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powderblueblood · 10 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FIVE — CHEERLEADERS MAKE BAD NEIGHBORS

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summary: after you get kicked off the cheerleading squad by an enraged tina, you're stranded in a rainstorm of biblical proprtions- and the only safe haven is eddie munson's trailer. fuck. content warnings: MINORS DNI I'M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU HERE- male masturbation, sexualized language, some mild objectification, cursing, smoking, drinking, drug mention, reader backstory (i do it for the plot the plot the plot), steve harrington cameo, reader is a pretentious bitch word count: 10.1k

Dear reader, Joan Didion said something because Joan Didion is always saying something. Particularly to me. She comes at me hard, smacking me in the back of the head with perfect clarity and I have not gotten around to not resenting her for it yet.

‘I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.’

Joan Didion probably did not have to stay on nodding terms with a girl she used to be in order to score a cheerleading scholarship because her family blitzed her college fund on ill-chosen legal advice.

But she’s got a point.

You remember that day with perfect clarity.

Middle school had been a lesson in elocution, thanks to your then-best friend Phoebe’s older sister Casey. Phoebe was a relic of your former life– a bookish indoor kid with Coke bottle glasses, a slight stammer and a distinct lack of style. Despite this, you loved Phoebe and she loved you. But more than that, more than anything, you loved that Phoebe had an older sister.

A cool older sister.

Casey was popular in the best way, which is to say that she wasn’t showy about it but she wasn’t humble either. By recognizing the power of being hot and likeable, she knew nothing could ever touch her.

You wanted to be just like that.

You remember the first time Casey told you you’ve got potential. Her hand-me-downs were a little too big for Phoebe, because Casey had boobs and Phoebe’s hadn’t come in yet. Even as a pre-teen, you knew an opportunity when you saw it. Can I try that top? And you did, flipping your hair and adjusting yourself in the mirror just like you’d watched Casey do a hundred times, sitting on her bedroom floor and soaking up her knowledge while Phoebe moaned and sulked about being bored.

Check you out, hot stuff, Casey had smirked, but not in a way where you felt stupid. You’ve got potential.

The shirt didn’t feel entirely right on you, but the way Casey regarded you did.

Fast forward– your first day of freshman year. You were in the parking lot, stepping out of the passenger side of Casey’s car. Phoebe slid out of the back seat, shoulders slumped forward. You were dressed in an outfit that you and Casey spent hours agonizing over the night before–first impressions are everything, girl–while, again, Phoebe looked on glaring.

Come meet some of the crew, Casey said, pointedly to you and not to Phoebe.

Hey– I thought were were going to find our homerooms together, Phoebe protested, grabbing you by the elbow. She knew she wasn’t invited. And she didn’t care– she’d never cared for Casey and her ‘airhead ways’, as she so derisively called them.

Yeah, girl! you affirmed, a note-perfect impression of her older sister. Phoebe’s big eyes flared with disbelief. You’d spent junior high carefully studying Casey’s every movement, absorbing and adopting her behaviors as your own. Stella Adler would have loved your ass. Don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?

Make a move, freshman! Casey yelled, and you came trotting after her. There would be no catching up later, and you knew that. You bit back the sinking in your stomach with a Bonne Bell-glossed smile.

Look, I love my sister, Casey murmured, but I’m glad that you’re my little freshman experiment, ‘kay? You are way more fun that Phoebs and her goddamn library card.

You nodded, wordlessly grateful. Way more fun. The older girl confiding in you like this made you feel warm, included, grown-up. But not quite so grown-up that you remembered to watch where you were going– the laces of your left Chuck Taylor All-Stars came undone, sending you tripping– tripping–

Oof! Right into the muscular arms of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington and his autumn colored eyes, his swathe of hair that seemed to grow more voluminous the more girls he flirted with, his shock of grown-up cologne and his perfect, perfect, perfect smile.

But it wasn’t just Steve Harrington. It was also all the surrounding popular kids that had already made a name for themselves coming up alongside you in middle school–Tina, Carol and her boyfriend Tommy Hagan–mingling with the older kids.

You okay? Steve asked, his voice all breathy and cute the way boys voices are when they’re halfway making fun of you.

Uh-huh, you nodded, lashes fluttering like crazy as you wracked your brain for something smart to say.

Let me help you out here.

Then Steve did something you never thought possible, something right out of your daydreams. He got down on one knee and started to re-tie your shoe.

Better watch yourself, Lacy, he said, tightening the bunny ears, gazing right up at you, Wiping out on the first day is not a good look.

Lacy. Lacy. Your heartbeat quickened at the nickname, hammering like hummingbird wings. It was the greatest thing you’d ever heard– it makes you feel fresh. New. Seen for the first time. Seen by Steve Harrington for the first time.

Can you blame me? you said before you knew you were saying it; a common occurrence with you, You’re just too easy to fall for, Harrington.

You drawled out too easy like you’re making fun of him, which of course you weren’t, because he’s Steve Harrington and you would never– but it earned some warm guffaws from the surrounding kids and a little ugh, please, from Tommy Hagan.

Hagan’s something else. Hagan’s hated you since day dot, and you him. You remember his merciless teasing of some kid during Nancy Wheeler’s thirteenth birthday party, the last boy-girl party of your middle school careers, goading that they were too chicken to go into the closet with you for Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Steve grinned at you, eyebrows quirking upward. A fizzing feeling ran through your sternum and you felt like you might faint. Casey threw an arm around your shoulder, a magnet for attention. Well, it looks like some of you already know my little Lacy! You guys better be fuckin’ cool to her, okay, or else you’ve got me to answer to.

You smiled up at her, the older sister you’d always prayed for, and she looked impressed with you. That’s all you wanted. That’s all you craved. That, and for Steve Harrington and everybody else to never quit calling you Lacy.

And they didn’t.

Everything you’d gleaned from Casey equipped you to cruise through freshman year with no speedbumps, no checkpoints– you knew exactly how to wear your hair, how to flirt, how not to flirt, what not to eat, who not to be seen with… and even better than that, these people really took a shine to you. The girls especially.

Hawkins isn’t kind to teenage girls. It’s heavy with passive-aggressive Midwestern sensibility, with all the backwards, misogynistic attitude that comes along with that. It’s not overt, it’s insidious. It makes sense that these girls were scared. Few women make it out of here, and look at the ones that don’t. Their mothers. Your mother.

But what was even scarier was to want something more. To strive for better and be met with the begrudgery of your attempt. To think about life outside the snowglobe of this wicked little town.

That's the thing with wanting. It doesn’t leave you alone. It gnaws at you while you zone out in the cafeteria, churning around with the half fat yogurt in your stomach. It finds you in the middle of the night, awake on the floor of your friend Carol’s room after an evening of pounding secret wine coolers and picking apart the rest of the Hawkins student body for their flaws and faults, looking around at your friends and thinking,

God, I fucking hate these people. God, I’ve got to get out.

And you were working on it. Like a motherfucker, you were working on it– perfect grades, perfect attendance, the perfect extracurriculars in an excruciating balancing act with your demanding social life. Keep your record spotless and you could fly the coop to any college you wanted.

One such extracurricular was–is cheerleading. And god, you were great. You’re a flyer, one of the shining, pretty faces responsible for revving up the Hawkins Tigers and their adoring fans. Given your propensity for perfectionism, it’s an obvious position for you. Tina, the reigning captain of the cheer squad, had even taken you under her wing and spit shined up your back handsprings when you tried out as a freshman. Tina had a prior career as a child gymnast, making her a shoo-in for the title come senior year. And here she is now, hollering you all into formation.

It’s Thursday, and it’s still the week from hell. You had almost forgot about cheer practice, but here you are, in your green and white and gold, ponytail too tight and bruise fading out. The tension between you and Tina casts a thick haze over the gym, the other, less-clued-in members of the squad not exactly knowing where to look.

It probably wasn’t fair, outing Tina and her indiscretion with Hagan like that. But you felt like a cornered animal. It was all you could do, after all of them subtly chipping away at you for weeks when you’d done nothing but be there for them. Wiped their tears.

Bought their crabs lotion, in Tina’s case.

“Sloppy, Lacy! Again!” She’s drilling you like you’ve never been drilled before. Each twist and flip you perform, she finds something wrong with it– and you can’t even tell her she’s wrong. You have gotten sloppy, because your head’s not in the game. While cheerleading was a social and athletic high at one time, it wasn’t high on your list of priorities right now. Dismounting your bases and tugging your ponytail ever tighter over your skull, you stalk towards her.

“Alright, Tina!” you yell, bubbling over with frustration. “How about you just drop the Russian gym coach bit and tell me what I’m doing wrong? Or is yelling at me all you got?”

She does her best attempt at a withering glare. You can’t help but think it looks like something she learned from you. “How about I show you instead?”

Tina shoulder checks you, hard, and calls to one of the underclassmen. A mousy sophomore with sandy bangs and blazing Bambi eyes. This kid looks terrified, and knowing Tina’s reputation, she should be. “Cunningham! You’re up!”

Chrissy Cunningham. Right. Heir to the throne of Hawkins High. You don’t think you’ve heard her speak more than a couple of words and most of those have been in response to her Aryan meathead boyfriend, Jason Carver.

But for what Cunningham lacks in vocal force, she makes up for in aerodynamics. This girl makes a basket toss look like ballet, ponytail pirouetting as she lands in the bases’ arms. Every move, faultless. She’s locked in.

“That is what I want. What I don’t want, Lacy, is a flyer that looks like she’s losing control of her rectum mid-toss,” Tina hollers. “We all know how crucial this weekend is. Not just for us, but for the Tigers, too. Right? So that means the last thing we need is dead weight dragging us down.” She locks her laserlike stare on you. “Right?”

The squad mumbles in the affirmative. Chrissy Cunningham visibly gulps.

And you? A knife slices right through you, cold and exacting. You almost gag, trying to swallow through your thickening throat. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You tell me, Lace. You’re the one that knows everything.”

You don’t waste a second of time trying to counter-argue, because you can’t be sure it won’t end in your limbs flailing, trying to smash Tina’s head against the waxed floorboards of the gym. Instead, you grab your bag. You give the squad a grimacing nod and head to heave the double doors open.

The sound of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor makes you want to tear your shoes off and throw them through a window, just to watch the glass shatter.

You really never thought of yourself as a violent person, not until– everything happened.

But now, god, now you just want to punch and tear and rip everything apart. This slow burn of your social status, your friends, your tether to reality as you know it slipping away is torturous. You’d rather burn it all up than let it swallow you whole.

Standing on the front steps of the school, your eyes automatically dart to the parking lot.

It’s not there. He’s not there.

And why would he be? you think, starting in the direction of the trailer park. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in the record store, leaving him hanging with his hands behind his back and his mouth in that grin.

There was a reason for that. Call it post-high clarity or something else, but you knew right then you needed to focus the fuck up. Quit acting out because of your daddy’s mistakes and prove all of these shitheels wrong once and for all.

Blend in. Stop causing trouble. Fall in line and study hard and cheer harder and get the hell out of dodge once you get your hands on that high school diploma. By whatever means necessary. Those means really did not include hanging out with Eddie Munson for even a second longer than you already had.

–which is a nice thought and all, but Tina really shit all over that one with this shedding the dead weight move.

The clouds above you carry the most pathetic of pathetic fallacies, gray and pregnant with rain that starts to hit you square on the crown of your head in fat, heavy drops. You’re still fifteen minutes from the trailer park, at least, and you don’t have a raincoat. You don’t have an umbrella. And you don’t fucking care.

You stomp up the dirt drive leading into Forest Hills, the pleats of your green skirt heavy with water, your cheerleader’s cardigan weighing down your shoulders. Your white knee-high socks are flecked with mud and getting dirtier with every sloppy step. And the rain, the relentless relentless rain, is streaming into your eyes, streaming mascara with it.

You gasp against the cold of the downpour as you approach your trailer– and a glowing yellow light catches in your peripheral vision. His bedroom, the one you can see into from your bedroom. Though you try not to look. And sometimes you fail.

You don’t see much, when you do look. It’s mostly his hunching figure, bent over his guitar or some binder or book or map or figurine. But he always seems calmer, the frenetic energy he wears around like chainmail finally falling to the floor. Watching him like that makes you want to breathe a sigh of relief right along with him, just to see if you’d feel similarly. Calmer.

Calm is not how you feel right now, wiping the rain from your face as you dig in your bag for your keys. Once, twice, thrice they slip out of your hands, and on the fourth try, you finally get them in the door. And then– the key strains in the lock. Come on. This door has always been unnecessarily sticky, but this wasn’t really the time– you push and you push the silver key to the left with no give.

Was your mom in there? Had she left her key in the door by accident before she went on another overnighter with Prince Valium? “Mom! Mom!” you yell, hammering on the door. No dice. You pull at the key again, and pull and pull and–

Snap.

You shudder, a full body shake that’s only partially down to the rainwater that’s soaked you right to the bone marrow. The key has snapped off in the lock, leaving you standing there with a useless silver nub.

“Fuck!” you holler, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck! Fucking–shit!”

Your fists go straight to the side of the trailer, banging one after the other against the metallic veneer. You don’t care that it hurts your knuckles, you want it to dent or crack or something, you want to not feel so impotent and fucking useless, but here you are!

“Hey! Asshole!”

Your head whips around, heavy, sodden ponytail smacking you in the face.

Eddie Munson is leaning out his bedroom window, barely visible through the downpour.

“Keep it down! You’re in a residential goddamn area!” He’s not smiling that shiteating smile. He’s not even grinning. He’s just glowering at you, which is the look you’re most accustomed to seeing him wear. Even so, it feels– it feels– it makes you feel worse.

“Fuck you!” you scream across to him, “Who died and made you the fucking neighborhood watch?!”

“Go inside, you lunatic!”

“My fucking– my key broke off, dickhead!”

That makes his brow loosen a little bit. You just stand there, gasping in the rain. And then he disappears from the window–

–only to fling open the front door of his trailer.

“Come on,” he grumbles, massaging the space between his eyebrows like he can’t believe what he’s fucking doing.

“No.”

“What? Cut the shit, Lacy, come inside.”

“No! I don’t want to!”

Munson’s face opens up in an expression of sheer incredulity– and you partially can’t believe yourself either. What is it about him that just makes you shove and shove and shove, unable to let him win– or in this case, unable to let him help?

“Fine! Fucking drown out there for all I care!” The trailer door slams.

Your teeth have started to chatter, and your options from here on out are… walk or hitch your way back to town and drag your sodden ass somewhere there’s a phone where you then call your mom and pray she’ll pick up (she won’t) and tell her about the lock and try to tell her about the cheerleading squad and pray she’ll understand how upset you are (she won’t) and how much of an awful spiral this whole year has become and it’s not even Christmas yet and–

The trailer door swings back open.

Eddie Munson comes stalking out into the rain, white Reeboks splattering mud everywhere. He’s wearing that shirt from his Dungeons and Dragons club, the one with the big fucking smug Satan splayed across it and you wonder, did he model that after himself?

“What’s your fucking problem?” he asks, point blank. It feels like he’s aiming something at you.

“I’m having a shitty fucking day!” you scream in response, making that dog belonging to that red headed kid sister of Billy Hargrove’s yap somewhere in the distance. “And I keep telling you, I don’t need your fucking–”

“Help? Right!” he scoffs, loud and indignant, crossing his arms across his chest. The fabric of the ringer tee is changing color before your eyes, clinging to him. “You don’t need my help yet you always take it, you don’t wanna be seen with me yet you end up at my lunch table, in my van, smoking my weed– you know, it may shock you but I’m not exactly thrilled to be seen with you either, Lacy! I mean, playing chauffeur to a grade A certified bitch that wouldn’t give me the time of day unless she was desperate? Who stood by and let her shitty friends, who aren’t even her friends anymore, make mine and my friends’ life a living hell for how many years? What kind of an asshole does that make me? How pathetic is that?”

The way he spits the word bitch– it was different from the way he said it in the record store. There, it felt like a come-on. A compliment. Here, it feels like a curse. But oh, he doesn’t stop there! You are rooted to the spot, an unmoving target for his justified rage.

“You can’t even play ignorant, y’know, because I’ve seen you. You’re smarter than them. You know how godawful those people are–Harrington, Carver, Carol, fucking Hagan worst of all–and you just let ‘em run. Because you needed that status, you needed to be the most evil fucking twat at the twat table, and for what? They left you, Lacy! They all left you!”

You’re not sure at what point in his speech you started sobbing but at its crescendo, you yelp. It’s a high, pathetic sound you wish you could stuff back inside your throat and hopefully choke yourself with. See, you know all these things. You’ve told them to yourself in your most honest moments, of which there are not many, but having Eddie Munson lay them out for you in the pouring rain– it’s horrible. You’re horrible.

Eddie’s arms move from where they were bound on his chest. Okay, that was an outburst, sure, but he didn’t mean to make you cry. And you’re like, really crying. He can’t stand it when girls cry, and you, in particular–you, having never displayed much emotion beyond bemusement and annoyance and mild disgust toward him–is especially frightening.

And then you let out this scream. It comes right from the center of your chest, rumbling and primal and visceral and real. It’s a real noise, not one you put careful, curative thought into, tuning it just right before you let it out. Because in this instance, he’s right! You’ve worked so hard, and for what! For fucking nothing! For it to blow up in your face! So you let out another howl– and it feels so, so good. A feeling of satisfaction, more than a feeling of relief–

–so Eddie screams too. God, that feels fantastic.

His is heavier than yours, obviously, because he’s a guy and he probably screams as a hobby in whatever metal band he supposedly plays in. But you like that sound. You like the way it seems to ring off the exteriors of the trailer, ricocheting around like a pinball in its machine.

A couple more painful sobs escape you, and Eddie’s taking tentative steps toward you, like you’re a snarling animal he’s trying to coax.

In ways, you are, but that’s because you feel hunted. You have to blink, through tears and through rain, but you see that his shirt is so soaked that it’s see-through. You can see a vague suggestion of a tattoo on his chest. You see that he’s fighting a smile.

This is so stupid. This is so ridiculous, that you could make a noise like that and completely short circuit the white hot anger he was spewing at you.

“Come inside,” he breathes, a little less than a foot of space between you, “You lunatic.”

Your head, so heavy on your neck, so heavy from crying, so heavy from carrying your spiteful brain around, falls against his chest.

“Uhh…” Eddie mumbles, hands hovering behind your back, not sure if he’s supposed to embrace you or if you’re about to rip his heart out of his chest. Either could be true.

You know what you’d prefer.

You’re positive he doesn’t here you exhale into his chest, into the mouth of the cartoon Satan, into the thrum of his jumping heartbeat. Sorry. I’m really… I’m so sorry.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “hey. Shit.” His hand finally rests in between your shoulder blades. You let him guide you inside, and he even picks up the book bag you had thrown in the mud. You reach, try to grab it from him, but he yanks it out of your grasp. Half teasing, half assuring you that it’s okay.

A squeaky, squelching silence settles between you two as you stand in his doorway. You’re creating a puddle near some old work boots. You wonder if they’re his– you’ve never seen him not wear those Reeboks.

“So… welcome,” he cringes, emitting a pitchy, awkward laugh. You follow him through to the kitchenette, which is identical to your kitchenette, except every surface is not covered in legal correspondence or empty wine bottles or too-expensive tchotchkes. The light in here seems dimmer, warmer. There’s a distinct aroma of stale cigarette smoke and old coffee, which you breathe in deep. “Sorry for the mess–”

“It’s fine. It’s good mess,” you say, a little distant. You peer around the place like you’re in a gallery.

“Good mess?” he queries, crossing to the kitchen sink where he attempts to wring his shirt out by hand– still wearing it.

“Lived-in mess,” you say. What you mean is, it doesn’t look like a mausoleum of a life someone left behind. A storage locker. A haphazard sarcophagus. Before you moved to the trailer, your house was so clean– that was a whole other problem. The same tchotchkes that are scattered on your counter were kept behind glass, only touched when your mother polished them, the only housework she ever did. You stare at a collection of trucker hats nailed along the living room wall, the shelf of novelty mugs that accompanies them.

