Lakeside Eddie commission (@fracturedarkness) inspired by the fic Hot & Cold by @somnambulic-thing from their Come As You Are universe
I spent a long time staring at this one. Not because I didnāt know what to paint, but because I wanted to do justice to the feeling somnaās fics leave behind. Landscapes arenāt something I tackle often, and that uncertainty followed me through every step of this piece. But some stories inspire you to reach beyond what feels comfortable.
this post inspired something bc. yes. this is eddie. he would confess on his deathbed.
eddie munson x grumpy!reader. canon compliant / fix it (happy ending). gn!reader (long hair mentioned), no use of y/n. blog is 18+, this blurb isn't.
wc: ~ 1k
There's three things Eddie knows for sure:
1. You hate his guts.
2. He just saved your life.
3. He's going to die.
So in all likeliness, this might well be his only chance to say it.
"I-"
"Shut the fuck up," you snap immediately, trying desperately to keep pressure on way too many wounds at once while Dustin is scavenging for anything to bind them with. Your brows are drawn together in concentration, and despite the blood and demo-bat viscera splattering your face, you look damningly cute.
Spots dance across his vision, blurring you. Fucking rude. If he's going to die after all of this, you should be the last thing he sees. He should get to keep looking at you, the way he's always been.
Over his shoulder in the cafeteria, where you'd sit right at his back on the next table over, flipping your hair obnoxiously often, half in his face, just to piss him off.
Through the shelves at the record store, where you'd purposefully scrunch your nose or raise your brows whenever you shelved the new arrivals. Few things got your stamp of approval, but one of his recs once made it to the in-store record player while you were on shift. You'd denied it to hell and back, but he was thrilled you'd actually listened to him. And his music.
At the hideout, when you came to pick up your dad from the crowd of five drunks watching Corroded Coffin play, and actually stayed till they finished their set. You looked like you were both intrigued and angry about it, and Eddie couldn't help but lean right into your face off the stage, delivering lyrics straight to you. He'd never seen your cheeks this red before. He felt a little drunk off it, with the music and the lights and you sticking out your tongue at him before retreating to the bar. He'd wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt, but you'd dragged your dad out of there the second they were done playing.
Wasted time. Wasted opportunities. This is it.
He tries again: "I think I-"
"Will you STOP!" There's desperation in your tone. He only notices your hands are shaking when he covers them with his own, unsteadily, weakly.
Adorable as your efforts are, they're not gonna change a thing, and he really really needs to get this out now while he still has some focus left. "I'm-"
"You are NOT dying, Eddie Munson. Not today. Not on my watch. Absolutely fucking not. So just shut up and-"
"I love you."
That stuns you to silence. Finally. Good. Your mouth works like you're chewing on a reply, but nothing comes out. Can't exactly give a dying man the brush-off, he knows, but he's not expecting anything. He just needed to tell you. To see your face while he does. His chuckle is laced with blood.
He squeezes your hands, once, and the spots in his vision take over. Vaguely, he hears Dustin in the distance, and feels a bit sorry he won't get to say goodbye. But as last words go, a love confession is pretty epic, if he says so himself.
He wants to hear your reply. He wants to ruffle Dustin's hair and push his Hellfire kids around. He wants to play on a big stage with his band and he wants to hug his uncle again.
The future slips away in the dark. It may be a shit ending, but at least it's a heroic one.
Between the sun and the reflecting white of everything in the room, Eddie's eyes burn. There's something stuck in his arm. And in his nose. Everything itches and scratches and hurts. If this is Vecna's idea of hell, the bastard needs some pointers. The torture aspect is on point, but the aesthetic could use some work.
His throat is too dry to even cough, but as he slowly blinks, two dark shapes in the too-bright room take form. One of them, still in a chair by his side, is his uncle, and Eddie can feel his eyes tear up at the sight. The other one moves, a flash coming from the window sill, and he only recognizes your face when it's right in front of him.
