyes are blown wide, memories of what had happened an hour before coming to the surface. The same panicked look adorns his face. 

“The potion- it wasn’t” he begins, as you move your hand off of his body, much to your heart’s dismay. You shake your head. 

“It wasn’t fake. None of them are fake” you mutter, staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. There’s a quiet tension, an almost awkward silence, charged with pain and heartbreak, as Eddie realizes what you mean by ‘not fake.’

“And you brought me back from whatever I turned into” he breathes.

You just nod, head fixated on the floorboards and the rubble surrounding his feet.

“Does that make you-” he gulps. Can’t even bring himself to say it. 

“A witch” you mumble under your breath “a real one,” your gaze falls on his eyes, dilated and sad, as his eyebrows curve up, a line forming on the bridge of his nose. 

There’s once again an unsettling quiet between you two, as he tries to wrap his head around the news. 

His chest feels hollow, where your hand had been just moments before, an unrecognizable phantom pressing down on his heart, rubbing salt in a gashing wound, hoping it would ameliorate it, only to make it bleed more.

He takes a few steps back, watching his step over the rubble, breaking his silence after what feels like hours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” it’s a mere mumble, but the question was clear, hurt, and a little scared, maybe. 

“I swore under oath that I would keep it a secret” you purse your lips, taking a step forward. Your heart shatters when he takes a step back.

His chest is stilled, breath caught in his throat, hands at his sides as he scoffs. 

“You swore you’d keep it a secret? Is that why you’ve been so jumpy lately? You knew I was bound to find out and you didn’t tell me?” his head is reeling, betrayal cuts through him like a knife as more and more of looking at you twists the dagger in his chest. 

“I didn’t want you to find out, Ed. I promised to my coven-” 

“Your coven?  There’s more of you?” you can’t do anything else but swallow on the knot in your throat, scratching and engorging with every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, and nod. 

“And you let me drink the potion, God knows what it could have been” he trembles, a shaky breath escapes him. 

“I tried to stop you, Eddie!” you reach for him, hanging on the feeble hope he’ll realize that you have never meant to hurt him in the first place. 

“And- and what if you spelled me, huh? What if you spelled me to make me fall in love with you? Is my love for you not real?” that hurt you more than anything else he could have said, tears brimming your eyes, escaping from their confinement as they streak down your cheeks. 

“I’ve never used my magic on you,” you admit, voice thick with salty tears “my love for you is real, as yours is. I never tampered with your heart, it’s not who I am” bottom lip jutted out and trembling, feeling on the teetering edge of the end.

“I don’t know who you are” a stab to the heart would have hurt less. “You’ve been lying to me for the past year about who you are. No wonder I was so in love with you, you made me fall in love with a person that doesn’t exist, you spelled me!” he’s trembling, you can see it in the way that his fists are balled up– something he does to stabilize himself whenever he’s upset. 

And now he’s upset because of you. 

“Eddie–” you take a step forward, he takes a step back. 

“No. Don’t- don’t come closer.” tears well at the bottom of your lash line, as you watch him turn away, leave and close the door behind him. Words trapped at the bottom of your throat. Words you’ll never get to say again. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the doorknob, hoping that it might turn, revealing Eddie once again, ready for you to explain everything to him. 

But the doorknob doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open, and Eddie doesn’t come back. 

You refuse to sweep the rubble from the last time he was in your apartment, hoping that the smell of him stuck to the cold stone, but there’s nothing left of him in your space. 

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break,  the life force of their power fades. 

So within a short span of days, you notice yourself being weakened. Simple spells become a hard feat, as you can barely make things levitate, sitting in the darkness of your room. 

Days begin to merge into themselves, as you get yourself to work, then home, then work, then home. A repeating cycle you don’t intend to stop. You leave around the back side of the store, to not let Eddie see you while he’s on his smoke break, blending into the crowded streets of what once seemed like the best place in the world.

Your aunt Hilda doesn’t hear from you, and neither does anyone else. You fall off the face of the earth, hoping that your hours never coincide with Eddie’s. 

But you can feel it from next door, the pain and hurt that radiates from the record store. You feel it in the way he speaks to customers, in the way he sighs as he gets off his smoke break. 

You hear him ask Janice about you, she tells him that she doesn’t know, that she hasn’t seen you in a while. Respecting your wishes to let him live his life in peace. 

But he wasn’t living his life in peace. In fact, Eddie was miserable. 

He was miserable in the way that everything reminded him of you, in the way that if he stepped too close to your store (to make sure you were working that day), he’d smell the rose incense you’d light at your house. The one he would smell on your clothes. 

The crystals that sat on his windowsill were now tightly packed and shoved away on a far up shelf that he would not be reminded of you. He burned every trace of you, the taste of betrayal bitter in his throat as he sat on his couch every night, always on the left side, because you sat on the right. A place for you was always carved in his mind, whether it was unconscious or intentional. 

 The smell of your shampoo lingers in the pink bottles in his shower, in the silk pillow you always slept on when you went over to his house. A silk shirt you left on his bed, gingerly placed on his pillow as he lets your smell engulf him. That’s the only way he can sleep. 

There’s a fear deeply setting in, that he might just never be able to get over you. Despite the lies and the secrets, he will never be able to not think about you, not when the smell of rose incense or the color pink exist, not when long skirts and crystals and tarot cards and brocade rugs exist. Not when you exist. Not when you keep walking the earth, sadness seeping in every crevice and every crack of his walls.

He knows he can’t go on like this. Not while you roam the same streets he roams, waiting for you to turn around. Look at me, witchy, look at me. 

And you’re so sad. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you don’t carry yourself like you used to– shoulders slouched, dressed in black like you’re mourning the loss of your heart. Mourning the loss of your love.

He debates going back to Hawkins for a bit. Going back to live with his uncle– leave this new world behind, just until the air has been purified of you. Until he’s no longer thinking about the witchy girl who haunts his dreams at night. Go work where his friend Steve works at, shitty, dead- end job, just for a bit. 

Confine himself to the life of a hermit, just so he can allow you to live in peace. 

So he goes back to Hawkins, under the guise of going home for the holidays. He picks up whatever jobs his uncle can’t do anymore because of his age, driving the beat up yellow pick- up truck in and out of town. 

“I never thought I’d see the day Munson would come crawling back” he’d hear a couple of people say on the street. He’s never gone unnoticed, but now more so than before– integrated in the San Francisco scene, he did anything but blend in. And he swears he sees you a few times, walking around downtown Hawkins, your hair, your clothes, your bag. Prancing around like your life is back to normal. 

Could it have been a spell? Did you spell him to not make him forget about you? 

But he knows it isn’t like you. Not malicious, not even as a witch, he assumes. 

He keeps himself up at night thinking about you. You’d never use magic on him. With a sound mind, he tells himself that’s true. Your love for him is real. Is his love for you real? Shivering in the freezing temperature of his uncle’s trailer he’d ponder whether what you had was real or not. 

Real.

He drives himself crazy, the thought of you plaguing his mind. 

Even his uncle grows worried, the purple bags under his nephew’s eyes, all the books on witchcraft Eddie could find at the Hawkins local library sitting on his desk. Staying up to read on anything and everything that could help him.

And when that doesn’t work he goes on his uncle’s shitty wifi he never uses to research anything about witches, about magic, about you.

You don’t sense him anymore. Not through the walls, not in his sardonic laugh. It’s like he’d vanished into thin air. 

You find yourself stepping into the record store after a shift, asking his shitty coworkers what happened to Eddie. 

And you’re so weak. So tired, it is even a feat to be able to make it through one full shift standing up, finding a stool to sit on. You’ve paled, eyes dark and lifeless. 

“He’s gone back home for the holidays” one of the assholes who made fun of you says “left you stranded here all by yourself? Or did he kick you to the curb?” he smirks, and the other idiot laughs. You make a mental note to hex them for good next time. 

If you don’t die first. 

Eddie comes back to San Francisco after the holidays, and it’s like he’s never left. 

Union Square has taken off the tree and the ice skating rink– he wanted to take you there. He thought you’d be good at ice skating. You’re good at everything. Or maybe it’s because you’re magic. 

The restaurant you went to on your first date has closed down. There’s a smile creeping on his face as he remembers you laughing because he couldn’t eat with chopsticks. He misses hearing you laugh. He misses seeing you smile. 

The tiny twinkle, the stars in your eyes. The way he’d braid your hair at night. Petting Circe, nestled in between you two in your bed. 

He sees you for the first time since he’s been back on the porch of your shop. His heart shrinks at the sight of you. Eyes sunken in, buried in layers and layers of woolen fabric, staring blankly at the street in front of you. 

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break,  the life force of their power fades. 

He remembers reading that in an old looking book during the holidays. He wrote it down in his notebook. 

A love witch. Thrives on being loved and being in love.  

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered. 

He sees it now.

He shows up to your house after talking himself into it for a week, with the excuse of returning a shirt. The same silk  shirt he’d been sleeping on top of since he left you. He had it washed for you. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.

He knocks. Is it him or are his hands always that sweaty? Is his heart beating at a normal pace? Is his hair okay? And his breath? Oh shit, he has a zit on his chin.

“Go away Aunt Hilda!” he hears you say, grumpy and grouchy. The veiled sadness in your voice creates a rift between him and the door. 

So he knocks. Again. And Again. 

“Aunt Hilda I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, I don’t want– Eddie” A breath gets trapped in your diaphragm, feeling your heart start picking up its pace for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

“Hi” he gives you a tight smile, the silk balled up in a fist, purple with little black swirls on it. 

“Hi, um, I– what are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?” you slither like a worm, that’s how you feel. The boy you’ve been pining and crying and suffering for is here. Right in front of you. 

You look so much more frail than he’d remembered “I uh–” he holds up the fabric “you left this at my house” 

“Oh, thanks. That’s sweet of you” Your heart drops, you really thought he was going to make amends with you?

You extend your arm, so he can give the shirt to you. So he can be on his way and be gone forever. 

Hands, fingers, knuckles. He misses holding your hand. 

“I heard you went home for the holidays, how was that?” you lean on the doorframe, hands crossed on your chest. 