“Living in mess? What is that, like living in filth? You better start showing this fine abode some respect before–”

“Lived. In. Munson, I said, lived in if you would just listen– it’s good, it’s fine. It’s n-nice.”

It’s warm in the trailer, you can tell, but you’re shivering. You bear down in your body, jaw all set so your teeth don’t start chattering again, but he hears it in your voice.

“Uh-oh,” he says, somehow not at all betraying any signs of being out in the freezing rain except for being entirely soaked. You bet his skin is still running hot, like you felt through his shirt, like you felt grabbing his wrist. “Star cheerleader’s coming down with a case of hypothermia. Right before the big game!”

He slaps his hands to his cheeks in mock horror.

“I’m–” you’re about to tell him a couple things; one, that you’re fine which would be stupid, because you are so clearly not fine; two, you’re not the star cheerleader anymore; and a third, forgotten thing. “--cold,” is what you settle on. It sounds small, vulnerable.

Eddie holds his breath for a second. You sound so delicate. Hard, terrible you.

“No, sure, of course you are,” he fumbles. The way his wet hair has flattened to his skull makes him look younger– exposing a nervous boy behind the metalhead posturing. “You can– take a shower. If you want. To warm up.”

Take a shower. In Eddie Munson’s trailer. Your eyelids flutter closed, taking on their own vibrations from the wracking of your body. This is a hell of my own making. “Yes. Sure. Thank you.”

“I can also,” he starts, crossing the kitchen again and knocking something over on his way– it just clatters to the floor, whatever it was, and he lets it, like he’s used to leaving crashing sounds in his wake. “I can take your clothes if you want. Put ‘em in the washer.”

You hesitate a beat, then follow him down a hallway.

“I probably have something you can wear,” he says. There’s a note in his tone that’s high and nervous. “You’re for sure gonna hate it, but hey– beats freezing to death.”

“Just barely,” you murmur.

“Huh?”

“This, uh– this is dry-clean only,” you correct yourself, gesturing to the uniform.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course. Only the best for the pom-pom shakers.”

He ducks into a room that must be his bedroom, but you don’t follow him. Instead, you linger in the hallway, near the dingy bathroom, staring at the corn themed wall calendar. Going into his bedroom feels too personal– too intimate, as if preparing to take a shower in Eddie Munson’s trailer only to change into his clothes isn’t intimate.

“I figured,” he says, emerging from the bedroom with clothes and a towel in hand, “since you like all that rinky-dinky-tinkly garbage, you wouldn’t hate wearing a Stooges shirt.”

“I–” the shirt is soft under your wrinkled fingers, as are the boxers he passes off to you. Boxers. You hold them up between your forefinger and thumb, stepping into the bathroom. “These are clean, right?”

Eddie stares at you for a second– then leans his head into the bathroom and shakes his sopping locks at you, just like a dog. You let out a shriek that he thinks almost sounds like an involuntary giggle. I’ll take it.

“No comment!” And he slams the door on you.

Then you’re standing. In Eddie Munson’s trailer. In Eddie Munson’s bathroom. Holding his old Stooges shirt and his boxers, with mascara running down your face.

You pinch yourself, hard, just in case.

The shower heats up quick–quicker than yours, you notice–and you rest your head against the tile as the steam swirls up around you. This is so weird. This is so fucking weird, and you can’t scrub away the weirdness fast enough. There’s not enough Irish Spring in the world. You reach into the shower caddy to replace the bottle and notice something familiar– wait, that’s–

Wait.

Do you and Eddie Munson use the same brand of shampoo?

You had to switch from your favorite to the best that the Big Buy had to offer, given the change in your personal means, and this was the top score in terms of quality. Eddie Munson apparently agrees– but better yet, you realize as a grin spreads across your face, Munson uses women’s shampoo.

It’s nice to have a fresh piece of arsenal to aim at him once you get out of the shower.

Toweling off and changing, you do give the boxers a wary sniff before you put them on– but luckily, they smell like generic detergent and aren’t stiff in any way. So you slide them on.

They fit snugly– naturally, given he’s all sinewy and you have hips. He is really sinewy, now that you think about it.

His wrist wasn’t bony, but it was active. Tendons flexing under the thin, soaked layer of his shirt. You wonder, absently, was that a tattoo you saw. What is it. What does it look like. Is it shitty. It’s his, so it’s probably shitty, but I want to see it. Does he have any more.

You shiver, slipping the Stooges t-shirt on, and blame your hardening nipples on the cold.

The cheer outfit is another problem. You emerge from the bathroom, clutching the still-sodden uniform with Eddie’s– Munson’s towel thrown over your shoulder.

“Do you have, like, a garbage bag or something?” you ask, eyes rising to look at him where he stands in the doorframe of his room. He’s still in his soaked clothes.

He takes a second to answer you, and when he does, his voice is all thick. Avoiding eye contact.

“Suuure,” and he disappears and reappears with a plastic bag, quick as a blink.

“Thanks.” You dump the uniform, sneakers and all, into the bag and make for the door.

“Hey, it’s still raining–” his voice follows you, as if you hadn’t heard the raindrop gunshots hitting the trailer roof.

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. You yank Munson’s door open and fling the garbage bag outside. It lands squarely between your trailer and his.

Munson appears over your shoulder, looking out at the garbage bag. His face is twisted in confusion, concern, curiosity.

“I got kicked off,” you explain, plain as biscuits.

“Off the pom pom squad?” he whispers, eyes flaring in surprise that you think might actually be real. You’re looking at his lashes again, fanning around the almost-perfect circles of his eye sockets.

“The very same.”

“Escándalo. What happened?”

“How about you go and shower first,” you suggest, poking a finger into his chest. He makes a little breathy noise, a little ‘unh’, that you don’t… hate. “Can’t have the star dork of the make believe board game club catch his death, can we?”

“Anything happens to me and you’re the prime suspect, babe,” he grins and snaps the towel off your shoulder.

“Hey!”

“This is the last clean one. What am I, a fuckin’ Rockefeller?”

Christ, he wants to jerk off into this towel but he knows that’s weird. That’s perverted. That’s fucked up. That’s everything everyone says about him and that’s everything you make him feel.

So he strips, turns the hot water to scalding and furiously rubs one out down the drain. One, because he feels bizarre about leaving you alone among all of his things for too long and two, because hot water is in short supply.

And three, because he’s achingly rock hard at the sight of you in his boxers, tossing your cheerleading outfit into the mud and the wet.

The metaphors. The implications. The feeling of your forehead against his chest. The stab of your finger in his sternum.

He cums jaggedly, almost silently, with his mouth rammed against his forearm.

If you heard him– God, you’d be so nasty about it. God, he’d never live it down. God, he’d love to know what you’d say.

He makes damn quick work of sudsing up and rinsing down, wrapping a towel around his waist– only to run into you as he’s coming out of the bathroom.

You stare. You stare at him, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry, and all the blood drains away from his brain. Again.

“Stare much?” he sneers, but only just about. Because his first instinct is to drop the towel and give you an eyeful. See what you’d do– hopefully something with your mouth. God, he hopes it’d be something with your mouth.

“Where are your smokes?” you snap back. “I know you have some.”

“Kitchen. There’s probably–,” he needs you to stop looking at him like that; like you’re going to snap his neck, “--kitchen.”

Eddie slams his bedroom door and smacks his face with three quick strikes. “Come on, man! Get it together!”

Because it’s go time.

He has to formulate some kind of plan.

He hadn’t exactly thought ahead when he invited you inside–or, demanded you come inside–and since you now had no place to go and Wayne had specifically told him not to go near you and your boobs were stretching out his dad’s old Stooges t-shirt…

Christ.

He’s entirely, massively, completely at a loss. Eddie paces around the room like an animal in panic, grabbing a Scorpion shirt and some worn flannel pants as he goes.

“Like, I’m supposed to go out there and do what? Ask her to hang out? Fucking paint her nails, read Cosmo? Study?! Jesus!” he angrily mumbles to his reflection, tearing the towel away and tugging his t-shirt over his sopping hair. “Hey, Lacy, you wanna beer? Who am I, Steve fucking Harrington? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ, dude!”

“Munson. Are you talking to me in there?” He hears your voice from a minute distance away– see, that’s the thing about trailers. Small space, thin walls, and Eddie Munson’s voice travels at super speed.

He stops, seizing, cringing, shoulders hitching up to his ears.

That was not enough time to formulate a plan.

Eddie, jankily tugging his pants on, sweeps out to the kitchenette area like something is chasing him and stops dead when he sees you. You haven’t trashed the place. You haven’t even tried to stick your head in the oven, two things he was kind of concerned about given the way you were wailing outside.

You’re standing in the middle of the room with your hip cocked out, smoking a stolen cigarette and studying his uncle’s trucker hat collection.

All the air in the room seems to orbit around you like a tornado in slow motion.

How is it that you make an old shirt and boxers look like a skirt set? How is it that you can be sobbing your lungs out one minute, then the picture of poise and sophistication the next?

All that air and none left for Eddie to take a breath.

“Hey, Lacy,” he strains, “you wanna beer?”

“What,” you purr– like, he’s so sure that you actually purr, “You mean you’re all out of Sancerre?”

He does not know what the hell that is, but he can only assume it’s some rich people bullshit– and he’s relieved. You’re mocking him. At least that’s some tether to normalcy. She’s baa-aack.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not entirely meaning it, but if he beams right at you he’s going to give the game away.

“Think fast!” He tosses a can of the cheapest beer available at the Big Buy your way and you just about catch it, hands above your head and the cigarette dangling out of your mouth like Keith Richards.

“God, Munson,” you mumble around the filter, “What kept you off the basketball team?”

“Half a brain and a big dick,” he smirks, cracking the pull top and snatching the soft pack of cigarettes you’d left on the countertop. You cross from the living room, propping yourself up on the counter stool in a fluid movement that can only be described as feline.

“Well, we sure can account for one of those things,” you say, ashing with your right hand and tapping at your temple with your left.

“And the other?” Eddie asks, voice dropping a mocking octave.

“I’d sooner drink arsenic than find out.”

He raises his beer can to you. “In that case, cheers!”

Your mouth twists around a smile and Eddie can see you’re fighting hard to keep it at bay. And that you’re losing. You tip your beer to your lips and he braces his elbows on the counter, looking around for a lighter. He spots a Bic, but the trigger won’t light it– just sparks, no flame.

“That thing’s dead,” you say, “I lit this off the toaster.”

“Oh! Right,” Eddie goes to turn, but something chilly snaps to his forearm. Your fingers. Damn. What is it with you? Circulation thing or what?

“Don’t do that,” you shake your head. “I don’t trust you not to burn the whole trailer down.”

“This is my trailer, y’know.”

“Yeah, and I’m in it. So burn it down on your own time.”

You motion for him to light his cigarette off the half-burned length of yours and Eddie tentatively places the filter between his lips. You prop yourself up on the stool, ass raised from the seat, leaning toward him. He leans in too and you cup that little hand with the perfectly painted fingers around the cigarettes. Like you’re whispering a secret. You look down, focusing on making fire, but Eddie’s eyes follow the tiny crease of your brow, the slope of your nose. The little wipe of mascara still underneath your eye.

Tips touch and Eddie inhales just as you do. The cherried ends of the smokes glow orange and you pull back and Eddie just stays there a moment, frozen with the now-lit ember hanging out of his mouth.

You pull back and inhale that smoke like one of those chicks from those black and white movies Wayne is always watching. You exhale all daintily, in one perfect clouding stream. You’re all– you’re so–...

“Fucked,” you groan, shoving the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I am so fucked.”

Eddie finally tugs the cigarette from his mouth, filter gone a little soft with the low-level salivating he’d been doing. “Oh. The cheerleader shit?”

“Yes, Munson. The cheerleader shit.”

“What happened, anyway?” He resumes the position of being elbow-up on the countertop, which incidentally brings him a little bit closer to you. Incidentally. “You crack some skulls this time?”

“Huh,” you chuckle emptily, “Almost. Um, Tina more or less took me out at the knees. Which, I understand of course. If I were her, I would have obliterated me, but–”

“You’re not her, and it doesn’t feel awesome to be on the other end of obliterated,” Eddie nods, giving you a squint-eyed pout of mock-sympathy. “Poor Lacy. Getting shitkicked by the consequences of her own actions.”

Thunk! You punch him in the shoulder, which hurts and he gasps, but it’s so funny and categorically unladylike coming from you. These little peals of violence that keep coming off you are a seemingly bottomless source of amusement for him.

She’s so funny-looking when she’s mad.

“Fuck off!” you bark, as if reading him like a goddamn horoscope, but there’s a glimmer to your narrowed stare. “I got replaced by a sophomore, as if I needed an insult topping on that injury shitshake.”

“Oh, she Old Yeller’d your ass!” Eddie gasps again, chuckling heartily, “Took you out back and–” He mimes blowing your brains right out, nailing you right through the forehead. You stare at him square, unimpressed. “Who usurped ya?”

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

Oh. Well, isn’t that interesting. Eddie’s lips flatten into a straight line and he makes a little mmh sound. And you pick up on that immediately, being that you’re annoyingly perceptive.

“Munson! Come on!”

“What? Whaaat? I didn’t say anything!”

“That’s a child.”

“That is a sophomore and you said so yourself. Besides…” he trails off, pointedly crushing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray until it’s oversquished. “...we have history.”

If his cigarette extinguishing was pointed, yours is needle sharp with the way you crush it into the ashtray right next to the remnants of his.

“Go on,” you hum, just like you did in the van that last night. I really wanna know. It’s conspiratorial and intoxicating and makes it feel like you’re on his side, which you know he’s not but it’s so, so tasty to think that for a second you might be.

Is this how you make everyone feel? Lull ‘em into a false sense of security? Hoard your ammo and go apeshit later?

Eddie draws back, nearly congratulating himself for doing so. “That’s for me to know, and you to die ignorant.”

The way your lips pop open is almost too good, your little doll face turning to a mask of betrayal too quick for you to hide it. Too quick for you to be all like fine! Keep it to yourself! You’re both totally irrelevant anyway! or whatever other bitchy retort you’re bound to come up with.

“Wow. Well, if that holds any water, Carver’ll shit,” you start, sipping on your beer, “His little virgin Mary deflowered by the devil’s first alternate.”

“Hey, I never said–!” Fuck. Fuck! How do you do that! Eddie pinches his lips together as you smirk over the rim of the beer can, all stuck under your gaze. Fly in the spider’s web.

“A-ha,” you say, irritatingly smoothly. “So nothing happened. She’s just spank bank material.”

“Didn’t– say that either,” Eddie mumbles, mind going annoyingly blank under your rapid fire tearing and the inebriating way you’re delivering it. He hates this and he has no intention of telling you to stop. The duality of man.

“Didn’t not say that, though.”

“You oughta be a lawyer,” he tells you, swigging deep, “the way you find a loophole in everything.”

“The way you want me to get you off, you mean.”

You come out with that, something so incendiary, oh-so-casually and slip off your seat. She can’t just do that. You’re padding around the living room again, bare footed and small-looking, but Eddie’s staring at you like you’re a hand grenade with the pin missing that also has the secret to everlasting life inside. Terrified. Fascinated.

A little stiff.

“What?” he breathes, but doesn’t really want you to answer the question.

And you don’t, you just keep looking around the living room with your arms crossed over your chest. “You need money to be a lawyer, Munson. To go to law school. To go to any school. And I don’t have that. And I foolishly figured getting a cheerleading scholarship would be a cinch of a backup plan, and now I can’t do that either.”

“What are you looking for?” he asks, finally willing his dick down and his legs to work, rounding into the living room with you.

“Your, like… stereo, or record player, or something,” you murmur, smoothing down his boxers over your hips. “It’s too quiet in here.”

Eddie blinks. What should really happen is he should say, no, stay out here in the silence, you insolent wench. Think on your crimes. Reflect. Repent. Stop being such a bossy little ballbreaker and give my balls a break.

“Room. Uh– it’s in my room,” is what he says instead.

“‘kay,” is all you say with a little shrug of your shoulder, grabbing your can from the counter and padding down the hallway toward that same bedroom. His bedroom. Eddie Munson’s bedroom with his bed and his shit in it. “Let’s go.”

How irregular does your heartbeat have to get before you classify it as a cardiac event?

There’s only so many times you can flagellate yourself with the ol’ what the fuck are you doing thing before it becomes redundant.

Songs get overplayed, nail polish color gets overused, trends die. Things become redundant all the time, and you discard them.

The notion of what the fuck are you doing in Eddie Munson’s trailer in Eddie Munson’s boxers walking towards Eddie Munson’s bedroom has become redundant because you simply are doing all those things. Not much point in questioning them. The chips have fallen.

An eerie calm had come over you when he was in the shower and you were staring at all of these trucker hats on the wall– if the insanity is temporary, you might as well lean into it. You can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped. Might as well get comfortable.

“God, this place is filthy, Munson.” You, with your arms still bound across your chest, toe a discarded t-shirt out of your path as you move into the bedroom with that same reserved interest of a gallery-goer. The place is cluttered, posters and flyers and doodles torn out of notebooks tacked up on the wall in total disarray. Every surface area is covered in what could be organized chaos, but knowing Munson the little that you do, you doubt it.

To test the theory, you ask, “Where are your records? Tapes, anything?”

But he’s just lingering in the doorway, chewing on the end of a lock of hair. Watching you stand in the middle of the room with astronaut eyes, unblinking. It’s kind of– sweet, in a deeply unnerving way. He looks like a kid.

Your brow furrows, grimace turning your lips into a point.

“Fine. Ogle me like a goddamn lobotomy patient, then.”

You resume your perusing of his things, when you spot the most precious piece of hardware hanging by the mirror. A marbled black and red body fashioned into nasty spikes. You reach out to give the strings an aimless thrum but your wrist is rapidly snatched away.

“Nuh-uh. That’s where I draw the line,” Munson says, shuffling you away from the guitar like a security guard. A flash of something as your calves hit his mattress– him shepherding you toward your own bed, you drunk out of your gourd. “Siddown.”

And you sit, bouncing against the sinking mattress on impact. Rubbing at the spot on your wrist that his fingers had been squeezing. Staring up at him glowering down at you. “Ow.”

And Munson, it turns out, knows where everything is in his nuclear fallout of a room. He shoves a shoebox of tapes into your hands and nudges a bigger milk crate full of records nearer to you with his foot.

“Knock yourself out,” he huffs, flinging himself face-down on the mattress next to you. You jerk; always the court jester, this guy. “Not that you’re gonna find anything you want to listen to.”

A scoff flies out of your mouth before you’ve got a chance to suppress it– he’s gotta know, right? He’s gotta know he can’t just say shit like that to you without you fully activating that I can do anything you can do better–backwards–bleeding–in heels chip in your brain. You’ll show him. There’s nothing that matters to you more in the world right now than showing him.

Though, rattling through his box of tapes, each one bearing a different variation of hot chick and the Devil artwork, you’ve got your work cut out for you. W.A.S.P. Mercyful Fate. Dirty Rotten Imbeciles. Witchfinder General. Some band that’s literally just called Loudness, for Chrissake. As you flick and flick, hope wavering, one catches your eye. There’s a jump in your throat. Scrawled letterhead against a draped satin background. A photo of something you always figured was a headless marble statue, though you could never be sure.

“Why do you have this?”

No response from the corpse of Munson, presumably smothered by his own comforter.

“Hey!” you tap the back of his skull with the plastic casing. One eye appears, glaring up at you from the mattress. Rattle rattle goes the Cocteau Twins tape as you shake it in its case. “Thought this was haunted doll music.”

“Ow.” Munson slowly raises himself onto his elbows, looking like he’s about to start kicking his legs in the air behind him. Twirling his hair around his finger. A grin is edging onto his lips, lips he’s pulling strands of hair away from.

“Sometimes the five finger discount chooses you.”

A feeling akin to heat spreads rights across your breastbone. You want to pry, secretly. You want an explanation. Why would you take that? Do you like me, or something? But asking speaks it into existence, and the insanity is temporary, and you’re so waiting for dawn to break on it so you can resume some hobbled together semblance of a normal existence.

One that doesn’t include Eddie Munson stealing tapes that make you feel ticklish in order to, I don’t know, listen to them on his own so he can feel ticklish too.