You look worried and desperate and strung out and tired. "Hi," seems like the best way to approach this. His dopey smile doesn't seem to chase your tension away, though. It seems to make you furious.
"You fucking dumbass idiot asshole!" you whisper-scream, evidently trying not to wake up Wayne before you could get your tirade off your chest. "What the fuck were you thinking? Oh, what nice day to die? What a cool way to leave all of my friends fucking mourning? What a great fucking storybook-ending to say that and then-"
Well. Good to know it did have the desired effect, then.
"Sorry if I killed the vibe, b- OUCH." his voice rasps out an almost-scream when your fingers claw into his arm. Through the blur of pained tears in his eyes, he only barely realizes the tears in your own.
"Oh? Does that hurt? Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Asshole."
And then you kiss him. And he thinks, alright, if this is hell, maybe he can live with it. It's over far too soon, not much more than a peck, and you ease up your grip and pull his covers back straight and check on his IV and seem altogether very much too busy to acknowledge his even dopier smile now.
"Fuck you," you mumble, and despite the life-threatening injuries he is, after all, just a boy, so he thinks Please do. Still, he's wise enough about his condition not to say it out loud. Considering your sudden interest in his health, your wrath might not be his biggest problem, though. "Just you wait till Dustin gets here. He and Steve are gonna rip you a new one."
Omg it would be so cute to read the story of the roommates meeting for the first time and how they used to act around each other!
foreword: GREAT idea anon!! thank you!!
cw: the roommates (newly!), Reader has OCD, light SH behavior, Max is Rās cousin (no relation elaboration), Eddie is a FLIRT, origin story <3
the roommates mlist
wc: 1k
___
Your sneakers crunch against the parking lot asphalt of PJās Corner Store, pacing a tight line in front of your car.Ā
The new roommate is late. By nearly half an hour.Ā
Your cuticles are torn to shreds, at this point. Blood wells in the divot of your thumbnail as you peel another layer off with your teeth, cursing internally.
When Robin pitched her friend Eddie as a potential inhabitant of the second bedroom, you were skeptical.Ā
Your knowledge of the guy is based solely on the stories Steve has told- by all approximations, Eddie is more myth than human.Ā
Robin and Steve have both been cagey about Eddieās current job, but have assured you that he makes enough to cover rent.
They have also assured you that Eddie is a good guy. The kind who cares about his friends, and wonāt make shit weird in a shared space.
Your last roommate was a nightmare. Blasted weird music at all hours, left messes everywhere, never paid rent on time, and had very little regard for your standard of cleanliness.Ā
One morning, youād watched in horror as she tucked into her leftovers from a steakhouse that had been sitting out on the counter- All. Night.Ā
So youād decided: no more newspaper ad-sourcing for someone who was going to live in your space. At least not without some sort of verification process.
You pull your thumb from your mouth to check your watch again.Ā
Thirty-two minutes late and counting.Ā
The summer air is balmy this late in the evening; you take a deep, steadying breath, and remind yourself what you are getting to keep by accepting a new roommate.
A two-bedroom apartment. Downtown, ten minutes from work, prime location. Window above the sink. Perfect lighting. Counters you can scrub until they gleam-
Thereās a thudding of speakers and a screech of tires as a large van pulls to a halt near your parking spot. The driver cuts the engine and hops out, a dozen paper napkins and two crushed soda cans scattering to the ground in his wake.Ā
āShit.āĀ
He makes quick work of snatching at the dispersed trash, the frizzy halo of his dark hair bobbing animatedly as he scrambles and bends towards the pavement.
Eddie is wearing ripped jeans, a faded Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a wide grin as he approaches with one arm full of trash and the other extended towards you.Ā
āHiya. You my new roomie?ā
You do not take his proffered hand (with the sneaking suspicion that it would be rather sticky) and instead point with ill-concealed irritation at the napkin captured under the toe of your shoe.Ā
āMaybe, maybe not. Do you often make it a habit to show up thirty minutes late to appointments?ā
The quick cut to the chase doesnāt dim Eddieās sparkle in the slightest- in fact, it seems to egg him on.
