#quinns friends!!

[bi-dykes]

This ship dynamic remains superior

[otagoshi]

clowns 🤡

I had done this for the clown week but for reasons I couldn't finish it in time (I still had more characters in mind to add but if I continued it would never end) but I thought it would be a waste not to publish it so I decided to do it postscript: if you have a character clown branch (classic clowns, jesters, mimes, pierrots, etc.) who that you like and is not here, put it in the comments and I will take it into account for next year! :o]

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐦.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Fem Reader [friends -> lovers]

Summary: You and Eddie ditch the party of the semester to fall into something you both know is meant to be [fluff, 3k]

A/N This is just fun, fluff, and feels. Felt like a vibe while I was writing it. (Update: this fic is part 1 of 3).

The music vibrates through the floor so intensely that Eddie can feel it in his bones. Even in the sunroom where he and a few others have settled. The small space gives sight to the backyard, where people mingle as they smoke, illuminated by string lights combating the night’s darkness. Those inside the house with him chatter, sing, and toss their heads back in carefree laughter, feet shuffling against the hardwood as they dance.

The entire scene buzzes with the kind of life only Steve Harrington’s place could ignite on a Friday night. One of these days, he swore he was going to loosen up and allow himself to get swept up in it too. 

For now, he watches. Eyes flitting to various faces, but always returning to you. If you weren’t smiling, you were talking, and the way your lips formed around your words was just as beautiful. The two of you spoke briefly when he first arrived, and he could still feel the delighted hug you’d given him over the fact that he decided to come. He wondered what he’d have to do to make it go away, but good thing he didn’t mind the feeling. It was a reminder of how much he wished your nearness could be all his forever.

Longing was a peculiar thing. Selfish in its occupation of his entire being. 

As Eddie takes another small sip from his drink, something fruity spiked with vodka, The Hair himself saunters up in front of him in a pair of slacks and a Polo sweater. Though rather polished for the occasion, it manages to look fitting on him. His cheeks are a little flushed and the metalhead raises a curious brow as his friend stares down at him with a smirk. 

Rebel Yell starts pulsing through the stereo as Steve offers him a hand off the couch. They end up weaving their way out back. The fall air is cool, but not all of summer’s warmth has vanished. A few people wave and greet them as they head towards a pair of chaise lounge chairs. Billy Idol’s voice is muffled as it continues thrumming from inside. Grooving bodies are visible through the windows as the party carries on. 

Steve pulls out a fancy metal cigarette case before they sit, flipping it open with a soft click. Eddie can’t help but snort as he relaxes into the chair. 

Steve’s brows furrow as he slips out a joint and begins lighting it. “What?” 

Eddie nods to the case in Steve’s lap. “Rich people shit.” 

Steve takes the first couple puffs before passing the joint to Eddie. “Jealous?” 

A smile cracks Eddie's face before he takes a drag. The answer is no, he isn’t. Once upon a time, jealousy was all he burned with, even though he was Hawkin’s poster child for no fucks given and had every reason to be grateful he wasn’t worse off. Grateful for Wayne, that he wasn’t in the pen with his deadbeat father, for finally finding solid friends. He had more than he could ask for, and it took growing up to see it. 

Eddie tips his head back and blows smoke up into the night before giving Steve his turn. What he can’t see is that your eyes have fallen on him from inside the house, sparkling and curious as Robin grins by your side. 

“So did I save you back there or what?” Steve asks as he ashes the joint onto the ground. “Looked like you were zoning in and out, man.” There’s genuine curiosity in his gaze though his tone is playful. 

Growing up with parents like his, Steve had gotten good at reading people. They vacationed a lot, but still managed to walk around with arc reactors in their chests whenever they were home. Bound to detonate in the wake of the most trivial inconveniences. Sometimes he wished he could shut everyone and their feelings out, but he wouldn’t quite be himself then. 

Eddie runs his ringed fingers through his hair. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Steve takes a thoughtful look around. “These kinda things can be a lot.” 

Not even half the faces outside belong to close friends. There was a magic to it, nevertheless. For a few hours, everyone could throw their worries to the wind as Hawkins, Indiana began to feel less like a nowhere town and more like the top of the world. Lord knows Steve didn’t mind the distraction. 

“Not my scene,” Eddie settles on saying. The joint has found its way back into his hand. 

“Everyone’s got their escape,” Steve says. “You’re just too evolved for this one.” 

Eddie snorts. “Shut up.” 

“Yet here you are in the flesh,” Steve continues, thinking as Eddie smokes. “You should tell her how you feel.” 

Eddie coughs, lowering the joint from between his lips. “Dude. Fuck.” 

Steve bites back a smirk as Eddie recovers, extending his hand for the joint. Eddie refuses, taking another drag out of spite, for himself or Steve he isn’t sure. A distant swell of giggles makes multiple heads turn towards the back door, where you and Robin file outside. There’s an immediate flutter in Eddie's gut as he takes you in, your skirt flowing at your thighs. It takes him a second to realize you two are headed their way. 

By the time you make it over, Eddie has straightened up. Meanwhile Steve remains unphased. “Ladies,” Steve greets.  

Robin wrinkles her glittery nose at him. “Why weren’t we invited out here?” 

Chuckling, he makes room for her on his chair and she plops down beside him. “‘Cause you hate the way weed makes you feel like you’re going insane.” He leans into her with each word until she pushes him away with a helpless laugh.

“It’s the principle,” she counters. 

Eddie motions for you to join him and you smile as you take a seat beside him, bumping your shoulder against his in a gentle hello. When he offers you the joint, you shake your head. Steve reaches for it yet again, but Eddie pretends not to notice, taking another drag. A small smile pulls at your lips. 

“Actually, I think I will take a hit.” Eddie doesn’t hesitate passing it to you. 

Rather than indulging, you hand it to Steve, who laughs in victory. Eddie shakes his head, feigning betrayal in a way that earns a laugh out of you. It’s a sweet, melodic sound. He tries to ignore the way your thigh feels pressed against his, but it’s in vain. Even the vanilla notes of your perfume manage to cloud his mind in the softest way. No matter where he was, if you were near, he would always be painfully aware of your presence. 

It was your invitation that had driven him to this party in the first place. Although Steve’s invite came first, your insistence made him change his mind and say yes. Sweaty bodies and blaring music wasn’t your ideal scene either, but you gave in from time to time and looked good doing so. Earlier that night, Eddie almost hadn’t made it through Dancing In the Dark as you and Robin swayed and jumped around like you were alone in your room. There was something about the freeness of the way you moved that made it hard to look away. 

“Munson’s been meaning to tell you something,” Steve announces, looking straight at you.

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he glares at Steve. Robin glances between the two of them, brows furrowed as amusement plays on her lips. You hug your arms as a cool breeze rolls through, but you’re more interested in what Eddie has to say than escaping the chill. In meeting your gaze, however, he silently begs you not to entertain the claim. It only piques your curiosity all the more. 

“Are you gonna spill or what?” Robin prompts.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie insists, looking down to twist his skull ring. 

Reaching over into his lap, you gingerly take his hand into yours to slip off that very ring. He doesn’t pull away or argue, just watches as a helplessly warm feeling melts down his ribcage. His lips twitch upwards when you put it on your thumb because it’s the only finger big enough. It’s warm from being against his own skin for so long. Robin and Steve share a brief, knowing look.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s hope woven within the lilt of your voice. Eddie chuckles, and you commit the breathy sound to memory as if you’ll need it one day more than you do now. 

Robin slaps her hands against her knees. “Well, it’s getting kinda chilly out here so I’m gonna head back inside,” she says, rubbing her arms as she stands. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tease. 

“I’ll stick to something tame like snooping around in Harrington’s room,” she says as she turns to leave. Steve rolls his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. However, his brows eventually pinch together as he reconsiders Robin’s words. Taking one last drag, he passes the joint back to Eddie.   

“She was joking, Steve” you assure him, chuckling. 

“No she wasn’t,” he worries as he stands to jog back into the house. Eddie snickers. 

With a soft sigh, you lean back onto your hands, looking towards the sky as silence falls again. There are a few clouds visible in the light of the crescent moon, but the stars are everywhere. Like tiny shining freckles peppered against the face of the night. Part of you wonders if he’ll talk now. 

“What if the stars have been watching us back our entire lives?” you murmur. 

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he looks over at you, chest rattling with a startled laugh. “That’s something to think about.” His eyes are a bit glossier now. “Don’t think I’d mind if that were true.” 

You tilt your head, a smile budding on your face. “You wouldn’t mind billions of little eyes observing your day-to-day life?” you ask. “That’s a pretty big audience.” 

A grin eases across his face, half playful, half cocky. “I’m a pretty interesting guy.”

You lift a teasing shoulder, feigning indifference. “You’re alright.” 

Eddie laughs, but a weighted look flickers in his eyes as he studies you, catching the fondness you hadn’t tried all that hard to hide. Even with the pleasant buzz beneath his skin and somewhat of a looser mind, he can see it clearly. 

“Hey,” you speak up again. There’s a new softness to your voice, something mischievous dancing around the edges. “Wanna get outta here?” 

Eddie blinks like he can’t quite believe you’ve asked, but finds himself saying yes anyways.

••• 

Sitting in the passenger seat in his van, you realize you didn’t think much further than this. The air smells like him in all the best ways. Pinewood and faint cigarette smoke. As the engine rumbles to life, you shift in your seat and peek over at him, your confidence a distant memory. The radio bursts to life as well, but he quickly reaches out to turn it down. You bite back a smile at the fact that his skull ring is missing from his finger because it’s on yours. Eddie settles in with a sigh, turning to you. 

“So,” he says, eyes sparkling and a little red under the glow of the street lights. 

There’s an intensity to the warmth of his gaze. It drives you to hide your face in your hands. Which does nothing to make him disappear, if the way he exhales a chuckle is any indicator. “Stop looking at me, I didn’t think this far ahead.” There’s no real distress in your voice, only giddiness mixed with nerves. 

“Now I feel like an idiot,” you whine. 

“Well, you’re not.” He sounds more sincere than the moment calls for. “And I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop looking at you, so I guess we’re both in a pickle.” 

“A pickle?” You snort, lowering your hands to meet his gaze. More laughter escapes you. Maybe it’s your body's way of not having to address the implication of his words. 

There’s a flutter in his gut as he watches you. It’s like old times, back when you were freshmen who stayed up too late laughing over the most ridiculous things. Except now, you were more than the girl who sat beside him in Biology because you thought it was cool he had a tattoo. You’d grown into a friend, perhaps even more. As composure finds its way back to you, that truth weighs heavy in the small distance between you.  

Eddie clears his throat. “We could hang at mine for a bit. Wayne’s at work.” When you don’t say anything, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s up to you.”  

“Sorry, yeah, that sounds good,” you breathe. 

Eddie gears the van into drive, only to put it back in park with a heavy exhale. You blink when angles himself to look at you, opening his mouth a few times before speaking. 

“There is something I need to tell you,” he admits. “No way in hell did I ever think we’d be friends, but you’re the raddest person I’ve ever met.” A lump forms in your throat as his words wash over you. “And you’re so pretty that sometimes I wonder how every guy in the world isn’t giving you whatever you want all the time.” 

You can hear your heart in your ears as you say, “Maybe that’s ‘cause there’s only one guy I want in the world.” 