He hadn’t listened to it, for the record. Not all the way through, at least.

He’d gotten as far as track two and had to switch it off, ejecting it out of the tape deck of his van with such speed that he was sure it’d shoot clean through the doors in the back. Too close, too real. That had veered a little out of the lane of objectifying you as someone whose crotch he maybe wanted to bury his face in and a little into the lane of you being like, a person. With feelings.

The events of tonight aren’t helping that case. He hoped that lying face down for as long as he possibly could might let them just unfold around him, like he’d roll over and you’d just be gone, no evidence left behind except for your hair in the drain.

But you demand attention. Eddie might be obvious, but you demand attention. His attention, at least.

He grabs the tape from you. “We’re not listenin’ to that bullshit. Try again.”

“Fine!” you snap, but there’s this irritating bemusement dancing around your face.

You lean forward from your spot on the mattress and tug the milk crate between your calves. Now, this is more your lane– in here, Munson’s got the classics. Or as close to the classics as he will deign to recognise. Zeppelin, Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Blue Öyster Cult– the combination of which you have something borderline mean to say about, but you’ll leave that ‘til later. You dig around, and then.

And then. Hello there, handsome.

In your hands are twelve inches of beauty, belonging to a grisly-voiced Tom Waits. Blue Valentine. Straight to the record player with this old bastard.

“People give this record too much shit,” you remark, and Eddie watches you as you tentatively lift a sock off the turntable. Yeah, he’ll cop to it, he doesn’t take such good care of some of his gear, but sometimes his brain behaves like a police scanner. Lotta channels operating at once. Anyway. Doesn’t matter. He’s watching you lift the needle onto the vinyl right now. “People say that this is a mediocre addition to the oeuvre, but what is mediocre about this–!”

Rousing strings seep from the stereo speakers– it’s Waits’ cover of Somewhere from West Side Story. Eddie knows it within the first half a second because, and now he’ll never admit it since he knows you like it so much, he has played this album to death.

Somewhere around the halfway mark of Christmas Card For a Hooker in Minneapolis, the record will skip because it's scratched. Or well-loved, if you ask Eddie.

“Fucking Robert Christgau thinks he’s being funny, doing this, y’know,” you sneer, examining the record sleeve as if you hadn’t seen it thirty thousand times before. Your copy had been lost in the move, among a number of your little sonic secrets. The records you’d keep to listen to by yourself, lying on your bedroom floor. “As if the whole core of Tom Waits’ whole thing isn’t heartache, the sentimentality of what-if. What if we could, what if life wasn’t garbage. That’s sentimentality, right there. It’s West Side Story, I mean, c'mon. Tom Waits is singing to us with his heart on his sleeve, but Christgau wants to suddenly be pedantic, turn around and be like, it’s a vaudeville act! because Waits sometimes also wears his dick on his sleeve.”

It’s a tirade you’ve often repeated to yourself, in your diary or alone in your room, pretending like you’re on a panel, pretending like you’re Susan Sontag and people actually give a shit what you actually have to say. You can’t exactly figure why you’ve said it again now. Maybe because you always found the strings on this song too much to bear without emoting, and you’re already vulnerable and tired.

Munson, for his part, has flipped over onto his back on the mattress. “Who?” he drones.

“Robert Christgau,” you say, momentarily distracted by the way his shirt has rucked up around his belly. No six pack. Some meat there. Tendons, like you’d noticed before. “Just one of the most seminal rock writers of our time.”

You have a well-thumbed copy of his Record Guide: Rock Albums of the Seventies somewhere in a still-unpacked box.

Munson has a happy trail that curls like brushstrokes.

“You fucking trifler,” you grumble.

His face takes on that terrible look that he’d given you in the record store, all enraptured and cloudy at the corners of his eyes. Looking at you from where he leans on his elbows, one knee propped up, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. You want to shove it back down.

And see what he’ll do about that.

“How do you know all this shit?” he asks. Eddie can’t help this. He can’t help that he keeps changing his channel about you (again, police scanner) because one second you’ll be such a massive pain in the ass, then the next, you’ll say something so clever that it’ll make him want to vomit.

“I like music,” you say, flatly. You give it to him straight, because you suddenly feel searched. You clutch Waitsy’s printed face to your chest in an effort of self-defense. “And I like… words. Kind of makes sense that I would enjoy music journalism, if you’re not totally stupid.”

“I’m only a little stupid.”

“Debatable.”

“Wait, but I mean–” and he’s gearing up, because Eddie is about to ask you a real question. Something that’s been on his mind, the more ice shavings he can tear off of you. Considering you, all three dimensions of you– four, if you add in how much you like to punch him and stuff. “You’re like, incredibly smart, right.”

“Yes.”

“Like, perfect grades.”

“Almost. Save Kaminsky, because he can’t teach for shit and he can’t grade for piss.”

“And you’re a cheerleader… like, an important one?”

“Artist formerly known as, but yes.”

“And you’re on the newspaper.”

“Very perceptive, aren't we.”

“You’re also popular– or, yeah, were. You party and stuff. You’re always hanging out with those assholes who don’t do half the shit that you do.”

“Are you closing in on a point here, Munson?”

“How?” he nearly whispers, tone close to dreamy. “You’ve gotta have like, body doubles running around or something because no human person could possibly have that much time in the day. How the fuck did you do all that and also be running around ready to cite, like, an issue of the New Yorker from 1975, and not go completely insane?”

How do you know I’m not completely insane. Because, if he had ever witnessed how Jekyll and Hyde you could get, smacking the shit out of yourself with your hairbrush before you could turn on and be Lacy the cheerleader, Lacy the hot chick, Lacy the playground bitch, he would think you are totally insane.

You answer him half-straight this time.

“Diet pills.”

This makes him sit up, and makes you take a couple of steps back towards the bed. You flop down, tossing the Blue Valentine sleeve to the side.

“Diet pills,” he repeats.

“Oohhh, yes,” you nod, drawing the shape of the cylindrical pills on his comforter with your finger. You don’t really want to look up at him. “Rainbow diet pills. Soon as I hit my menses, I started lifting them from my mom.”

“Isn’t that stuff illegal?” Eddie murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, mimicking your criss-cross applesauce seating position. “It’s basically speed, right?”

“Said the drug dealer,” a snort bursts from you. You’ve moved your fidgeting, starting to braid your half-damp hair. “And it is. It’s fully speed. I was doing baby Valley of the Dolls at age thirteen.”

“That is fucked up, Lacy.”

“Yeah. Well. I'm a little fucked up, or haven't you heard?”

“There’s been rumblings.” Eddie watches your fingers work, weaving locks of hair, one over the other. He’s never braided his hair. He wonders what it might look like. You come to the end and twist it around your finger, at a loss for a hair tie. He sticks a finger under his leather and silver bracelet, digging out an elastic he keeps handy, just in case. There are a lot of times that Eddie needs to yank his hair out of his face just to focus. “Here.”

You mouth a silent thanks and wind the elastic around the tuft of hair. Tom Waits whines away about rain washing memories from the sidewalks and you feel weirdly… at ease. You’ve shared a couple of rainbow diet pills with Nicole and Carol (Tina doesn’t mess with amphetamines, a consummate athlete), but you’ve never had anyone ask you how you’ve managed to be the person you’re pretending to be.

To put the clues together about your impossible do-it-all identity.

And not react in disgust when he finds out you’re fallible.

“Hey,” Eddie says. Something about hearing you rattle off, not sniping for once, saying something real… it eased the heartburn. It has loosened his tension around you, a little. He figures it’s his turn to say something real. “I’m sorry I called you evil.”

Most evil twat at the twat table, you nearly correct. “You had grounds.”

“No, no, I didn’t. You–” this is actually harder for him to get out than he thought, “You’re trying. You’re trying really hard to make the best of a messed up situation, and maybe I should’ve seen that– but I didn’t, because it’s high school, and it’s dumb, and I’m trying too, and we’re all trying, just to survive this messed up microcosm of the world– and– and–" He huffs. It's you gazing at him this time. Eyes sparkling in the half-light cast by his bedside lamp. You're... really pretty. "Jesus, can you just forgive me so I can stop talking?”

“That’s a first,” you say. “Microcosm is a five dollar vocab word, Eddie.”

The way you say his name. “I’m a changed man.”

“Can you use adulation in a sentence next?” Your big grin is devastating.

He leans right into you, dastardly looking suddenly. “Is this provocation getting you hot, you psycho?”

Fingertips braced over your knees, your torso keening just the right amount of degrees to favor him, your stare making an unsubtle job of darting from Eddie’s lashes to his lips to his lashes to his lips…

“Maybe.” A beat. A heavy beat. “What are you gonna do about it?”

In any other world, with any other person, the wanting would completely make sense. Wanting him to say nothing more and just do, to plant a big, ringed hand either side of your hips and pull you into his lap. To crush his lips against yours. To dig his hands into your thighs, to wind your fingers into his hair. To feel the chill of silver traveling up, under the back of your borrowed shirt, to press down onto him and–

Hey Charlie, I almost went crazy-ayzy-ayzy-ayzy-ay–

Eddie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t mean to, but his head snaps away from you just as the record starts to skip.

Then the door slams.

Fuck.

“Ed?”

Wayne.

He totally forgot to formulate that plan.

author's notes: ZOOWEE MAMA HOW WE FEELING ARE YOU STILL WITH ME longest chapter in the fic so far. thanks for keepin up. i love you, let's not waste any time, i don't think i've got a lot of notes for you this go around but i love you - there is nothing more secretly pretentious teenage girl than loving joan didion and susan sontag (i know this because i was her, i am her to this day in fragments) but particularly joan didion on keeping a notebook really sticks to one's ribs. this is not the last joan didion ref in this fic, sorry for being unbearable - stella adler, the mother of method acting - steve harrington being the originator of the nickname lacy is a tribute to him showing signs of being a goofy motherfucker from day dot. please see this post. it was always there, we just couldn't see it in freshman year because of all the hairspray - what's going on with tommy hagan? does anyone really care but me, probably not. but for those that are keeping tick on the timeline (don't)- he got held back senior year, hence why he did not graduate with steve and is in the same grade as eddie, lacy, carol, et al. - WICKED LITTLE TOWN!!!! - the stooges t-shirt is yet another flight of icarus pick; al wears a stooges shirt and i creamed because i love the stooges. let's listen to one of my favorites - loudness are a metal band from osaka, japan! they got signed to an american label in 1985, but how did eddie munson get that tape in hawkins, indiana in 1984? well, my theory is that eddie loves music and jerry from main street vinyl loves benzos. a trade's a trade's a trade. - reader, you are an 18y/o girl who thinks you're better than everyone. of course you're stealing lester bangs' opinions on blue oyster cult and making them your own - and shitting on robert christgau bc you've got a wetty for tom waits - also, here is tom waits' cover of somewhere! my theory on eddie being a tom waits fan-- of course he is, that man looks and sounds like billy goat gruff and is a storytella just like eddie is. he would especially be into his later stuff, like the megalithic orphans album. y'all remember this song from shrek 2 - rainbow diet pills were a real insane thing! this seems more accessible than adderall for the time period, which modern!lacy would certainly have been abusing - for the time that's in it, let me present tom waits' anti-christmas song, christmas card from a hooker in minneapolis my loves, if you've still stuck with me this far, i thank you greatly. i know i'm nutso but i'm having fun writing this fic. i would've been writing it if nobody was reading, but it's a billion times better now that you are. reblogs are always appreciated, and the inbox is always open to chat shit ♡

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗

pt 2 of do you like the way the water tastes?

eddie x fem!reader

summary: eddie walks you home but doesn’t do what you expect, when you try to confront him it doesn’t go as planned.

Your work shoes were rubbing at your ankles, friction from the water and the inability to never really feel dry after spending the afternoon at the pool, prevalent on your reddening skin.

But you could care less.

Eddie and you had been walking home in small awkward silence for the last ten minutes. Every once in a while his boot would crack a rock down the sidewalk and you’d kick it back to him, playing again, like children.

The silly boy at the pool with you was now being coy, rosy cheeks hiding behind a curtain of curls when your knuckles brushed his while you walked.

He clears his throat a few times, maybe the chlorine was making his throat scratchy? Or possibly his bravado fell once the two of you were alone?

Either way, you focused on the way his fingers went to his mouth to bite the nail in a nervous habit, the click of his tongue ring on the back of his front teeth in another little routine for him. The noise makes your belly burn. so you break the ice.

You bump into his shoulder, one hand twirling the ends of your hair, the other taking advantage of the heated skim of his skin on yours, “really had me fooled at Benny’s.”

he chuckles quickly, exasperating a small snort that he covers with a cough, “ ‘m sorry, probably should have said something better than that— just thought you’d like to ditch work and swim with me— I mean us.” The pretty blush creeps across his cheeks again and you can’t help but grin.

“Well,” you joke, stretching an olive branch out to him, “I’m glad your sick little plan worked.”

The heat creeps up to his ears and he chances to look down at you. Your smile widens and his gaze has you turning away, suddenly sheepish.

His eyes never leave you, but his better judgment stops him from grabbing your hand. “yeah,” he manages, hot tongue licking his own lips. Daring to stare at the way the sun catches on the slope of your nose and sweat beads on your cupid’s bow, “lucky me.”

—

“No kiss or anything?” Stella squeals through the end of your phone a week later.

Eddie had walked you all the way to the door of your apartment building. The small talk was sweet along the way, and you thought when he paused on his way to leave and looked at your lips that he would lean into a kiss.

But he never did. And you felt stupid.

Surely he’d ask for your number?

But he didn’t do that either.

Instead he leaned into the door frame, ghosted his nose along your chin and whispered into your ear, the same clink of his tongue ring on his teeth, “see you around, sweetheart.”

What probably took a matter of 5 seconds lingered on your skin for hours. His smell; all chlorine and cigarettes. The way his cheeks burned in a crimson tinged tan from the sun.

It was intoxicating.

Addicting.

And you were left confused. He had almost kissed you at the pool… so why was he shy when you were alone? And even worse, silent.

“Nancy Drew couldn’t crack this case,” you explained to your best friend, “I thought we would… I don’t know.. go out? Maybe sneak a kiss?”

You were annoying yourself. Why was this bothering you so bad? It’s not as if you had a ton of boyfriends in your lifetime, but you knew when someone was flirting.

And Eddie Munson was laying on the charm, hot and heavy.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend?” Stella quipped, “maybe he was just letting you down easy?”

Sweet Stella was always so genuine, she'd tell it to you straight but deliver it in sugary goodness. And even though she was sweet the words cut you like a knife.

“Fuck, who knows, I gotta go… see you at work?”

She says her goodbyes and you slam the receiver down, the ding satisfying to your ears.

Was Eddie playing you? Your stomach twists at the thought and you nearly kick yourself for letting him get the best of you. You didn’t even know him enough to be this upset.

Pushing him out of your mind the best you could for the rest of the afternoon you wait tables, pocketing next to nothing in tips because you won’t crack a smile. Coffee stains your apron, and ketchup coats the toe of your shoe, the smell making you gag in disgust.

Anything and everything that could go wrong at work did. At least to you. Stella and Dawn seemed to be having a great shift but you were brooding in your own head about the audacity Eddie Munson had to not even call, or have the balls to tell you that he wasn’t interested.

Being led on was worse than rejection. And this stung horribly, wedging the stinger into your chest further with every huff of annoyance you let out.

Stella’s smile cheers you up, her uniform cinching her curves in all the right ways, her pockets nearly bursting with loose change and folded bills in tips.

“Maybe he’s shy?” She says over a shared cigarette in the back near closing time, her brain had been working overtime trying to make you feel better.

Shrugging your shoulders you scoot onto the plastic bucket you’ve used as a chair since starting at Benny’s junior year. “I dunno Stell, I feel like a giant fucking loser.”

It was true, you hadn’t heard anything from him since he walked you home. You even made an embarrassing call to Gareth to see if you would bring Eddie up. But he never did. You were annoyed with yourself for giving a shit when clearly he didn’t.

“Well how about this,” she says sliding down next to you, “I’ll close up tonight and you go home and rest. No sense in feeling like shit and being at this dump .”

—

The drive back to your apartment is short, and hot, the air conditioning that hasn’t worked all summer in your car suddenly driving you mad. The old radio that fuzzed and only came clear in one station decided to quit indefinitely right in the middle of your favorite song.

Before the transmission is thrown into park, you’re on the verge of screaming, and when the key sticks in the ignition you slam your hands into the steering wheel. Could this day get any worse?

Frustration brews when you finally finagle the key just right so it pops out of the vice and your elbow catches the dash, hard. The last straw.

Smoldering tears well in your eyes, but you swallow them down. And it’s in that moment that you decide you need answers right the fuck now.

—

Forest Hills Trailer Park was on the outskirts of town, nestled up against a vast, thick tree line. You didn’t know which trailer was his, taking a chance on a tan one that had a van parked out front that looked similar to his. Only to be embarrassed beyond belief when an old lady with missing teeth and tight curlers cursed you out for interrupting Oprah, a slam of her shitty screen door in your face.

Stomping down the steps you narrowly avoid a nail on the second step. Causing you to lose your balance and topple over into barely-there grass covered lawn. Face first into the dirt.

Great.

The drag of soil and the pull of grass snapping from the earth rings into your ears and shoves under your nails as you scrape your hands on the yard of lot 11, pushing yourself up.

The first rogue tear slides down your dirty face and you don’t even bother to wipe it away. Simply shifting to sit on your butt while you dust gingerly at the gravel and fresh blood from your knees.

You were wrong before: today could get worse. Much worse. Coffee, ketchup, grass and dirt all paint your work uniform. You were a mess. A pissed off, mess.

You hear your name in a question. And when you look up there he is. The one you had been searching for. Standing above you with a concerned expression, trying hard to hide a grin. He’s wearing a bandana around his head, the pungent smell of grease and sticky oil wafts to you when the wind picks up and he gets closer, a socket wrench gripped lazily in his hand.

The dirt on your cheek and bits of twigs stuck in your hair only add to the messy glamor of how you already looked. But Eddie can’t help but stare, the same heat in his cheeks and swimming in his stomach from the day at the pool when you look up at him, tears ready to fall.

“Didn’t know Miss Jeanie had a granddaughter,” he says with a slight tease, “thought she was too damn mean to ever be married.”

When the scowl set on your face didn't budge he changed his tone, shifting his weight from laid back and almost cocky with a hip out to standing like he was getting scolded. Both feet locked in place and his head down, shoulders sagged, peeking at you through his bangs, he stammers, “a—are you okay?”

A loud sniff leaves your body as you shove yourself up from the ground, not seeing the hand Eddie threw out to help you, “yeah,” you spit, wincing slightly as the bend in your knees stretches open the broken skin, “just peachy, I try to spend my Saturdays falling down the steps of some rickety ass trailer in hopes of avoiding a nail through my foot.”

Eddie only stares, mouth set in confusion as he tries to think of a quick reply, something witty, maybe something to make you laugh, but you don’t give him the time.

Turning on your heel, you stumble over a rock but catch yourself. Again, not seeing the way Eddie had ran forward with an outstretched hand to help. You’ve never been more mad and embarrassed in your entire life, and all you wanted to do was get the hell out of here.

It’s not until you have the door of your car open does Eddie register what he wanted to say, “what are you doing here?”

It comes out wrong, accusing compared to the way he thought it would fall flirty from his lips. And you’re stunned, the tears falling freely now.

“Fuck, I mean— shit—” he stutters through his explanation, tongue tied and twisting in on itself, “n—not like ‘what are you doing here?’ but…” embarrassment works up his neck and hides on the tips of his ears, “I—I meant, Uhh— shit, d’ you need a band aid?”

The tears make clean streaks down your face and you wipe at them angrily. “N-o I don’t need a f-frickin’ bandaid, Eddie!” You needed a hot bath, a nap, a fucking cigarette; anything but this frustratingly awkward conversation with you resembling a bum and Eddie looking like a Greek Mechanic God.

“Well, you’re bleeding,” he emphasizes and points to the bloody scrapes on your knees.

You knew they were bleeding, they stung and burned with each step you took, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of helping you out.