“It was good, I just spent it with my uncle. He told me to tell you happy new year, uh— even though we’re not—” he shouldn’t have said the last part, he sees you sink into yourself, gazing down at the hardwood floor. His stomach twists. 

“What did you do for the holidays?” he asks. He doesn’t want it to be over, not yet. 

“I just stayed in, I’ve been pretty sick lately, flu season in full swing. I’ve just been—”

“Your heart’s broken, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been so sick?” your heart drops. How does he know all this? 

He reads your puzzled expression “I um— did some research. That’s what I did most of my holidays.  I just wanted to understand. I know you didn’t spell me, or whatever. You’re a love witch” he takes out a piece of paper, highlighted is a sentence, in light pink.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered. 

Your head is reeling, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He spent his holidays researching you, your kind. He knows you didn’t lie to him. 

Tears begin to spill onto the old parchment, the tears you haven’t shed in the past two months resurfacing, as you violently jerk and sob in front of him. You missed him.

Eddie quickly steps into your apartment and closes the door, enveloping you in a hug. And it feels good for your heart, a soothing balm for all the cracks and wounds it’s suffered. 

“It’s okay, witchy, you can let it out” he says, as you continue to sob on his shoulder. Soft shushing sounds as he caresses your hair “Shhh…shhh… I’ve got you” and it’s like he’s never left. 

“I’m here now, I’m not leaving” his assurance makes your body feel whole again. He sits you both down on the couch. 

“Witchy, I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I would see you everywhere, I thought I was going crazy” he begins, and maybe he sees a twinkle in your eye, something weak, almost like a heartbeat being revived. 

“I thought going to Hawkins, just to distance myself would change things. But I’d keep myself awake thinking about you, all the time, wondering if you were doing okay.” His hand brushes yours, as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. 

“I would see you at work, or out and about and you looked so sad. And I just couldn’t explain to myself what happened to you, until I came across that book” he finishes.

And in turn, you don’t say anything, you just kiss him. It’s wet and messy with the tears and the saliva, but he immediately kisses you back, cradling your face in his hand. Your heart beats faster than it has in a while, and it’s like magically, your skin has a bit more color to it. 

And Eddie sees the stars in your eyes again. 

When you detach you just lay your head on his chest. You listen for his heartbeat, lulling you into a deep sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in two months. He follows you not soon after, Circe on his lap, as he falls into slumber with a peaceful smile on his face. 

Once awoken from your sleep, you go make a cup of tea for the both of you.

“Witchy?” your head lifts at the nickname as you pour him his tea.

 “So, are you a witch, a mage or a sorceress?” 

You just roll your eyes and kiss him again. 

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[ghostlyfleur]

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

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

word count: ~1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

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

masterlist. eddie dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[loveshotzz]

Lovesick!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Made For Loving You

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

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

word count: 2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to give it to me, baby.”

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

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

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

——

tags: @munsonology @elthreetimes @munsonmunster @eddiesprincess86

[momotonescreaming]

Part One | Part Two

Jeff felt like he was the only one who actually tried to do some study during his free period. Granted, this was mostly because he didn’t share his free period with anyone, but hey. He’s still counting it. It felt easier than studying at home — no mom to knock on his door every few minutes to ask him something, no annoying younger brothers. Just annoying students constantly getting shushed for talking too loud in the library. At least they listened when the librarian scolded them, unlike a pair of certain younger brothers.

So every day he could, he claimed the same table off to the side of the library, spread out his books, and tried to get some work done. Work on an essay, do some math sheets, sneak in some DnD research when he had the time (and wasn’t worried about the other teens trying to vandalise his papers). It meant he had more time at home to do things he actually liked. DnD. Guitar. Watch some TV.

It was calm, it was routine. No one else sat at his table, and it was better that way. No one wanted to hang out with one of the freaks. It was better when the cliques of Hawkins High didn’t interact. It was also easier said than done. A voice clears — light, high, and almost tentative. Right next to his table. Jeff looks up and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Chrissy Cunningham.

His heart skips a beat, butterflies flutter in his stomach, every single lovesick cliché. Jeff felt them all. Feelings swirling in his stomach like honey. Sticky sweet and coating all of his insides. It was inescapable. Unavoidable.

She was cute, and he could swear he could smell her floral perfume and strawberry shampoo. Chrissy was that close and it was a silly little thing he had dreamed about. Being that close to the head cheerleader, his unattainable crush.

Her hair was tied up in a lilac scrunchie, ponytail perfectly curled, with matching lilac eyeshadow. He was close enough that he could notice these things, could see how the colour matched the purple tint in her ruffled plaid skirt.

Jeff smiled at her, almost unconsciously, trying not to seem too much like a freak. Just another normal guy. He didn’t want to scare her off. He listened to Eddie rant about conformity all day, but smiling at a pretty girl to make her more comfortable doesn’t seem so bad.

“Hi, um,” Chrissy starts, clutching a stack of books to her chest. There’s a subtle flush to her cheeks, rosy red, and Jeff can’t quite tell if it’s makeup or if it’s just her flustered over him. She continues before he can start over thinking about whether it’s a good flush or not. Does he make her nervous. “Can I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.”

Jeff looks over, and finds that Chrissy’s right. All the other tables are full, students littering the tables with books and papers with no room for anyone else. All tables, except his. It’s sort of telling, that the only table free is his, and no one else's, but he’s trying not to think about it too hard. Not when it’s led Chrissy to him, cutely and shyly asking if she can sit.

“Of course,” he replies, a little hurried, maybe a little too desperate sounding. He bites back a wince, and moves some of his textbooks out of her way. “Totally.”

And she smiles, something soft and small, just for him — as she thanks him and slides into one of the seats opposite. He smiles back, heart fluttering within the confines of his ribcage. Looking back down at the notes he’s been working on for his English essay, it suddenly doesn’t seem a appealing. Not in the way that it normally does. The words blur into one another, drift across the page, as Jeff tries to keep his gaze firm on the page and not sneaking upwards to glance at Chrissy.

At her perfectly coordinated outfit, preppy and cute, without looking too frumpy. At the way her bangs frame her face, highlighting her cheeks, her shining eyes. At the subtle gloss on her lips, tinted a faint pink. Jeff wonders what it tastes like. What it would feel like against his lips. Is it cherry flavoured, or strawberry — to match her hair. Would it be sticky as their lips meet? A thread of lip gloss and saliva stringing between them as they pull apart.

Shaking his head, willing that particular train of thought to leave his head, he closes his English notes and pulls out the math sheets that Mr Mundy gave them this morning. Grips his pencil tight and tries not to think about how Chrissy is right there. He can hear her organise her books, unzip her bag and take out her things. The scratch of pen on paper. The flip of the pages turning.

It’s sort of soothing, the soft sounds of Chrissy working, a nice noise overlaying the background noises of the library. And not just because it’s her. It’s nicer than the other teens whispering and giggling about being told off by the librarian, it’s better than the annoyances he gets at home. The subtle noise of someone working in tandem with him. It’s nice. Just keeping him company. Even if Chrissy just wanted an empty table, and not him specifically.

Jeff tries to concentrate, and works on his math sheets. Tries to speed through them without totally beefing it. Math isn’t his favourite subject — that would be English Lit, funnily enough —  but he’s not totally terrible at math. DnD has admittedly, helped. Which was part of the reason his parents let him continue with it (the other part, of course, being that he enjoyed it).

So he thinks of DnD, and of math, and tries to focus on Mr Mundy’s worksheet. Except it doesn’t go all that well, because of course it doesn’t. He’ll work through a problem, sneak a glance at Chrissy, at the matching purple shade she’s painted her nails, and look back at the worksheet only to find he’s worked through the problem all wrong. Sighing, Jeff erases what he’s done, and looks at the equation.

“Excuse me, um,” Chrissy starts quietly, whispering as to not invoke the ire of the already stressed librarian. “Do you have a spare pen, mine’s ran out of ink.”

Jeff looks up, throat hitching, lungs holding air as he locks eyes with Chrissy. Clear blue, deep and inviting and looking at him. He tries to hold himself back, to try not to smile like a loon, and he’s not sure if he’s successful or not.

“It’s Jeff,” he starts, clearing his throat, before digging through his pencil case for a pen he can spare. “And sure. Hope blue’s okay. I know O’Donnell can be a real stickler about black pens only.”

"Blue’s fine,” Chrissy giggles. Fucking giggles. Pressing a hand lightly to her mouth, her soft lips — the other reaching out for the pen Jeff retrieved. “It’s not for O’Donnell.”

“No worries then,” he replies, automatically holding his breath as Chrissy takes the pen, her fingertips brushing against the skin of his hand. Her skin is soft, moisturised, and feels like silk against his. What would it be like, Jeff wonders — retracting his hand, not letting himself linger — if she were to hold his hand. Not just a mere brush of fingertips. Would she entangle their fingers, clutching tight? Would she link their pinkies, swinging their arms in between them as they walked? Would she hold his hand over the table, where everyone could see, so they could work and stay connected at the same time?

“Thank you,” She says, shaking him out of it, uncapping the pen. She jolts a little, eyes widening. “Oh! I’m Chrissy by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff replies, smiling and tilting his head at her. He can feel all his insides melting inside him, conjoining into one horrible feelings-filled blob settling in his stomach. Clawing up his ribs, growing likes vines. It was everywhere, it was growing, no amount of smothering was going to kill this crush anytime soon. Not when Chrissy was there, looking the way she did, smiling at him so sweetly. Being kind to him.

—

At the end of their free period they went their separate ways, shaken out of their quiet camaraderie by the ringing of the bell. She had smiled at thanked him as she left, face flushed and ponytail swinging behind her.

Jeff felt like he was going to melt into a puddle, but he still, tragically, had class to go to. So he quickly packed up his things and headed to his next class. He shared it with Frank, which was nice as they actually got to sit next to one another. But the guy was scarily perceptive, and Jeff kind of wanted to keep that moment to himself for a little bit. Wrap it up in tape and hold it close, tucked into his chest. Just him, and Chrissy, and the way that she smiled at him.

But if Jeff knew Frank (and he did), he’d read Jeff like a book. Hopefully he could read him enough that he knew Jeff wanted it unsaid, just for the moment. Not counting Eddie, of course. He was his best friend, and he got it, with his insufferable crush on Steve Harrington.