•••

A small sound of surprise rises up your throat when Eddie backs you against his bedroom door. His apology is hushed against your lips as he continues kissing you, hands gentle where they grip at your waist, feeling along your sides. You’re warm all over as if you’re laid out before the sun, arms hooked around his neck. It hadn’t occurred to him how much he wanted to kiss you until you looked at his alarm clock and realized that it’d probably be best if he drove you home. It was well past midnight. Time had escaped you as you talked and laughed. 

When he does pull away, he studies your face like he’s looking for something. A few seconds pass, and he still doesn’t know what for. Perhaps your smile as it shyly appears. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. You’ve never been close enough to notice he has the faintest freckles over the bridge of his nose. It almost feels like you’re getting a glimpse at sacred markings you’re not supposed to see. 

Eddie remembers to breathe when you peck his lips again, running your fingers through his hair. His breath is startled out of him, more like. It’s a wonder his knees haven’t buckled beneath him. He wants to kiss you again to see if that’ll finally knock him back down to earth, but instead he exhales the softest sigh over your lips, squeezing your hips to confirm you’re real. He’s not expecting the sense of guilt that creeps up on him. 

Your brows pinch together. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just… I haven’t taken you on a date or bought you flowers.” He swallows. “I swear you’re worth all that, swear I’m gonna.” 

You gently scratch his scalp. “That’s nothing to worry yourself over.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to come onto you,” he says. “I like you a lot—”  

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever too.” Your voice sounds braver than you feel. 

A smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s maddening news.” 

Humming, you kiss him again, delicately running your tongue along his lips so he shivers. “Where are we gonna go?” you breathe, clarifying when he makes a soft, confused sound, “For our first date.” With the way you continue kissing him, he assumes you don’t really want an answer, that you’re trying to drive him crazy on purpose. 

His mind changes when you gently push his chest so he knows to pull away. He listens immediately, eyes dazed. 

“Maybe the arcade,” you supply, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Or a picnic by the lake.” Your hands slip under his shirt, gracing the skin of his lower stomach, your touch sending a rush of heat through him faster than any high ever could. 

You’re not trying to be suggestive, it’s more exploratory. A shared thrill in finally being able to touch him how you’ve wanted for so long. Eddie’s hands remain at your waist, grounding him even as he feels his resolve starting to slip. 

As much as he wants to indulge a step further, maybe even several, he holds himself back. It might be old-fashioned, but he wants to do this right, do a bit of course correction. He can almost hear Uncle Wayne’s voice from those lazy afternoons of his younger years, talking about life and how to treat a lady. 

“Next Friday,” he says, staring into your eyes intently. “It’ll be nice. I’ll surprise you,” he promises, taking your hands in his, relishing their softness, their warmth. His skull ring is still on your thumb. 

“Really?” Your smile is unabashed. 

He nods, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s a date.” 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting so you don’t miss the next one.

NEXT PART (18+)

MORE

[sweetteainthesummerx]

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[broresteia]

hughes ur fighter

[bruciemilf]

Bruce who accidentally parents his rogues because the mom syndrome is starting to take deep roots.

He threatens Harvey with no dessert if he keeps escaping from Arkham, and blushes bright under the cowl when the man's mouth splits In a teasing, switchblade smirk, " Is that code for something else, doll?"

Harley insists on kicking his seat everytime he arrests her, " I will turn this car around!"

"To where! Also, I'm pretty sure this is just a Tesla with fancy gadgets and an emo makeover."

"You take that back, missy--"

Selina has to sit through 3 hours of " our generation doesn't know what real music is" speeches until she finally cracks and chokes him with her whip

Martinez will never forget the day Batman grabs Riddler by the scruff of his neck and holds him like a misbehaving cat, " What do we say when we flood the city?"

"Sorry."

"That's right. Now go to your cell for reflection time."

Don't misunderstand, he's like that with the league, too. Bruce gives Billy a juice box for not obliterating an enemy to bits and he almost gets lasered.

[capquinn]

In Between | Q. Hughes

summary: your friendship with quinn is slowly transforming. there is an unspoken tension and feelings that simmer beneath the surface, keeping you on the edge of friendship and something more. the in-between is where you both linger, uncertain yet drawn to each other. based upon the song in between by gracie abrams [request] pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, bit of fluff, easy reading word count: 4.9k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn has felt it for a while, though he’s tried to push it aside. It’s subtle at first — small changes in the way he anticipates your messages, the way his heart skips when his phone buzzes, hoping it’s you. He finds himself checking his phone more than usual, almost unconsciously, just to see if you’ve sent something. And when you haven’t, there’s that quiet ache in his stomach, a flicker of disappointment that he tries to ignore. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, we’re just friends. But the more he talks to you, the more he’s beginning to realise that, whatever it is, feels different.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thingI wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ringFor more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe twoTwo hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new"

Quinn’s back home for the summer, a rare stretch of time when he’s free from the constant grind of the season. His brothers are sprawled out on the living room floor, teasing each other as they dive into a game of cards. It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and it feels like home. He loves it — this easy, familiar rhythm of being back with his family.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise. He glances at the screen and, without hesitation, picks it up. Your name flashes across the screen, and there’s no delay in his reaction — he’s quick to answer nowadays, barely letting it ring twice, his voice immediately softening as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he says, and the easy grin that spreads across his face doesn’t go unnoticed by his brothers.

Jack and Luke exchange a knowing glance. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. They’ve seen this look before. The way Quinn’s whole demeanour shifts when he’s talking to you, how his voice drops to that soft, relaxed tone that only seems to happen when you call and a beaming smile that reaches his eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks, his attention fully on you, completely oblivious to the smirks forming on his brothers' faces.

“Yeah, just wanted to check in,” you reply on the other end, your voice a little muffled, but he hears the warmth in it. “You doing anything important?”

Quinn leans back in his chair, ignoring Jack’s playful elbow jab as Luke mutters something under his breath that he chooses to ignore. “Nothing important. Just hanging out.”

Since Quinn has been away, you’ve been in more contact than usual; trying to stay connected despite the distance. Calls that stretch late into the night and texts exchanged throughout the day. What were once quick updates are now filled with small, meaningful details and random moments from your day, like you’re inviting him into your world. At first, it felt casual, like old friends catching up but somewhere along the way, it all started to feel different — more intimate and filled with silences that seem to say more than words.

The conversation flows easily, the kind of back-and-forth that’s always existed between you two. You talk about the little things in your day, sharing stories, inside jokes, and quick laughs that come effortlessly, just like always. Quinn’s responses are natural, his voice relaxed, his words flowing without hesitation. It feels familiar, comfortable — like home. But there’s something more beneath the surface now. 

Quinn has felt it for a while, though he’s tried to push it aside. It’s subtle at first — small changes in the way he anticipates your messages, the way his heart skips when his phone buzzes, hoping it’s you. He finds himself checking his phone more than usual, almost unconsciously, just to see if you’ve sent something. And when you haven’t, there’s that quiet ache in his stomach, a flicker of disappointment that he tries to ignore. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, we’re just friends. But the more he talks to you, the more he’s beginning to realise that, whatever it is, feels different.

He’s trying to pretend it’s just the distance. It’s easier that way, less complicated. You haven’t seen each other in a while — of course he misses you. That’s normal, right? It’s been months since he’s been in the city, and he hasn’t had the chance to hang out with you like he used to. That’s all it is, he tells himself. He’s just missing his friend. But deep down, he knows it’s more than that. This longing he feels isn’t just about the physical distance between you; it’s about the emotional closeness that’s been growing steadily with every call, every shared laugh, every moment that feels more intimate than the last.

The truth is, it’s not just in his head. The way you talk to each other now — the pauses, the laughs, the silences that stretch a little too long — it all feels different. There’s a tension building beneath the surface, and no matter how much Quinn tries to downplay it, it’s there. He knows it, and he’s pretty sure you do too.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to it,” you say after a few minutes, your voice carrying that familiar warmth that always makes Quinn smile. “Talk soon?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softening even more, trying to sound indifferent that the phone call is ending sooner than he’d like. “Talk soon.”

As soon as he hangs up, he’s met with the inevitable barrage of playful nudges from his brothers. Jack leans over, raising an eyebrow in Quinn’s direction. “You could’ve pretended not to be so eager, you know.”

Luke snickers from his spot on the floor, tossing a card into the pile. “She calls, and it’s like everything else just disappears.”

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the slight blush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

But Jack isn’t done. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, grinning widely. “Come on, man. We all see it.”

“There’s nothing to see,” Quinn insists, leaning back, trying to brush it off like he always does. But he knows it’s a weak deflection. He’s never been able to hide much from his brothers, and when it comes to you, they’ve seen right through him for a while now.

"Their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enoughOf waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't careBut he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there"

The bar is buzzing with life — the hum of music, the clinking of glasses, the laughter of people drifting through the air — but it feels distant, like a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Quinn. Tucked away in a quiet corner booth, it’s just the two of you, like the rest of the world has blurred out. Ever since Quinn got back to town, it’s been different. The usual rhythm of your friendship has shifted, and you both feel it — the weight of something unsaid, the way every glance and touch feels like it carries a thousand unspoken words.

You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that maybe you’re imagining things, but the way Quinn’s knee has been brushing against yours under the table, staying there a little too long, makes you question it. It feels deliberate, intentional, as if he’s just waiting for you to acknowledge it. His eyes keep flicking to yours as he talks about training, about the grind of the upcoming season, but you can sense his focus isn’t on hockey. He’s distracted — and so are you.

You take a deep breath, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you try to steady yourself. “I ended things with that guy.” You watch Quinn as the words leave your mouth, a little too quickly, a little too nervously.

His reaction is subtle — just a slight pause in his movements. His fingers tighten briefly around the glass in his hand, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. But you’ve known Quinn long enough to catch the shift. The easy smile he wore just a second ago falters, and his eyes flicker away from yours, just for a moment. He’s listening, but something has shifted in him now, and you feel it settle in the air between you.

You should feel relieved, like you’ve gotten it off your chest, but instead, your pulse quickens, and the warmth in the room seems to move with it.

Quinn leans back in his seat, taking a long sip of his drink, his jaw tight. “Yeah? You weren’t happy?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge there, something quiet and careful, as if he’s trying not to show too much. His eyes meet yours again, and though he’s trying to keep his usual steady demeanour, you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his body has gone just a little bit rigid.

You hesitate, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t about being happy or unhappy with the guy, not really. It was more about how that relationship never stood a chance, not with the way your thoughts have been tangled up in Quinn. But you can’t say that — not here, not now. The tension between you both is palpable, and you’re not sure how much more you can handle.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “I guess it just didn’t feel right, you know?”

His gaze sharpens, and you swear you see something flicker behind his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah,” he says, a little too quickly, his voice low and almost distant. “Sometimes it’s like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and in that moment, everything feels heavy. His leg, which has been brushing against yours under the table, remains there. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t shift, and it sends a wave of awareness through you. You don’t move either. The tension is thick now, humming between you, filling the space that once felt comfortable, but now feels charged with everything you’re both avoiding.

Quinn’s fingers tap against the glass, a telltale sign of his discomfort, but his eyes are locked on yours. The casual ease of your conversation is gone, replaced by something deeper, something unspoken that neither of you can quite name. His usual calm demeanour is cracking, but he’s still trying to hold it together, just like you are.

“You good with it?” he asks, his voice softer now, but there’s a heaviness behind his words, like he’s asking about more than just the breakup. Like he’s asking if you’re okay with the way things are between you and him — the way they haven’t been acknowledged, the way you’ve both been skirting around the inevitable.