“I’m f—fine,” you stutter.

“Shh, c’mon sweet girl,” Eddie says, closing the steps between you both and shutting your car door, his forefinger curled to catch a tear from dripping down your cheek, “lemme clean y’ up and then you can tell me what brought this cute little face down to the slums.”

You had come here to give him a piece of your mind, demand to know why he was so hot and cold. Instead you had made a fool out of yourself, and were a blubbering mess.

—

Eddie’s trailer was the one next door to Miss Jeanie’s. Misjudging the yard his van was parked in as hers, you silently kick yourself as you follow him up the three steps leading inside.

His trailer is welcoming in a young bachelor type of way. Comforting outdated trinkets, guitar amps and cords strewn across the surfaces— keeping the dust and empty beer cans company.

“Sorry,” he says, picking up some beer cans and tossing them into the trash, “roommates a slob, have a seat Uhh— wherever,” he says gesturing around with his hands and disappearing down a narrow hallway.

You look around and take a seat at the table, “didn’t know you had a roommate,” you call out, looking around the small cluttered living space. Tapes and magazines cover the small table along with a faded green homemade ashtray filled almost to the rim.

Eddie comes bounding back down the hallway, carrying a small first aid kit and a washcloth, “I don’t,” he quips, delivering a wink that has your stomach somersaulting. And when he notices the heat rise on your cheeks, he gives you a toothy smile in an attempt to hide his own blush.

And it was like no time had passed. Like he hadn’t been avoiding you for a week, but rather that you were still swimming in the cool blue water of the pool, kissed by the warmth of the sun and his arms around you when he pulled you in.

His thumbs trace the edges of the kit in a nervous habit, “Alright, let's take a look at those knees,” he looks from you to the kitchen counter, “do you uh.. here—” with a sweep of his arm he shoves the magazines and scattered tapes in a dusty cardboard box and tossed it on the table, “sit up here.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, you give him a puzzled expression, which he answers with a laugh, “Dr. Munson needs to be able to see what he’s doing.”

For the first time since arriving in the trailer park, you let out a small smile, “doctor huh?” you question hoisting yourself onto the counter.

Eddie works beside you filling a bowl with warm water, “shyeah, I’m the band's primary caregiver,” he explains in a mockery tone, “even gave myself stitches a few years back after hiding from the cops when Jeff’s party got busted.”

He extends his pale arm towards you brandishing the silvery crook of a scar on his forearm, “twelve stitches, not the prettiest thing but it did the job.”

The air of your giggle was exactly what he was looking for, and his dimples dip into his cheeks with a smirk, hiding behind uncombed curls.

Thick fingers open the lid to the kit and he pulls out the old packages of gauze and bandages. Dipping a washcloth into the warm water he whistles a tune you haven’t heard, wringing the cloth out, the water splashes gently into the bowl.

He glanced over at your cut knees and winced, “not gonna lie to you, ‘s gonna hurt like hell.”

Nodding with a sniffle you quietly say, “I’ve had scraped knees before… doctor.” The grin he tried to hide spreads and tickles the corners of his eyes.

“Just want my favorite patient comfortable,” he says leaning into the joke.

“Favorite or only?”

His laugh is loud and boisterous, a thousand leagues away from his gentle touch on the delicate raw skin as he presses the cloth carefully around the scrapes and cleans the wound.

“Both,” he says, looking up at you through the thick black weeds of his lashes, holding your gaze for a second longer than he should have, pushing the limits. “Ya gonna tell me what you were doin’ playing in the dirt by my trailer or should I guess?”

“I— I was,” you think quick of a lie, but you almost tremble when his head lowers and his curls tickle the tops of your bare thighs, the feeling sends prickles of goose flesh in its wake. All senses on overload, and you squirm when his warm hand sits atop one of them.

“I heard that there was a place to rent here, and well yeah if you must know— I was researching that information for Molly and Gareth.”

The sensation is quick lived as he hurriedly empties the bowl and struggles to open the bandaid package, using his teeth instead and spitting the paper to the floor.

“Really?” He questions, in almost a whisper, after expertly placing the bandaid over the cut. Leaning with palms on either side of you, his stare is playful, “cause Gareth told me they already found a place.”

Your blood runs cold and you can smell the brine of sweat on his bandana as he gets closer and boxes you in. Stuttering out a phrase somewhere between, ‘I-was-looking-for-my-other-friend’ and a muttered gasp, he only laughs.

The same click from his tongue ring you heard at the pool on the back of his teeth as he clucks his tongue sang in your ears, you’d do whatever you could to hear that again. Shaking his head, he looks at you with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, “you sure about that?”

Here he was again, laying it on thick and juicy. But two could play this game.

“Yeah,” you counter back, leaning forward into him, not giving him the upper hand but wanting to tease him— unable to forget the week of silence.

Whispering and curling your lips close to his ear you can hear the way he shudders, “thanks for the bandaids Doctor Munson,” your breath fans on his skin, and you ghost your lips across his cheek, “but, I gotta go.”

You didn’t. But the satisfaction of having him close and then you being the one to to push him away was fucking satisfying.

Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the counter, crossing his arms across the stained front of his once white shirt, “Two lies from those pretty little lips, sweetheart you’re just asking for trouble.”

“I’m not lying,” you say innocently, hopping down from the counter and walking towards the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

You were.

“That's three,” he says, eyes following you like he was lost. The flirty vibe he had been giving was falling away from him.

Turning the knob you glance over your shoulder, “looks like I’m out.”

In two long legged strides he’s beside you, pulling the door shut with a big hand over your own, his face looks almost flustered like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you, “Go for a drive with me.”

“No,” you sing-song to him looking at your bare wrist as if you were wearing a watch, biting back with a teasing hint of venom of your sour attitude, “it’s late, maybe next week.”

He snorts a laugh and the dimples he had tried to hide earlier appear, making you almost melt into the worn linoleum.

“Ahh c’mon Pinocchio,” he teases, reaching to your cheek to brush a smear of dirt from it, “maybe a little fresh air will help you remember why you came here in the first place.”

“I’ve already ridden in that death trap on wheels, screw boy,” you say pointing a finger into his chest.

He crowds you again, licking his lips and biting his tongue ring through his perfect teeth to show you the silver bulb.

“Oh baby no, we aren’t driving the van,” his fingers wrap around the hem of your sleeve on your work uniform and he looks down at you with a devilish grin, “we’re taking my bike.”

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#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfic #eddie munson imagine

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whoahoney · 2 years

Text

An Attempt at a One Night Stand Pt. 2

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: The night has come and Reader is meeting Eddie at the Hideout for another evening of fun, but will Eddie leave with the seven digits he’s set out to get?

Content warnings: fem/AFAB!Reader, adult themes (alcohol, bar scene) and situations (minors DNI), smut (fingering, protected p in v sex, nipple play, edging, hair pulling), angst, idiots afraid of getting hurt.

A/N: I hope this meets everyone’s expectations! Once again, the attention this story has received is mind blowing, thank you all so much 🥺🤍

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been one week since she saw Eddie, not that she was paying super close attention or anything. He did find his way into her head at the most random times, though.

When she was cooking dinner for her son, the steam from the pot hit her face gently, reminding her of the way his breath felt against her face when he panted insatiably.

When she heard Hellraiser or any Ozzy on the radio, she couldn’t help but smile and turn it up louder, chuckling as she spotted Danny flipping his long brown hair side to side in the rear view mirror.

When she would lay on the couch late at night to watch some movies Robin brought, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen them, or liked them. But then she reminded herself that was ridiculous and continued to fail to not think about Eddie Munson and his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty dick.

Y/n tried to take care of her urges herself, but her toy just wasn’t cutting it for her this time. She couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

“Y/n! Are you getting ready for tonight?” Mollie shouted into the mouthpiece of her phone as she painted the top coat of her nails. The sun was setting which meant Stella would be around to pick everyone up for the evening.

“Yes, Molls, I’m getting makeup on as we speak.” Y/n said, referring to her strategic eyeliner, mascara, and chapstick trio, hoping the only thing that’s smudged tonight is her mascara, if he’s into that sort of thing.

“I hope you aren’t wearing much! Also, are you planning on wearing a dress? Cause I was thinking you should totally—“

“I’ll see you soon, Molls.” She said with a sigh behind her smile before hanging up the phone around the corner on her nightstand. She turned her attention back to the mirror, and let out a deep breath as she looked over her appearance.

She let her hair down around her face, combing her fresh curls out until they were touchably soft. She smoothed the front of her dress that she was debating on changing just to stick it to Mollie, but she knew they agreed for a reason. The black mini dress against her skin hugged her in all the right places, a contrast from the t-shirt, jeans, and converse she wore last week.

She straightened the thin straps that hung on her shoulders and leaned over to fix her breasts. She took a step back and debated on taking off the fishnets before she put on her black docs, when Robin came running into her room with Danny on her back, pretending to be a Pegasus.

“Mommy! Check out Robby’s wings!” He shouted, holding onto Robin’s band shako. The tall hat and feather led Danny to dream up the idea of a flying unicorn, which Robin quickly told him that there was such a creature called a Pegasus, which brought them to run around the house for the last 15 minutes.

“Whoaaa! They’re so strong, too!” She chuckled, leaning up against the doorframe and crossing her arms to give them her full attention.

“Neighhhh, I’ve been workin’ out.” She trotted around the room like a horse as the child squealed in delight. “Do you think I should nix the fishnets, Robin the Pegasus?”

“Depends!” She began as she sat Danny on the bed to watch Looney Tunes and then joined Y/n in the bathroom to speak lowly, “Are you hoping to take them off while you’re out?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she mirrored Y/n’s previous position against the door frame.

Y/n rolled her eyes and blushed furiously as she nodded. “Aren’t you going to the same bar—” Robin gasped with wide eyes, “Is it the same dude??” She covered her mouth in anticipation. Y/n waited a moment before nodding, Robin gasped again followed by a quiet giggle and happy dance complete with clapping. “Oh my god, you have a date?? I knew this day would come, oh my god. Who is he??” She rushed, grasping Y/n by the shoulders.

Y/n shook her head, “No, uh-uh, not a date, I just told him I’d come see his band play again.” She shrugged.

“His band? Y/n, aren’t you going to the Hideout?!” Robin questioned. Y/n froze, avoiding Robin’s look in the mirror, preparing for the tsunami of happiness that is Robin when she is excited.

“Holy fucking shit!” She exclaimed, looking like a kicked puppy when Y/n shot her a disapproving look and then looked behind her to Danny who was completely oblivious to the bad words flying behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” She momentarily clasped her hands over her mouth before taking them back off and continuing, “It’s Eddie, right? Is it Eddie Munson? I’m friends with him! That’s my boy! We went through the end of the world together.” She lowered her voice at the last part, Y/n knowing about the spring of ‘86, but not specifics, Robin having a hard time explaining the whole thing calmly and linearly.

“Eddie’s a good guy, Y/n, maybe the best. Y’know he’s always reminded me of—“

“Yeah. Me too.” Y/n gave a pained and tight smile. Robin winced, not meaning to strike any nerves. “Is-Is that why you like him, maybe?” She asked quietly, looking at her nails.

Y/n sighed and hopped up on the counter to face Robin. “Yes, and no. Yes, because he’s playful and witty and dorky like Adam. No, because Eddie is…”

“Unhinged?” Robin suggested, making Y/n laugh and nod, “Yeah, unhinged. I feel like Eddie is so wild and daring, but I don’t feel like that when we talk, like, I feel safe? I don’t know. But that feeling, that safe feeling is similar to how.. how things felt with Adam. Not the same—and not like I want it to be the same, cause I don’t.” Y/n rushed, Robin nodding and stepping closer to her friend. “No, I know. I know, Y/n/n, I don’t think anyone in the world could love Adam the way you do. Things are allowed to feel similar without being the same, you know? You aren’t—You aren’t cheating on Adam. You’re with Adam forever, dude, whether you feel it or not.”

“No, I do. But it feels so wrong. Like I already had my chance at true love. What if I’m just wasting our time if I decide to go through with this? If I decide to continue to see Eddie, if he’ll see me.” She added with an eye roll.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m surprised he didn’t follow you home like a lost puppy after last week now that I know ‘bar guy’ is Eddie! He’d jump at the chance to date you properly, Y/n/n.” Robin shrugged.

“You’re missing one thing, though, Robs: my son? That complicates a lot, if you didn’t know.” Y/n gestured to Danny who was now jumping up and down on the bed mercilessly. “Little boy, you better stop jumping before you fall down and hurt your arm again!” Y/n called from the bathroom, only turning her attention back to the mirror after he landed on his bottom and laid down on his stomach to watch the TV longer.

“Eddie would love Danny, are you kidding me?! They’d make the best of buds, and you mean to tell me he isn’t the slightest bit interested in the fact you’re a mom??” Robin shrugged as if the answer were simple. “No, he’s not, cause he doesn’t know! That’s not exactly information I share with the guys I meet when I’m out.” She sprayed her favorite perfume in the air before walking through it and turning off the bathroom light and walking past Robin into the bedroom.

“Wait, he doesn’t know? Are you gonna tell him?” Robin asked with wide eyes following after her. Y/n stood next to the tv, Danny panicking as she placed her hand on the knob to turn it off. “C’mon, squirt, we’re going to the living room til I gotta go!” She heaved the boy onto her hip as he calmed, laying his head on her shoulder while they walked, his mother leaving a peck on the top of his head.

“I don’t think I should until I know for sure what I wanna do with this situation, you know?” She asked as she placed Danny on the couch and turned on the tv for him. Robin was at a loss for words as Y/n put on her regular denim jacket. The familiar sound of Stella’s horn sounding from the driveway told her now was the time to kiss Danny bye.

“I love you, buddy, I’ll be back after Robby tucks you in bed, alright?” She said with a ruffle to his hair. Danny grabbed his mom's face with his small hands and planted a kiss on her head as she had done for him. “Love you too!” He said cheerily.

Robin nodded to Y/n in agreement at her previous statement as Y/n slipped on her shoes and tied her laces quickly. “Since it’s Eddie and all…keep the fishnets on, unless you’re, like, super attached to them, then don’t.” Robin said simply and then flashed a smile before opening the door for her, “Have fun!”

Y/n balked then rolled her eyes on her way out, “The chicken and vegetables are in the oven! Take it out when the timer goes off, and make sure he eats at least, like, three bites of his veggies, please!” She called as she opened the car door. Robin nodded, gave her a thumbs up and closed the door.

She took the opportunity to turn and look at her friends in the car, Kathy and Mollie beaming from the backseat and Stella smirking behind the wheel avoiding eye contact the best she could. “What?” Y/n asked exasperatedly.

“Nothing! You just look really good. Like, really good.” Kathy said, biting back a smile. “I mean, thanks, but what’s the big deal?” She looked down at her outfit once more, feeling self conscious and naked without the cover of her jeans and ringer t-shirt. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” She shook her head, her hand poised on the handle ready to get out and change at lightning speed.

“Oh, uh-uh, you look amazing, you’re wearing the dress!” Stella said as she dove over the center and pushed the lock down. Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms, thinking for a moment and sighing. “It’s not too much?” She asked quietly.

Her friends looked amongst each other and smiled, “Not at all, the denim and combat boots offset it perfectly! I do think he’s gonna blow his load when he sees you, if I’m being honest.” Mollie mumbled around a cigarette as she tried to light it.

The car erupted into cackles, “Mollie, oh my god!” Kathy blushed and covered her little virgin ears. “Oh, c’mon, Kath, you remember the way he looked at her when he was on stage during Hellraiser?? He wanted to devour her on the spot!” She exclaimed and handed the cigarette to Y/n to puff.

Y/n fiddled with the radio as the girls carried on, theorizing how many shots Gareth will try to do and how many times Jeff wins a game of Quarters. “It’s because he has bassist hands!” Kathy sighed dreamily. “Ope, Kath, looks like you got a little drool there.” Y/n turned and teased, sending another blush onto the timid girl’s cheeks.

“On a real note, though,” Y/n said as she took a drag, her backseat friend leaning in eagerly. “Go for it, ask him out. Jeff sounds sweet as can be. He’d be dumb not to.” She shrugged before turning back around to face the windshield.

Her friends in the car shared a look in the rear view mirror, hoping her encouragement to Kathy meant she would encourage herself the same. “Turn it up! Turn it up! Listen!” Mollie exclaimed, patting the back of Stella’s seat for attention. Y/n jumped and obliged her, ready to see what the fuss was about.

Dio’s Holy Diver filled the car as everyone looked at Y/n. Y/n crinkled her brow in confusion, “What about it? Did you finally give Dio a chance?? Is this your way of telling me I was right??” Y/n asked smugly. “Noo… you really don’t know?” Mollie asked incredulously.

Y/n searched the air for answers, coming up with nothing. “What is it??” She shrugged. “Well I guess we can’t blame you for not seeing the back of your boy much, but the whole back of his vest is a Dio album cover patch. Did you really not see it??” She asked as Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Oh god, I bet if she knew he liked Dio last week she would’ve spent the night.” Mollie said with a smirk, leaning back in the seat.

“Oh my god, she so wouldn't!” Kathy defended with a roll of her eyes. “But she could tonight.” Y/n caught her mumble to Mollie, the two bursting into snickers in the back seat. “Shut up!” Y/n turned quickly, weakly fighting off a smile threatening to break across her lips at the prospect.

Robin would stay the night with Danny if she phoned, she knew that. But she couldn’t help but worry tonight wouldn’t be like last week, that the illusion would be shattered and she’d be back to bar hopping next month, settling for some townie that paid ample attention to her for the evening to bone.

A small sick feeling crept into her stomach as they got closer to their destination, the fading deep blue of the sky sinking into black felt ominous though she was surrounded by love and light.

“Y/n/n, you good? Y’know we can bail if you want, find somewhere else to go, come back next week with an excuse?” Stella mumbled before they pulled into the parking lot sparse with old cars and beat down trucks.

Y/n shook her head, knowing she wanted to see him, that if the illusion was shattered it should happen now. Instead, she opened the car door, the rest of her friends following her lead. “Molls, can I have another cigarette?” She asked timidly. “Of course you can!” Mollie cooed like a mother. “Here you are!” She said, extending her hand with the single cigarette and yellow lighter for Y/n to take.

They walked into the establishment together, her hands shaking a little as she brought the cigarette up to her lips. She held the door open, having her friends walk before her as a last effort at putting off seeing the face that invaded her every thought since she left him last. She could hear the buzz of the electric instruments humming as she entered the hazy bar that was aglow with neon lights, just like last time.

The stage lights flashed on, revealing Corroded Coffin still setting up. “Oh good, we’re just in time!” Stella commented as she took off her jacket and hung it off the back of the chair she occupied last week. Y/n gave a half smile in response, worried if she opened her mouth she’d throw up. “I’ll just get you a drink, huh?” Stella asked, getting up and patting her shoulder before joining their other two friends at the bar.

Y/n sighed, now alone and even more vulnerable with her thoughts. She kept her eyes on the written-on table, different colors of pens and drawings etched into the old woodwork.

“Come here often?” Sent a jolt through her body as her head shot up to see Eddie Munson leaning on her table with two drinks and a warm smile. She clenched her jaw and gave into the smile he gave her as he set the glass in front of her and pulled up a chair, scooting next to her but keeping a safe distance.

“I don’t, but I figured I’d come back since this band I like is playing.” She shrugged, taking a sip of the clear mystery drink that turned out to be… water?

She shot him a quizzical look and looked at the drink in front of her. “I didn’t see you drink any water last week, just wanted to make sure you’re hydrated, you know?” He shrugged as her friends returned, drinks in hand. Their first drink of the night was a classic whiskey and coke, the fizzy drink making her eyes light up in delight, which made Eddie chuckle as the rest of the band joined them.

“Hey, ladies! What do you say we throw one back together before we go on?” Gareth asked as the group collectively agreed. Gareth and Jeff scrambled to the bar to grab four more drinks for a quick cheers. When they returned, the band each grabbed a glass, the group gathering around the table to tap their drinks together with a satisfying clink and tilting their glasses back til the dark liquid was gone and they were left with nothing but bitter tastes in the back of their throats and screwed up faces from the kick of it.