He’d tell Frank eventually, of course he would, but not now. Definitely not on school grounds, while everyone was still there. If a cheerleader or god forbid — one of the basketball jocks — heard Jeff say he had a crush on the head cheerleader? He’d throw himself into the deep end of lovers lake, never to be seen again.

So he sighs, and enters his next class, hitches his bag further up his shoulder and heads towards his assigned desk. Frank arrives shortly after, messenger bag slung on one shoulder and they lock eyes. He tries to keep it casual light, but he’s sure he sees something on his face. See the like and love and ooey gooey feelings seeping out of his pores.

“Did Kaminsky quiz you again?” Jeff asks, hoping to draw the attention away from his traitorous heart. Frank immediately groans in exasperation, tilting his head to the ceiling, and Jeff just laughs. A wash of relief rushing over his tangled emotions.

—

School dragged on, as it always did at the end of the day, and all Jeff wanted to do was go home and lock himself in his room. Maybe wallow in his emotions for a bit, let them settle, and learn some love song on the guitar. Use it to work through his feelings. Sort through them like puzzle pieces. Pick them up one by one, and carefully slot them into place.  There’s gotta be some good metal ones he can learn.

Jeff lets his mind drift, thinking of songs, and of guitars, and of learning a song just for Chrissy. Lets the class wash over him, absently writing down notes, entirely without thinking about it. He should care about this stuff, should want to take notes, should want to pass. But all of a sudden it really doesn’t seem like it matters. Not when Chrissy sat with him, had talked to him, had borrowed his pen. She forgot to give it back in the end, in the rush of the bell, but Jeff didn’t mind. Not when his crush now had something of his.

Ripping his gaze back towards the blackboard, towards the teacher, he lets the subconscious smile he was sporting drop from his face. Drifting his way through the end of class until finally, finally, the end of day bell rings and he’s free. Packing up his things as fast as he can, absently chatting with Frank as they exit class along with the flood of students.

It’s not Friday, so there’s no Hellfire. There’s no Corroded Coffin practice, he doesn’t have to drive his brothers across town to soccer, or some other lesson they’ve been begging their parents to go to. He just needs to get them, go home, and then he’s free to lock his bedroom door and melt into the carpet.

“You need a ride?” Jeff asks Frank, furrowing his brow as he turns towards his friend. The pair of them slowly walking to the student car park.

“Nah,” Frank replies, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. “My mom’s picking me up so she can take us shopping for my dad’s birthday. Thanks though.”

“All good man,” Jeff replies, and he can’t help but be quietly relieved. That he doesn’t have to make more small talk, that he won’t politely have to invite Frank in to hang out (because he would, of course he would). That he can leave the school day behind, go home and spend some time alone. He needs it, every now and then, to centre himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Frank claps him on the shoulder as he says goodbye, before heading over to the pick up zone. Jeff sighs, lets all the air out of his lungs, before going to wait by his car.

It used to be his dads — an old white ford —  but passed onto Jeff when he upgraded on the condition that he help them drive his brothers around. Jeff had agreed, was desperate for his own car — just little bit more freedom — but he was not a fan of being asked to cart his brothers around like a chauffeur.

So at the end of school Jeff would loiter next to his car until bis brother Vincent came over from the middle school, before driving through the truly terrible pick up line at Hawkins Elementary for Kenneth. It wasn’t that bad, usually. If Vincent didn’t take his sweet time chatting to his friends and being annoying. Making Jeff late. Because of course he did.

He had some time, is what he was saying. Absently scans the parking lot, seeing if there’s anyone he knows, anyone interesting he can people watch. If Chrissy is out here somewhere.

Does she take the bus? Does she walk? Is she staying late for cheer practice? Does she drive, or get a ride from someone else? Her mom, her best friend, Jason. Does he walk her to his car after school, does he hold her books or open the door for her? Does he drive her home with his hand resting on her thigh?

Would she let Jeff do those things. Smiling at him out of the corner of her eyes, giggling when he turns to look at her too. Would she hold his hand over the gear-stick, letting her hand be moved along with his?

“Why are you smiling like that?” Vincent says, entirely too close to Jeff for his liking, making him jolt in place — just slightly. “Weirdo.”

Jeff frowns, looking down at his younger brother to find him giving him a look. Jeff knows that look, he’s seen it on his shithead brother’s face entirely too often. He’s thinking he knows something, is jumping to conclusions, is being a know it all. And if his brothers start talking about how he’s lovesick, has a crush, a girlfriend — it’s all over. He won’t hear the end of it. So he deflects.

“Nothing you need to worry about Vinnie,” Jeff replies, ruffling his brothers hair — because he knows he hates it. “Grown up stuff.”

“You’re not a grown up!” Vincent exclaims indignantly, just as predicted, as they both get into Jeff’s unlocked car. It’s all too easy. A good distraction. “You’re still in high school!”

“I’m closer than you, squirt,” Jeff retorts easily, buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. Drives off to the sounds of his brothers ranting, and thoughts of Chrissy.

Tag List@goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr

Part Four | Part Five

[munsonluhvr]

EDDIE MUNSON’S ♡ LOVE GUIDE ♡

contents: this is a little guide/headcannon on what it’s like for our beloved eddie munson to have a crush or date someone. this is somewhat similar to the a-z sfw/nsfw lists i did a little while ago but a little more detailed and strung together. word count - 782

⟡ what it's like for eddie to have a crush ⟡

eddie is the type of guy to be boldly flirty with someone that he’s interested, having no fear to compliment you or make suggestive comments. however, when you approach him or make flirty comments to him, eddie shuts down not knowing how to respond/function.

eddie believes in chivalry still, so he wants to make the first move but he never knows how. he’ll overthink to his friends, day after day, trying to navigate how to ask you out without being weird. his friends get annoyed with him, often rolling their eyes as he talks about you for the thousandth time that day. they wish either of you would just make a move so they can stop hearing your name being mentioned by eddie.

eddie also hates when he has a crush because he can physically feel himself become obsessed, taking any opportunity to spot you across the hallways in school or stare at the back of your head or profile of your face while he sits in class. he feels himself go from being the nerd, or the freak as people refer to him, to being a lovesick puppy, ready to serve you at any moment. he also becomes flirty and nervous, blushing like crazy as you make eye contact with him or flirt. god, he has such a love hate relationship with having a crush. can’t you just be his already?

when eddie asks you out, finally, he’s flustered and jumbles his words as he speaks quickly. “would you want to go out with me sometime? like on a date?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. his stomach is knots, full of angst, as he exposes his deep admiration for you. when you smile, nodding eagerly, he feels instant relief and his mind is quick to beginning planning how he’ll create the best date you could ever go on.

⟡ what it's like for eddie to date someone ⟡

when eddie dates someone, he is the most sweetest bf in the entire world. he’s so concerned with gf, making it obvious that he cares for you deeply. he’ll always ask if you’ve eaten or if you’re hungry. he’ll let you play your “girly pop” music as he refers to the music you listen to, even though he can’t stand it because he loves you so much.

eddie loves giving you affection; in public, he’ll hold your hand or put his arm around you, make even a little kiss on the cheek. he isn’t the biggest fan of public affection but he also likes to make it known that you’re his. in private, however, he’s awfully romantic and cheeky. he loves to make out with you, letting time pass by as you engage with each other’s mouths, his hands roaming around your body.

eddie feels so safe with you as his girlfriend, knowing he can be vulnerable and nerdy in front of you. he know’s you’ll listen to him nerd out about his d&d trials and updates on how the hellfire is dealing with the watch of vecna.

eddie also nicknames you early on in your relationship, wiping your name from his mouth. you’re “baby” or “princess” to eddie, the affectionate names rolling off his tongue with ease. occasionally, eddie says “my sweet girl,” loving how your face relaxes and a smile appears when he calls you that. he knows it’s your favorite nickname but he saves it for rainy days when you’re feeling extra low and need a pick up.

our precious eddie also likes to include you in things he likes. eddie is quick to introduce you to his hellfire club friends, making sure you are well aquatinted with them and know they’re now your friends too. eddie also introduces you to the members in his band; making it clear that he requests your presence, every week, when they perform at the hideaway. you always go, of course. the biggest deal of all, though, is that he lets you mess around on his most prized possession - his guitar.

to be the best bf possible, eddie is sure to spoil you relentlessly. he brings you things that reminds him of you, or make you little birdhouses while he’s in wood shop class. he’ll make mixtapes of songs he hears and thinks you’ll like or bring you to your favorite restaurant after school. eddie will even risk his life, aka climbing up the short trellis that’s against your house up to your window, to visit you when your parents won’t let you go out. eddie will do anything and everything - you’re his princess after all.

[bruisedboys]

Cutting/doing Eddie's hair and he keeps trying to distract you but it's the first time anyone's really done it and just being overwhelmed but love and 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

such a cute request!! hope this is okay my love 🤍

0.6k words

“Are you sure about this?”

You’re tentative and nervous where you stand over Eddie, scissors in hand. Your boyfriend twists in his chair, meeting you with a look on his face not far from what a fed-up mother would give her toddler.

“Y/N,” he says deadpan. “I’m sure. Would you just do it already?”

“But …” You trail off mid-protest. You’ve had this argument many times. Eddie really wants you to cut his hair, you think you won’t do a good job, Eddie doesn’t care because he thinks his hair is already totally fucked, you disagree because you think his hair is perfect.

He’s got lovely hair. Gorgeous dark curls that you love pulling on and running your fingers through. You just don’t want to ruin it.

“Love,” Eddie says gently, more gentle than he’s been previously about this whole kerfuffle. “It’s only a trim. I only need like, this much off.” He holds up a hand, showing you his thumb and pointer finger separated by about half an inch. “You’ll do just fine.”

You sigh as Eddie turns back in his chair, facing the mirror you’ve set up. You run your hand through his locks, pushing your fingers through his gorgeous, gorgeous curls. You can’t help but think this is the last time you’ll see them like this, before you ruin them.

“I just don’t wanna ruin your hair,” you admit. “What if I accidentally cut off too much, Eds? What if it looks awful and it’s all my fault?”

Eddie catches your eyes in the mirror, a look on his face that you know all too well. “Darling. You could shave my whole head of hair off and I’d still be a fucking knockout.”