You feel your heart skip as you nod. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best.”

He looks down at the table, lips pressing into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s disappointed or if he’s relieved that you’ve dodged the real issue again. The tension between you feels almost unbearable now, like it’s right there, ready to spill over if either of you says the wrong thing. You can see it in the way his posture has shifted, more closed off than usual, and you know he’s doing the same thing you are — keeping it all locked up inside.

The longer the silence stretches, the more aware you become of the weight of his gaze, the subtle shift in his demeanour. His leg remains pressed against yours, and now it feels more deliberate, like he’s testing your boundaries without crossing the line. It sends a shiver through you, but still, you don’t pull away.

You clear your throat, trying to break the tension that’s winding tighter between you both. “So... hockey. You’re ready for the season?” It’s a weak attempt to redirect, but you can’t handle the intensity in his eyes any longer.

Quinn lets out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh of resignation, and his lips curve into a small, humourless smile. “Yeah,” he says, though it’s clear his mind is elsewhere. “Always ready.”

But he’s not talking about hockey anymore. You know it. He knows it. The tension between you is almost suffocating now. You’ve both sidestepped it once again, pretending everything is fine when you both know it’s not.

Still, the silence stretches, and his eyes drift back to yours, holding your gaze for just a moment longer than before. His leg stays where it is, pressed against yours, warm and steady, like an unspoken promise.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

And the tension, the thing you’ve both been avoiding for so long, continues to simmer beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when one of you finally decides to break.

"She toes the line between 'em, he says he's new at this There's holy ground beneath them, and sparks fly when they kiss"

It’s an unusually free Friday night for Quinn — no games, no media commitments, just a rare quiet slot of time that you had both been looking forward to. You’re both on his sofa, a bottle of red wine shared between you, glasses resting on the coffee table as the conversation ebbs and flows. The city is muted through the window, the distant hum of the nightlife outside contrasting with the stillness in his apartment.

The warmth of the wine is settling in, buzzing just beneath your skin, making everything feel a little softer, a little easier. You’re both relaxed, more than you’ve been in a while, and the absence of his usual responsibilities means there is nothing pulling him away. It’s just you and him, and this moment that feels long overdue. 

The conversation has slowed into something quieter now, the playful banter from earlier fading as the night deepens. You’re sitting closer than usual, your legs brushing his, your bodies naturally leaning toward each other in the comfortable warmth of the room, and while you’d like to blame it entirely on the wine, you both know that isn’t true. The drinks are just an excuse, a convenient explanation for the shift that’s been happening between you for weeks — the simmering tension that neither of you have acknowledged yet.

The wineglass in your hand feels warm, the liquid swirling as you take another sip, and you glance over at Quinn. He’s leaning back against the couch, his arm draped along the top, not quite touching you, but close enough that the proximity feels charged. 

You laugh at something Quinn says, the sound filling the quiet space between you, and without thinking, you scoot closer, resting your head on his shoulder. It feels natural, effortless, and you can feel his body relax slightly next to yours. 

“This is nice… being here with you,” you sigh softly, your words lingering in the air, more meaningful than they might seem.

Quinn shifts beside you, turning slightly as if to make more room for you to settle in even closer. His hand, now just brushing against your knee, lingers longer than before. His arm draped along the back of the couch still isn’t quite around your shoulders, but it’s close enough that anyone watching would assume the two of you were already past the point of casual.

There’s a silence between you, the kind that speaks louder than anything either of you could say. The tension, the closeness, the feeling that everything has led up to this moment — it’s undeniable.

Then, softly, Quinn breaks the silence, his voice low and a little hesitant, as if he needs confirmation of what’s already clear. “You feel it too, right?”

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for clarity, for reassurance. His question isn’t just about tonight — it’s about everything that’s been building between you. The tension, the unspoken connection that’s simmered for a while now. His question hangs in the air, waiting.

You nod, the answer already written across your face before the words even come. “Yeah,” you say, your voice sure. “I do.”

The relief on his face is immediate, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The space between you closes, the weight of the unspoken words dissolves, and suddenly, you’re no longer just two friends dancing around something more.

Quinn’s eyes remain locked on yours, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that wasn’t there before. He shifts again, his hand moving fully to rest against your thigh now, his touch warm and steady. The question had been lingering between you both for so long, and now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like something is shifting beneath your feet, like you’re standing on the edge of something new, something sacred.

He lets out a small, almost nervous laugh, and his lips curve into a soft smile. 

“I’m new at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not just about admitting he’s new to this kind of intimacy. It’s more than that. It’s about navigating uncharted territory, stepping into something that feels both familiar and foreign all at once. Moving this friendship into something more, and for the love of all things holy, not messing it up. His eyes flicker down for a moment, as if he’s trying to gather himself before looking back at you. “I don’t really know how to...”

The words trail off, but they don’t need to be completed. You can feel the weight of what he’s saying.

There’s a silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. The ground beneath you feels as is its trembling with anticipation, and the moment stretches as Quinn inches closer, his breath warm against your skin. There’s a pause — like he’s giving you one last chance to pull back, to stay in the safety of what you were before — but you don’t.

Quinn's lips meet yours, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he's still unsure, but that uncertainty dissolves almost immediately. The tension that’s been coiling between you for weeks… months… finally snaps, unraveling with each second that passes. His hand tightens on your leg, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s grounding himself in this moment, tethering himself to the reality of what’s happening between you.

The kiss deepens, slow but intense, and it feels like every suppressed emotion, every lingering glance, every accidental touch is being released all at once. There’s a heat between you that wasn’t there before. It’s something that goes beyond the warmth of the room or the haze of the drinks. This is raw, electric, and it pulses through you with every breath you take.

His other hand, the one draped over the back of the couch, finally moves, slipping down to gently rest on your shoulder before sliding around to your back. His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along your spine, and it sends shivers racing down your body. The contact is firm but tender, pulling you in closer, until there’s barely any space left between you.

You respond instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palms. His heart is pounding just as hard as yours, and the realisation of that shared vulnerability only intensifies the moment. The air between you buzzes, charged with every unspoken word, every unsaid feeling. Your hands slide upward, fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer.

There’s no hesitation now. The pent-up tension that’s been simmering for so long unravels in waves, and it’s not just the kiss. It’s the way your bodies move together, how every touch feels deliberate, meaningful, like you’re both making up for all the moments you held back.

Quinn shifts slightly, pulling you with him, deepening the kiss, and you feel the weight of him, the heat of him, pressing against you. His hands roam more freely now, one slipping from your back to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer, needing you closer. Your legs brush against his, and it’s as though every point of contact is sparking something more urgent.

The world outside fades, and all you can feel is him. His warmth. His breath. His heart beating against yours. The tension between you isn’t just releasing — it’s transforming.

There’s no need for words. Everything is being said in the way his hands move over your body, the way your fingers press into his skin, the way the kiss deepens and slows, and deepens again. The tension that’s been keeping you apart for so long has unraveled, and now all that’s left is this — this raw, electric pull that neither of you are resisting anymore.

"She loves how he talks late at night, when there's no one else to say How she's beautiful and funny and smart like nothin' he's ever seen He's good to her and she wants it more than everything in between"

The phone buzzes softly on your nightstand, and you don’t hesitate to grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see Quinn’s name lighting up the screen. You’ve been in bed for a while now, trying to lose yourself in a book, but the pages blurred as your thoughts drifted to him — away on a road trip for a series of games, alone in some unknown hotel room, hundreds of miles between you. Though it’s not the first time he’s been gone for a stretch, this is the first time you’ve been apart for so long since everything changed between you. The distance feels like more than just time zones. It’s a physical ache, an emptiness that lingers.

You answer on the second ring, eager to hear his voice. “Hey,” you murmur, the late hour making your voice rough.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice comes through, low and familiar, and just hearing it feels like a balm to the loneliness that’s been creeping in. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets, maybe the distant murmur of a TV on low, and you imagine him in some anonymous hotel room, far from you but somehow closer with every word.

“How’s the trip?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation light even though your chest tightens just hearing his voice.

“Same as usual,” Quinn responds, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his tone. “Long flights, long days. But…” There’s a pause, and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “I miss you.”

There’s something so vulnerable in those three words, something that makes your heart clench, and you find yourself smiling into the phone. “I miss you too.”

You can picture him there, lying back in bed, maybe one arm draped over his forehead like he does when he’s trying to hide how tired he is. 

“I love this,” you murmur into the phone, your voice soft, barely cutting through the quiet. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the pattern of the blanket draped across your lap.

“What’s that?” Quinn’s voice, low and a little rough from the day, comes through the line, and even though you can’t see him, you can hear the curiosity in his tone.

“This,” you say with a quiet smile. “Just you. Talking like that.”

On the other end of the line, you hear Quinn chuckle softly, the sound rumbling through the phone in a way that makes you wish he was here, with his laughter vibrating against your skin. “You love hearing me talk, huh?” There’s a teasing lilt to his words.

You press the phone closer to your ear, as if somehow it could make him feel closer. “Yeah, I do,” you admit, feeling the warmth of your confession. “Especially when you get all sweet on me.”

There’s a pause, a beat of quiet between you, and you can practically see Quinn shifting, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s caught off guard. “I don’t get sweet,” he protests, but there’s no conviction in his voice. You both know better.

“Mhm, sure you don’t,” you tease gently, heart fluttering. “You don’t tell me I’m beautiful, funny, smart — none of that?”

He sighs, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, maybe I’ve said that once or twice.”

The air feels lighter between you now, but it’s not enough to shake the ache in your chest, the emptiness of the space beside you. Even through the phone, you can feel the weight of his absence like a shadow, clinging to every moment. This is the part of loving him you didn’t expect — the way missing him would feel so physical, like something tangible pressing against you in the quiet.

Time feels fluid, stretching and slipping away as you talk with Quinn. His voice, low and familiar, wraps around you like a blanket, and the distance between you feels inconsequential, almost forgotten. The conversation is effortless, a mix of soft teasing and the easy exchange of stories from your day — his tales from the road, your small updates, and the shared laughter that punctuates each moment. It's the kind of talk that feels more intimate than the miles would suggest, as if his voice alone closes the gap between you.

Every now and then, the conversation drifts into comfortable silence. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets on his end, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, steady and even.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep — the stillness of his breathing so steady it lulls you, too, into a softer state. But just when you think he’s drifted off, his voice breaks through again, raspy and warm. The sound of it tugs at your heart, a gentle reminder that he’s just as reluctant to let go of this moment as you are.

“You should be sleeping,” you murmur gently, the words laced with both affection and concern.

Quinn chuckles softly, and the sound is so familiar that it tugs at your heart. “Yeah, I probably should,” he admits, though neither of you move to end the conversation. You hear the faint rustle of sheets as he shifts, settling deeper into bed, but there’s still no rush to say goodnight.

Eventually, you give in, your voice thick with exhaustion, still playful. “Goodnight, Quinn,” you say, the words rolling off your tongue in a sing-song tone.

“Don’t go,” he whines softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice, even though he’s clearly just as tired.

“It’s late,” you remind him, knowing he’s been dreading the blare of his alarm in just a few hours.

“Don’t care,” he half lies, and you know he’d stay on the line as long as you let him.

You let out a small laugh. “I’m going to hang up now, but I’m doing it for your own good, so you can’t be mad at me.” 

Quinn sighs on the other end of the line, a sound that’s both exasperated and warm, like he’s really not ready to say goodnight. But before he can protest again, the words slip out — “goodnight. Love you.” 