“I’m so glad to see you back, I can’t tell you how many times this last week Eddie was stressing about your girl, here.” Gareth teased lightly, a friendly smile on his lips as he sipped his chaser, sputtering when Eddie hit his arm too roughly, the girls biting back smiles. “We gotta get up there, bud.” Gareth said, wiping his mouth with his bare hand and then drying it on Eddie’s shoulder on his way past. Eddie sent Y/n a look with a shy smile, “I’ll, uh, be back later?”

Y/n nodded softly, “I’ll be here.” Her response brought a smile to his face, his eyes glittering just as they had a week prior as he nodded and walked to the stage, not trying to hide his glances back at her on his way.

“Try not rock too hard, girls.” Gareth said cheekily into the microphone as he settled on his stool and flipped his hair, which made Eddie and Jeff roll their eyes. “See you later, Kath.” Jeff smiled pointedly at the sweet blushing girl, who sent him a shy wave as he took his place with his bass. Grant never said much, but his skills as a rhythm guitarist were undeniable. The guy took the place to Eddie’s left and plugged his guitar into the amp, scratching out a riff to check the sound, and earning a rowdy cheer from the table in the back center.

The heads of the band members turned their attention back to the girls in surprise, not used to people actually paying attention to them up there. Small smiles erupted as the boys looked at each other. “Hell yes, Grant, let’s GO!” Mollie shouted as the other girls whooped and hollered.

Eddie turned and said something to the group before walking up to the mic and looking at his girl in the crowd. “This one’s for all the Johnny Cash fans in the room.” Y/n scoffed at the guitarist, her cheeks feeling awfully warm. “As always, ladies and gents, we are Corroded Coffin.” He said into the mic before Gareth counted them off and Eddie launched into the intro.

Kathy was simply mesmerized by Jeff and his bass skills, the low rumble of the chords he played making it harder for her to breathe, and then suddenly, self consciously squeezing her thighs together. Gareth entered heavy on the drums to Eddie’s satisfaction, a smile on his lips as he nodded; dancing around the little space he had on stage and masterfully dodging electric cords as he did.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she recognized the intro to Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash playing, just in their own style. She chuckled at his freeness, the way he bit his lip and thrashed his head until it was his time to sing, and oh, did she love hearing him sing.

“Love.. is a burning flame.. And it makes.. a fiery ring.” He looked up at Y/n at her table, her smirk still visible in the dim light of the bar.

“Bound by wild desire..” He sent her a wink, his smile growing when he saw her avert her eyes down and blush before taking another drink of her water. “I fell into a ring of fire..”

“I’m getting another round, you want?” Stella asked before she made her trip back to the bar, Y/n nodding and mouthing, “Shots!” To which Stella’s eyes lit up as she gave her friend a thumbs up.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down down down, and then flame went higher..

And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire.. the ring of fire..” He sang to her directly as her shot showed up on the table in front of her, a clear and tempting liquid she knew for sure this time wasn’t water. She took a whiff, her brows pulling together as she looked at her friend next to her, “Vodka? You’re dangerous.” Y/n commented before looking back to Eddie who was shredding a guitar solo on his knees, his gaze now cast on his guitar in his lap.

“C’mon, let’s go by the stage to do it, he hasn’t even seen your full outfit yet!” Mollie urged with two shots in hand as the rest of the group flocked to the edge of the make-shift stage with the handful of regulars that didn’t mind the rowdy boys once a week.

“The taste of love is sweet.. when hearts like ours meet..” Eddie took in her full appearance as she walked towards him; drink in hand and her jacket halfway off one shoulder, and suddenly became very thankful for the guitar covering his front.

He stopped strumming to take the mic with him as he crouched to her level, “I fell for you like a child.. ohhhh… but the fire went wild.” He sang with theatrical movements, which she rolled her eyes at but couldn’t deny the smile his antics caused.

“Shots! Let’s go! Knock ‘em back, girls!” Stella shouted over the music, everyone tapping their glasses against one another to down the fire like medicine, waiting for the desired effects to kick in.

Y/n began to feel warm soon after the second drink, discarding her jacket with her glass back at their table, Mollie grabbing her hand immediately after and spinning her around the dance floor, sending the two of them into a fit of giggles as Eddie continued singing. “I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns.. the ring of fire, the ring of fire..” He kept his eyes on her spinning frame, stepping in time with the drums and following her friends' lead with ease, like it was something they’d done a million times, which they probably had.

The girls danced around the floor together, attracting the attention from the other bar patrons enjoying the change in music for the night as well. A few older gentlemen asked Kathy and Mollie to dance, which they obliged since they weren’t creepy, guiding them in fun partner dances around the floor as they laughed in merriment.

Stella volunteered to stay at the table and watch purses and drinks, ready to drink her glasses of water before they drive home in a couple hours. Eddie was eager to get off stage after the first song, opting into only playing two instead of the regular five for tonight even if it meant getting paid significantly less.

He sauntered over to where Y/n was seated with Stella, the latter nudging her arm and nodding at Eddie quickly approaching. He assumed his previous seat and scooted a smidgen closer with a satisfied smirk on his lips as he watched her intently.

“Hey.” He beamed.

“Hi, Eddie.” She giggled as Stella stood up and patted her shoulder, joining Gareth by the stage to chat.

“Y-You look really pretty tonight—not that you didn’t last time. You’re, just.. really really pretty all the time—not that I see you all the time either. I haven’t seen you since the last time I saw you—oh dear god.” He clenched his jaw with a tight smile, giving her a nod before booking it back to the stage in embarrassment when she caught his arm. “I was hoping you’d think so.” She murmured, her hand staying on his arm as his other hand came to lay on top of it.

“Yeah?” He asked as if she told him she brought him a present. He looked her over once more, nodding in approval, “So this is for little old me? You sure know how to make a guy feel special, sweet girl.” He leaned forward more, biting his lip in intrigue.

Y/n loved the way he looked, legs spread on either side of the chair; forearms resting on the back, holding her hand tenderly.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, his brows raising in interest. Y/n sulled up, taking a sip of her half gone water and nodded, “I’ve been good! Busy. And you?” She asked, taking another sip.

“Uh-uh, sneaky thing. We’re talking about you tonight.” He smirked, reaching for his water cup. “What was the best part of your week?” He asked with a shrug before he took a drink.

‘Danny sang his first song all the way through by himself.’ She thought.

‘Not now, later, when you’re more alone.’

“I, uh, got to have birthday cake on Wednesday.” She nodded.

‘At a child’s birthday party where Danny sang his first song by himself.’

Eddie smiled, “The simple things, right? Birthday cake’s the best, especially with that whipped cream frosting they pile on three inches thick! I love a good supermarket birthday cake.” He nodded contently as if he just finished a slice himself.

“What about you? The best part of your week?” She asked.

“Wayne and I went out to dinner in the city to celebrate his raise, got to have appetizers and drinks at a place without a sticky table, Y’know? All the garlic bread you can eat, it was heaven.” He shook his head indulgently.

“Food really lights you up, doesn’t it?” She asked. “Oh, god, yes, I love food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks—hey, you’re doing it again.” He pointed at her and narrowed his eyes. “Do you do this on purpose or are you that bad at talking about yourself?” He asked.

“She’s that bad at talking about herself.” Stella chided as she returned to the table with Gareth following behind. Y/n stuck her tongue out at Stella who mirrored her expression, sending the both of them chuckling. “You guys want another before you get back at it?” Stella asked before she went to the bar, Gareth following closely behind as he shared a knowing look with Eddie that went missed by the two girls they were referring to.

“That sounds perfect, how about—“

“Tequila?” Eddie asked her with his eyebrows raised, two questions in one seemingly. Stella looked to Y/n for a simple answer while Eddie waited with a lip between his teeth, playfulness hiding his worry. “Gimme a double.” She said, her eyes flickering to Eddie’s, who’s eyes rolled back into his head blissfully, Y/n smiling at his antics as usual.

Gareth looked confused before his friend explained, “I love tequila, it’s my new favorite.” Eddie shrugged, the answer good enough to send Gareth to the bar behind Stella.

“I was hoping I’d catch you in a.. tequila mood.” He smirked, his boyish blush flooding back to his cheeks. His eyes trailed down her sitting figure, her dress hiked up past her mid thigh, and her sexy fishnets that had caught a couple runs since she got in the car.

“How could I wear a dress like this for you and not be?” She winked at him this time, his smile only growing as if he’d never been flirted with before.

“Here we are, one double shot of tequila, m’lady.” Stella handed the taller shot glass to her friend as she passed, the other friends gathering to acquire their own, more bubbly and giddy now that the festivities of the night had begun.

“Where’s the salt?”

“Where’s the limes?”

Eddie and Y/n asked in unison, their eyes avoiding one another and every other one of their friends who were so tempted to tease. Gareth almost did but was quickly interrupted by Stella placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him if he’d help her get the desired limes and salt.

“Amateur, shit, am I right?” Eddie joked quietly, nudging her arm with his and leaning closer to her, close enough he can smell the perfume she chose for tonight. Eddie could almost feel his eyes dilate when the scent hit him. The sweet aroma made him want to turn and bury his face in her neck and hair and leave sloppy kisses there. He felt the front of his jeans tightening as he imagined her sticking her tongue down his throat in front of all these people.

He snatched his gaze away as she giggled at his joke, suddenly realizing his face was so close to hers. Stella and Gareth returned with a plate of limes and a tall salt shaker.

“Everybody get some salt, get some lime, we’re doing this correctly, thank you!” Stella announced, Gareth smirking at her take-charge demeanor.

Y/n and Eddie were the first ones ready, her heart warming when he leaned over and grabbed two limes for the both of them. Mollie passed Y/n the salt. Eddie watched as Y/n sprinkled a nice and thick little line on her hand and quickly held out his own next to her so she could set him up. Without a thought she obliged him, chuckling without meeting his eye.

“Alright, party people, one, two, three!” Mollie declared, everyone racing to get theirs done the fastest though they couldn’t beat Eddie and Y/n, who took the shot in sync with one another no matter how fast each were trying to go while giggling the whole time.

“And she had a double!! Amazing, really.” Eddie said in awe as she sat her glass upside down on the table and wiped her mouth with a smile she stopped trying to get rid of.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna go play you one last song and then I’m completely yours.” He smiled earnestly, his sparkling eyes taking in her whole face for any sign of the thoughts circulating her head as he placed his hands on her shoulders, hoping she’d touch him too.

Y/n sighed, the warmth of his hands on her shoulders already electrifying. It took everything in her not to pick his hands up and kiss them before pulling his lips in for one to send him on his way. But she didn’t.

She nodded with a soft smile, “Sounds like a plan. Try not to rock too hard.” She teased, Gareth turning dramatically around in his stool on stage when he heard his advice repeated. Eddie looked content with her answer, the regular dreamy smile lingering on his lips as he made a forward movement, as if he were going to kiss her forehead or nose. His effort stuttered as he decided to turn on his heel and walk to the stage, clenching his teeth and shaking his head at himself.

‘Not yet, dude, what the hell.’

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat the same way it would’ve done had he actually kissed her. She watched him the whole time he walked away, hopping back up on the platform that held them up only a few feet higher than the floor.

“Did he just kiss you?” Mollie inquired quietly with a new drink in hand. Kathy and Stella’s necks cranes around from the table to get Y/n’s reply. She shook her head, “No, but I think he was about to. I-I think he changed his mind.” She shrugged with a small smile.

“Are you glad he didn’t?” Kathy asked, confused. Y/n sat back down and allowed her smile to grow. “No, I think I would’ve liked him to, but I don’t think any guy has overthought kissing me before. Especially not over the forehead.”

“He was going to kiss your forehead?” Mollie gasped, a couple old men turning in their chairs to see what the fuss was about as Y/n nodded sheepishly.

“Well you better give that boy a forehead kiss tonight, Y/n, or so help me God—“

“Oh my god, Mollie, okay, okay. Don’t have to tell me twice to kiss the cute little rockstar’s forehead.” She mumbled, settling into her seat as the alcohol took route in her bloodstream, finally back at the same level of sobriety she was at when she met Eddie the first time.

“You must have a little thing for him, or something.” Stella muttered in the chair next to her behind her glass like a secret. Y/n blushed and blamed it on the alcohol to save face from her own self.

“I just might.” She shrugged one shoulder and turned her attention back to Eddie who had just approached the mic again. “This last one’s for the coolest chicks in Indiana.” He said, the girls erupting into howling cheers.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n debated through the entire song on whether or not she wanted to tell Eddie more about herself that night, fighting the temptation to call Robin and tell her she was gonna give it a shot and see if Eddie wanted to take her back to his place for the night, but knew it was best if she didn’t. She couldn’t rush into anything too quickly no matter how easy it felt.

He’s thoughtful, respectful, ornery, laid back, there’s gotta be something, something wrong with this guy that he’s really good at hiding. I mean this is only the second time I’m meeting him, what if I let him take me somewhere and he murders me??

“Earth to Y/n.” Mollie waved her hand in front of Y/n’s face, “What? What’s up?” She shook her head of the thoughts plaguing her and took a sip of the beer she ordered after a whiskey.

“We asked if you were feeling okay.” Stella spoke up, nudging her friend’s arm with a worried look in her eyes. “Yeah, I feel great, it’s just… he seems too good to be true, right? Like, is it just me? A-Am I thinking about it too hard??” She whispered urgently, her hand resting against her forehead to block her distress from the boys at the front of the room.

The girls looked amongst each other and to the lead singer, who played the Metallica solo with care, stealing glances at the object of his affection when he could.

“I don’t think so, Y/n/n.” Kathy said with a smile and a shake of her head. “I’m with Kathy, you said Robin knows him, right? Wouldn’t you say Robin’s a good judge of character?” Mollie asked while she was bobbing her head to the beat.

Y/n shrugged in contemplation, “I mean, yeah.” She thought back to Robin mentioning ‘the end of the world’ as she referred to it, how Eddie went through it with her. Y/n looked back at him, pure joy on his face as he stood close to Grant while they strummed and picked together, just messing around and jamming during the transitional points of the song.

She wondered how he handled the murders, the blame, the running and hiding. She wondered about the blank spots that her friend was unable to fill, the shared horrors they’d seen and if he had to sleep with a light on like Robin did.

She wanted to let herself let go, to feel safe and small in the palm of his hand, finally able to put her trust and belief and time into someone.

“No one said you had to marry the guy. Y’know you can date casually, right? If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Simple!” Stella shrugged matter of factly.

Y/n looked like a fish out of water at the suggestion, one that wouldn’t seem all too wild to a regular person with regular and normal relationship habits and views, but Y/n had been practically married to her first boyfriend the majority of her teen years. How is she supposed to let anyone go so easily once she’s let them in?

“Yeah, simple.” She muttered and took a swig as the song ended. Eddie held a gleam of eagerness in his eye, freeing himself of his strap around his neck and hopping off the stage with his guitar in hand. “Here comes your boy.” Mollie muttered to her lap, Y/n’s head snapping up to meet his smiling gaze striding up to her.

“How’d you like it?” He asked the table, though kept his eyes on Y/n. The girls collectively agreed and smiled, throwing out compliments that made his cheeks and ears pinker than they were from being winded as the rest of the guys joined the table.

“The guitar solo—mind melting.” Y/n commented with a coy smile and taking a sip of her drink. Eddie nodded approvingly, “Thank you, thank you.”

Gareth stood behind Stella’s seat and rested his hands gently on the back before looking down at Y/n. “Hey, Y/n/n, why don’t you help Eddie here take his guitar to the van out back? I know he’d appreciate it so much.” He cooed with a saccharine smile that sent the table into poorly repressed snickers.

“Y’know, Gareth, I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth.” Y/n answered, tilting her drink all the way back to finish it. Eddie’s eyes went wide as he looked at his best friend next to him, who sent him a wink as the girl stood from her seat and sent Eddie a look with her brows raised, “C’mon.” She said, taking his free hand and pulling him along, refraining from glancing back at his lovesick gaze to avoid further teasing from their friends.

When they got outside and reached the light pole they’d stood under previously, Eddie spun her around and gently pulled her close by her waist, his eyes fixed on hers with earnesty. “Hi, angel.” He said to her quietly like that was the first time he had greeted her that evening.

“Hi, Eddie.” She pushed a curl behind his ear, a move that made him blush again and avert his eyes to his black boots that happened to closely resemble her own, placing his hand over hers to keep it in place a moment longer.

“Can I ki—“ His request was interrupted by her lips crashing onto his, a low groan rumbling from his throat as he melted into her touch, almost forgetting he was holding the neck of his guitar in one hand as he tried to pull her closer.

He pulled back reluctantly, sprinkling pecks all over her mouth before he pulled back for good, “I need both arms to hold you, come on, I’ll tuck her in, then it’s just you and me.” He joked, throwing his arm over her shoulders and walking with her around the building.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel like a real rockstar leaving a gig with a groupie under his arm, not to mention the hottest. He grazed his fingers across her back and trailed them down her arm as he let go, opening the back doors of the van and immediately spotting the open guitar case.

“Here you go, baby.” He muttered, placing the instrument gently inside the velvet lined case and kissing his hand to run across the strings before closing it. “You really know how to treat your women, don’t you, Munson?” She asked, crossing her arms and admiring the sight.

“I strive to be a gentleman, what can I say?” He asked, moving the case up on its side to lean against the wall of the van. That’s when she noticed the added pillows and blankets it had rested on top of. Eddie busied himself by straightening the blankets, spreading another out on top to cover up with, it seemed. There sat a solid row of bed and throw pillows up against the back seat, the warm dim lighting set the mood greatly.

“Were you expecting some company?” She asked, her question freezing him on the spot before he turned around with alarm in his wide eyes. “I, uh, just assumed—I shouldn’t have thou—I’m so sorry,” He rambled, getting ready to shut the doors of the van and walk her back to the front when she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, again, freezing him on the spot.

“Eddie…” She cooed, swaying them gently from side to side, then raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Y-Yes?” He asked in a whisper. “Is this for me?” She asked softly next to his ear, a lip between her teeth as he shivered.

He turned to her, nodding, his fingers finding her waist and sliding his hands up underneath her jacket and roaming the curves her dress hugged so well. He felt his member throb the more she touched him and the more he touched her.

Her fingernails scratched his chest satisfyingly, the feeling sending another vibration up his throat as he nuzzled his nose into her neck and pulled her close. The smell of her warm skin was intoxicating, bewitching him and pulling him further under her spell. “You know, you’re all I’ve thought about since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He said through messy kisses to her neck, her knees growing weak at the sensation, the sentiment pulling a careless moan from her lips.

Eddie took the noise as encouragement, his movements becoming more deliberate and quick. “C’mere.” He growled, turning them around to the van and reaching to grab just underneath her ass to encourage her up and into the back.

She scooted back until she was all the way in, unlacing and kicking off her docs in the process while Eddie hopped in and shut the doors. She set about taking off her jacket as Eddie turned to take off his boots, smiling at her in wonderment as he did. She waited for him, sat on her calves with her hands in her lap. Eddie crawled over to her and took in her appearance; her tits peeking out of the top of her dress, the fish nets on her legs that begged to be ripped off.

“What do you think about?” She asked breathlessly as his lips hovered over hers.

“W-what?”

“When you think about me?” She asked, allowing herself to look deep into his eyes instead of making herself close her eyes or look away, she wanted to see him—to learn him.

Eddie smiled adoringly and set about kissing her jaw, chin, neck, and shoulders chastely; laying her down into the nest he created for them to hopefully spend the night. “I’ve thought about what you’d look like sleeping in my bed,” he chuckled against her skin.

Y/n softly gasped, egging him on. “I’ve thought about what I’d make for your breakfast in the morning,” he whispered below her ear against her neck, “and how you look when you wake up all sleepy and squinty eyed, I’ve wondered if you’re a morning person or not,” he sighed, slipping his fingers into hers and holding them beside her head again.

“Eddie..” She moaned, her mouth searching for his lips, “Do you think of me?” He asked, his front grinding into her middle as he hitched her leg around him, letting his hand greedily run up her thigh, dragging his fingers along the threads of her tights.