You groan loudly. He’s awful. And maybe what he said is a tiny bit true but there’s no way you’re going to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re full of shit,” you tell him, grimacing.

Eddie gives you a lopsided, too cheerful grin in the mirror. “Thanks sweetheart. Now get choppin’.”

You sigh and do as he says. He’s got a face that’s hard to say no to. It really doesn’t go half as bad as you thought it would. It’s actually quite easy. You chop off about half an inch with ease and you’re making a few clean-up cuts when you feel Eddie staring at you in the mirror. You look up, scissors in midair.

Sure enough, he’s gazing at you like you invented the sun. You meet his eyes in your reflection and wrinkle your nose.

“What?”

“What d’you mean what?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Eddie twists in his chair very abruptly, startling you so much you almost make a lethal chop.

“Eddie!” You scold. “I could’ve chopped half your hair off!”

He ignores you. He‘s got this look on his face, something close the lovesickness written across his features. Suddenly you’re feeling very dizzy.

“No one’s ever cut my hair before,” he says. “Not that I can remember, anyway. I’ve always done it myself.”

He’s talking so earnestly, with so much love, that you flush from head to foot.

“Well, no wonder it’s so bad,” you joke weakly, a sad attempt at hiding your fondness for him.

Neither of you laugh. Eddie rolls his eyes, a grin on his pretty features that makes you want to kiss him silly. His gaze falls back on you.

“Thank you,” he says, dripping in fondness, so sweet you’re sure you’re tummy aches with it.

You drop the act, allow yourself to smile, to touch his face, to look at him with the huge amount of fondness you’re feeling for him in your chest. It seeps from your heart through your ribs and to the tips of your toes and fingers.

“S’okay, Eds,” you say, your hand on his jaw, fingers pushing into his hairline. “Any time, baby.”

His grin is blinding.

[moonstruckme]

I've never requested before so I'm quite nervous but may I request something with a reader thats like usually very chatty when coming home from work but maybe someone at their job said something rude or they just feel to tired to talk? preferably with poly!marauders but i dont mind any characters, i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day :] no pressure to write this ofc

Thank you for requesting lovely and hope you have a wonderful day as well! <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 677 words

Eddie’s van is idling at the curb when your shift ends. He grins as you get in, swapping his cherry coke to the hand already holding his cigarette to wrap the one closest to you around your thigh. It’s a favored spot. You’re always thinking you ought to trace an outline of his fingers and get it tattooed with “Eddie’s place” inside as a lark, but he’d definitely enjoy it way too much. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, voice saccharine sweet and expectant as he leans across the console toward you. You peck him on the lips. 

“Hi,” you say back. “You taste like cherries.” 

His grin is crooked, goofy in that unabashedly lovesick way that makes your heart stutter. He holds up his cherry coke like he’s making a toast. “T’was the point. You want a sip?” 

“Yes, please.” You take it from him, letting the cool fizziness wash over your sandpaper tongue. You’ve been craving a drink since halfway through your shift, when you’re fairly sure you’d willed all the water out of your body so you wouldn’t cry in the break room. Poor forethought. 

The syrupy sweetness is comforting, familiar like Eddie and summer days and the lake. It makes you feel a bit more normal. You have to stop yourself from gulping it all down, dropping it in the cup coaster as Eddie stubs out his cigarette and puts the van into gear. 

It takes until the first stoplight for you to realize he’s not headed towards home. “Where’re we going?” you ask. 

“To the arcade. We’re meeting Dustin and them there, remember?” 

“Oh. Right.” You’d totally forgotten. At least Robin should be there. 

Eddie gives you a sidelong glance. “Work was good?” 

If you’re being honest with yourself, about 70% of it was totally fine. “Mhm.” 

He hums back at you, short and low. “Okay. What’s wrong?” 

“Hm?” you hum again, unable to help it. “Nothing, why?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He squeezes your thigh meanly, metal rings biting into your skin. “You always want to gossip after work. Something happened, yeah?” 

You toy with your bottom lip, looking out the window. You’re quiet long enough that Eddie gives your leg another warning squeeze. 

“Talk.” 

“It wasn’t really anything,” you say, honestly but forcing a bit more offhandedness into your tone than maybe you really feel. “A customer got all pissy with me because he thought something should be on sale and it wasn’t, but I’m not, like, still sad about it.” 

Eddie doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but his lips purse unhappily. “But you were, huh?” 

“I was,” you allow. “But I’m not anymore. I guess it just tired me out.” 

He glances your way, as if to be sure you’re telling the truth, and hums. “M’sorry, baby. Still down for the arcade, or do you just wanna go home?” 

“No, I’m good.” You wrap your hand around his forearm, running a path from his wrist to the crook of his elbow and back again. “I wanna see Robin. I can rally.” 

Eddie nods contemplatively. The steady rumbling of the van is the only sound for a few seconds, and then he says, “On a scale of one to ten, where are you right now?” 

You think about it for a few moments. “A four,” you decide. 

He nods again. “Okay. By the time we leave the arcade, we’re gonna have you at a six.” 

You grin at him. It’s already easier. Eddie sees out of the corner of his eye, quirking a brow like you’re being a dork but then slipping his hand from your thigh to intertwine your fingers from his. He brings the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing it wetly. You know he's content to sit in silence as long as you need, but you have one more thing to say.

“I feel like finishing off your coke would bring me up to a solid four-point-five,” you suggest hopefully. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s all yours, sweet thing.”

[eddiessluttywaist]

fluffy ending (as if)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: soft n sweet ending to part three of as if ♥️

pairing: bully!mean!perv!and soft!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 568 words

content/warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18), brief angst (? mention of an argument), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), teasing. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: uhm they’re so gross n cute…here you go!

part one - part two - start of part three

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day. It ended up out in the open during an argument a few months down the line after all your perverted, puppy love had its time to shine. At the start, he was in bitter denial no matter what you said that you had simply been surprised. Nervous. You were nervous. The idea of him possibly paying attention to you had just made you… shy. He wouldn’t have tried to ask you out at first anyways, considering at the time he was on the verge of turning 18 and you 16. And, had he known sooner, he still wouldn’t have been angelic by any means in your 18th year, but maybe he wouldn’t have been quite as excessive…?

When he admitted that in the cooldown of your fight, you were sheepish in your confession that you wouldn’t have wanted him to act all that differently—how he still acted when he wanted to turn you on. You loved the play. The teasing, the crude displays of his twisted affections because it matched you perfectly. It certainly wasn’t typical—then again, when was Eddie ever searching for typical—but you two found a way to make it better. After he made you upset again just a few weeks after that afternoon in his van, you two decided on a code word. Something you could blurt out or write on a piece of paper when you were too overwhelmed for the games, and he showed you an amount of respect and comfort every time in a way that still shocks you to this day.

So yes, Eddie Munson was still a bit of a bully when he wanted you wanted him to be. He still fucked you until you cried. He still made you cockwarm him when you were trying to focus on something. (Sometimes even just in the morning when you needed to feel him but both of you were too tired for sex.) He still flipped up your skirt at lunch, as if he hadn’t already seen what pair of panties you slid on that morning. He still left you filthy notes. He even shoved you against your locker… well… just to kiss you in between classes. He was still mean, he still made you pout, but only in a way that was agreed upon and could always be settled by not forgetting that damn kiss at the end of the day.

You both worked somehow, much to the chagrin of everyone around you. You two were inseparable and so… so disgusting to witness. So insatiable. So weird. The two of you were truly saccharine in your own way. And Eddie never saw it coming. If someone told him at the start of his (third) senior year that soon enough you’d be the one to make him grow soft; teach him how to be gentle; give him a reason to want to stay after the highs have settled; encourage him to fight that urge to deflect; make him want to stay up just to watch the way you breathed as you slept; and be the one to show him how to live (and live happily) with being completely and utterly lovesick… If someone told him any of that. Well… he would’ve scoffed out a rather simple response.

Yeah. As if.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey, y'all. So we're almost done! This is the last chapter before an epilogue! I'll be sad to see this one go but I'm glad that it happened. Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

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Chapter 10

Eddie's POV

Eddie was on cloud nine. He had the girl of his dreams, was finally happy in his major and passing his classes, and Corroded Coffin was steadily on the rise. 

Steve wouldn’t let him live it down, teasing him about the lovesick grin he had and how he ‘felt’ in his gut that you and Eddie would get together. 

Eddie felt a bit saddened by the fact that you had gotten together before finals, so you weren’t able to sleep over as much or go on a date yet. Eddie couldn’t wait to take you out and treat you. You were his girl now. 

But he also couldn’t shake this feeling. You were texting him still, sure, but you had seemed to be avoiding him even after finals, claiming that your job had you absolutely booked. 

Eddie couldn’t help but feel like maybe you were avoiding him now after sleeping together. Maybe you regretted being with him. Maybe you faked it? He couldn’t stop anxiously questioning if you still wanted to be with him. 

Eddie would not admit it aloud, but he was slowly falling for you. 

He knew how you drank your coffee, or how you loved playing with his hair. He knew how nervous you got in new spaces, and how you laughed. He wanted to learn more. He wanted to carve memories of you into his brain, wanted to have the imprint of your figure in his mattress, have your touch burned into his skin. 

He kept pushing off the idea of falling for you. He knew he was on the edge of the cliff, teetering on letting go. But goddamnit, if he wasn’t afraid. Eddie knew himself. When he fell, it was hard and fast. 

It was fully consuming. 

He was scared to let go and have you disappear, just like so many people in his life. Or worse, have you become disgusted with the intricacies of him. You knew so much, but Eddie still guarded parts of his heart. 

Which was why he was staring at his phone, awaiting your text back, when he asked if you could head out to dinner after your shift. 

Your reply stung. 

Sorry, not this time Eds, I’ve got to help my coworker with her on-call. 

Eddie, in a flurry of hurt and bitterness, almost texted back ‘Then when?’. He stopped himself before. 

He’d somehow fucked it up. 

He knew it. 