And for a split second, the air goes still, and your heart skips, freezing in this fragile moment where everything feels suspended. You realise what you’ve said, what’s just hung in the silence between you. Panic flares in your chest, sharp and hot, and before Quinn can respond, you fumble to end the call, your finger hitting the button too fast. 

You toss your phone under your pillow, rolling over as if you can outrun the wave of mortification crashing over you. Your mind spins, replaying the words, each syllable sharper than the last. How could you say it like that? Blurt it out so casually, without thought? What if it was too soon, too forward? What if you’ve pushed him away, scared him off when everything was finally right between you?

The thoughts whirl through your mind, gaining speed as you lie there, squeezing your eyes shut like it’ll stop the embarrassment creeping up your spine. But just as the spiral begins to tighten, your phone buzzes from beneath the pillow. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. 

With trembling hands, you pull the phone out, dread settling like a heavy weight in your stomach. The screen lights up, and for a second, you hesitate, afraid of what you might see. But then your eyes land on the message, and your breath hitches.

Quinny: Love you too

Relief floods you so quickly it makes you dizzy, your heart swelling with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as the tension in your body melts away. The words linger in front of you, simple and sure, and you feel the warmth of them settle into your chest, softening everything.

Quinn’s message glows softly in the dim light, and though your relationship has been official for months, it still feels like a quiet, pivotal moment. The in-between — the space you both danced around for so long — has long since disappeared, but the echoes of it remain. It wasn’t just a transition from friends to something more; it was the space where your connection deepened, where the foundation of everything you have now was laid. The friendship that came first is woven into every moment of this relationship, grounding you both in something real, something steady.

You think about that, about how the laughter, trust, and late-night conversations that once kept you in the comfort of friendship are now the very things that make this love feel solid. The in-between was where you found your footing, but it’s the friendship that carried you here, to this place where being with Quinn, loving him, feels as natural as breathing.

[nhlclover]

PLEASE TAKE ME HOME QUINN HUGHES

pairing: bsf!fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: after a crushing loss, quinn seeks comfort from you, leading to him finding support and solace in a way he didn't expect.

warnings: quinn being self-critical + kind of being existential, a lil kiss, cuddling

wc: 2.4k

notes: love me some best friends to lovers content!!

Quinn sat in his stall, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and his head heavy in his hands. The locker room was quiet, almost unbearably so, with only the muted rustling of his teammates shedding their gear, each one lost in their own thoughts. The chill of sweat against his skin, the echoing silence, and the sting of the 7-3 ass whooping they’d just received at the hands of the Oilers gnawed at him. He ran his hands over his face, wishing the exhaustion could just be scrubbed away like a smudge of dirt, but it clung, deeper than fatigue.

Tocchet’s words still hung heavy in the air. His tone wasn’t biting or enraged, just… disappointed. Somehow, that made it worse. The sharpness of anger would’ve been easier to deflect, easier to set aside, but this, this gnawing sense of having let someone down, that was harder to shake. As captain, the weight of each loss bore down on Quinn with a fierce gravity, like an invisible pull he could never fully shrug off. He wore every defeat like an extra layer under his skin, something that followed him home, creeping into the quiet spaces of his life that should have been a refuge.

But tonight, even the thought of his empty apartment was unbearable, the silence there too vast, the dark windows only offering his own tired reflection in return. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, with the image of his own disappointment staring back at him.

He reached for his phone, thumb hovering uncertainly over your name. He knew he should probably wait until he’d collected himself, until he could find something to say that didn’t carry the weight of the evening’s defeat. But in that moment, the thought of a connection, of hearing from someone who could pull him out of his head, outweighed his hesitation. Before he could overthink it, he pressed send.

Quinn's message was simple, just asking if you were home. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted — to talk, to sit in silence, to have someone tell him that tonight wasn’t the end of the world. He just knew that you’d understand, that you’d get it without him having to explain.

There was a comfort between you and Quinn that had been there almost from the start. As he settled into life with the team, through rookie struggles and the relentless grind of the season, he had a way of just being around that seemed natural, easy. Somehow, even as his responsibilities grew, and the demands of his role pulled him in every direction, he kept finding his way back to you. And you, too, found yourself drawn to his quiet, unassuming strength. He wasn’t loud about it, wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval — just steady and dependable, with a rare kind of sincerity you didn’t encounter often.

And lately, maybe without realizing it, that connection felt like it had deepened into something neither of you had put a name to. Moments hung between you two, ones that felt heavier than friendship but never quite crossed the line into something more. An extra beat in his gaze, the way you’d linger just a bit longer than necessary after a game, the silence between you comfortable and somehow charged all at once.

When your reply came, just a quick “I’m here, come over,” Quinn didn’t waste any time. He left the locker room without the usual goodbyes, without waiting for the sting of his teammates’ sympathetic glances or their vague attempts at consolation. Tonight, he needed to get out of that space, out of his own head, and into a place where things felt real again.

Rogers Arena was quiet as he made his way out, the late-night staff offering tired nods as he passed. The cold night air outside cut through him, biting against his damp skin, but he welcomed the jolt, the way it woke him up a bit. He barely remembered the drive, just that he kept glancing at the clock, willing time to move faster, each stoplight feeling like a barrier between him and something he desperately needed.

Finally, he was standing outside your door, hands stuffed in his pockets, nervous energy buzzing through him. He barely managed a steady knock, his heart feeling oddly tight as he waited. The lock clicked, and when you opened the door, he felt his breath catch.

You stood there in his oversized hoodie, sleeves brushing your fingers, and a pair of sleep boxers. Your hair was pulled into a messy updo, and even though it was just a lounging outfit, you looked effortlessly good. The sight of you felt like a balm against everything heavy he’d been carrying, a reminder of warmth and familiarity that he hadn’t realized he was craving.

“Hey,” you said softly, a gentle smile spreading on your lips as you took him in.

“Hey.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but he didn’t try to cover it up. There was no point in hiding here. He took a step inside, feeling the warmth of your apartment surround him, smelling faint traces of your perfume mixed with the lingering scent of dinner.

You closed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a moment as you watched him kick off his shoes and shed his jacket. There was a quiet understanding between you, no questions asked, no need for explanations.

Quinn barely made it to the couch before his legs seemed to give out, and he sank down, letting out a long, defeated sigh as he fell back against the cushions. He rubbed his temples, trying to will away the exhaustion, but it clung to him like a second skin. You moved to the kitchen, grabbing the pizza box and setting it on the coffee table in front of him.

“Leftover pizza,” you offered with a smile, lifting the lid to reveal a few slices from earlier that night. “It’s cold, though. I can nuke it for you if you want.”

Quinn raised a hand, a small smile ghosting across his lips as he shook his head. “Nah, it’s better cold,” he replied, reaching forward to grab a slice.

You gave him a mock grimace. “Criminal. Criminal behaviour.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a small relief against the weight he carried. “You are the only person in the world who doesn’t like cold pizza,” he commented, taking a bite without another word, the simple act of eating grounding him a little, offering a comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

The sudden voice of P.K. Subban echoed through the apartment, ESPN returning from a commercial break. The panel began dissecting their recent loss with a precision that felt almost cruel. Not wanting Quinn to relive the events of the game, you grabbed the remote and quickly hit the mute button, casting a quick look at Quinn, who was staring at the screen. His face was unreadable, a tight mask that betrayed none of the frustration you knew had to be simmering beneath the surface.

“You watched the game?” Quinn asked.

You sat down beside him, folding your legs underneath you. “Of course I did. I watch every game,” you replied, giving him a small smile, hoping he could see that you meant it—that no matter the outcome, you’d be there, watching, supporting.

Quinn looked down at the pizza slice in his hands, the corners of his mouth tugging in what might have been a grateful smile. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a frown, as if the memory of the game was sneaking back in, clawing its way into his mind.

Seeing that he was still tense, still haunted by the weight of the night, you knew you had to shift his focus before it consumed him entirely.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “How about we watch something?”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You thought for a moment, before thinking of a show that you knew would hopefully take his mind off of hockey entirely. You switch the TV to Disney+, scrolling until you find 9-1-1.

Quinn let out a small, amused huff, shaking his head. “9-1-1? Seriously?” he asked. “I’ll never understand how you like these unrealistic shows. You know real emergency response isn’t like that, right?”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, I know, Captain Serious. But not everything has to be realistic to be entertaining. Just… relax, okay?”

Quinn sighed, finally letting his shoulders loosen a bit as he settled further into the couch. As the show unfolded with its usual chaos — an explosion followed by impossible rescues, and moments of high drama — you saw the tension in Quinn's shoulders slowly ease. Every now and then, he’d shake his head in disbelief or give a low chuckle at some particularly wild scenario, his reactions a mix of amusement and bemusement. You nudged him playfully during one of the more absurd scenes, catching the way the edges of his lips curled up despite himself.

As the episode continued, Quinn seemed to sink further into the couch, the weight of the night slowly lifting as the ridiculous plotlines distracted him. His arm drifted to the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he got more comfortable. You noticed how his head was starting to lean closer, almost unconsciously finding a spot near your shoulder, like he was drawn to that gentle connection.

Instinctively, you reached up, letting your fingers thread through his hair, running gently along his scalp. You felt Quinn still for a moment, almost as if he were surprised by the gesture before leaning into you, his eyes drifting closed as he melted into your touch. The tension from the evening faded with each soft stroke, each gentle sweep of your fingers through his hair.

As the episode played on in muted background chaos, you felt Quinn’s breathing even out, his head settling against your shoulder. He sighed, the sound soft and vulnerable in a way that made you ache for him. You knew he needed this — a moment to be just Quinn, not the captain, not the defender, not the one who had to carry the weight of every win and loss. Just Quinn, here with you, without expectations or demands.

You paused the show, shifting slightly to look at him, and Quinn opened his eyes. He looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and weariness, his blue eyes soft in the dim light of the room.

“You know,” you began quietly, “you played so well tonight. No matter the score, you were incredible.”

His shoulders tensed slightly, and he looked down, his lips pressed into a hard line. “Thanks, but…” He hesitated. “I don’t know. It just feels like… I’m losing it lately. Like every mistake is a reminder that maybe I’m just not good enough to lead us right now.”

You reached over for the remote, muting the TV, focusing fully on him. “Hey.” You tilted his face up toward yours, catching his tired eyes. “I’m a little sick of you being so hard on yourself. You’re so good, Quinn,” you whispered, your hand gently tracing along his jaw before you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his right cheek.

His eyes closed as if the touch eased him, just for a moment.

“And the guys…they respect you more than you know.” You moved to his left cheek, brushing a light kiss there. You could feel the faint stubble, smell the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne.

“And the fans? The fans think the world of you, Quinn,” you murmured. Before you knew it, you’d leaned in to press a quick, soft kiss to his lips, pulling back almost immediately, your eyes wide with a bit of shock at what you’d just done. A flush rose to your cheeks as you took in the shock on Quinn’s face, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. For a heartbeat, the room was silent, the air heavy with a newfound tension.

But then, without warning, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate, unguarded kiss. His hand slipped around to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. This kiss was different — fierce and sure, a release of all the feelings that had been building between you for so long. The room felt electric, everything else falling away as you lost yourself in him.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads resting together, Quinn’s gaze was soft, yet intense.

“I’ve… I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as if he were afraid to break the spell.