“Of course I do.” Y/n whispered, her free hand finding the side of his face. He leaned into her touch and sighed contently, his body going limp on her. She smiled as he unlaced his fingers from hers and wrapped his arms around her underneath him, caging her body in with his, though she wasn’t complaining.

“Oh, how I missed you, sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck to smell her perfume and groaning as it filled him. She wrapped both legs around his torso as he settled in planting kisses on her in between the praises: ‘I swear, you’re the girl of my dreams’, ‘Been thinkin’ about the ways I wanna make you feel, baby..’, ‘Such a pretty girl..’

Y/n revelled in his voice, touch, and scent, gasping softly and arching her back, her legs turning to mush. “I love these.” He breathed with a smile, sticking his fingers through a few of the holes to squeeze her inner thigh better, making her lurch and giggle into him as he put his mouth against hers.

She mewled into his open mouth, whimpering as he echoed her sound back at her. “Tell me what else you think about, baby.” She said to him, throwing her inhibitions to the wind, ready to take a step.

Eddie’s lips smacked against hers, smearing their wetness across their mouths before disconnecting to answer her, her lips immediately honing in on his throat, licking and kissing as he struggled to get the words out, “It’s stupid, it’s-it’s- nothing sexy, really, it’s all purely domestic—“

��Tell me, Eddie.” She urged, sliding her hands under his shirt to rake her nails down his front, lightly enough to make him stretch like a cat and rut his hips into hers. “Oh, shit, baby, uh, I, think about what you look like when you make dinner, ahaha—“ he chuckled nervously, hoping it didn’t come off mysoginistic. Y/n bit her lip to repress a moan, feeling pathetic at the thought of him eating his own dinner and thinking of her.

“Or, or, or, getting ready for bed, I wanna know what your hair smells like when you just washed it, if you’re a bath or shower person, if you’re one of those girls that likes to wash their hair in the sink or not.” He mumbled as her lips reached his and she flipped them over to grind her hips down on him.

“You are such a sweet boy.” She whispered, finally sliding his shirt up his chest until he took it the rest of the way off then returning his hands to her waist, lightly digging his fingers into the thin material of the black dress.

This was the first time Y/n had enough light to notice Eddie’s fading scars, one wrapping around the back of his neck, another hidden underneath the dragon piece he had on his side. She ran her fingers over the edges of the marred skin, careful not to touch too much. Eddie froze giving her a chance to explore, and hoped she wouldn’t ask too many questions or be hindered by them.

She looked up at him with eyes that saw him, whether he understood the extent or not, he knew that much; that she saw him.

She placed tender kisses that traced the edge of the trail up to his neck, her tongue being awful generous. “Tell me more, I wanna hear it all.” She whispered next to his ear.

“I thought about you at the grocery store.” He blurted out as his eyes fell closed, his breathing running ragged. Y/n giggled, her hands roaming his chest between them, “Which section did it for you, huh?” She asked playfully, looking up at his face as his eyes opened. Her hands reached around the back of his neck to rest.

“It was the cereal.” He sighed, stroking her hand with his and looking between both of her eyes and then her lips. Her heart warmed and couldn’t help but chuckle before bringing him back in for a kiss, moaning into his lips as his hands found her ass to squeeze.

“Why cereal?” She asked, pausing her kisses.

“Uh, I just—I was wondering what kind you buy, and how I’d want to have it for you so I could, make you a bowl after we—“ he stopped at the sound of her slipping the straps of her dress down her shoulders until she could push the top of her dress down to her waist, his smile returning to his face instantly.

“After we.. what?” She teased, his eyes unmoving from her chest in awe.

“Oh god, how I’ve missed you guys.” He said to her breasts. “You guys? You’ve personified my tits already? Do you really think you know them like that?” She asked, leaning up with a smile as her sat up with her, attaching his lips to her nipple and sucking immediately, “Oh, fuck, Eddie.”

“If I ‘don’t know them like that’, how come they look so happy to see me?” He asked, his face resting in between them as his hands pressed them to his cheeks with a sigh. Y/n threw her head back and laughed on his lap, her pussy throbbing when he bounced her unexpectedly, watching and feeling her tits jiggle in front of him and sending a shockwave to her clit that rubbed against his screaming erection trying to escape his jeans.

“Oh, baby girl..” he growled in disbelief, letting go of her breasts and watching her on top of him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you again.” He whispered in awe before dragging his fingers up her thighs and grabbing onto the netting more fiercely, lightly scratching her skin as he did. “And these little things.. oh god.. it’s like you know me. I wanna, ugh—“ He said roughly, unable to finish his thought because he simply couldn’t resist mouthing and lightly gnawing the soft, tender flesh around her nipple.

“What do you wanna do with them, Eddie? Tell me—I wore them for you, tell me what to do with them.” She whined wantonously.

“ ‘wanna rip ‘em off you, baby..” he said lowly, his fingers curling up around the netting on the backs of her thighs, the tension making the threads dig into her skin deliciously as she whispered in anticipation, “Do it—Do it, Eddie, rip them off me, anything you want.” She mumbled against him excitedly, almost drunkenly.

Eddie pulled away to look in her eyes, hoping she wasn’t joking or exaggerating. “Yeah? You want me to?” He asked in disbelief. She nodded, a pathetic ‘mhm’ slipped from her lips as his hands slipped up to her breasts again, lightly grazing his fingertips over her skin to make her whimper.

“You wanna turn around for me, sweet girl?” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath rolling over her and making her weak as she nodded. Y/n released her grip on him and turned with the assistance of his hands, swiveling her hips, her palms meeting the blanketed floor of the van eagerly.

Eddie kept his tongue tucked between his teeth through a satisfied smirk, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants to give himself some relief, “Have you been treating this sweet pussy right since you’ve been gone?” He asked, bending over her back and hiking up her skirt around her bum, running a loving hand down the swell of it as he spoke, his other hand coming down to wriggle underneath hers, encouraging her fingers between his.

Y/n looked back at him with a look so desperate it was almost a pout and shook her head. “Aw, honey, no one else to fill you up the way you need?” He asked, dripping with mockery.

“I didn’t want anything else, Eddie.” She whispered, reaching back to cover his hand with hers. Eddie keened at her words, his dick jumping at the thought of her only being satiated by him, no other able to do what he was capable of.

“Oh, you did it. You really did it.” He said through clenched teeth, gripping the back of her tights as she arched her back, her ass pushing back onto him as he said so. “What are you gonna do about it? You gonna give me what I need?” She asked seductively, rubbing her back side against his groin, satisfied when she felt his solid member through the denim.

Eddie pulled the netting that covered her apart, much more than he meant to, really. He meant to tear the crotch out, enough to fuck her in her pretty outfit, but instead he ripped them clean in half, the mesh falling around her on the floor. Eddie realized then that she hadn’t worn any panties, the sight of her on her hands and knees and almost bare for him sent his dick pulsing.

Eddie hurriedly shoved his pants down his thighs, his cock slapping his stomach and brushing her ass on the process. Y/n bit her lip in anticipation, hearing his sounds as he moved around behind her.

“C-Can I get you naked, baby? I’m sorry, it’s just now that I got you like this, I just—I wanna see you. I wanna see all—“

She interrupted him by sitting back on her heels and unzipping the back of the dress to shove it down with the waistband of her now useless tights and returning to her previous position with her back arched and her hair loose down her back.

“C’mon, Eddie, show me what else you been thinking about.” She said, nudging his hard cock with her bare ass once more before he grabbed her hips and snaked a hand to her clit, playing with her bud gently before pressing a finger inside of her, a sigh of relief leaving her lips.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it.” He smiled at her dropped head. “You feel—ugh, I missed, I missed the way you feel.” She preened, his rhythm as he played her pussy absolutely impeccable.

“Is that your way of saying you missed me?” He asked next to her ear, bringing his other hand to cup her breast and play with it slowly. Y/n didn’t answer, only turned her head to slot her lips over his and lick his top lip, collecting his sweet taste on her tongue and bringing it back to savor before kissing his lips again.

Eddie breathed a hum against her, his pelvis grinding against her as she pressed back against him, their movements getting more intense the more they fell into rhythm with one another. “C-Condom?” She asked, reaching back to grab his hip.

Eddie reached over to the corner of the van, under a couple pillows to pull out a pack of condoms, the top of the box unopened. Y/n heart melted at the sight and sound of him opening the new box that he definitely purchased for them for tonight.

“20 pack, huh? That’s mighty ambitious for one night, don’t you think?” She asked with a smirk in her voice, sitting down on her side as she watched him unwrap the package and roll it onto his length. “Well, sweetheart, that’s because I plan on using most of these in future, you know?” He asked, his hand grazing up the side of her leg and tapping her hip as a signal to flip back over.

Y/n bit her worried lip, half wondering if he meant for them to be used on other encounters or if he put 20 condoms worth of stock into their connection. Instead of thinking about it too much, she focused on the way the heat between them felt when he leaned over her again to fondle her chest with both hands and rut against her backside a little bit longer, his hot breath teasing her ear as he licked and nibbled her earlobe, his fingers antagonizing both nipples at the same time and leaving her pussy dripping with little attention.

“Eddie..” she sighed, tilting her head to allow him further access. He gazed at the side of her face, eyes closed and mouth agape in hot pleasure. Eddie left a damp peck on her neck, “You gonna let me have your phone number after this? So maybe I can use more of these bad boys?” He chuckled dryly into her skin, referring to the condoms she worried about so shortly before, as if he could read her mind.

Y/n cracked a smile, her eyes opening just a touch before replying, “Fuck me first and then I’ll decide.”

Eddie grinned, gathering her hair in a ponytail and leaning back up. Y/n thought nothing of the tension she felt at the back of her head until she felt him wrap it around his hand, pulling a small gasp from her as he smeared her arousal around her weeping slit to enter her.

Y/n cried out as he pushed in, using her hair to pull her body back onto his cock, the air stolen from him as soon as he was buried inside of her. “Oh my god, Angel, I missed you, I missed you so much.” Eddie preened as he began to thrust lazily. He loosened his grip on her hair, keeping a light grasp on the end of the pony tail he gathered and playing with the ends absentmindedly.

“Eddie, you feel so good, please go faster—I’ve needed you so bad.” She urged, bouncing her ass off of his pelvis as he froze, watching her jiggle as she fucked herself on him.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he sighed, adjusting his grip onto her hips, the metal of his rings and his fingertips digging into the supple skin. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.” He laughed as his thrusts picked up to double speed, his smugness showing out as she moaned carelessly with her mouth wide open, already louder than she was last week.

“Oh, I think I do.” She managed before his fingers set about circling her clit again. “Yeah? You been thinking about me? You been trying to do what I do for you?” He asked down by her ear again, his nose pressed into the side of her head.

She nodded miserably, her eyes closed as her throat gave a weak ‘uh-huh’ in response as he pressed deeper on her clit. “You been saying my name? When you touch yourself thinking about me?” He teased. She nodded again to his surprise. “You think about me like I think about you?” He asked quieter, as if he asked for a sidebar during sex.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, turning her head to look at him again and leaning her forehead onto his before nodding. Eddie’s hungry eyes turned soft and warm, “Yeah?” He asked, his thrusts picking back up. “Tell me, sweetheart. I wanna hear about it, please?” He asked sweetly.

Y/n scrunched her eyes shut as he sat up again, using her hips to control their pace, keeping her from rocking back into him and satiating herself without indulging him first. “Uh.. I thought about—I thought about you when I watched Children of the Corn.” She struggled, Eddie’s movements stopping as he howled with laughter.

“I’m so—I’m sorry, y-you thought of me during a movie? That’s so cute, Princess. And a Stephen King horror? I’m impressed. What did you think about?” He asked, resuming his thrusts into her and leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

“I was thinking about if you’d seen it, if you’d liked it, i-if you’d watch it with me if I had your number to call you—“

“Of course I would, baby, you wouldn’t even need a phone—“ He sped up sloppily, pushing them both to the limit very quickly and unexpectedly, the wet slaps between them building with the pleasure in her stomach until he abruptly slowed down, his breath quickened.

“You just gotta walk outside and holler my name, I’ll be there in five seconds.” He panted out as he caught his breath. Y/n smiled, her eyes too heavy to open for the moment. “What else, baby? I wanna hear it all..” He spoke in a gravelly whisper, squeezing her hips in his hands again and starting another fair pace so she could talk.

“I, I—fuck. I had a dream about you.” She said, his strokes getting faster the more he liked what she said.

“Tell me.” He muttered.

“Uh, y-you were in my bed. You were in my bed and we were—oh god, Eddie, please make me cum.” She sighed desperately, tears collecting in her eyes as her climax approached and faded again as he stopped his movements against her.

“You gotta tell me, baby, what were we doing, huh? Were we goin’ at it? Were we sleeping? What is it, baby, tell me.” He urged, his hand slipping back down to her clit, his other reaching for her nipple to tweak and bother until she answered properly.

“I was—you were laying under me, on my pillow, and you were, ugh, you were so, fuck—“

His strokes to her pussy were enough to melt her brain, Eddie catching onto her powerlessness and slowing his movements, “Sorry, baby, I got excited.” He muttered against her hair in a kiss.

Y/n took a breath and continued, “You were so cute, just laughing and being.. you, and I just kept kissing you. Over and over and everywhere, and when I woke up I—“ she stopped, remembering what happened after the fact she realized she was by herself in her bed, yet again, and feeling alone and empty as ever.

“What?” He asked, his circles becoming more frivolous on her front, her orgasm creeping up on her steadily. “Uh, I, uh, don’t remember.” She muttered, rocking back against his dick. “C’mon baby, tell me.” He urged quietly, his arm wrapping underneath her and pressed her back to his chest as he did.

She shook her head, “Please, Eddie, I can’t take it much longer, please. Please, please, make me cum. I’ve wanted you so bad.” She whined, his pace picking up and posture suddenly straight.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait anymore, baby, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay? Sweet girl with such a sweet— little—cunt.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, his smile returning when her sounds slipped from her open mouth.

“I wanna kiss you when I cum, Eddie.” She mumbled to him over her shoulder, her head weak from the pleasure coursing through her veins. The words from her mouth almost made him lose it himself, though the low groan he released seemed to curb the impulse.

Eddie stopped and pulled out of her, holding her hips steady as he turned her around to face him, her body feeling weak as she panted against him, leaning into his chest for a moment before they began again.

“C’mere, sweet girl. You wanna lay down for me?” He asked, nodding to the pillows below. She took a deep breath and nodded, her flushed skin making Eddie smile. She settled below him on the pillows, her eyes unreadable.

“Can I have this here?” He asked quietly as he hitched her leg over his shoulder and took her hand in his, laying it against the pillow. Y/n nodded, a sweet and relaxed smile stretching across her face, assuring him once more and giving him a smile of his own.

“Can I have this here?” She echoed, gently pulling his dick near her slit. Eddie chuckled heartily and nodded, “Yeah, baby, you have whatever you wa—uhhh—ohhh shit.” He groaned as she wrapped her other leg around his ass and pushed him inside of her until he was buried in her once again.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie, and don’t stop, okay? Please, please, please,” she begged as he got rough with his movements, unafraid of slamming his hips into her the more she cried out for him.

“Just—like—that—oh—my—gooo—odd..” he fucked the words out of her lips with every thrust, his hand flying back down to her clit when her head fell back, her hair down in front of her shoulders, framing her pretty face and tits for him. He wanted to leave wet kisses all the way up the path of her torso, but decided he would the next time he got to fuck her.

“Yeah, baby, lemme hear it.” He whispered, rubbing her clit with more pressure on her mound as her walls began to flutter and construct around him, giving him the signal to start thrusting faster again as she came. “Eddie, fuck—kiss me, kiss me!” Her eyes opened, locking on his immediately as he dove down to encompass her lips with his own as he fucked his own orgasm into her quivering cunt, their lips wet and gasping for each other.

They stayed kissing long after their orgasms were over, just waiting for the other to pull back and end it, though neither of them did. They breathed through their noses against each other, their hands wandering one another’s hair and skin.

Eddie pulled the sheet over their bodies, the linen creating a tent above them as he wrapped his arms around her body and laid on top of her, her legs wrapping around his middle like a puzzle piece. They kissed once, twice, three more times, before parting and finding each other’s necks, burying themselves to hide away.

“You’re like a dream, you know that?” Eddie breathed, stroking her lower back with his fingers as his lips moved against her collarbone as he spoke. Their chests were pressed flat against one another, the hammering heartbeats taking time to sync. Y/n shook her head, her nose grazing the skin covering his jugular. “I’m far from it, Eddie, but you sure make me feel like I’m in one.” She smiled against him.

Eddie pulled back to kiss her forehead, her nose, and then her lips again, “Y’know you could spend more time here in dreamland if you gave me your phone number.” He sighed, his nose still resting against hers.

Y/n closed her eyes and drew her brows together like a curtain, the words and thoughts fleeing from her mind as soon as she wanted to use them. “What? What is it?” He asked, backing up to look at her better, removing the sheet from their heads.

“It’s not—I wasn’t, I don’t give my number to guys I meet at the bar,” she stumbled out, sitting up and holding the sheet over her chest, the exposure too vulnerable now. Eddie’s eyebrows raised, leaning back to listen and sit next to her.

“But I also don’t come back for seconds, like ever. Truly, the men in the bar scene of Indiana aren’t anything special, but.. but you are.” She shrugged. “I do wanna give you my number, Eddie, I just—”

BANG BANG BANG

“Yo, love birds, we gotta get going!” Gareth’s voice rang from the outside of the van, several pairs of hands battering against the two doors at the opposite end of the cab. Y/n and Eddie jumped, the boy diving to the mound of their clothes and tossing them to her lap as they hurriedly searched the pile and tugged on their clothes.

Y/n zipped up her dress as Eddie buttoned his jeans, tossing him his shirt as she grabbed her shoes to pull on and lace the quickest she could as they listened to the echoing laughter from outside.

She slung her jacket around her shoulders, fixing her hair and collar as Eddie pulled his shoes on but not bothering to lace them. They looked at each other in silence before Eddie reached out to smooth her hair and wipe the runny mascara from beneath her eyes. “Perfect.” He mumbled, his forlorn look breaking her heart as he opened the doors.

“About time! You know time doesn’t stop when you’re in there, right?” Mollie teased with a cigarette between her fingers. Y/n rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, turning to Eddie.

“You gotta pen?” She asked him, a smile reaching her eyes as his lit up. “Does anybody have a pen?!” He turned and hollered to their friends occupying the alley.

Jeff immediately held up a pen as the others searched their jacket and pants pockets, the girls looking in their wallets and purses. Eddie caught the pen with ease, holding out his hand patiently, his eyes never leaving hers.

She carefully wrote out the numbers, making sure to write clearly and roundly. “Calling after.. 8.. works the best. But… if you call before then.. I think I could manage.” She bit her lip as she placed the pen in his hand, melting at the smile he sent her; as if nothing else on the planet mattered more.

Eddie leaned down and gave her one last strong and lingering kiss, his hands wrapping around her waist and squeezing as her arms found his neck.

The headlights of Stella’s car flashed them twice, ceasing their kiss, “C’mon, Y/n/n, we can’t keep your boy waiting!” Mollie yelled over the engine noise, her words sending an atomic bomb to Eddie’s heart.

His heart stopped in that moment, looking from the car to the girl in his arms. “Your boy?” He asked, releasing her and stepping back, the look in his eyes now replaced by one of unfamiliarity, as if he were looking at a stranger. Y/n shook her head, panicked, “Eddie, no, that’s not it—“

“I should’ve known—you know, you could’ve just fucked me the one time and let me have that to hold onto, but no, you had to come back here, and make me feel like somebody, and make me think we’re gonna be something, give me, what, a fake number to call when you have a boy at home? I dunno, man, I thought we had a connection or something—guess that’s just me being naive or whatever. Anyway, I gotta go, see ya, Y/n.” He said, turning on his heel and burying his hands in his pockets as he stalked off to the front of the building.

Y/n stood with her mouth open, her stomach feeling like she just got punched. Instead of chasing after him, she scoffed and paced to the car, opening the door roughly and closing it, taking care not to slam it.