“Am I an idiot, Kurt?,” Eddie questioned the stray cat currently chowing down on his porch. Eddie had started feeding the cat when he noticed him digging through the apartment trash, feeling a tug at his heart. He’d always loved animals, knowing they wouldn’t judge him, even if he was a burnout. Kurt meowed at Eddie, chubby tomcat cheeks making Eddie chuckle a bit.  Eddie took a drag from his cigarette, careful to aim it away from Kurt, who resumed chowing down. He only looked up when he heard a commotion from the parking lot, seeing Robin and Steve scramble over to the porch, both of them calling Eddie’s name. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, okay…What’s the big deal, Beavis and Butthead?,” Eddie teased, still trying to calm his nerves. Steve and Robin as a pair usually were a bit over dramatic about things (even for Eddie, who often dramatized most things.) 

Robin stopped, her hands on her knees as she tried to regulate her breathing, wheezing. Steve was a bit better off, sighing before going into what was going on. 

“Some account tried to follow Rob and I and we were like no, but we were curious because the account follows Corroded Coffin. And Robin and I were talking about how Bug has kinda been AWOL, and avoiding us. And so we were wondering if maybe there was something she wasn’t telling us about, so we went to look at the account, and it’s some troll posting super mean shit about Bug and calling her names just because she’s dating you, and-” 

Eddie saw red at the mention. If there was one thing the Munson boy had little to no patience for, it was bullies. He felt his stomach twist at the thought of you dealing with the hate all alone, trying to push people away so as to keep from bothering them. His jaw clenched, his fists flexing and clenching, trying to soothe the anger he felt. 

“What’s the account?,” Eddie asked calmly, controlling his tone and temper, jaw set. 

Steve blinked a bit, shocked by Eddie’s tone but also seeming a bit fearful. “Uh, it’s something like the exterminator? Here,” Steve handed over his phone, showing the Instagram account. 

Eddie scrolled through the account, the posts getting more aggressive as the account owner seemed to take candids of you, and post them. The words were cutting, and just…

Eddie felt his hands shake as he handed back the phone, anger running through him, a slow simmering boil. He walked inside, Steve and Robin following in confusion before Robin finally broke the tense silence. 

“Eddie, what’re you-” 

Eddie spun around, eyes rimmed red, hands shaking as he clenched his fists. “I’m fixing it.” 

Eddie pulled out his phone, calling the one person he knew could get down to the bottom of this. 

“Henderson…I need you to ask Susie for a favor.” 

Eddie was lucky that Steve had introduced him to Dustin Henderson. Dustin looked up to Eddie, and his little group of friends had somehow stuck to Eddie like old gum on his shoe. But maybe a bit more endearing. 

Dustin’s girlfriend, Susie, was a tech nerd and genius, and somehow knew how to trace or hack most things. 

Which was exactly what she did. 

She traced the Instagram account down to an email, discovering what the email was a backup for, and informed Eddie. 

Tammy Dreser. A member of the Hawkins Cheer team, and a close friend to Chrissy Cunningham. Both of them were part of the same sorority. 

Which led Eddie here. In front of the sorority house on his bike, his face both angry and determined. He swung his leg off his bike, heading up to the door to knock loudly, met with Chrissy Cunningham’s surprised expression. 

“Eddie, what are you-” 

Eddie pushed past her into the house carefully, turning to her. 

“We need to talk.” 

Chrissy blinked a bit before closing the door, sighing. “Okay…What about?,” She questioned, crossing her arms, eyebrows furrowed. 

“This,” Eddie said pointedly, shoving a phone in Chrissy’s face, the device already showing the account, Chrissy squinting to see the account and frowning. 

“What? Eddie, I don’t know what this is.” 

“Tammy made it. I have…sources… who connected it to her email. And I don’t take kindly to people mistreating my girl,” Eddie stated, his tone teetering on a growl. 

Chrissy frowned, eyebrows furrowed. She bit her lip and gestured for Eddie to follow her to the kitchen, sitting down at the table. 

“Let me call Tammy. We can talk this out,” Chrissy sighed, dialing away on her phone. 

Eddie sat there, leg shaking in the hyper feminized kitchen, a frown practically etched on his face as Taffy entered, her blue eyes widening and cheeks turning red as she saw Eddie. She was quick to fix her hair and smile, putting out a perfectly manicured hand for him to shake. 

“Eddie, right? I’m Tammy,” She said, tone bubbly as ever. 

Eddie nodded, not returning the handshake. He was trying to keep his cool, and not explode on this petite brunette. 

Chrissy cleared her throat. “Well, Tammy, it seems there has been an acc-” 

Eddie can’t take tiptoeing around the subject, so he interjects. “I found an account cyberbullying my girlfriend. Connected to your email. Care to explain?,” Eddie grinned sarcastically, lifting his brows. 

Tammy turned white as a ghost and started laughing, shaking her head. “I don’t…What? I don’t know-” 

Eddie laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “Don’t bullshit me. Fess up, Tammy,” He said her name like an insult, making her cheeks flush red. He stared at her, her eyes wide and her shoulders caving in under his gaze. Eddie counted almost 5 minutes before she finally gave in. 

“Fine! I made it. I was angry that Chrissy hooked up with you when I had a crush on you, and I wanted to make it look like she made the account,” She confessed, flustered and upset. 

Chrissy’s brow furrowed and she appeared hurt, mumbling to herself.

"You're the one who hacked my Instagram...I kept wondering why I couldn't log in and why my account seemed to be following more people."

Eddie's heart panged a little bit for the blonde, who despite her best intentions, had horrible friends and a tendency to be naive or absent minded. But he'd worry about it later. Eddie was too focused on Tammy. “Take. Down. The. Damn. Account,” He gritted out, every word making Tammy sink further into her chair as she nodded, appearing annoyed and embarrassed. 

“Fine, Fine! I will!” 

Eddie stood up and nodded at the two, heading to the door as he heard hushed arguing and felt waves of hurt come from the room. 

“You deserve better friends, Cunningham,” Eddie called out as he left, too focused on his mission. 

He had to get to you. 

Eddie came into the building, making a beeline for your dorm. He knocked on your door frantically, hearing you scramble and run to the door, opening it a bit, just enough for you to poke your head out, your eyes rimmed red. Your brows furrowed as you looked up, a bit confused. 

“Eds? What’re you doing-” 

Eddie pushed himself inside the room, gentle but firm. You felt anxiety swirl in your belly at the disarrayed state of your room, the way you hadn’t had a good shower, stewing in your depression. Eddie’s stomach dropped as his heart ached. 

You had been going through this alone?

Eddie frowned, his voice soft. “Baby…why didn’t you tell me?”

You felt your lip begin to tremble as your eyes stung, the sensation alerting you of the oncoming tears. You swallowed, trying to calm your shaking. 

“I just…I didn’t want to bother you during finals, and honestly it wasn’t a big deal, I just-” 

You felt your voice tremble, your vision beginning to blur. You shook a bit, feeling Eddie embrace you. You smelled his green apple shampoo and body wash, his warm vanilla and spice cologne…all below a soft lingering scent of cigarettes. You melted into his arms, sighing, tears still flowing. 

Eddie sat you down on your bed, his heart squeezed at the sight of you so broken, and so lost. He kicked himself for not being able to see through your walls through text, and held you close. You sobbed into his shirt, shaking. Eddie rubbed your back, pressing his lips to your forehead, murmuring reassurances of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘i’ve got you’. 

When your tears had stopped flowing, Eddie continued to hold you, rubbing your back softly. He felt the urge to talk to you, so he let himself speak without thinking. 

“When I was in high school…I was extremely bullied. I was called a freak, viewed as an outcast. My mom had died and my dad was in prison. People knew Uncle Wayne and I lived in a trailer, and they didn’t let me live it down. When I came here, I thought I finally escaped it…Except… I didn’t. Jason was here. He was one of the people who bullied me extensively back home. He made my life a living hell. He posted shit about me, made flyers claiming I was a psychopath… it was…hell.” 

Eddie swallowed, avoiding your gaze, trying to continue despite the sour memories. 

“I was in a really dark place. I started doing harder drugs, drinking, and just…self harming any way I could. I was flunking, and lonely, as I was 20 years old and a freshman. I…I didn’t tell Steve about it. But he kind of…knew. And right as I was starting to get even worse, right as I considered ending it…Steve reached out. He supported me. He stood up for me while Jason was being a dick. And…a big part of me knows, if he never reached out…I wouldn’t be here.” 

Eddie's throat felt thick, his hands shaking as he looked down at you, your red rimmed eyes looking at him in sorrow and worry. He grabbed your face, leaning his head down to press his forehead against yours. 

“I don’t ever want you to feel that way, baby. Okay? I lo-, Eddie cuts himself off, swallowing, the word getting stuck in his throat. 

“I care about you.” 

You look up, sighing shakily and nodding, melting into his arms. 

“I care about you too. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie kissed you, trying to pour all of his feelings into the exchange, holding your face like you were fragile glass. He pulled away slowly, tugging you into his arms and just holding you that night, letting you melt into him. 

He’d tell you soon.

But for that night...he just would be there for you.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

[courtingchaos]

Blackberry + Smash

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: Oh my god, it's your little day date! I wonder if he'll like your choice of nails?

Word Count:6.3k

A/N: Part 2 to Blackberry, still for @newlips milestone of love! I broke these up because I was having a hard time reading it all together and this part got, well, too long honestly. However it's fun and dirty just how we all like it. (18+ NSFW you know the drill)

The mirror in his bathroom isn’t lying to him, he sure is 32 and still has no idea how to dress himself. He’s gone through at least 6 versions of the same black outfit, only now realizing he owns nothing for a date. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. 

Casual. It’s lunch, this ain’t rocket science and you’ve seen him covered in a multitude of stains and you still kissed him 9 days ago. 

Yes he’s counting, has counted every day. Every boba tea he’s left since, every carton of cookies has a little heart drawn on it with an ‘E’ in the middle. 

He wasn’t even this lovesick as a kid. 

Eddie gives himself a disgusted scoff before ripping off his faded Megadeath tee. He lets himself have a little tantrum, stomping his feet around and whining. Rolling his head back and forth. Couldn’t you two just slide under his sheets and roll around for the rest of eternity? Then he wouldn’t have to worry about fuckin’ clothes! There’s a yell building in his chest but Jeff is sleeping and he won’t wake him, not with a full Friday night ahead of him. Instead he stalks off to his room to root around some more, looking for something less faded when his phone pings. A message from you: ‘holy shit, am I actually ready on time? 🖤’, and a picture that he immediately taps on. 