Your heart was pounding, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief swirling in your chest. For a moment, the heaviness of the night, the loss, the disappointment—all of it seemed to dissolve in the warmth between you. In the quiet of your apartment, where it was just the two of you, there were no expectations, no pressure.

Quinn pulled back just enough to study your face, his hand still gently holding the back of your neck. His gaze softened as he took you in like he was memorizing every detail. “Being with you like this…” he trailed off, his words faltering before he managed to smile. “It makes everything feel… less heavy.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t always have to be strong, Quinn. I want to be here to help carry the weight, too.”

A faint glimmer of relief crossed his face, and he nodded, as though accepting your words for the first time. He let out a deep, steadying breath, his thumb coming to your cheek, sweeping gently across the rouge that had formed. Slowly, he eased back onto the couch, pulling you down with him, your head resting against his chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. Together, you drifted into a peaceful quiet, the weight of the night finally slipping away.

The game, the expectations, and the pressure melted into the background. All that remained was this — an anchor, a place to land, the soft beat of his heart steady under your ear. And for the first time in a long while, Quinn felt lighter, not pulled down by the weight of his own expectations.

[stevenrogered]

LUPITA NYONG'O & JOSEPH QUINN 2024 Academy Awards

[mikacanica]

Girlfriends💕🃏🌱

[emo-batboy]

✨ Two tickets to see 💣 Barbenheimer 💖 please ✨

[betty-draper]

Happy Quinn Hughes ♡

[eddiesxangel]

Im gonna need u to elaborate on that post abt Eddie holding ur vibrator 'what kinda microphone is this'

You say elaborate… I say I’ll write a whole fic about it 😅😅

But You Don’t Even Like Karaoke? | virgin!eddiemunson x bestfriend!reader

WC 3.3K

CONTENTS WARNING: SMUT

You invited Eddie up for the weekend to your shabby student apartment. You've been away at Indiana State while Eddie was still stuck at Hawkins High complaining about how life in Hawkins has been so shit without you and needed to get away, coming to see you would be the perfect getaway.

Eddie and you had always been close, so when you told your roomies that he was coming to stay they were okay with it, as long as he slept in your room. They didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night to get something and have a random guy on the couch, which was reasonable because they hadn't met him before. They were excited to finally meet your best friend and you planned to go out to the bars tonight after a very long week of midterms.

Eddie arrived late afternoon, you introduced him to your roommates and he settled in.

"It's so sweet you have your own space, we can finally hang out without worrying about Wayne or your parents judging us" Eddie laughed while plopping on your double bed.

"Do you wanna shower before we head out?" You ask.

"Nah I did this morning, I'm okay." He tells you.

"Ok I'm going to pop in, You can entertain yourself until I'm back" You give him a wink and leave him to his devices.

Eddie scanned your new collage room, it reminded him of your old room at your parent's house. You had pictures of you and him framed along with other friends he didn't recognize. He was always a little nosey when it came to you, there weren't any boundaries in place when it came to privacy around Eddie. You had been friends since the 7th grade, growing up together in your awkward years really bonded the both of you.

You'd told Eddie earlier that you had gotten a new strain of pot from one of the guys you're friends with and that he could light up whenever. You'd left out the baggie and your grinder but Eddie left his bong at home and didn't see yours lying around so he searched for some rolling papers. Rifling through your bedside table is where he looked first. He shuffled through your hair ties, random articles, condoms...

Eddie had known you were no longer a virgin like he still was, he has had zero experience, not even a handjob. Needless to say, Eddie doesn’t get any…. Like ever. Poor thing tries his best but most of the girls he’s surrounded by are in high school and he wants nothing to do with them. He wants a grown woman. He really wants you if he is being honest but he never thinks that would happen in a million years.

He still was riffling deep in the drawer now, he felt something soft but firm, round and long. He picks it up to move it out of the way. He looks at what is your black vibrator. Why would she have a microphone? Eddie moved on quickly because he spots what he is looking for buried under all your crap.

Hours go by and you’re stumbling into your apartment laughing around 1:00am. You offered your room for Eddie to get ready for bed while you took the bathroom. Once you're finished you walk back into your room to see Eddie tucked into his side of the bed.

"I meant to ask you earlier but I forgot because we got too high" He laughed.

"Ask away" You crawled into your fresh sheets and snuggled into bed with Eddie.

"Why do you have a microphone?" He asked. You look at him quizzically because you have no idea what he's talking about.

"Are you sure that weed didn't alter your brain?" You laugh as your head hits the pillow.

"What do you mean? I saw it" He laughs.

"Dude I have no idea what you're talking about? Why would I have a microphone? I hate karaok- oof" Eddie cuts you off by leaning all his body weight over you to reach into your nightstand and pulls out your vibrator.

You start laughing uncontrollably, partly because you're a bit embarrassed, and partly from the alcohol.

"What?" Eddie questions inspecting it, once more. you grab it from his hands and turn it on. The object comes to life and a low buzz fills the room.

"Why is it buzzing?" Oh, your sweet innocent Eddie.

"Ummmm think of it more like a massager..." you turn it off and place it back on the nightstand you turn back to Eddie and can see the wheels in his head turning but no gas.

"Ugh, Eddie don't make me say it out loud" You bury your face in your hands and pillows not wanting to look at him when you say it.

"I don't get it, you're going to have to spell it out for me, Ms.University" he nudges your arm with his elbow.

"It's a vibrator Eddie, you know... like for sex"

The room was still dimly lit, enough for you to see Eddie's eyes go wide.

"It’s… it’s a sex toy?" he reaches over you once again to grab it off the nightstand.

“Eddie!” you shout then cover your mouth remembering the time of night.

“Give me that!” You try and grab it out of his hands. This whole situation was weird. You guys never spoke about sex, it just wasn’t that kind of friendship.

Yes, you liked Eddie, you’ve been crushing on him for years but you would never act on it, or at least you don’t think you would? Like a child, Eddie reached his arm up over so you couldn’t get it.

“No come on I’ve never seen one before” he pouts.

“Ok you’ve seen it now give it back!” You weren’t afraid to crawl over him to get it, you straddled his chest, enclosing him between your bare legs.

Your tiny sleep shorts were barely covering your cunt that was practically pressed into Eddie’s face.

“Ah ha!” You say victoriously grabbing it from Eddie’s grip.

Eddie can feel the blood rush from his face and into his cock. He shifts and clears his throat.

“Oh shit, sorry!” You hike your leg over him accident exposing your pussy even more to him.

Eddie’s eyes don’t break from your core. You’re blissfully unaware you just flashed your best friend.

“Sorry Ed’s didn’t realize” you joke.

“Uh yeah, it’s fine” You see Eddie shifting under the covers.

“So you always sleep without panties or is that just because I’m in your bed.” Eddie asks.

“Eddddddddddie oh my god” you burry your head in the pillows debating on sleeping on the couch at this point.

“I love when you moan for me baby” Eddie laughs, you try and hurry yourself further into the bed but Eddie grabs your waist and pulls you into him.

“You know babe, out of the two of us I should be the one mortified. I’m the twenty-year-old virgin not knowing what a sex toy looks like.” He grips into you tighter and you bury your face into his neck.

The alcohol is slowly leaving your system but you still blame it for what happens next.

“You don’t have to be” You timidly kiss into the hollow of where his neck and collarbone meet.

“What are you-oh that feels good” Eddie sighs into your touch, his chest raging and falling at a quicker pace.

“Will you let me take care of you Eddie?” You graze your hand lower down his bare chest, across his stomach down the the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” he nods frantically.

You shuffle back over him so you’re once again straddling him. You look down at your best friend, taking in his features, he is so pretty. You lean in timidly to kiss his lips for the first time. His plush lips felt so soft when they connected to yours.

It quickly heats up, you ground your hips into Eddie, you could feel his hard length pressing into your slit and you wiggled your hips on him. You hear a wine come from Eddie’s throat as you disconnect and start to kiss down from his neck to his happy trail.

“I’ve been dying to know what’s under here for years” You graze your hand lightly tracing Eddie’s tented boxers.

Eddie’s hips shoot up at the connection. “Eager aren’t we?” you giggle slowly revealing his length.

“Well you would be too if you’ve waited this long for you.” He sighed.

He was waiting for you.

You’re stomach flops, at his words and your eyes bulge out of your skull at the size of him.

“You’ve been hiding that you have a horse penis from me this whole time?!” You don’t really give Eddie time to answer because you latch your mouth into his tip, not sure how much more you’ll be able to fit into your mouth.

Eddie is in heaven, he isn’t sure what karma he is getting but he knows he must have done something right to have your head between his legs at this very moment.

It’s a feeling that he’s never felt before, the warmth of your mouth, the wetness of your lips mixed with the softness of your tongue was all-encompassing. You felt his hand rest on the back of your head, you looked up at him through your lashes, his face blissed out. Your core was dripping already at the feeling of Eddie in your mouth.

The way you were making him feel good was only making you wetter. You reached up to cup his hand on your head, coxing him to push you down.

“Oh fuck baby, please” he whimpered.

You took in more of him opening your throat for him. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft while using the other hand to move in tandem. You had Eddie whimpering “Oh my god just like that! Fuck you’re taking me so well”

For someone with no experience he sure wasn’t shy about praising you. It only made you want to pleasure him more. You were the first one to ever touch him like this. You were the first one to ever make him feel this euphoric.

“Fuck I’m not going to last long fuckfuckfuck” You were enjoying yourself too much that you didn’t care about what Eddie was telling you, you wanted him to cum, he deserved to cum.

“Wait wait I wanna…shit, I want you to be my first” he gently pushed you off him.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yea… I mean.. if you wanna?” he pants.

“I do Ed’s” but I gotta get myself ready, will you help me? Eddie nods enthusiastically as you lay beside him and he climbs on top of you.

You walked him through what to do, he was a quick learner. He kissed you down your neck like you did to him earlier. He touched you over your shirt at first, a bit shy. You told him he could touch you, and begged him to touch you as you lifted the big sleep shirt over your head. Eddie’s hands immediately latched on to your breasts kneeling them like stress balls.

“Softer please, you’re pinching me” You place your hands on the backs of his to guide him. You tell him that you like it when your nipples are touched.

He bowed his head lower, and tenderly he kissed the swell of your breast

“Is this ok?” He asks.

“Yes Eddie, more of that” he brought his warm mouth around your perked nipple.

“Oh yes,” you arched your back making your breast squish into Eddie’s nose.

Your head spun as he hummed into you, the vibration jolting to your core.

“I uh, don’t know what to do with my hands.” He admitted.

You took his right hand in yours and guided it past your waistband and overtop of your mound.

“Feel me Eddie I’ll tell you what feels good” Eddie’s thick fingers explored your pussy lips, slipping his fingers through your folds he grazes your clit and you jerk at the touch.

One thing about Eddie is that he is very receptive. He does it again to test the waters “oh fuck” you moan.

“You like that baby” his confidence was showing.

“Yes Eddie, fuck keep going”

“So this is what that little toy is for? This spot right here?” You nodded your head not able to speak.

Why was he so good at this?

“Can I try?” He sheepishly asks you.

“Yes, Eddie please” he reaches over to get the vibrator you had left resting on the bed.

“Hold down on the button to turn it on”

“Which one there are three? Why are there three?” He turns it finding the buttons.

“The bottom one, the others are to change the pattern and the speed” You point to the power button.

“Oh,” Eddie smirks.

“Ok playboy let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we will start on level one” The low buzzing filled the room once again.