“What was that??” Kathy asked, worried. “Before I could tell him about Danny, Mollie mentioned my boy.” Y/n clenched her jaw and turned to Mollie, whose eyes went wide with shock, sputtering out apologies. “Y/n, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I-I can go talk to him! I can explain—“

“No, Molls, it’s okay. He wasn’t willing to hear me out, he can fuck off. It doesn’t matter.” She said, her walls raising with her arms across her chest and a stone look set on her face.

The car was silent, the girls looking amongst one another for words to give in order to fix the situation for their hurt friend. Instead, they drove home, Dio on the radio, their friend wordlessly leaving the car and entering her home without a glance back.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple days later, Robin stood at the Family Video counter with Steve, the store phone between them as they listened intently to Y/n’s voice recount the events of Friday night over the receiver.

Steve made reactive facial expressions and mouthed questions like ‘Danny who?’ Or ‘Eddie? Our Eddie?’ while Robin took care to keep her hand over the mouthpiece to avoid blowing Steve’s eavesdropping operation, besides, what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t let him in on the family drama, especially since it involves Eddie.

“—He didn’t even give me the chance to tell him my boy isn’t a man! Can you believe that? I mean, if I had a man why would I be trying to explain myself?” She vented exasperatedly over the phone. Steve looked up through the windows at the parking lot noticing the familiar black van parking and elbowing Robin to notice.

Robin gasped as her eyes narrowed on Eddie’s approaching figure, holding a stack of movies to return. Robin set her jaw determinedly, “Y/n, I’m gonna have to call you back—yeah, a customer's coming in and I have half a mind to rip him a new one.” She hung the phone up as the bell rang, her eyes trained on Eddie with a cold fierceness he’d never seen before.

“You sure have a lot of guts coming in here after what you did.”

“Hey, Robin.. you okay?” He asked tentatively.

“I’ll be fine, I just take it pretty personally when it comes to my family.” She shrugged, accepting the pile of returns he sat in front of her and tossing them in the return pile. “Uh, Robs, you gotta check those in.” Steve said, pointing at the pile that would soon get a late fee if not checked in properly.

“I’ll decide later if I wanna check them in or not.” Robin snapped, her eyes unwavering from Eddie’s as he stood confused, looking at Steve for help. Steve raised his hands in surrender, “Hey you fucked her cousin, not mine!”

Eddies eyes widened, looking back at Robin in shock. “W-w-wait, Y/n is your cousin??” Eddie shook his head in disbelief as Robin shook her head, “No, actually she’s not. Her son is though.” She nodded matter of factly as the information set in for Eddie.

“Her, what??” He asked.

“You remember my cousin Adam? His picture’s, like, everywhere in my mom’s house?” She asked, leaning forward.

Eddie nodded, remembering the circumstances of Adam’s death, yet still confused as to why this has anything to do with Y/n.

“Adam and Y/n were together, like forever. As long as I knew Adam, I knew Y/n—I’m talking practically married, Ed,” She implored, her eyes filling with emotion. “When Adam died, Y/n was pregnant with my nephew, Danny.” She said quieter as Eddie’s eyes shifted to the counter in front of him, his brows drawn together in thought.

He clenched his jaw in disappointment with himself, flipping his hand over and looking at the space the phone number occupied before he furiously scrubbed it in the shower through angry tears that night.

“She started going out a year after Danny was born, but hasn’t been interested in anyone since Adam.. til your sorry ass showed up.” She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest again as he looked up at her sorrily.

“I-I didn’t know, I-I just, when I heard she had a boy to get home to I—“

“—Assumed the worst and left to save face before you started crying like a little bitch? Yeah, I know, she told me everything already. You really hurt her, you know? Do you have any idea how much it took for her to go see you again?” She shook her head at him, noting the worry in his eyes as he took a lip between his teeth and tapped his rings on the glass anxiously.

“C-Can I have her phone number?” He asked.

Robin thought for a moment, grabbing a pen and a post it note, “I’ll do you one better,” she scribbled down an address and handed it to him. “She’s off work today, no plans. Go talk to her.” Robin said simply, grabbing the stack from the bin to check them in properly.

“W-what? Just show up at her house? That’s crazy, Robin.” He held the note and shook his head incredulously.

“Give me the note.” She held her hand out, writing a short note on the back ‘I sent his sorry ass! -Robin’ and handing it back to him. “Here, now she’ll know you aren’t a creep. Now go apologize to her and make her smile again!” She urged, shoving him away from the counter as Steve escorted him the rest of the way to the door.

“You got this, Munson, apologizing for being an idiot is half of your part in the relationship.” Steve closed the door behind him and smiled to himself as he watched the boy jog to his van and peel out of the parking lot.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n sat outside on the lawn next to the driveway, clad in shorts and a tank top, a rainbow of chalk dust covering most of her skin as she watched Danny scribble over a flower garden she drew for him.

“Look it, mama, I color your flowers!” He gestured to the ground like Vanna White showing a new car on Wheel of Fortune. Y/n made a show of being surprised at the new colors covering her artwork,

“Oh my goodness, they’re so lovely! How about the sunshine? Can you draw one for the flowers?” She asked, handing him a yellow chalk. He took it with a smile and a tongue between his lips as he did his best to draw a circle for a sun.

As she admired the ever changing silhouette of her son’s face, she heard the squeak of breaks coming from the curb behind them, in front of the house. She turned, her jaw dropping at the sight of the black van she was well acquainted with parking in front.

“Danny, come here, I have to go in the house real quick.” She said hastily scooping the boy up and holding his head to her chest as she took quick steps to the sidewalk, “Mama, you’re so fast!” He giggled as she picked up her pace when she heard her name come from Eddie’s mouth.

“Please, can we talk?” He asked louder as she ran inside the house. Eddie’s heart pounded at the sight of her with her child, the boy’s curls and converse clad feet burned in his mind’s eye for whatever reason.

He took a steadying breath and shut the door, walking across the grass and up the porch steps to knock on the door, only half expecting for her to answer.

After a moment he debated walking back to the van and hoping she’d show up at the bar some other Friday, when the knob turned and the door opened enough for her to stick her upper half out, the sounds of cartoons playing from inside.

“Can I help you??” She asked, ferocity burning in her eyes. “B-Before you get angrier, I have a note—from Robin,” He said carefully, as if she were an animal that had him cornered. Eddie took the note from his pocket, holding it out to her and avoiding her eyes as she snatched it up.

Y/n sighed as she read Robin’s familiar writing, knowing she wouldn’t send Eddie to her house for a weak reason. “Okay, let’s hear it.” She shrugged, opening the door slightly wider.

“Okay, well, uh, I’m not sure if Robin’s told you much about my status here in good ‘ole Hawkins, but, uh, no one, and I mean no one, is a fan of me. I’ve been labelled the town freak since I moved here, I don’t have many friends, I repeated senior year three times, I receive part of my income from selling weed, I live in a trailer with my uncle because we’re so broke it’s sad, and I spend most of my time organizing games for a group of high school nerds to play for a few hours on a Thursday night. I am not a prize, I am not someone that gets female attention easily, and then suddenly, there’s you. Singing to my music, smiling at me, laughing at my jokes, making me laugh—listening to me, oh my god, you’re great at that. And you wanted me. I was fully prepared for you to laugh in my face when I asked if I could buy you a drink, let alone get to have the time we had together—twice! Ugh. I just—when I heard ‘your boy’ I assumed—“

“I know you did—“ She said, her breath catching.

“—I was scared.” He whispered, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “It’s not an excuse, but I just felt so.. disposable.. when I heard that. W-When I said I thought we had a connection I meant it, truly. And I still do. If you’ll accept my apology, cause I’m so deeply sorry that I didn’t listen to you, that I jumped to conclusions, and accused you of being anything less than honorable. You’re amazing, really. Even more so now than I thought you were before..”

Y/n breathed deeply, her eyes shining with tears, as she listened to him. “So what now?” She asked.

“Now, I wanna show you how sorry my sorry ass is and make it up to you. Take you on a proper date, hear about the rest of your life.” He gestured to the house, his eyes glancing behind her to the head of curls he caught outside.

Her son’s wide brown eyes stared into him with a bewilderment that matched that of Curious George. “Especially this part.” He smiled, looking from her back to the boy. Danny walked up to his mother’s leg, holding it and peeking out timidly, though not scared.

Y/n placed a loving hand on top of Danny’s head, unsure of what to do. She didn’t want to be the mom that introduced her kid to everyone, though she knew it wouldn’t hurt if they kept it strictly friendly in front of Danny.

Eddie looked hesitant, like he wanted to do something but didn’t know if he had permission, looking from her back to the boy again, comparing their faces and trying to see what parts of her were in him.

“Uh, Danny, this is my friend Eddie, can you say hello?” She asked, bending down to talk to him, Eddie following suit without a thought.

“Hi, Yeti.” Danny said with a quiet smile and looking down at his shoes, anywhere but Eddie’s face. Eddie smiled anyway, recognizing that tendency in himself immediately. “Hey, Danny, it’s nice to meet you!” Eddie greeted the shy child.

Danny avoided his eyes, “Sorry, he can be a little shy.” Y/n explained as her son hugged her thigh tighter.

“Oh, no worries, I was too. I won’t bother ‘em,” he assured, standing from the ground. “Robin mentioned hanging out with her nephew a couple times now that I think about it.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up, “Robby?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m friends with Robby, she’s the coolest!” Eddie nodded, looking at Y/n for assurance he was on the same page as her son, she nodded, poorly repressing a smile. “Do you play dragons with Robby, too?” The little boy asked with wonder in his eyes.

Eddie raised his eyebrows this time, “Oh, do I? I play dragons all the time! You play dragons?” Eddie asked, his heart strings tugging as the boy nodded eagerly, loosening his grip and looking up at his mother.

“Can Yeti come in and play?” Danny asked, looking from his mom to his new friend in the doorway. Eddie froze, suddenly feeling as if he overstepped, worried he made it weirder as soon as things started to look up for them.

“Uh, baby, I dunno if he has time today, but, uh—” she looked up at Eddie with the same wide, nervous eyes that he wore to look at her with. “—Maybe we could ask our new friend if he wants to come in for dinner tonight..?” She shrugged as she stood up to her full height.

The silence between them was thick, every other noise around them buzzing more than they should; the cicadas, the tv, the distant traffic noise— it was all suffocating.

“I would love to come over and have dinner.. and play dragons.” He said with an unstoppable smile looking between the two prettiest people he’d ever seen. Y/n bit her lip and guided her son out of the way to open the door further, stepping aside to let Eddie in.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Danny quickly led Eddie on a tour of the house, starting with his room. He introduced ‘Yeti’ to his toys, pointing out all of his hung up artwork scattered about the walls, images of dragons, unicorns, fairies, and knights on grand adventures. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how much of the artwork belonged to Y/n, and where his little brain heard about such creatures and travels.

“This is the bathroom, but make sure you put the seat down and wash your hands or else mama gets frust-ated.” Danny said seriously. Eddie snickered at the information, nodding at the three year old, “Got it, buddy.”

Danny would stop at every shelf to explain the significance of the people in the frame or what the artwork in the movie posters depicted, including names of knick knacks and if they were allowed to play with them or not.

“We can’t have these, though, they’re very ‘portant.” He’d said while holding a ceramic frog that he’d had Eddie hand him, Eddie holding a similarly styled duck with alarm, “We’re not supposed to have these??” He collected the frog from Danny’s outstretched arms, his head shaking ‘no’ as Eddie returned the small figures to their places and ushering the child away quickly.

Y/n got a kick out of watching Danny run Eddie around, but she was even more thrilled when Eddie kept up, showing interest in each thing Danny thought to show him and asking questions even if they went unanswered by the scatterbrained toddler.

“Welcome to the family room!” He announced, bringing the tour back to the front of the house.

Eddie scanned the room, looking into the kitchen at the angel cutting food at the counter, her eyes flashing up to his with a small smile as he felt a tug on his hand to look at the pictures on the mantle.

“That’s my Gigi! And Robby, and mama, and my daddy!” Danny pointed to the smiles in the dusty gold frame, scrubbing his small index finger over the glass to see everyone clearly.

“Oh yeah? You sure look like your dad, don’t you?” Eddie asked. Danny nodded, “Do you look like your dad?” Danny asked. Eddie puffed his cheeks out, thinking about the old man’s face the last time he saw him, before he drove away from the Forest Hills trailer park eleven years ago.

“Kind of, but my uncle tells me I look a lot like my mom.” He mentioned, unaware Y/n was busy in her head figuring out what parts of Eddie belonged to his mother, and then wondered where she was.

Danny nodded, “Where is your mom?”

Eddie balked, his head snapping up at the silence of Y/n’s knife against the cutting board. She stood behind the counter with a similar expression to Eddie, the two silently drowning in embarrassment.

“Uh, I’m not sure! I never really had one, but that’s okay! Sometimes people don’t have moms, you know? Keeps things interesting! I have an Uncle Wayne instead of a mom and dad.” He shrugged. Y/n released a breath she was holding, the tension melting from her shoulders as her heart warmed at his explanation.

“Ohhh, right! Like I don’t have a dad, I just have a mom instead.” He replied eagerly. Y/n’s jaw dropped at her son’s words and rushed around the counter, her chest tight and head empty of words to say to either of the boys in her living room.

“Danny, that is an.. astute observation..but you do have a daddy, he just couldn’t be here, that’s all.” She managed to keep her voice steady and casual as she looked at her confused little boy. “Ohh, right, that’s what Gigi told me.”

“I’m sorry—” Eddie shook his head in a whisper as she stood and looked at him with wide eyes. “No, no, I’m sorry—he tends to ask the questions no one else wants to.” She shrugged with a tense smile, leaning over to turn on the television, hoping Sesame Street would be on by now.

“Hey—those are the best kinds of people, very honorable and caring, too.” He nodded assuringly, putting her nerves to rest in the easy way he could. Y/n sighed and nodded back to him, walking back to the kitchen counter and pulling out a stool for him to sit on next to her as she cut vegetables.

Eddie’s cheeks warmed as he left the family room to sit on the seat reserved for him. “Take off your jacket, stay a while.” She nudged him with her elbow as she placed another zucchini on the board. Her shoulders tensed again, her demeanor much more focused and rigid than before. Eddie understood more now why she needed to get out once a month—though Eddie planned on changing that if he could help it.

Before he could lay it in his lap, Y/n held out a hand for his jacket. He handed it to her, watching her quick steps to the coat rack by the door, hanging it on a branch of the tree the stand imitated.

Eddie sent her a smile on her way back, his eyes glittering in the dimming daylight as he rested his chin on a content hand. “What?” She scoffed through a blushing smile, setting up her skillet with zucchini, oil, and seasonings.

Eddie shrugged, “I just didn’t think I’d get this far when I decided I needed to know you.” He said and then sighed.

Y/n looked at him for a moment then away with a shake of her head. “You scare me.” She said like a woman unafraid and dusted her hands of the excess spices.

Eddie looked almost offended, though he hoped she was joking. “Not you, too.” He said hopelessly. Y/n crinkled her brows at him as she turned to put the pan in the oven. “I, mean, like, I can’t… figure you out.” She said as she set the timer.

“What’s there to figure out? I say everything I think.” He asked with a shrug.

“Exactly, no one does that. What’s your game here, Eddie, for real, this time.” She asked with suspicion narrowing her eyes.

Eddie shook his head and sputtered for a moment. “I’m just doing what you’re doing, ba—Y/n, shi—crap! Ugh! I’m sorry.” He muttered with a hand clamped over his mouth. Y/n giggled and shook her head at him for the thousandth time, leaning over the same warm stove that made her think of him a week ago this day.

“All I’m trying to say, is that I like you, I like who you are, a lot.”

“And who am I?” She asked curiously.

“You’re kind, and determined, and funny and beautiful. You shoot tequila like a champ, your music taste is top tier, you don’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s okay, I used to not like that either, but-but I think you could be, with me. I hope you could.” He shrugged his shoulder, nervousness creeping in.

“I know you’re a hard worker because you work two jobs and you’re a single teen mother, and I respect the hell out of that, truly! And I like your kid, he’s cool as he—eck. Cool as all get out, really. That’s gotta mean you’re a good mom, having a good kid like that and all. And if it’s cool with you, I’d like to hang around here every once in a while—with my friend Danny and his pretty mom.” He smiled, speaking quieter at the end of the sentence.

Y/n’s eyes glanced to the living room, her son perched on a mound of pillows, sucked into the tv with a blanket covering him. She looked back to Eddie and stepped over to the fridge, away from the doorway Danny was visible through, and nodded at him to leave his seat.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, his quiet smile growing more eager as he bound over to her, her smile sending butterflies rushing through his body as she pulled him in for a relieving kiss. He tried so hard to keep from smiling as her hands found his hair, burying her finger at the nape of his neck while his hands grabbed at her arms and then her waist to pull her closer for the short and passionate embrace.

When she pulled back, she kissed his forehead once before walking over to stir the sizzling pan, Eddie taking his seat happily; sitting and watching her cook just like he’d imagined a week ago, this day.

Part 3

taglist (I’m sorry if it didn’t allow me to tag you!)

@quinnsfineline @afternoonzephyr @eddiesgffff @steeldaisies @harrys-tittie @valkyre9125 @eddiethesexy @samlealea @eternal-fangirl @specialsnowflake-gabbi @elladoe @took-me-hours-to-steal-those @tjbabe33 @mxnsoneddie @micheledawn1975 @magnificantmermaid @munsonzzgf @enigmaticblue @joyfulfxckery @tiannamortis @theamericanjewitch @lolanoelle @bebe0701 @qardasngan @renaroo123 @sillypurplemurple @kindablackenedsuperhero @qnsfwthoughts @cutiecusp @yyoucompletemess @livingdeadgurl2016 @electricbouquetkid-blog @malibu3491 @mxcheese @nicoliewolie87 @mulletmcghee @clacatbuc @spread-the-hope @e-mmygrey @fancyghosttrashhero-blog @mirrorstuff @sashaphantomhive @devilinthepalemoonlight @middle-of-the-earth @yelyahcardella @ick90 @psychobitchsthings @figmentofquinn @secretdryrose @siriuslysmoking @tanyaherondale @tracymbcm @tlclick73 @whats-the-meaning-of-living @alana4610 @thew0rldsastage @eddiemunson-4-eva @descameron @inmitable—waitforit-blog @daydreaming-mood @josie955 @munsonseds

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson lemon #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #an attempt at a one night stand

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writerscafehub · 1 month

Text

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑❜𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

/) /)

( • ༝•)

c /づづ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 all the works made by the very talented members of the writer's café server in the month of JULY. we ask, and highly encourage, that you reblog them in support. ♡

ALL WORKS ARE FOR THOSE 18+ ONLY.

𖥔 indicates smut

✶ indicates dark elements

By ☁︎☽Cocoa☽☁︎ @cocoamoonmalfoy @darksideofthecocoamoon @cocommunitymoon

𖥔 ✶ 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 | Laurie Laurence x soft!dark!female!reader

I’ll sit and watch your car burn With the fire you started in me

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 | Arvin Russell x soft!dark!witch!reader

We are drawn to each other To the power, the passion But beware what awaits you Through the laws of attraction

𖥔 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | drummer!Taylor Russell and lead singer!Timothée Chalamet x black!female!reader.

Seeing your favorite band Bones and All becomes a dream come true in ways you never thought possible. Rockstar AU

✶ 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 | Inevitable!Timothée Chalamet x black!female!Reader

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓 | Timothée Chalamet x soft!dark!demon!female!reader

Demons always collect on their deals…

𖥔 ✶ 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | Alouette!Timothée Chalamet x black!reader

Run far and fast…

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 | On Your Team!Timothée Chalamet x black!female!reader

In the meadows.

By 𐀔Alex𐀔 @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

𖥔 ✶ 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄 | Steve Rogers x female!reader

On Steve’s birthday, a friendly gesture on your behalf leads to more than you could bargain for.