It’s a mirror picture of your outfit. Black sweater, black pants, black shoes. 

Oh what a fucking pair you’ll make. Dour food service workers in their mourning best. 

He’s never been happier. 

This also sets his nerves at ease. He can look normal. On top of his pile of clean laundry he finds his Hideout shirt and his good Metallica hoodie. Has one last moment of asking himself if he’s still actually 16 before going back to the bathroom. 

Rings on, his pick and his Cuban link chain lay against his collar bones. Finds the matching bracelet and decides to wear the silver nose hoop and in the final glance he rolls his eyes. 

It’ll do.

He shoves the shirt and hoodie on, glances at the clock and sees 9:30 glowing up at him. He finds his jacket, grabs his keys and wallet and has enough time to pick up coffee for the two of you. 

You got nervous and decided to wait outside for him, the sun helping to edge off the chill of the morning. You’re scrolling through Instagram when the familiar sound of his truck pulls through the gate of your complex. Immediately it feels like your stomach is up in your ribs. You’d spent four fucking hours this morning getting ready, redoing your makeup three times before just settling on big wings and red lips. Classic, easy, and you were running low on makeup wipes really. You’d switched out jewelry enough you’d irritated the piercings, yet again settling on leaving in your medusa and just going with silver everything. In an attempt to calm yourself you’d sent the picture to Eddie, not really expecting him to reply. He did heart react to it though and that had sent you horizontal on the couch for a few minutes, kicking your socked feet around. 

He pulls up in front of you and before you can get a hand on the door he’s leaned over to push it open. You’re staring very obviously for a moment, eyes fixed on the ripped knees of his jeans where you can see a smattering of tattoos. You hadn’t given much thought to that. You knew about his arms obviously, had seen pictures of his chest and back pieces but no one had mentioned his legs. Eddie clears his throat and you immediately flush. He gives you a look and you prop a foot in to help push you up. Then you notice the two Dunkin coffees. 

“Did you get me iced coffee?” Surprise pitches your voice high, a little ‘oh!’ following when he holds up a small paper bag. 

“And a donut.”

“Eddie!” You reach over to grab the bag and also slap at his elbow. He just chuckles and watches you tear it in two, holding one side out to him. He can see the pink still tinging your cheeks. 

“I already had two.”

“Oh I see how it is.” A raise of your eyebrows and he tells you to put your seatbelt on. Asks for the address of your nail salon. 

“It’s gonna take a little while, I’m getting acrylics so. I don’t know if you want to hang around or not.” You say around a mouthful of donut. 

“Am I gonna be in the way?”

“I don’t think so, just depends on how busy they are.”

It’s busy as shit. Thankfully you have your appointment, so it’s just a waiting game for a station to open up. 

“There’s like, so many people in here.” He looks like a big worried puppy. “Do you mind if I wander over to the bookstore on the other side?” Eddie flicks his head at the front door. Across the parking lot is a Barnes and Nobel that you saw him eye when you parked. 

“Not at all.” A hand on his forearm with a gentle squeeze and he smiles down at you. What had Cate said? 

“You’re a simple for dimples.” Christ. 

“Text me when you’re almost done, okay?”

You nod, shooing him off towards the door. He’s slow going, waiting for you to turn around the corner to go look at polish colors. When he sees you disappear he rushes the front desk, the receptionist startling at his figure popping up. 

“Hey, your 11 o’clock with-“ he gestures over to you, mouthing your name to try to keep it quiet. “How much is her bill?”

“Well, she’s set up for a regular acrylic set and-“

He’s keeping an eye on you but wants to get out of here before you turn around again to find a seat. 

“Look, whatever the like, top tier thing is, I don’t know nails. Can I just pay ahead of time for that for her?”

“For the nails and the pedicure?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever it is. I’ve got the tip too.”

She hands him a small receipt and he only balks at the price because why is this shit so expensive? He made it a point to not have a band of cash on him today, trying to be a modicum of classy, so he pulls out three hundreds from his wallet and tells the receptionist to figure out the tip. Smiles and tells her to have a nice day. He darts out before you get a chance to sit.  

“Eddie.” The sound of your voice makes him pick his head up from his phone. You’re standing in front of the door to the salon, arms crossed and a pinched expression on your face. 

“Yeah?” He’s playing stupid. Only for you. 

“You really didn’t need to do that.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he halfheartedly shrugs. 

“I’m serious! That was expensive.” Your laugh is exasperated but your not really mad. Just taken aback. First dates don’t pay for nails. 

“I know, that’s why I did it. You’ve been talking about these fuckin’ things for a week now. Figured I’d surprise you.” He puts his phone away to stare up at you from his seat on the bench. 

“Let’s see ‘em.” Eddie leans forward and holds out his hand expectantly. You twist away and playfully squint down at him, holding your hands clenched under your chin. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Oh come on, let’s see what my hard earned American dollars got you.” Laughing and reaching again but this time his hand drifts south, fingertips grazing the back of your thigh, gently pulling you back towards him. 

The little hitch in your breathing goes unnoticed but the blush flooding your cheeks doesn’t. His smile widens and he pulls you again, knocking your knee gently into the bench between his own. 

“Please?” Holds his other hand out, big palm facing up and you lower your own down to wiggle your fingers at him. Eddie let’s out a low whistle while he turns your hand around to look at the little gold stars dotting the matte black claws; turns it over to see the glittery red underneath. 

“Oh I’d say that’s worth it.”

“You like?” 

“Mhm. You get you’re toes done too?”

That makes you blush harder for some reason but you nod. He’s still holding your hand gently, like he’d lean in for a kiss to the back of it. 

“Yeah, same red color.” His other hand is resting fully against your leg now, thumb moving slowly back and forth over your knee. He glances down at your feet briefly, toes hidden in your shiny black loafers. 

“I bet that’s real pretty.” When he looks back up at your face, dark eyes framed by dark lashes and that damn smile pulling those dimples out, you look away quick. If anymore blood rushes to your face you’re bound to pass out. 

“Did uh, did you wanna like, grab lunch or something?” He’s got you stuttering while you look around the parking lot for a distraction. Anything to get your mind off of his hand still gripping the side of your thigh. 

Jesus suffering fuck. 

“Sure. There’s a ramen place up the road that’s pretty good.”

It’s a small restaurant, ten tables and a bar. It’s just the two of you for a while in the booth that Eddie asked for. He’s been tapping his foot against yours since you sat. 

“Are you playing footsie with me?”

“Maybe.” His grin is infectious. You jostle him back and it devolves for a few minutes until the waitress shows back up with your drinks and a knowing look on her face. 

Eddie notes how easy you blush. It’s been at least four times today and he’s only been around you for maybe three hours. He’s trying to recall any other time he might have seen it, but he doesn’t think you’d let that kind of thing slide at work. It’d be seen as a weakness or some shit you and Cate make up. 

He briefly wonders how far down your neck it goes. 

“So do you actually like cooking?” You ask as your food arrives, unwrapping your chopsticks and dumping and ungodly amount of togarashi into your ramen. 

“Yeah actually. My uncle taught me how to cook, he made it fun. It just kind of stuck around I guess.” He looks bashful, swirling his chopsticks around the bowl. You realize this is a whole side of Eddie you don’t know about. 

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

“Honestly? I really like smoking ribs. Wayne had this contraption he built himself out back of his trailer, and he’d make some real creations out there.” He sounds wistful when he talks about his uncle. He’s brought him up a few times but never really explained why he spent so much time with him. You don’t want to pry, but your interested in this home brew smoker now. 

“Please tell me it was like some 50 gallon drum deal.”

“Oh of course! He used to be a welder in the Army so he had all kinds of shit he made. Still has that grill too.” 

Eddie rambles for most of lunch, constantly trying to deflect back to you but you’re invested in this uncle of his. Wayne sounds like quite the guy. 

“So you lived with him till what, you were 23?”

“Yeah. I just wanted my own space and he also needed his own space. I have dinner with him once a week though. At least.” Eddie’s been rubbing his hand on the back of his neck for a few minutes and you’re starting to get the signal to stop mining for now. 

“I’d love to meet him.”

“Oh he’d love you.” That rolls off his tongue fast and you both laugh. “Maybe I’ll drag you to dinner next week. You can tell him all about your drive thru crazies.”

“Oh I’m sure we’d both love that.”

The check has been sitting on the table for 20 or so minutes and when he tucks his card in, after swatting your hand away, the waitress descends and disappears with the check.  He’s nervous again, twirling his rings around his fingers, leg bouncing. You’ve taken a minute to check your messages but under the table you slide a hand onto his bouncing knee. It stills immediately, the flash of a smile you shoot at him quelling any knots under his ribs. It’s such a small gesture, your hand warm on his knee. He’s already decided he’s kissing you again outside.

 

“This was fun, thank you again for my nails. Seriously.” 

He reaches out for your hand, tucks his fingers up under your knuckles to stare at the gold stars. He doesn’t let go, instead pulling you along behind him towards his truck. 

“Unless you’ve got other plans, we can find something else to do. I’ve got all day.” 

“Okay.” You say it so quick, looking for any excuse to stay around him. It’s only taken you this long for a single date, you might as well make it last. “Wanna see a movie?” 

When he stops at his truck he doesn’t unlock it, just leans back against the door and pulls your hand in against his chest. 

“Anything good playing?” He asks quietly, laying his hand over yours to lay flat against him. You fit right between his feet, boots bracketing your loafers. 

“I don’t uh…” Your stuttering, caught watching his eyes flit between yours. “I’m not sure.” You finish lamely. 

“Well, I’ve got all means of streaming at my place. If you want.”

A year ago with anyone else this would have made you scoff and push back, spell being firmly broken by even the implication of some form of Netflix and chill. 

Eddie though? Eddie makes it sound like the sweetest thing in the world. And who are you, presuming he’s even gonna try and put a move on you?

(You’ll be absolutely devastated if he doesn’t.)

The warmth of him is enveloping you, the spice of his cologne and the last cigarette he had drawing you further in just before his hands do the same. Big palms cradle the sides of your neck, thumbs resting on your cheeks and he leans in. 