Twin dimples smile up at you from where Eddie has dropped to one knee on the asphalt. His eyes are the color of burnt caramel, or maybe cocoa- dark and richly saturated. Impossible to look away from.Ā
āAh, see-ā Eddie tugs at the corner of the napkin and whips it out from under your sneaker with the flair of a magicianās tablecloth. āStevie Boy told me to meet you at seven. So I think maybe we should blame him and start off on the right foot.ā
He rises and gives you a wink. You really wish you found it half as charming.
āFine.ā Your arms cross, aiming to keep an unamused expression. āWhere do you work?ā
āAll around town,ā Eddie answers, then pivots to shove the trash into his backseat with much clanging about. His palms wipe down the front of his jeans as he comes to stand in front of you again.Ā
This time you catch a whiff of the cologne heās wearing. Itās spiced and warm and reminiscent of autumn leaves.Ā
The evening sun is glinting off all his jewelry, spinning the light about his face as he raises his hands in a white-flag gesture. āLook, Iām an opportunist when it comes to jobs. Iāve got band gigs on weekends, I sell pot on the side- and if deviancy is a concern of yours, maybe this will help my case.ā
Eddie presents to you a perfectly rolled joint in the palm of his left hand.Ā
Heās taking a big swing here, and lucky for him- good weed is hard to come by.Ā
The joint gets swiftly tucked into your front pocket as you nod- āDirectness is the way to go, I think. The apartmentās great, I work at the bookstore on 3rd, and Iām kind of- Iām a bit-ā
Youāre floundering for the word. Eddie shakes his head-
āNah, sāokay- Steve kind of gave me the low-down on you already. He mentioned you were a bit-ā
āUptight?ā
ā-intense.ā Eddie raises a dark brow. āBut stellar. Like me.ā
You shift under the compliment, and Eddie continues.
āIāll be good for the money every month, and I promise not to be an asshole about my volume when youāre trying to sleep.ā He shrugs, dimples springing to life again. āI think I might be your finest prospect, sweetheart.ā
āAll right.ā Your tone is a warning. Itās to mask the butterflies that are swarming low at the nickname- dangerous territory. āYou seem mostly normal, or at least like youāre not gonna get me axe murdered. Or something. You wanna see the place tonight?ā
Eddie nods enthusiastically, and you turn on a heel to start for the sidewalk. He trots to keep up, falling into step with you as he comments, āKiller shirt. Kate Bush rocks.ā
āOh- thanks.ā You glance down at the printed Hounds of Love cover and smile at the memory that surfaces. āMy little cousin is obsessed with her. I took us both to the record store at four in the fucking morning to get them on release day- we were first in line.ā
Eddie hears the pride in your voice and laughs, delighted. āShit, you got it all figured out, huh? I bet you have a wicked record collection, too- weāll have to join forces once I move in.ā
You give him a quick sideways look even as hope blooms- āHey, you havenāt even seen the place yet.ā
All Eddie does is smile. āI think itāll suit me just fine.ā
there is a non-zero chance that eddie doesn't eat it the fuck out on a first date. he is a barely caged feral beast like ninety percent of the time, but post-date mid-make out? the man is literally bursting at the seams here.
it's everythingā from the noises you make to the friction in the slow grind of him against your warm skin to the relaxed way your thighs fall open and trusting as he works his way down.
little nips of his teeth against your dewy skin, lips and tongue exploring against the low melody of your whimpers and sighs.
"can i taste you?"
a hurried nod followed by a gasped "yes" as his fingers curl around the band of your underwear and tug them down. skirt bunched up to your waist, tits spilling from your braā utterly wrecked and he hasn't even done anyhting yet.
there's a dark gleam in his eyes as he settles between your legs, hands ranging and roaming around the supple skin as his fingers work toward your hips and pull you to his mouth.