“I should take off my shorts…” you awkwardly suggested.

You hook your fingers into the waistband and wiggle your hips up and out.

“Ok so, just put it where you put your fingers before” you guide him by the wrist.

The vibrator makes contact with your swollen clit. “Oh god yes!” You arch your back in pleasure.

The feeling of the buzzing on your clit shot waves of euphoria through you. Eddie couldn’t wipe the Cheshire Cat smile off of his face. Having you at his mercy could have him busting a nut here and now.

Eddie kissed you while holding down the vibrator like his life depended on it. You were starting to get squirmy, your hips gyrated into him

“More Eddie, you moaned into his mouth.

“What do you want?” He asks

“Your fingers, please” you wine.

He stops kissing you, you can see the nervous look in his eyes.

“It’s okay Eddie you won’t hurt me.” You brush a piece of hair behind his ear.

A shaky hand grazed your slick folds and pushed up slowly and back out again, he repeated that until you showed him what to do next.

“That’s it Eds” you sighed into his mouth.

“Now go like this” You wiggled your index and middle finger in a come hither motion.

The coil in your lower stomach was getting tighter with each pump of his fingers you were being wound up until it snapped, Eddie feels your walls clench down in him and the thought of you doing that with his cock inside you only got him even more excited.

“Oh fuck yes Eddie!” You cried out with pleasure. Your heavy breaths and the low buzz of the vibrations filled the room.

“Woah” Edd breaks the silence,

“It’s-too much Eds” You push his hand away that was still holding the toy to your sensitive clit.

“oh shit sorry” he throws it to the side of the bed and captures your lips into another kiss.

You break the kiss to reach over to the nightstand and grab your condoms.

“Holly shit this is really happening,” Eddie says under his breath but you hear him.

“If you still want to yeah” You sit up on your knees and tell Eddie to get on his back.

“I’ll be on top to start you off ok, Then if you want to switch let me know.”

He nods his head like a kid who was asked if they wanted their favourite ice cream. You push Eddie’s shoulder back so he is propped up just a little on the pillows you straddle him again getting yourself situated.

“You wanna put it on or do you want me to?” You raise your brows at him.

“I’ll uh-I’ll do it” he clears his throat. You pass him the blue foiled pack and he expertly slips it over himself.

“You practice this before?” You giggle, he tells you to shut up and you raise up to your knees you grip his solid length in your hand.

You slowly sink down onto him, and Eddie lets out a guttural moan. You cup a hand over his mouth, you don’t want to wake up your roomies.

“Shhhhhhh” you sink down slowly, the way he is stretching you out makes you feel so full. You finally make it all the way to the hilt.

“You okay” you ask Eddie. That was a silly question, of course, he is okay. You start by grinding your hips releasing your hand from his mouth.

“Yea, more than ok baby.” You started to bounce on his cock, the way he was stretching you felt otherworldly.

“Fuck that’s it, so good f’me” he grits out.

He really had confidence for someone’s first time, but that was because he was with you.

“Fuck Eddie you’re so big” You let your head fall back.

The sight in front of Eddie only brought him closer to the brink. Your tight, hot cunt swallowing him, your tits bouncing in his face, he was so close.

Eddie remembered what you said about your nipples being sensitive, he leans forward and latches on. Your eyes roll back in your head at the sensation. The room is filled with the sound of pants and skin slapping skin.

“Yes! Eddie yes yes yes” You grab the back of his head and tug on his hair.

He lets out a moan, so you do it again. Eddie loves it when you tug on his locks.

“Fuck baby I’m not gonna last much longer.” He tilts his head up to kiss you, he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You are all-encompassed by Eddie, no one else on earth matters but him in this moment.

You let out a small yelp when Eddie unexpectedly flips you on your back. He was feral, he never had felt this before in his life he had to hold on a bit longer, needing to savour this feeling forever.

The new position forced his cock to hit your walls at a better angle. He bends your legs so they are by your ears. The look in his eyes has you swimming, he is consumed by you, and he watches his cock disappear in and out of your walls.

“Fuck Eddie I’m close, touch me please” Eddie didn’t think twice about grabbing the vibrator.

The memory of your velvety walls clench his fingers and drove him to make sure you were the first to cum. He needed you to cum on his cock like he needs air in his lungs.

Eddie hammered into you at a pace much faster than you were capable of while riding him. The tingling of the vibrations shook through your core, in less than a minute you were cumming on his cock.

You open your mouth to scream with pleasure but nothing comes out, your body shakes with pleasure as your second orgasm consumes you.

The second you clenched down on Eddie he was cumming with you. An animalistic groan leaves Eddie’s throat as his hot ropes of cum spill into the condom.

Eddie collapses onto you with a breathy laugh.

“Oh my god why did I wait so long to do this” he giggled into the crook of your neck.

“Because you never made a move!” You joke back. Eddie pecks your face with a million and one kisses.

“Fuck, sweetheart can we do that again?” He rests his head on your chest, looking at you with those baby cow eyes.

He grabs your hand and brings it to his chin.

“Sure Eds we can do that as many times as you want” Eddie didn’t give you a chance to to recover before he pounced on you for round two….

Master list

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭

Pairing Rockstar!Eddie x Reader | friends -> lovers

Summary Eddie comes back to Hawkins during a break on his national tour, and realizes he lost touch with someone he cares about deeply: you [angst and fluff]

Word Count: 2.7k

Above, a blue sky melts into orange, bearing a falling sun that makes Lover’s Lake shimmer. Tree branches rustle in the breeze. Until Eddie showed up at your door, whispers of his return to Hawkins had been just that. If you were still in the habit of calling each other regularly, you reckon you would’ve been the first to know. There’s no skepticism now, as the two of you sit on the tailgate of a cherry-red F-150. It’d been a gift from him to Wayne that he had on loan for the outing. This is a spot where campervans usually staked out for the view, but the universe must’ve known the evening belonged to you two. 

There were so many things you told yourself you were going to say when he got back from the road, but the words were hard to find. Elation and confliction had decided that your heart would be the grounds for their tug-of-war. Time had a habit of doing that, muddling feelings. Blurring old lines.  

“Does it feel weird?” you ask. They’re the first words you’ve spoken in a while. It takes Eddie a second to realize you’re talking to him. 

He straightens up in apology. “Does what feel weird?” The hole in his jeans gives sight to the bruise on his knee. You study it, imagining the many ways it could’ve formed. Knee-sliding on stage, most likely. 

“Being back in Hawkins,” you say, meeting his gaze. 

The immediate answer that poses itself on the tip of his tongue is no. Then it occurs to him that what you’re really asking is if it feels weird to be back with you. To that, there is no concrete answer. No such thing as black and white. There’s only technicolor when it comes to you, so vivid and complex that he wished it was as simple as a binary. 

“I don’t know if I’d use the word weird.” 

“Different?” you supply. 

He lifts a shoulder. “That’s a little more like it,” he says. “Coming home always is.” 

You hum, twisting the gold bracelet around your wrist. There’s a silver one around his own and his fingers are adorned with bulky steel rings. More tattoos have found a home beneath his skin as well. The longer you study everything new about him, the more a look that hauntingly resembles grief blooms on your face. As if something that once belonged to the two of you had been lost to the passing of time. When the same sense begins to swell within his own chest, he tries to snub it out the best way he knows how, beckoning whatever levity may be waiting in the wings.  

“But a lot of things stayed the same. Like Mike,” he starts. “I thought he would’ve called it quits by the time I got back, but he’s still kicking around at the auto shop. I was more surprised to see him than he was to see me.” 

After teaching Eddie the little his father failed to teach him about cars, Mike Summerdale gave him his first steady job the summer before his senior year. Working at Starcourt hadn’t held up, neither did Family Video or any other ‘boring’ employment. Mike’s Tire & Auto Shop was the only gig he sustained before the world had bigger plans. Eddie was the type who needed to move around, work with his hands, be challenged. Mike was one of the only people who’d been keen enough to discern that. 

Working at the shop not only gave him a sense of stability, but it also gave him you. The evening you came by for a last minute oil change on your parent’s Peugeot 504—ten minutes before closing—was the day he learned you were even funnier and more down to earth than what he’d gathered from within the stuffy halls of Hawkins High. 

A smile starts on your own lips. “He was probably ready to put his best man back to work,” you say. “Your hands are all pretty now.” 

Scoffing, Eddie turns his palms up as if he’s prepared to prove you wrong. There’s calluses on his fingertips from playing guitar, but not much else. His hands are nowhere near as rugged as they were when he was a mechanic. Back when you’d finally had enough of his indifference, you remember getting him a special cream and even rubbing it into his hands yourself when he puppy-dog-eyed his way into it. Some nights, long after you were supposed to have been back at your parents place, you’d be sitting in his living room with the TV glow illuminating your faces as the scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air between you. 

Eddie follows your hand as you reach over to run your fingers over his palm. “If I gave you a socket wrench right now, you probably wouldn’t even know how to use it.” You’re shamelessly teasing him now. It feels good. 

A genuine smile pulls on his lips, eyes brighter as he looks over at you. Even in his amusement, his next words are thoughtful. “Some things you don’t forget.” 

Sobering words, more like. Memories begin to roll in one by one until they avalanche and you can’t help but relieve yourself of the pressure by shoveling it over to him. 

“Do you remember the night we met?” you ask. “After that we were together all the time.” 

Back when time was all you had. Twenty-four hours wasn’t the same anymore. There were more responsibilities to fill it with, different relationships to entertain. For a while, the only thought ticking in your minds was when you’d get to see each other again. When the phone calls stopped, the care never went away. Neither did the curiosity, the stress of not knowing how the other was doing or where they were in the world. Those concerns continued to ring on and on, reverberating down the hallways of want that built themselves within your hearts. 

The rouge tear that streams down your cheek is the pioneer of more to come. Eddie swallows the lump in his throat when he sees it, hand twitching once in his lap. The next time, he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears with his thumb. It’s a gesture meant to distract him from the fact that he’s the reason behind them. There’s no escaping the tidal wave of guilt that rushes in to drag him out to sea. You sniffle and shake your head to let him know that it’s okay, but his head is already under water. 

“I do remember,” it comes out quiet, thick. “The night we met—everything.” 

“Then what happened? What did I do wrong?” The wind is knocked out of him at that. “I know things changed so fast, but did everything before you left just get resigned to a spot on a timeline? Something for you to talk about to Rolling Stone?”  

Eddie tries to swallow around his guilt, but ends up choking on offense. 

“I never asked for any of this,” he asserts, hopping off the truck bed. “I may’ve begged God when I was a kid, but that’s ‘cause I didn’t know any better,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s been like. You don’t get to suggest that I stopped giving a shit.”

“Then what did you do, Eddie? Because that’s what it feels like.” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but there’s no way to reel it back in.

You can see the moment his stomach drops. It’s in the way his body grows tense, the faint color that rises to his cheeks, the light that wavers in his eyes. “You’ve been right here in Hawkins with all your friends and family three steps away. I’m the one who’s been in a new city every other night, cameras flashing wherever I go.” His voice remains level, but he talks with his hands like he always does. 

“I’ve been on autopilot for the past three months to make it back here with a semblance of sanity. So I’m sorry if I stopped picking up the phone to call. I was too busy trying to breathe with a goddamn elephant on my chest.” He paces away from you to run his hands through his hair. When he faces you again, he looks small. “This is all new to me. If you could just extend some grace.” 