His lips are plush and warm and you tuck up close to him, arms squished between the two of you. His fingers inch up into your hair, holding your head, keeping your lips to his and honestly? Honestly. 

How dare he be so good at this and keep it from you for so long. You thought he liked you and he’s been depriving you of his lips parting and running his tongue over your own and-

“Ed.” You break the kiss, breathless and face hot but you’ve only got eyes for him. His pupils blown wide in the bright daylight, you can see a frown starting between his brows. “No, hey I’m not-this is great. Can we get in the truck?” It’s almost one long word of a sentence but he understands. You’re around to the passenger side before he’s even closing his door, your hand over the center console to grab his bicep and pull him over to you.

In the confines of the cab, kneeling on the seat so you can grab his hoodie and it’s your turn to pull him in. The little sound he lets out almost sounds like a whimper and it just makes you all the more confident. It’s your tongue running along the seam of his lips, the curve of a smile before he opens and lets you in. He taste like the mango mochi you two shared and your hands run up into his hair to keep him close. 

This is all you’ve been thinking about since he kissed you last week, waiting for another moment to lay your lips on him. It’s a few minutes of heavy kissing and his hands just under the edge of your sweater; you still haven’t let his hair go yet. Eddie is the first to pull away though, eyes squeezed shut when he rests his forehead against yours. 

“We can go back to mine, uh if you want? We don’t have to I know I said that earlier but we can go out and see a movie-“ You press two fingers against his lips to silence him. 

“I want to.”

The ride to his apartment is quiet. He drops his hand on its new home in the middle of your thigh, fingers digging in a little bit every time he turns a corner. 

That blackberry has been picked and washed and fully eaten in earnest. 

His apartment isn’t what you expected honestly. It’s two men living together, so the neatness throws you off. Everything has a home it seems, unlike your own place that’s like a cozy disaster zone. 

“I like your place.” You say over your shoulder standing in the open living room. He’d busied himself with putting your jackets away and dropping his stuff into a tray on the counter. Now he’s just standing in the kitchen watching you inspect the bookcase by the TV. 

“Do you like bourbon?” 

You glance at your phone to see 4:30pm. 

“A little early for dark liquor.”

Eddie shrugs and pulls out two rocks glasses and a round bottle, little jockey stopper on top. 

“We hit some kind of goal or something and Stacy and her husband bought everyone in the kitchen really nice bourbon.” He pulls the seal. “Thought I’d hang on to it for a special occasion.”

“Is this a special occasion then?”

“Yes.” His smile is warm. Looks at the little topper for a moment before sniffing the bottle. 

“That kind of smells like Christmas.”

He pours less than a finger in each glass and slides one over to you. He’s not wrong, and after he fishes out an ice cube for you, it goes down smooth. 

Hip cocked into the counter top and nursing your tiny glass of stupid expensive bourbon, you listen to Eddie go in on all the deserts he could use this in. You had no idea he could bake too and you feel a little cheated after all those bakery bought cookies he’s brought you. 

“Oh you know what else,” he ducks into his fridge and pulls out a mason jar of dark syrup, “this might be blasphemy but I don’t care. Let me see your glass.” You hold it out and he uses a spoon to drizzle some of it in the dregs of your drink. “Thats a blackberry and rosemary syrup I made and- what?” Your laugh cuts through his words and the way his face lights up makes laugh more. A clearer sign from the universe, you’ve never had. 

“I just really like blackberries.” 

He does put something on tv eventually but neither of you pay attention. It murmurs in the background while you two talk and when the sun starts to stretch across the wall of his living room you climb over the cushion separating you and try valiantly to invade his chest. He’s cozy and warm and he tastes like that syrup he made. He says something about whiskey tasting good on you too and any inkling you may have had about leaving his place tonight goes firmly out the window. 

The couch is comfortable and him nosing at your neck, dropping lazy kisses up and down the length of it makes you melt. His hands are heavy in your hair and where they slide down to meet his lips along your neck. You’d finally gotten a hand under his shirt, skin hot and soft. You can feel the muscles flex under your touch and you find out on accident he’s ticklish when you’re skating your new nails back and forth over his happy trail and the weirdest giggle escapes him.

“Sorry.” He smiles shyly. 

You want to hear that sound again but he has other plans. Untangles your legs and stands up, holds out his hand to you again. 

Just over the threshold of his room he looks at you, fully sincere. 

“Is this okay?”

Yes yes yes yes yes yes

You nod and gently kick the door closed behind yourself. 

With that barrier to the outside closed Eddie descends on you. Backs you right up against the door and kisses the breath right out of your lungs. You hang onto his shoulders while he pulls your sweater off. It hits the floor and his hands are right back on you sliding up your sides to cup your tits through your lace bra. You’d worn the set in the hopes that this exact thing would happen. 

“How’d you know blue’s my favorite color?” He whispers against your mouth before diving right down to the swell of your breast and nips lightly. You suck in a gasp and he does it again to the other one, runs his thumbs over your nipples. Your trying your hardest to get your fingers to cooperate and pull at the hem of his shirt. 

“Worry about me later.”

“Eddie, please.”

“Wanna see you first, gorgeous.”

When his hands fall to your jeans you let out a whine that makes him look up at you. 

“You okay?”

“Yes just. Please don’t stop.”

He hurries then, pushes your jeans down and turns you both to walk to bed. When the edge hits your legs you lift one to crawl backwards, a finger hooked in his belt loop in an attempt to pull him with you. He rips his shirt off instead and it’s truly it’s insane how he just keeps getting hotter. The dark lines of his tattoos against his pale skin makes you pant. 

“Oh what the fuck.” 

“I was just about to say the same thing.” He sounds breathless. Eyes roaming to take in the matching underwear that clings to your body. The tattoo on your sternum that he had no idea about and the other two just under your collar. There’s dark lines wrapping around your hip that he’s going to dig his teeth into soon. He reaches and lightly runs a finger over your sternum before trailing it down your stomach and stopping at the elastic of your underwear. 

“You wear this for me?”

You nod. 

“Oh good.” 

You don’t think you’ve heard him this quiet ever. He’s all whispers and heavy stares, that finger tip that’s inching into your underwear making your heart rocket into your throat. You wrap your hand around his and pull him so he has to kneel on the bed too, inch his finger down further. 

“Eddie?”

“Hm?” It rumbles in his chest. You snake both arms up to wrap around his neck and bring him in to ghost your lips over his. 

“Touch me. Please.”

Of course he has silk pillowcases, you think to yourself when the side of your face is pressed into them. The cool material is slick against your hot cheek, Eddie’s big hand laying between your shoulder blades. He isn’t pushing you down into the mattress but the suggestion is there. 

Stay. 

You’ve ended up in the middle of his bed bent in half with him kneeling behind you, gentle hand pulling your knees apart. You’re blushing for a thousand and one reasons, mainly because you’ve never played this little game before. At first you’d tried to hide your face and he’d tutted at you, gently prying your forearm away. Now you’re just trying not to grip the pillow too hard, only partially conscious of your new nails. 

“Eddie.” Your muffled whine gets his attention and he leans forward, puts a little pressure on your back. Your eyes roll.  

“You okay?” His voice is dark next you, quiet and gravely and you clench around nothing, he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet. A garbled ‘uh huh’ gets past your lips and you can hear him grin, the bastard. 

He slides your underwear over your ass and down, tossing them into some corner of the room, swings his knee over your calf and knocks your leg out to side some more. Your hips drop and he sighs, his right hand coming to slide up the back of your thigh, gripping at the soft skin and over the swell of your ass. 

“I’ve been waiting months for this.” A low laugh, how can he laugh at a time like this. You try to sit up a bit, to give him an incredulous look but he holds you down. You don’t mean to let out the moan you’ve been holding in, but he knocks it out of you. Laughs. Again. 

“You didn’t have to wait months.” Muffled again by the pillow. 

“We were having fun. You’re a good chase.” He gives your ass a light tap and then grabs the flesh hard. You arch your back into his touch and he immediately lets go to graze his fingertips over your slit, dipping in between your folds. 

“Jesus your so wet,” he huffs through his nose, “this for me too?”

Of course it is. You’ve been wet for him since he picked you up in his stupid truck, looking too good in his stupid jeans and big hoodie. Since he grabbed your thigh and asked about your god damn toes.Since the couch and his weird giggle. 

You’d like to be a smart ass and list off all the ways he’s driven you crazy just that day, but instead you just whimper. 

“Hmm?” He dips a finger down to circle your clit agonizingly slow. It sends a burning jolt through you and you cant your hips back to chase his touch. 

“Yes, oh my god!” It comes from deep in your chest, voice low and full of want. Every time he’s come in to visit you, hanging over the partition to joke and flirt at you. His little touches at the bar, a hand always lingering on your lower back or fingertips dragging over a knee. That drunk kiss in the parking lot of the bar a week ago. 

All you’ve done is want for months now. You’re about to bully your way into sitting up when he leans down and places a wet kiss on your shoulder. Drags the hand there down to your lower back, still splayed wide and warm. It makes you pause and he uses that minor distraction to easily slide two fingers deep in your cunt. 

It punches the air out of any argument you were trying to start, hands searching for something to grip. One finds his thigh and he still has his god damn jeans on? 

The slow drag of his fingertips inside you makes your mouth hang open. They’re big and you’ve been worked up since you woke up this morning so it just feels too good. 

Actually that’s a lie, you’ve been worked up since that first day he walked into the cafe with Jeff, all jokes and pretty eyes and no idea if he even liked coffee. Some dumb espresso joke later and you’d been stupid for him. 

Kind of like now, with one of his hands holding your back in an arch while his other moves at a torturous pace in and out, the wet sound of you sinful in the space of his room. 

“Do you know many times I thought about inviting you back here after the bar?” You roll your head back and forth, hiding your face under your hair. 

“Every time I gave you a ride I thought about it.” He enunciates his line with a particularly deep prod of his fingers, bringing his thumb to circle your clit again. “Coulda just bent you over my lap and shoved my fingers in, huh?” You clench down, files that little thought away for later. He gets his free arm up under your chest so he can hold you to him. Lays his weight against your back when he picks up the pace of his fingers and the strangled cry coming from you makes him even harder in his jeans. He peppers kisses along your shoulders, noses your hair out of the way so he can nip at the back of your neck. When he licks a stripe up to your ear he feels your strings cut, the chanting of his name sounding like music. 