"fuck."
it's a breath against your skin, quickly followed by the press of his lips. well, so much for going slow; he'd never been a patient guy anyway, so why start now?
his tongue delves to part your seam, wet and warm. he watches as you sink boneless into the cushions, tension melting from your limbs while he continues. errant sighs and curses fall from his lips whenever he deigns to part from your wet cunt, which isn't very often.
eddie is perfectly content to stay down there teasing your clit and ever so slowly working you open, tasting youā sweet and bitter and musky on his tongue. all his for the taking.
your eyes are glassy when you open them, lashes half-lowered and dazed as you trail him. his moans and groans only increase when your hand settles against his nape, nails scratching lightly on his scalp. a little push forward as your hips cant up, and oh yeah, he could die down here and thank you for the honor.
cunt sliding messily against his red mouth, wet and wonderful, as his lips and tongue suck at your clit while his fingers bury themselves in your cunt. you're so warm and perfect, fucking his face like you were born to it, tits bouncing as you cry out and fall apart.
"oh my god," he rasps, revelling in the clench of your walls against his fingers. he's soaked down to the wrist and watches in interest as the rest dribbles down the curve of your ass. there's color in your cheeks, chest heaving in breaths as you come down, and before you can move to grab a towel, he says, "seems you made quite the mess. flip over and lemme clean you up."
you quirk a brow, reply on the tip of your tongue as he gathers you up in his arms, distracts you with a sloppy kiss, and maneuvers you to his likingā face down, ass up.
"you good?"
another frantic nod and stuttered "yes" was all he needed. he lifts you up a little more by the hips, biting and kissing as his damp fingers spread you open.
"can't forget about your other holes, can we?"
a single finger slides into your cunt as he licks your puckered hole, his mouth and tongue sloppy and eager. in between his groans and slurps, eddie drops the occassional curse or tauntā
"you gonna pass out on me? cause you're lookin' a littleā¦" he huffs a laugh, adding another finger despite your clenching walls. "can come any time you want, sweetheart. any time at all."
beacuse all he really wants to do is make you feel good, and it's only polite that you come at least twice. and, if he's not mistaken, the second coming is soon, if your shaking is anything to go by.
"ever come with a tongue in your ass, babe? you should try it sometime."
there's an exasperated huff from you, and he thinks it's pretty cute that you can't take it. grinding back on his face and cussing him out in equal measure, he slips a finger up to your clit and circles it slowly. moves his tongue in time with his finger and it's game over.
there's a soft gasp followed by a cry as you come, walls clenching around his fingers as you shake.
"there she is," he says, voice dripping with pride. "so fuckin' gorgeous."
eddie, who'd been doing a decent job of ignoring his hard-on up until now, did not quite anticipate the very real chance that he'd come in his pants untouched. so, it's less of a relief when his own orgasm crashes through him, and more of a revelation.
he can't even remember the last time this had happened. and it's kind of throwing him for a loop, so much so, that he shudders into your touch. he blinks down at you, as your fingers smooth away his frizzy hair from his face.
"hi," you say, rising up on your knees. "you okay?"
"yeah, yeah," he assures you, trying to subtly adjust himself through damp fabric. "i just um," he coughs to clear his throat.
your eyes fall to his crotch, trying to focus in the dim light. eddie valiantly resists from launching himself through your window in embarassment.