Every word hangs heavy in the space between you. Which feels like miles. Eddie doesn’t huff or move or make any rash decision he’ll regret. He averts his gaze to refocus his attention on the lake. Its stillness feels like a mockery. There’s a dull thud as your feet meet the ground, followed by footsteps as you head into the woods. Despite every inch of you that wants to, you don’t look back. The feeling of his gaze is enough. 

He follows a few minutes after you’ve disappeared. The whole way, he wonders if his words were too harsh, if he’d gone about expressing himself the right way. The earthy crunch of his footsteps are soft as comes up behind you. You’re standing at The tree. The one everyone in Hawkins manages to come across in a lifetime, even if they decide not to leave their mark. The stories you heard about it growing up made it out to be a relic. 

Wound-Bearer was the name it had been given by a man from the class of ‘66, meant to immortalize the proof of love, romantic and platonic. Or at least bear a sign that it once existed. Looking at it now, more initials had been added since you and Eddie contributed to it your senior year. The carving stood out more than the rest, not because it was particularly noticeable or impressive, but because it was yours. Eddie stops a few paces away and spots it in seconds as he looks over your shoulder. 

Both of you hold your breath until you give in. 

“I didn’t mean to sound selfish. I’ve just been scared, Eddie.” You’re ashamed as you turn around to face him. “Scared that you didn’t want to talk anymore. That our friendship was fading away,” you say, scoffing a second later. “Now I sound like we’re in a movie.” 

A tenderness settles in his eyes that you don’t believe you deserve. “Our lives are a fucking movie,” he says, breathing out a chuckle. 

Things began to take off after he got scouted by the agent who’d flown out from California to visit family. You remember the dreams that had filled your head, each one of them somehow including you—you tagging along on the road, sitting front row at his shows, being right off camera during interviews. Reality proved itself to be nowhere near as sweet as your imagination. Later, when he signed to a label and was set for a national tour, the sacrifices of the limelight revealed themselves as pressing and real. 

Joining him in that new stage of his life meant leaving everything you’d ever known, bypassing university, being subject to thousands of eyes that just wanted to gawk. That’s why the day he left Hawkins was the day he left you behind. Even in his own mind, you not being his personal assistant was for the better. Him losing a sense of stability to chase his dreams didn’t mean you should be strapped to his side and subject to the same. 

At least you had a shot at creating a nice life for yourself. You were smart, talented, and someone worth building a life with. Music was all he had going. Leaving Hawkins was his only shot and it meant walking through the fire. 

A surprised sound escapes him when you crowd into his space to wrap your arms around him like he’s a soldier home from war. It’s the same type of hug Wayne had given him earlier that afternoon. It felt like love, like safety, like home. He melts into you, and the two of you stand like this until you remember that embraces aren’t meant to last forever. 

•••

Tonight, Eddie Munson takes it slow for the first time in his life. The speed limit signs on the side of the road dare him to go their limit. There’s hardly anybody on the roads to give him trouble for it either. It’s nice, the long way home always is. The radio plays low as the warm night air flows in through the widows. Eddie drives with his right hand, left arm hanging outside the truck. 

“Fuck, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grouses as he brakes for a stop sign. There’s enough earnestness in his voice to make you startle as you track his gaze. 

On the opposite side of the street, the old location for Scoot’s Scoops sits idle with boarded windows and a dimmed sign. 

You heave a sigh. “They just relocated,” you assure, rubbing your chest to calm down. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Eddie’s eyes are apologetic as he looks over at you. “I damn near had one myself. Sorry.” He reaches over to squeeze your thigh before his brain catches up to his body. It’s a fleeting touch that warms your entire being and stuns you into a brief stillness as if he was electric. 

He shifts in his seat and clears throat. “Maybe we can go to the new location tomorrow. Get some ice cream.” 

You blink a few times, mind still fuzzy. “Yeah, that’d be fun.” 

The remainder of the ride is quiet. When he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you’re swift to gather your things into your lap, still buzzing. “Thanks for the ride back,” you say, biting on your lower lip as a loud silence stretches. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He wants to walk you to your door, but he fears he’s already overstepped. “Yup. G’night.” 

Eddie curses under his breath as the door snaps shut behind you. After running a hand down his face, a tube lipstick catches his attention in the passenger seat. It takes him a few seconds to grab it and follow after you. By then, you’ve already made it inside and up the short flight of stairs. When the door of the complex closes behind him, it cuts off a cacophony chirping insects. 

Upon making it to the second floor, there’s something intimate about seeing you standing under the dim, humming lights fiddling with your keys. It isn’t until you get the door open that you regard him. 

His smile is sheepish, unlike him in every way. “You forgot this.” He reads the label as if he hadn’t committed it to memory during his short trip up the stairs, “Strawberry Crush, New Hydrating Formula.” A boyish smile buds on his face as he holds it out to you. 

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much.” Contrary to your words, there’s no inflection of surprise in your tone as you take it from him. Forgetting hadn’t been a mistake. His eyes flit inside to get a glimpse of your apartment. “Maybe I can give you a proper tour tomorrow after ice cream,” you offer. 

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sure, I’m down.”

He waits until you’re inside to walk back to his truck. You rush to peep out your living room window to watch him climb into the truck. He doesn’t pull away like you expect him to. Instead, he stays parked. Headlights shining, attracting moths and other flying things. The urge to see him one last time overpowers your better judgment in a fight that lasts all of five seconds. 

In record time, you’re back outside. He rolls down his window as you approach. 

“Forget something else?” 

“I did, actually.”

You rest your forearms on the window sill and he instinctively leans towards you, warm eyes searching your face trying to get a read. In another life, he sees your next move coming. In this one, it seems too good to be true: a kiss as soft as they come to the sounds of the night.

-

Any and all interaction appreciated. I see you <3

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Eddie Munson x Reader • Eddie is stressed out and hasn’t been able to make himself come while jerking off. Luckily, his best friend (you!) is there to help ♥️

If your friendship with Eddie hadn’t been so…comfortable…then maybe the question you asked him would have come across as strange. But the two of you had known each other forever, and felt safe discussing anything and everything. So when Eddie confided in you that he was feeling completely burned out and stressed from drama with one of his band mates, you naturally wanted to help.

“It’s just-.” Eddie stretched his arms over his head, lying back on the sofa beside you. “-It’s really got me down, (y/n). I hate conflict, you know? And especially with someone who’s a part of the band.”

You nodded understandingly as Eddie continued. “I don’t think I’ve been this stressed-ever. I can’t even jerk off anymore, which is just absolutely unfair.” Eddie laughed, but you could tell he was trying to play off something that was genuinely troubling him.

“So, you can’t come?” you asked, and Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I get hard and everything, but when I get close, it just-.” He blew a little raspberry. “Gone.”

“Well maybe I can help?” you offered. Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “You mean like…help?” He waved a hand below his waist. “With this?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied. “If you’d be okay with it. And, if you’re not, that’s cool-.” You shook your head. “I realize this is something we’ve never done before, so if the idea is gross, just forget I ever-.”

“-No,” Eddie interrupted, his voice softer. “It’s not gross. Not at all. Actually…” Eddie shrugged, his lips turning upward. “It sounds kind of nice...”

A silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eddie scooted just a little closer, till his knee was touching yours. “So, how would we do this?” he asked. You could tell he was nervous, and you were, too. But the nervousness held a kind of sweetness, an innocence that only friends as close as you and Eddie could share. Maybe this situation would have been dirty, or taboo in any context other than the bond you and Eddie shared. But as it was, all things considered, the idea of helping your best friend get off didn’t seem weird at all…

“I guess we could start with a kiss?” you suggested, before breaking into a giggle. Eddie did as well, because the whole situation was a little surreal. “Um, okay,” he grinned, leaning in and placing his hand on your cheek. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, of giggly hesitation and noses bumping…but then, when Eddie’s lips pressed soft and warm to yours, the giggles and hesitation ended immediately.

Clumsy movements were replaced with delicate gestures, tongues gently exploring a world that felt both familiar, and brand new. Eddie’s fingers curled inside your hair, a nod of dominance that was so subtle, you would have missed it if it hadn’t stirred a heat between your legs. Eddie shifted his weight on the couch, his knee against yours nudging your legs apart slightly. His thumb massaged soft circles along your cheek, fingers coiled in your hair, his tongue gently wrestling with yours.

You took Eddie by the wrist and guided his hand lower, till he was palming your breast. He groped your soft skin with an intensity that had your nipple poking through the fabric of your shirt to meet Eddie’s palm. He groaned into your kiss as he felt your nipple hardening under his touch. The heat between your legs had shifted to an ache, a bittersweet pain that you tried to soothe by clenching your thighs together. The pressure wasn’t enough; you knew you’d need to come in order for the ache to go away.

As if proving just how in sync the two of you were, Eddie asked “can I touch you?” And you nodded your consent as Eddie’s fingers left your tit in exchange for the warm space between your thighs. He cupped his fingers together and slid them beneath your pussy, cradling your sex in his palm. He was massaging you through your clothes, but it felt so good you’d swear Eddie was touching your skin. His kiss moved to your neck, softly sucking between his lips as his mouth traveled over your shoulder.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you breathed, your voice like a prayer. He grinned against your shoulder, his mouth open and teeth lightly pressed to your skin. Eddie’s tongue swept a long and languid stroke up your neck and around the curve of your chin, his hand continuing to work between your thighs. You bucked your hips upward, humping against the heel of Eddie’s palm. The friction through your jeans added to the intensity. “That’s right, (y/n),” Eddie purred against your cheek. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

And Eddie was right. The aching tension between your legs reached its peak, your climax shattering through you in waves. Eddie never stopped massaging your cunt throughout your orgasm, letting you rut into the base of his palm. You came down softly from your high, your skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. Eddie was smiling at you warmly as he removed his hand from between your legs. “Feel better?” he asked, but you didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pushed Eddie back against the couch, making him chuckle in surprise. As before, his laughter died quickly the instant your hand closed over the outline of his erection bulging in his jeans.

Eddie drew in a sharp breath as you groped his cock through his pants. It had been awhile since anyone had touched him; Eddie needed this. His toes were curling in his socks as you massaged him, pretty little grunts spilling from his lips. You curved your palm around the outline of Eddie’s cock, rubbing from his base to his tip with a firm, steady pressure. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the couch as you worked him.

Eddie lifted his hips so he could rub upward into the curve of your hand. You knew Eddie was close when his eyebrows pulled together, and the sounds he was making rapidly changed from grunts to a string of curses. Eddie’s cock pulsed against your palm, a wet patch blooming in the crotch of his jeans. You watched Eddie’s cum darken the fabric, his hands balled into fists by his sides, the veins in his neck strained.

When his cock stopped twitching and his body relaxed, Eddie was panting and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Feel better?” you asked playfully, echoing his words from before. Eddie tugged you in for a kiss, grinning against your lips. “Shut up,” he chuckled, before pulling you back onto the couch for cuddles…

[somethingvicked]

Keep me warm

Eddie Munson one-shot.

warnings: female reader, smut, no use of Y/N, pet names; sweetheart, baby, etc.

You and Eddie had spent the day at Lover’s Lake. Eddie refused to go to the lake on the sunny days because practically all of Hawkins were there and he didn’t want them all to scream and stare at him.

So today, when it had been cloudy, you had all but put your foot down and forced him to come with you.

”Come on, Eddie! One day in the whole summer we just got to be at the lake, take a dip and have fun!” you had whined and he had given in.