“I gotcha baby. You gonna come for me?”

You’re nodding, whining his name, breath hitching in your chest. Between his thumb tracing hard and his fingers dragging against that sweet spot inside your eyes water and you grab at the back of his head, nails digging into his curls. The feeling building low is white hot where it creeps down and makes your legs shake. Pinned down under him you try to chase his hand with your hips, looking for that edge of relief and it’s just out of reach until it’s not. 

His chin is hooked over your shoulder so he can mouth at the side of your face while you go rigid under him. He’s still moving his fingers while you spasm around him and jesus christ he can’t wait to fuck you, plain and simple. 

“Breath baby, come on.” He whispers into your ear when he realizes you’ve been holding your breath. You let out a low groan that turns stuttering when he doesn’t relent with his thumb on your clit. 

“Eddie I can’t- too much!”

He ‘aww’s’ at you playfully but slows down his hand, only pulling out when you’ve regained some kind of normal breathing. Cuddled up behind you, face still close to yours where your breath fans over his cheek he leaves a wet kiss on yours and the toothy smile he sees in the waning light makes him feel warm. 

“Knew you’d be worth the wait.”

You slap his arm as he rolls off the bed to stand. The clink of his belt buckle makes you turn your head against the pillow to stare at him. His eyes don’t leave yours while he undoes the button and fly to push them down off his hips. He leaves his boxers on and before he can climb back on the bed you sit up in front of him, hug his thighs with your knees. From here you can look up at him and map the tattoos across his chest and over his shoulders down to his fingers. It’s past sunset now and the purple fading light does nothing but make his pale skin glow under all that dark ink. You pull his own move on him from earlier, tracing the tip of your nail up the back of his thigh. He shivers, leg jumping and when you firmly run both of your palms under the edge of his boxers he smiles down at you. 

“Tryin’ t’get fresh?”

“Maybe.” Sucking in your bottom lip to bite at it, you bring one hand around and run it down the flat plane of his stomach to the band of his underwear. 

“Can I?” A whisper and his eyes go half lidded, pupils dark and wide under his lashes. An almost too quiet ‘yeah’ and you tug the fabric down to free him. 

You must be making a face because he chuckles and runs a finger down your jaw. When you look back up at his face you grip the base of his dick and he hisses low, run your hand up the length of him to watch his head loll back. He’s big, thick and flushed red, the fat head of his cock hot against your palm. Damn near salivating you run the flat of your tongue up the underside of him, to the tip before fully wrapping your lips around him and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie is making a lot of noises you’ve never heard before, one’s that you want him to keep making but only after a few bobs of your head and hand he’s gently pulling your head back where’s he’s laced his fingers in your hair. 

“If you don’t want this to be over in five seconds, I’d suggest we stop that.”

“You get too excited?” Frowning at him you make a move to grab him again he crowds you instead, makes you crawl back towards the middle of the bed. He shuffles across to settle between your propped up knees and tosses a wrapper on your stomach. 

“How romantic Munson.”

“You wanna touch my cock so bad, you put it on.” His forwardness shuts you up. You tear the wrapper open in a rush, grab him again and give his dick a few tugs before rolling the condom down. His thumbs rub little soothing circles on your knees until you pull your hand away and he’s hauling your legs up to wrap around his waist. Pulls you to him with hands in the crook of your knees and he’s cradled in your hips, rocking his own forward to rub the tip of his cock along your folds. Catches it on your sensitive clit and you yelp. His frown is mocking yours from a moment ago, tilts his hips and does it again.

“Aw, honey is that too much?”

“Eddie I swear to god I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” He pulls back enough to line up, gives you one last chance to say something before he eases in. Slow drag until he’s fully seated against you and you both moan in unison. “That’s what I thought.” Your warm around him everywhere; thighs hugging his hips, hands running up his chest. 

“Jesus Christ you feel amazing.” 

The fluttering of your walls around his cock is doing nothing for his stamina, coming to terms with himself that this might not last long. 

That’s fine, you weren’t leaving tonight. 

The look on your face, eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open, makes him roll his hips to watch you squirm. He starts a slow rhythm, grabbing the cups of your bra and pulling down to let your tits free. When he pinches one between his knuckles you keen and arch your back. He does it again to hear that high sound and he picks up his pace, drilling deeper and making you chant his name again. 

“I can’t believe I waited this long for you baby, you feel so fucking good for me.” He pulls your legs from around him to push them up towards your chest, canting your hips with them to get at you deeper.  

“Eddie Eddie Eddie.” It’s high pitched and whiney and music to his ears. He can feel you pulsing around him like you were earlier. Props one of your legs on his shoulder to get his hand between the two of you to rub fast circles over your swollen clit.  

“You gonna come again?”

“Yes fuck, please don’t stop Eddie!” 

His hips snap against your ass and with every push your letting out a stuttering moan. Watching your lips form around his name, panting and pawing at your own chest, your hand around the back of his neck and long nails scratching against the sensitive skin brings everything to a pinpoint. His hips begin to stutter when you clench around him, your no slick coating your thighs and his fingers and his cock and it’s all it takes for him to bury himself deep. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He’s muttering, slowing his movement and rocking the two of you through the aftershocks, running a soothing hand up your leg still on his shoulder. 

“Come here.” Hands splayed to beckon him, cheeks pink and flushed, hair stuck to your sweaty forehead he thinks he might be falling in love after all these months. He’ll keep that to himself for now. Instead he pulls out and discards the condom over the side of the bed. Drops his weight on you, a huff from you and a smile pushed against your chest from him. The light touches from the tips of your nails make goosebumps pop up along his back where you gently rake your nails. 

It’s a while before either of you move and it’s only to get under the covers when the cooling sweat makes you cold. Eddie holds the corner up to help you get situated but holds out a hand when you try to tuck your feet in. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He snatches one of your feet to bring up closer to his face, making you bend weird and squeal. It tickles but he won’t let go, looking at your toes the way he did your nails earlier. 

“Eddie, seriously!”

“I knew they were pretty.” He places a light kiss on the outside arch of your foot and you wrinkle your nose. It tickles and it’s cute and his hand is warm on your cold foot. He only lets go to run a hand up the back of your calf to pull you under the covers where he drapes himself over you, hair curtaining and smothering you in him. 

In the middle of the night, after Jeff comes home and deftly ignores the scene left in the living room and you’ve gotten up to use the bathroom and rinse your mouth out you cuddle back up to Eddie’s side and wait for him to turn his head and look at you. 

“Hey, you wanna call in sick Sunday?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you can be my plus one for the wedding.”

“Cutting it a little close, no?”

“It’s my aunt, she won’t care.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Then we can get you one tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.”

[eddiesghxst]

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+ — MINORS DNI

(*) indicates smut

(✩) indicates fluff

(✶) indicates dark themes

-masterlist-

HARRY STYLES

demon hunter!harry x angel!reader*

demon hunter!harry mocking angel!reader*

demon hunter!harry takes angels virginity*

demon hunter!harry introduces angel to hickeys*

you give harry head in the shower and he washes your hair*

harry accidentally gets too rough*✩

NATASHA ROMANOFF

princess!nat eating you out*✩

princess!nat fingering you on her throne*

EDDIE MUNSON

eddie likes steve’s mean older stepsister, aka you

eddie has to tie his hair back when you sit on his face*

eddie’s a boob guy*✩

eddie’s a boob guy (pierced nips edition)*✩

eddie is a chronic napper (sleepy boy eddie)✩

more boob guy eddie✩

loser!eddie cums quickly*

loser!eddie making up for cumming too quickly*

eddie x virgin!reader*✩

more eddie x virgin!reader*

having a summer fling with eddie*✩

eddie x chubby!reader*✩

eddie steals your shampoo✩

eddie likes giving hickeys*

truck driver!eddie idea

more truck driver!eddie

eddie doesn’t tell anyone he has a girlfriend✩

perv!eddie x innocent best friend!reader*✶

eddie’s got sticky fingers (he likes to steal take things)✩

eddie being goofy during sex*✩

eddie gets nervous when he likes someone✩

eddie’s clumsy during sex*✩

eddie’s hopeless with women and he really likes you*

eddie finds out you have a clit piercing*

you find bsf!perv!eddie’s secret box dedicated to you*✶

steve and robin find bsf!perv!eddie’s box dedicated to you*

steve watches bsf!perv!eddie fuck you*

bsf!perv!eddie really likes you*

single dad!eddie takes his daughter to get a haircut and you’re her hairdresser✩

eddie’s trailer is loud during storms✩

eddie overhears you complaining about never cumming with a man*

eddie is protective over you✩

eddie jacking off in the restroom during a sleepover with you*

bsf!perv!eddie being lovesick✩

eddie fucking you from behind and pulling your hair*

eddie fucks you doggystyle fresh out of the shower*

bsf!perv!eddie gets love boners for you*✩

bf!eddie being cute and in love✩

older!eddie has a bad back but he likes fucking you*✩

soft dom!eddie vibes idk*✩

eddie making you squirt while fucking you from behind*

exhibitionism with eddie during movie night with the older gang*

period sex with eddie*

eddie will eat you out under any circumstance (even if you're all sweaty)*

eddie being petty to your little cousins during the holidays✩

you and summer!eddie fooling around on his bike*

eddie being nerdy n hot*

mechanic!eddie having an affinity for your shorts*

mermaid!reader gives virgin!pirate!eddie a blowjob/handy*

eddie fucks you until you squirt*

eddie is down bad for his cute girly!airhead!girlfriend✩

STEVE HARRINGTON

steve cums a lot*

you and steve’s baby’s first word✩

bsf!steve is going through a dry spell so you help him out*

STEDDIE (steve harrington x eddie munson)

eddie doesn’t turn on the lights at night to see and steve hates it✩

steve and eddie show shy!reader how to give head*

part two of steddie teaching reader how to give head*

steddie x reader with dom!eddie*

steve tries to parent trap you and your ex husband eddie*

JIM HOPPER

hopper buys drugs from eddie and eddie’s gf (you) is cute *✶