"oh." you glance back up, smeared lipgloss sparkling against your mouth. "kinda hot if you ask me. here," your fingers pop the button of his jeans and carefully pull down the fly. "lemme return the favor and clean you up."
hm, yeah, okay. this? this he can get behind. he's gonna have some fun with you.
love that youāre thinking about the roommates because I was just revisiting some of your work about them!! I mean this as the highest compliment: you write them with such a clear picture of the ways theyāre fucked up and it hits every time!
if youāre ever feeling it, Iād love another entry where we see them having to dance around their dynamic because their friends are around <3
come talk to me about the roommates!
thank you so so much for saying so!!!! i absolutely love delving into the psyche of fuckedupedness the two of them got going on. weirdos in love with so many issues is my kryptonite fr.
i think as far as social interactions amongst their friend groups go, it was fine in the beginning. you didn't overthink teasing Eddie in front of Steve or Robin, didn't give much consideration as to whether or not it would be taken as flirting or anything more serious because at the time it just wasn't. the secret situationship was something a bit silly goofy!! heehee we're hooking up and no ones knows!!
buuuuut. when you and Eddie start genuinely falling for each other. then it gets sticker.
interactions between you two feel very loaded in a group. even if no one else really cares or is paying attention at all, you're thinking about every little thing. am i sitting too close to Eddie? will it look weird if i ask to ride in his van when we're carpooling? does Robin think i'm into him now because I brought him an extra slice of cake??
and it cannot be stressed enough how normal it all looks from the outside. due in large part to the 'control' of OCD, the exhaustive Keeping Up Appearances act that you stick to. it's really, really tiring. the more in love with Eddie you are, the worse it feels to hide, even as the fear of telling everyone looms bigger and bigger.
it's best when it's just you and Eddie, or just you/Eddie/Steve/Robin, because at least those two have a platonic soulmate thing going on and very much understand the intimacy of friendship.
there've been slip ups, for sure.
once Nancy found a pair of lacy undies between the couch cushions and Eddie had to play the devious scapegoat. put his acting and improv skills to use QUICK. lied with a grin and said it was a hookup and you had to feign shock and irritation at his antics. (meanwhile you're remembering the exact position he had you folded in against the couch not a day earlierš¶)
one time Eddie called you 'babe' as he was leaving a room, on reflex. Robin shot you a weird look and you had to laugh awkwardly and say he was 'going through a phase', and made a point to call him babe too, with heavy sarcasm, in front of Robin later.
so basically. shit sucks. it's not a fun secret to have to keep. it's way more stressful than it should be. but that's just the way the cookie crumbles when you have mental health issues and a guy who's willing to bend the universe to turn a lie into a truth for you!!!
the time to reveal is imminent. pending next chapter <3
ngl, i think eddie would absolutely crush at karaoke on steveās birthday. the theme is divorced dads because trouble is a menace, and everyone has to pick a song slip from a fishbowl. and ofc, he pulls āHigherā by Creed because heās godās least favorite.
doesnāt really matter, since he kills and steve is clapping like a trained seal. that is until youāre called up. he doesnāt recognize the song youāve drawn until the chorus, and itās already too late.
my girlās in the next room, sometimes I wish she was you / I guess we never really moved on
robin is about two seconds from creaming her shorts and trouble wonāt stop hollering.
āshit,ā steve sighs, settling back into the booth. ānever thought Iād see the day the karaoke king is dethroned.ā
eddie just smirks, lips tugging to the left as you continue to annihilate, eyes locked firmly on him.
āshe really put her whole pussy in that, huh?ā robin remarks.
ānah man,ā he replies, āsheās only giving about fifty percent right now.ā
because if anyone would know if your whole pussy was in something, itād be him without a doubt.
lemme just drop a horny thought on y'all before I have to get back to work...
eddie who moans every time he's fully inside you. like getting the head in makes him bite his lip, sliding forward makes him close his eyes and sigh, but when he's balls deep and your hips are against his he can't help but let out that deep, raw sound of pleasure. it just feels right, so natural. you clench on him and he purrs, holding your hips tighter. he doesn't even wanna move yet, just wants to feel you; you can tell he's already worked up just from this. he can't stay still forever, he's not that patient, but he's happy to just soak in the feeling of you, how warm and tight you are for him, how your body adjusts to fit him... and then he can hold you close and fuck you as hard as he wants.