He always gave in when it came to you, couldn’t deny you anything.

Except himself.

It was your biggest secret, how in love you were with Eddie Munson. Always had been.

Ever since the day you and he got paired up in English class for a project and you offered to help him out, so he would pass the class at the end of term.

That was three years ago and Eddie was none the wiser about your feelings for him. You were his friend and he loved you, you knew that. But he wasn’t in love with you.

You two had happily tossed your clothes to the ground (wearing swimclothes underneath) and dove into the lake, playing around, swim racing and dunking each other for a good while, without noticing that the sky had gotten darker.

When there was a loud rumble above you, Eddie pushed his wet hair out of his face and looked up, his eyes widening. ”Shit! We need to get out of here,” he told you, pulling your arm as the both of you all but fought against the water’s density as you ran up to the beach.

And that’s when the sky all but opened itself. You were still in the water below the waist but with the force of the rain you didn’t really notice the difference, you were both drenched within seconds, and you could see how your towels and clothes were too, at the beach.

”Just grab them, we’ll drive back to my place and change, you can borrow something from me,” Eddie said.

You weren’t sure how you felt about going commando underneath Eddie’s clothing since your underwear would be wet but nodded nevertheless, as the both of you grabbed the two piles, running through the pouring rain toward his van that stood at the edge of the forest path leading to the lake.

You were both soaked, as if you had never gotten out of the water, when you reached the van. Water wasn’t dripping from you, it was running down your bodies in small rivlets, droplets big as pennies flying off your hair when you moved.

Finally Eddie unlocked the driver’s side door and leaned over to unlock the passenger one so you could climb in. You shivered, dropping your clothes on the floor by the seat and went to buckle yourself up.

Eddie turned the the key to the engine.

Nothing.

”What?” Eddie muttered and tried again, but the van didn’t start. He tried two more times before admitting defeat.

”The battery must be dead,” he concluded. ”But why?”

”Did you turn the lights off before we went to the lake?” you wondered and his eyes widened.

”Shit! I... no, I don’t think I did.”

You sighed. That was typically Eddie, and normally you would find it endearing, but now you were stuck in the forest, soaked in cold rainwater and with no clothes to change into.

You shivered and Eddie looked at you, clearly feeling bad. ”I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to rub your arm. It didn’t help much against the cold.

”It’s okay,” you said, ”these things just happens sometimes, it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

It was quiet for a moment as you listened to the thunder and the constant sound of the rain splashing onto the roof of the van.

 You had pulled your knees to your chest, trying to stay warm, but your wet bikini didn’t help. Eddie didn’t seem to fair much better. You could see the hairs on his arms standing up, his pale skin looking more blue than white. Suddenly Eddie snapped his fingers. ”I have an idea. But... it... I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he said, a blush covering his face.

You raised an eyebrow. ”What kind of idea?” you asked him curiously.

”Well... we’re both freezing, right? And we don’t know how long this rain storm will go on. I... I have a mattress back there, and a blanket. It’s mostly for when I... when I conduct business out of town, because no way I can afford a motel,” Eddie admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. ”Why don’t we climb back there and try to get warm.”

That was a good plan in theory. But your bathing suits, heavy with water, would still chill you down and you told him so.

His blushed deepened. ”That’s what I meant about you taking it the wrong way. That we... we take them off. Body heat.”

Your mouth fell open and you just looked at him, your brain going blank.

Eddie wanted... he wanted to...

”I mean, I will of course look away, and we’ll be under the blanket the whole time, I just don’t want you getting sick,” Eddie rambled, looking  like he was about to panic. That made you laugh.

”No, it’s... it’s okay, Ed. Let’s try.”

You climbed to the back and Eddie got the blanket out. You slide beneath it and then pulled your bikini bottoms off and then the bikini top, tossing them to a corner of the van.

You closed your eyes as you heard Eddie shuffle with his own swim shorts. Then you almost jerked when you felt something crawl in beside you.

”I think it’s best if you turn on your side,” Eddie whispered and you nodded, turning so your back was to him, and he wrapped his arm around your middle, taking care not to land even an inch above or below. He had also shuffled his hips backwards so his pelvis wasn’t even touching you and deep inside you thought that this was probably not the correct way to create body heat. You two were only lucky it was in the summer and it was just the rain that had chilled you down, not snow or ice.

It did work though. Soon enough you started to feel warm enough that you could ease out from your fetal position and relax. Eddie seemed to do so too, he wasn’t as tense anymore.

The arm you were lying on had gone numb though, so you shifted a little to get the blood flowing and heard a sharp inhale from Eddie.

”Don’t... don’t do that,” he said, sounding as if he was in pain.

”Do what?” you wondered, turning your head to look at him. ”I was just...” as you shifted again, you felt it.

Your bare ass came into contact with Eddie’s crotch and... he was hard. Rock hard.

Your eyes widened. ”Eds?” you whispered.

Eddie swallowed and closed his eyes. ”I’m sorry!” he whimpered, ”I’m so sorry. It... it’s just...!”

You couldn’t help it, you started to giggle.

”This is not funny,” Eddie exclaimed, his voice mopey like a child.

You felt it again, and the size of his cock made you gasp, warmth pooling inside your pussy.

You would probably hate yourself for this later, but you couldn’t resist anymore. You turned around, sliding as close to Eddie as you could, raising a leg so that it rested over his hip.

Eddie gasped, looking at you in shock, his dark eyes even darker from arousal.

”Can... can I...?” he started but you didn’t wait for him to finish, you took the hand that now rested on your hip and brought it down to your sex, making him close his eyes in bliss as he gently parted your folds, stroking you.

You pulled the blanket up a little so you could get a good look at his cock. It was beautiful. Big, uncut – apparently his parents had never bothered with getting him circumcised – and slightly curved.You wanted that inside you.

Eddie opened his eyes and met your gaze. This time he didn’t ask, he pulled you into him and kissed you.

You whimpered as he rolled you beneath him, bringing both of your legs around his hips. His cock was rubbing against your wetness, and it made you ache with want.

”Need you, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into your ear, sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, teeth scraping against the skin. ”Wanted you... so long...”

He had wanted you?

You didn’t get an opportunity to think about that because Eddie’s free hand took a hold of your chin, making you look at him.

”Do you want me, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

”If you don’t, tell me now.”

You shook your head. ”I want you, Eddie! Please!”

”You got it,” he whispered and then started to kiss his way down your body, tossing the blanket that had covered the both of you earlier, impatiently to the side.

”Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, licking the curve of your breast, up to your pebbled nipple. That made you whine, arching your chest against him.

He switched to your other breast, rubbing his own saliva over the nipple he had just left. You moaned and whimpered, arching against him. What he did felt wonderful but your pussy was absolutely dripping, aching for something, any kind of friction.

”Please, Eds...”

”Please what?” he wondered, blowing cold air over the other nipple, now wet from his mouth.

”I need... need you to touch me!”

”Baby, I am touching you,” he teased you and you just wanted to bite him. But instead you took one of his hands and moved it to your sex, using his fingers to rub your own clit.

”There,” you moaned, ”I need you to touch me there...!”

Eddie’s eyes grew big as he watched you holding his fingers and put them against your clit, rubbing circles, bucking against them.

”Holy fuck,” he whispered, before batting your hand aside and moving down between your thighs.

”You don’t have to make me do it, baby. I’ll touch that sweet pussy whenever you want me to!”

For moment you were surprised by his teasing and dominance – it was so unusal from how Eddie usually was. Only a moment ago he had been so embarrassed about you feeling his hard on!

And now... now, he spread your legs and inspected your glistening pussy, as if it was nothing!

Then you felt his wet, fat tongue, licking a stripe up from your ass to your clit, making you cry out and dig your nails into the mattress your were lying on.

”Jesus H. Christ, you taste so good,” Eddie groaned, licking you again, flicking his tongue against your clit, putting his lips over it, sucking, humming.

”Eddie... Eds... that... that...!”

”Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels having my eat this delicious pussy!”

”Feels so good...!” you sobbed as he started to push a finger in and out, crooking it, making your eyes roll back into your head as he hit that sweet spot inside you.

”You like that? Or do you want more?”

”I... I want to... taste you too,” you stuttered out, your hand jerking out and grabbing on to his cock. Eddie made a choking sound deep in his throat, but he grabbed your hand, kind of how you had with his, and shook his head.

”Another time, sweetheart. If you put that sweet mouth on me, I won’t last two second. I want to fuck you first. Need to be inside you! You want that?”

You nodded furiously and Eddie leaned in closer to you, almost looking desperate. ”Say I can fuck you, baby. Say you want me!”

”I want you, Eddie,” you whispered. ”I want you to fuck me!”

”Yes,” Eddie hissed, removing his finger from you, sliding his cock against your folds, your wetness covering him as he finally slipped inside you, both of you letting out a loud moan when he bottomed out inside you.

You felt like he was in your throat, but it felt so good, so right... your cunt was screaming for him to move, to hit all the spots inside...

”Move, Eddie! Please, you promised to fuck me!”

Eddie growled – he actually growled at that – and pushed your legs up, so that your knees were practically by your ears, starting to thrust into you with vigor.

”Feels so fucking good... so tight... made to take my cock... ”

Apparently Eddie was just as talkative in bed as he was otherwise, it seemed he wasn’t even aware of what he was saying.

He held on to your legs, using them as leverage to pound into you. By now the van was shaking by the force of Eddie’s thrusts and your bucking to meet him, the windows had misted over and both of your bodies were shining with sweat.

Eddie released one of your legs and slid a hand down to play with your clit, making you scream.

”Eddie... I’m... I’m...”

”Cum for me, baby! I want to feel you cum!”

You sobbed through your orgasm, your arms tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin as he kept pushing into you, just making it go on and on...

”Eddie...!”

”I’m close, sweetheart. Where... ”

”Inside! Inside me!”

”Are you sure...?”

”Birth control.”

”Fuck!”

Eddie thrust a few more times, one, two, three shallow thrusts before he groaned loudly, the veins in his neck standing out, as ropes of his warm cum painted your walls.

He let go of your legs but as you were afraid he would just get up and it would all be over, you wrapped them around his waist, clinging to him like a baby koala.

Eddie moved his bangs out of his eyes and looked down at you. ”God, you’re so beatiful,” he whispered.

You frowned. ”You... you think?”

”Of course I do. I’ve always thought so. That you were the most beautiful girl in the world. The most perfect girl in the world. I love you, sweetheart. Always have.”

Your eyes widened. ”What?”

”Yes. What, you thought... that this was just...?”

”I thought you just reacted because... well, we were naked.”

”No! Well, yes, a bit perhaps,” Eddie admitted, making you giggle. ”But... I’ve been in love with you forever. I was just... a coward. Afraid that if you didn’t feel the same it would ruin not just our friendship but the rest of the gang too.”

You supposed you could understand that. And you couldn’t exactly fault him, because you had been a chicken about admitting your feelings as well.

”I love you too, Eddie.”

Eddie hugged you tightly. Then he suddenly chuckled.

”What?” you wondered, smiling.

”It’s stopped raining.”

It was impossible to see anything out of the window but the tell-tale sounds of droplets landing on the roof of the van wasn’t there anymore so you guessed he was right.

”You want to try and walk back to the trailer park?” you wondered and Eddie shook his head.

”Nah, I’m good. I want to stay like this for a while. Besides, we don’t have any clothes to wear – we might end up in jail.”

You giggled. ”You’re right. But I don’t mind staying here either. I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

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