By ★Stella★ @a-lumos-in-the-nox

𖥔 ✶ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎/𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 | Multiple characters

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 | character x black!female!reader

Meet Vulture and Birdie hero's in Omis City

By ☄︎Ellie☄︎ @mrsmischief209

𖥔 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 | Aaron Hotchner x female!reader

By ⎈Navy⎈ @navybrat817

✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 | Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

You try to continue the date like "normal" after Bucky's promise.

𖥔 ✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 | Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

You talk to Addison, but may have dug a deeper hole for yourself. Bucky has a chat with you, too.

By ⚔︎Suz⚔︎ @targaryenvampireslayer

𖥔 ✶ 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅'𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 | Dark!Qimir x female!reader

The apothecary is empty, treasures could be within, but you might get more than you bargained for.

By ⚡︎Viva⚡︎ @xoxovivafics

𖥔 ✶ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌, 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍! | Ghostface! Eddie Munson x dark!black!female reader

You were one of the popular girls in high school. Now you’re back home for the summer and you and the queen bee are getting weird phone calls. But what if this is only the beginning of the horror?

By ✧Bella✧ @madwomansapologist

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐎𝐔𝐓 | Usopp x strawhat!reader

With loguetown ahead of the crew, usopp finds comfort on your shared moments. talking, working or in complete silence: he loves them all.

𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 | Agatha Harkness x female!reader

Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 | Shan Yu x female!reader

for shan yu, you are his destiny. for you, he is the man that kidnapped you. love at first sight is a tale as old as time. he just didn't expect you wouldn't believe in it.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓, 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐍 | Tanjiro Kamaro x Hashira!Reader

tanjiro was accused of treason, and there was more than enought proof for you to cut his head and damn his existence. that was your duty as a hashira. but as a friend, you couldn't. you could never.

By 𖠰Nat𖠰 @the-iceni-bitch

𖥔 ✶ 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄, 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | Mr. Freezy (Bobby) x hitwoman!fem reader (kitten)

Some things never change…

By ఌBam Bamఌ @buzzkillers

𖥔 ✶ 𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 & 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 | Namor x black!female!reader

You try to find relief from the curse. The relief follows you home.

By ✬Astro✬ @eulalielatibule

𖥔 ✶ 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 | dark!silverfox!Andy Barber x innocent!female!reader

By 𓆸Rika𓆸 @fushic0re

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐒 | Rika x Toni Fushiguro

Self ship moodboard

By ⚘Akane⚘ @haravath0t

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆... | Alhaitham x Akane

Self ship post

#writer’s cafe monthly masterlist #writer’s cafe ♡☕︎#☕︎ july 2024 ☕︎

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erinfern0 · 1 year

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☆ Masterlist ☆

the ones in cursive have been requested!

alice in borderland

chishiya shuntaro

arisu headcanons [sfw&nsfw]

kuina best friend headcanons

boku no hero academia

dating bakugo headcanons

fate: the winx saga

stella headcanons - secret relationship

call of duty

kyle "gaz" garrick

simon "ghost" riley

john price

könig

nsfw alphabet

lips of an angel. - gn!reader

keegan p. russ

untouched; drabble. - gn!reader

valeria garza

the stars above; drabble. - gn!reader

alejandro vargas

switching things up; drabble. - gn!reader

mixed

helping when you're stressed [nsfw]

criminal minds

cutting the cord - spencer reid x explosives specialist!gn!reader

hemlock grove

paint the sheets red. - softdom!roman x afab!reader

perfect for me. - softdom!roman x gn!reader

stranger things

eddie munson

five nights at freddy's

talking in your sleep. - michael schmidt x amab!reader

requests are always open.

request info | kinktober 23

#masterlist #headcanons #fanfiction #fanfic masterlist #writers on tumblr #requests open #minors dni

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captainlunaxmen · 9 months

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The Lady and the Lord

Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: pretty much the firstt episode from the reader perspective, also the first interaction with Eddie.

Chapter warnings: harassment, jocks.

Here I am, looking at my reflection in the mirror: last day before spring break begins. Thank goodness some peace at last.

I check one last time my appearance before hearing Steve honking right outside so I grab my bag and head out.

"Hey" I greet both him and Robin on the passenger sit.

"Hey Y/n"

"Hi" Robin sends me a big smile as I get in the car with them.

As always Steve is driving us to school.

"How's it going?" Steve asks immediately.

"Oh since today is last day, all fucking good" I say.

"I know right!" Robin "Hey, quick question and please be honest" she turn to look at me from her seat.

"Yeah?"

"Do I look like a corpse?" She asks.

Her question catching me completely off guard.

"What? No, why do you ask? Or, most importantly... since when do you even care?" I answer.

"Exactly" Steve agrees "thank you, honey"

"Stop calling her that. She's not your girlfriend" Robin scolds him.

"It's fine, I'm used to it" I laugh.

Steve's been my closest friend since... ever, basically. He always called me 'honey' as the most playful thing ever.

We grew apart after he started hanging out with Tommy and the rest of those 'lovely' people... anyway after the events involving the Upside Down we found each other again.

"See? She gets me." Steve says as a matter of fact.

"Whatever" Robin says as she starts to fix her look in the small mirror.

"How was your date with... uhm... Brenda..?" I hesitate a bit, I can't remember the name of each girl he goes out with.

"Stella" he corrects "Yeah.. Good, but not my type."

"Right.." I nod. "So who's Brenda?"

"Brenda is Tonight. Then there's Heidi tomorrow night, but the problem with Heidi is that she's going out of state for collage. Do I wanna start another relationship that has no point other than sex? I mean, I don't know. Does that make sense to you?" He then asks us, but Robin is definitely not paying attention and I lost track of the names long time ago.

"Are you two listening?" He asks.

"Yes"

"Yeah"

We both say quickly.

"What did I just say?" He tests us.

"Something about sex with... uhm" Robin starts turning to seek help.

"With Linda..?" I try.

"No, I'm talking about Heidi." He exclaims with an exasperated laugh.

"Cut me some slack, please. Your love life is one of labyrinthine complexity. It is 7 in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!" Robin snaps.

"You don't look like a corpse, Robin, stop" I assure her again.

"You're worried about a pep rally? Expect us to believe that?" Steve says.

"Yeah? So?"

"So, we all know what this is about. I'm not buying that, Y/n is not buying that. This is about Vickie." He states.

"Absolutely not" Robin tries to defend herself.

"Yes it is, Robin, c'mon" I tell her.

"Oh so you're on his side now?" Robins accuses me.

"And you know what else I think?"

"I don't care-"

"You gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you're around her." Steve's using his motherly tone.

"You're literally quoting me to me. You do realise that." She replies.

"Well, then try to listen to yourself. How about that?" I tell her.

"Yeah, exactly. I listened. Look at me. Boom. Back on business." Steve says proudly.

"A little too much, but whatever works with you Stevie" I tease him.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing. Okay? You ask a girl out and she says no. Big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego is a little bruised. I ask out the wrong girl and bam, I'm a town pariah" she explains.

"I'd buy that, except Vicki's is definitely not the wrong girl." Steve tries to reassure her.

"We just don't know that, do we?" She says back.

"She returned 'fast times' paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds. Do you know who pauses 'fast times' at 53 minutes, 5 seconds?" He asks looking at us "people who like boobies, Robin."

Oh god.

"Ew, gross don't say boobies" Robin replies not so sligly disgusted.

"Yeah, please Harrington" I say.

"Boobies! It's not a big deal, okay? I like boobies. You like boobies. Vickie likes boobies. Definitely... it's boobies."

His supporting ways are... peculiar, to say the least.

"Can we talk about something else? Thank you" she basically order us.

"Fine fine! So I got a date, Robin got her band thing, what about our lovely Y/n?" Steve asks.

"I gotta help Nancy at the game. I'll be taking pictures" I answer him simply.

"You know.. we gotta find someone for you." Steve simply says, like it was the most amazing idea ever.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"Well.. Robin and I can't be the only two with love problems" he answers. "Some solidarity, honey"

"I'm fine, thank you very much" I say laughing.

"Oh please! Nancy and Robin are the only ones you talk to at school, beside some 14 years old-" he starts.

"And I'm okay with it, Steve. Plus the perspective of having to talk to someone I don't know... scares me. So.. appreciate the thought, but no" I smile at him.

"Well you talked to me" Robin intervenes.

"That was different, our lives were at risk, russians, mind flayer, possessed people everywhere... that was deadly necessary" I chuckle, even if the events of last summer, and everything before that, don't have anything to chuckle about.

"Yeah well... think about it as deadly necessary too" Robin suggests.

"I don't have that imagination" I laugh.

"We'll find a way" Steve says to Robin quietly, to not make me hear, but I do.

"Don't you dare" I warn.

"Okay okay"

"Yeah sorry"

They say at the same time.

I don't want a relationship now, too much trouble. I need to focus on finishing this damn school, then I will have time to experiment and all that.

The day goes on pretty well, nothing major happening. A pretty normal day.

As I'm going to throw away the leftover of my lunch, in the cafeteria, I spot Mike and Dustin, nervously looking at their table.

I stop with them.

"You guys good?" I ask with a small chuckle "you look like you're about to get shot"

"That would be more gentle I'm sure" Dustin is the one to answer.

"What's wrong?"

"Well... Lucas decided to betray us and won't be present at tonight's campaign" Mike finally speaks.

"And... is that a tragedy because...?"

"It's the end of Eddie's campaign." Dustin answers.

"Can't you.. postpone?" I ask.

"That's our plan.. the problem is.. telling him" Dustin replies, swallowing hard.

"Oh c'mon. He's not that scary." I tell them.

"You say that only because you find him cute" Mike says.

"What?" I ask, feeling my face heat up at that.

"Anyway, why don't you sit with us and... protect us" Dustin asks.

"Oh no no no. No can do, little genius. Not a chance" I say.

"You'll have our lives on your conscience" He replies, raking a deep breath.

"After all those times I saved you asses from demo-things, I think I can leave you to him for this once" I answer walking away.

After I threw away the food I take out my notes, to see what I need before going to Nancy.

I'm a bit lost in my thoughts as I walk near the wall when my attention is caught my Eddie Munson himself standing on the table, making faces at Jason and then turning around.

"It's forced conforming" I hear him say as he walks back on the table.

"That's what's killing the kids!" He says the last part shouting and jumping of the table, scaring a few people that walk by, not me though. I just chuckle as I keep walking.

He sees me and simply takes a theatrical step back to let me pass.

"After you, m'lady" he says as I walk past him sending him a small smile.

"C'mon, man, stop staring" one of his friends says, making me turn around to make eye contact with Eddie who was already looking at me.

He just winks at me with a smile, my face got warmer than before so I quickly turn my head around and just keep walking.

Did he actually just winked at me?

Nah... yeah?

Nah.

"Fucking hell.." I mutter as I walk to the gym.

Nancy needs more pictures of the basketball team for the school paper. So here I fucking am, on my way to the gym full of dickheads.

I enter and tell the coach I had to take pictures as the boys practice for the game.

As soon as he gives me permission I move around a bit to take as many pictures as possible so Nancy won't send me here again... hopefully.

As I stop near the benches to prepare the camera for another set of shots, one of the players come sit close to where I was standing, I feel him staring at me, but I pay him no mind though, focusing all my attention to the camera. Maybe if he sees that I'm busy he won't start a conversation.

"Hey there"

Boy, I was wrong...

I don't answer, pretending to not hear him might help.

"Hey, baby"

Nope. No help. At. All.

I just turn my head to face him and mutter a small "hi" before getting back to the camera.

"How are the pictures going?"

I can tell he's not really interested.

"Good" I simply say.

"Not so many words, uh? It's cool, actually better, you know" he comments.

I roll my eyes and keep fixing the object in my hand.

All of a sudden I feel him standing up.

Oh great he's finally going away...

"You look like you know what you're doing"

No...He stands right next to me, watching closely what I'm doing, making me go completely rigid.

"Yeah" I say quietly.

"Good with you hands too" he comments again, now he's basically attached to me.

"I guess" I say, moving away in a poor attempt to put some distance, but he's quick to follow.

"You're the quiet one, aren't you?" I can hear the teasing, mocking tone very clearly.

I obviously don't say anything, I just look around hoping someone catches on what's going on, but no one seems to notice.

"But I bet I can make you scream" he whispers directly in my ear, making me jump, but he quickly put his hands on my hips, preventing me to move too far. "I want to make you scream so loud everyone will know what a little whore you actually are"

"Get off" I tell him.

"Aah! She speaks" he fakes surprise. "You won't say those words tonight, trust me, you'll be all mine." He jokingly say, even if the 'joke' seems more like a threat.

Thankfully the bell rings and he just walks to the showers with the other, not before yelling "hope to see you tonight!" And laughs.

I quickly gather my things as soon as he disappeared into the showers, when Lucas' figure catches my eyes.

"Hey.." he timidly say.

"Hey" I say, trying to act like nothing happened.

"I... I'm sorry a-about Andy" he tries.

"Nothing happened" I say, still getting my things to avoid any eye contact with the boy.

"Y/n, I saw" he calmly says.

I take a deep breath and look at him.

"It's okay.. I mean, could you have stopped him? Not with the whole team here at least. Don't worry, kiddo" I say giving him a quick hug before stepping back. "Please... go shower, you smell" I playfully shove him towards the bathroom and then I walk out of the gym as quickly as possible.

I walk quickly while I put my things in the bag paying no attention to whatever's around me, in fact I run into someone, dropping some paper.

"I'm so sorry" I say kneeling down to grab the fallen paper.

"No worries, m'lady"

Eddie?

I look up and as I lock eyes with the metalhead, I look back down just as quickly.

"Here" he says kneeling down with me to help me gather my paperwork.

"Thanks" I say quietly standing back up, Eddie does too.

"No problem... hey, you okay? You look a bit.. shaken. Do those pricks give you trouble too?" he asks, concern hidden by a nervous chuckle.

"No, uhm.. he was just-" I cut myself off, seeing how he frowns, visibly concerned, trying to understand what happened, I shake my head "I'm fine. Don't worry" I finally say standing up, putting the paper back in my bag.

"Are you sure?" He asks again, eyeing the gym doors suspiciously.

"Yeah yeah. Thanks. I.. I gotta go" I say, but I stay put staring into his eyes.

When he nods with a small smile, I shake my head again and I quickly walk away.

"I got the pictures" I say walking back into the room to Nancy.

"Oh great, if they win tonight we need more pictures from them 'practicing the victory', thanks" she says handing the camera to another girl to have the movie developed.

"You okay?" She asks looking at me.

"Yeah, why?" I say, as calmly as possible.

"You look.. tense"

"Nah, I'm okay, just can't wait for this day to be over" I lie.

"Mh" she looks at me sceptically, but leave it alone. "You remember, I need you tonight at the championship game, for the picture of the game"

Fuck. I forgot about that...

"Yeah, yeah, no I... remember" I reply with a nervous chuckle.

Everyone is so excited about this game, everyone is cheering and clapping for the team to finally win.

The band is playing as always, I see Robin next to Vickie, hoping she's not feeling that nervous now.

The team enters the gym and the cheerleading squad, obviously, cheers louder and I take pictures next to Nancy and Fred who's ready to take notes.

I see Steve entering the gym too, with... oh shit.. Stacy.. no.. Carol... no, Brenda! Yes.

"Does it bother you that, like, we might win a championship right after you graduated?" I hear her asking Steve.

"Yeah, that's an interesting point. Thank you so much for bringing that up, Brenda" he answers looking around, to not show how her words slightly affected him. He locks eyes with me and I sarcastically pull my thumbs up for him, he just rolls his eyes and follow the blond girl to their seat.

"Everyone now please rise for our national anthem" Everybody stands up "singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thomson!" He announces and leave the court.

Holy shit.

I hold back a laugh.

I'm gonna tease the hell put of Robin later, since Steve is already doing that now apparently. I see him mouthing something on the line of "muppet" at her after Tammy started to 'sing'.

Then the game begins and I just focus on taking pictures.

And they actually won... unbelievable.

Lucas finally got to show he can really play. I'm so proud of him.

I'm gonna congratulate him tomorrow, now he's enjoying his well-deserved glory, so I just walk out after saying goodbye to Nancy.

I hear someone yelling something, but I keep walking out of the school.

"Hey baby"

I still keep walking, when a sweaty, breathless Andy runs in front of me blocking my way.

"Hi baby" he repeats.

"Hi" I say and try to walk past him, but he moves to prevent me from going any further.

"Trying to run away from me?" He playfully asks.

"I just want to go home" I honestly say.

"Oh c'mon, come celebrate the win" he tries to convince me.

" I..." I start.

"I'll make it worth your while" he smirks.

He then moves closer, holding out a hand to try to touch my cheek but I instantly step back avoiding his hand.

"I'm tired... thanks, but I do have-"

"I told you you'll be mine tonight" he says, trying to sound seductive, but he just makes my blood run cold.

"I'm not interested" I say quietly.

"What was that?" He mockingly asks getting closer.

"She said she's not interested, man." Steve's voice catches both attention.

Thank goodness.

"We're having a moment here, Harrington" Andy says, annoyed.

"I think you're having a moment, she isn't. So be a gentleman and back the fuck off, man." Steve tells him. "Or I could just tell everyone you can't get a girl"

"Whatever man." Andy then turns to me "I'll see you around, baby"

When Andy walks away, Steve shouts "no you won't"

"You okay?" He turns to me.

"Yeah.. thank you Steve" I tell him.

"Don't mention it. Let's get your ass home" he says wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"And your date?" I ask with a small chuckle.

"Oh... not my type. Again. Just my luck" he says defeated.

"Oh don't worry, you'll find your true love" I assure him patting his back.

"If you liked me enough I wouldn't have this problem" he jokes.

"As well as Robin" I joke back.

"Yeah.. surrounded by amazing girls... who just don't like me" he dramatically says.

"We do like you, just not in the way you want" I tell him with a smile.

"Yeah yeah, don't rub it in, uh" He says.

"Righ. Better get your bruised ego home" I joke.

"Are you gonna be okay there all alone?" Steve asks after I climbed out of his car.

"Yeah, as always" I answer.

"Mh... call if you need anything." He tells me. "Or I could stay"

"Yes, Steve, stop worrying. I'll just make some beads rings to calm down and not think about that dick, I'm gonna be sooooo fine" I reassure him.

"Fine fine" he chuckles, "you coming tomorrow right?"

"As always" I say. "Night Steve"

"Night honey" he says starting his car.

I walk to my house and get in.

Then I walk to my room, take out some beads and start to make a flower ring.

I love living on my own, I really do. Sometimes I just think it would be nice to enter and shout "mom I'm home!" And hearing her asking about the evening and the game, talk about everything.

Unfortunately my parents died long time ago, I lived with my grandmother, who left me the house when she died about.. 5 years ago.

I shouldn't have lived alone, but I was so scared to leave Hawkins and this place that Hopper pulled some strings and let me stay here on my own since that young age.

Hopper... why do my thoughts lead me to him now... he was like the father I literally never head. We bickered all the time, but I cared about him and he cared about me.

My mind runs to that day at Starcourt.

We were catching our breath after the fight with a possessed Billy, we planned how to end that. Joyce, Murray and Hopper were supposed to get into the Russian base and close the gate to the Upside Down.

Hopper was giving El a motivational speech, I just stood there watching them, feeling a bit envious, I have to admit. They definitely looked like father and daughter. They both tried to let me in, asking me to join them on their Miami Vice nights, but I never accepted... to scared to know what if feels to have a real family, I think.

I remember calling for him before he and the rest went to the base.

"Hop!" I called him.

"Yeah? What is it?" He asks.

"I... I'm sorry.." I stuttered out shaking my head.

"About what?" He replied with a small chuckle.

"I just... do you think... uhm.. I mean.. you and El have any plans for.. for.. Friday night? I heard there's this show, that seems kinda cool... I'd like to check it out.." I timidly said, my eyes focusing on playing with my rings instead of him.

I kept my eyes down, getting more nervous as the seconds went on without an answer from him, so I worked up the courage to look up at him and to find him smiling. A warm, proud smile.

"Only if you buy the snacks" he said before hugging me.

I hugged him back tightly.

That was the last time I saw him...

I shake my head, trying to get rid of those thoughts.

I put away the beads and head to bed.

I definitely need to sleep all these thoughts away.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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