Teenage Dirtbag
description: eddie munson teaches you the fine art of not giving a fuck. it starts with skipping class and smoking behind the park, escalates to trespassing, shoplifting, and ends… well, somewhere between a "stolen pool" and your first....
pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, corruption, slow burn, friends to lovers, reader insert, grunge romance, slight angst, hurt/comfort but like eddie style, based on the song "teenage dirtbag" (duh), shoulder nudges as a love language, resident freak encourages delinquency, eddie doing dumb shit to make you laugh, stealing rich people's pools, shoplifting but make it cute, lowkey voyeurism, "worth the wait"
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!!, PiV, unprotected (what's new), smoking, drinking, mention of parental alcohol abuse, bullying
WC: 6.8k
A/N: requested by @ggdawgg HOPE U ENJOY BESTIE!!! pumping out fics to distract me from crashing out and texting this man😀 also, i thought the dividers would be fitting LMAO reblogs are always appreciated <33 enjoy loves xoxo
By the time you were old enough to understand what people were saying when they lowered their voices as you walked by, they'd already made up their minds about you anyway.
Your father had disappeared when you were seven. Some people said he ran off with another woman somewhere down in Indianapolis, others insisted he'd gotten himself arrested, and there was even an old rumor floating around The Hideout that he'd wound up dead in a ditch halfway across the state.
Your mother never corrected anyone. Most days she couldn't remember what she'd told one person from the next, usually too busy sitting on the front porch with a cigarette hanging from her lips and something stronger than beer hidden in a paper bag at her feet.
As the years passed, she became less "that poor woman whose husband left" and more "the drunk over on Maple."
Kids snickered when she stumbled through the grocery store. Adults looked away when she nodded off at church picnics. The police knew your address without needing directions.
By association, everyone knew you too.
It didn't seem to matter that you always said yes when Mrs. Henderson needed help carrying groceries to her car, or that you babysat Dustin Henderson for practically nothing because you knew they couldn't afford much more.
It didn't matter that you stayed after class to help clean paintbrushes in art or volunteered at bake sales or smiled politely at teachers who looked at you with barely concealed pity.
You ironed your own clothes because your mother wouldn't. You packed your own lunches. You left early enough every morning to stop and make sure she hadn't fallen asleep with the stove on or a cigarette lit. You did everything in your power to prove you weren't her.
Still, every time attendance got called, somebody found a reason to laugh. "There she is."
"Bet her mom's plastered already."
"My dad says their electric got shut off again."
"I heard she steals."
The funny thing was, you never actually defended yourself anymore.
You'd tried when you were younger. Tried explaining, tried arguing, tried insisting they were wrong, only to discover that people who enjoyed believing the worst about someone rarely changed their minds because of facts.
So eventually you just kept your head down, smile, take your notes, go to work after school, come home, repeat. It was easier that way.
Or at least it had been until one Tuesday afternoon when Tommy Hagan decided the cafeteria was a suitable stage and announced to half the room, "Wonder who her mom will sleep with next. My money's on Carver's dad. He's always had an infatuation with the less fortunate."
The laughter came exactly when expected, almost comforting in its consistency. You looked down at your tray, swallowed hard enough that your throat hurt, and simply kept walking.
No comeback. No tears. No scene. Just another Tuesday. You were halfway to the table by yourself when somebody else spoke instead.
"Damn."
The voice was lazy, amused in that way that always made it impossible to tell if Eddie Munson was joking or dead serious.
"What an asshole."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Mind your business, freak."
Eddie looked around theatrically before pointing at himself. "Me? I thought I was minding it just fine."
A couple chuckles scattered through the room. Tommy scoffed and walked away with his little entourage, deciding it wasn't worth getting into another screaming match with Hawkins High's resident freak.
You figured that was the end of it. It wasn't.
The next day you sat down at your usual empty table near the windows, unpacked your lunch, and had barely taken one bite before someone dropped onto the bench across from you with all the grace of a falling tree.
You looked up. Messy curls and a grin that looked entirely too comfortable on someone who was supposedly as intimidating as everyone insisted. "Hey."
"...Hi."
He pointed across the cafeteria with his carton of milk. "That guy's still an asshole."
Despite yourself, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "I've noticed."
"I heard what he said yesterday."
"So did everybody."
"Doesn't make him less of an asshole."
You shrugged and peeled the corner off your napkin without really thinking about it. "People say stuff."
"They say stuff about me too."
You let out a tiny laugh through your nose. "Yeah, but you're Eddie Munson."
"So?"
"So... you don't seem to care."
He leaned back, studying you for a second before giving the smallest shake of his head. "Nah."
The answer came so quickly you almost believed it. He reached over and stole one of your fries before you could protest. "I care a lot."
Your eyebrows shot up.
"I just figured if everyone already thinks I'm Satan reincarnated, I might as well give 'em something interesting to gossip about."
That earned a real laugh, quiet but unmistakable. For a second, he just looked at you, then he smiled too. "There it is."
"What?"
"I've seen you around for like... two years? First time I've seen you produce a real smile."
Your face immediately warmed. "I smile."
"Nope. Not like that."
"I do."
"Haven't seen it."
"Maybe you're not looking."
"Nah, sweetheart." He popped the stolen fry into his mouth and pointed at you like he'd solved some impossible equation. "I think you've just been trying way too hard to convince everybody you're not who they already decided you are."
You looked down at your lunch again. "...Maybe."
Then, almost casually, he shrugged. "For what it's worth..."
You glanced back up.
"I don't think you've gotta convince me."
It became something of an unspoken routine after that. Nothing dramatic, nothing anybody else would've noticed if they were looking in from the outside.
Eddie would throw himself into the seat across from you at lunch like he'd been doing it his whole life, steal a handful of fries or half your dessert if you happened to bring one, complain about whichever teacher had irritated him that day, and somehow manage to make you laugh at least once before the bell rang.
He never asked to walk you home, never pried. Never asked about your mother or why your sleeves always smelled faintly of laundry detergent, or why you looked perpetually exhausted by first period.
He just... sat with you. It was strange, really. Most people in Hawkins saw you as a cautionary tale. Eddie looked at you like you were actually a person.
A week later, after another particularly bad evening of listening to your mother cry over somebody who had been gone for nearly ten years, you found yourself doing what had quietly become your own ugly little habit.
You waited until she finally passed out on the couch. Walked three blocks with your jacket pulled tight around yourself. Slipped behind the abandoned picnic shelter at the park where nobody could see you from the road.
Then, after checking over your shoulder twice despite knowing there was nobody around, you dug into your pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
You hated them. You hated the smell. You hated the taste. You hated the way your fingers smelled after.
Every single drag made your chest ache and your eyes water. But for five minutes, all you had to think about was breathing in and breathing out, nothing else.
The lighter clicked as the end began to glow orange. You leaned back against one of the support beams, staring out into the empty darkness beyond the playground.
"You know those'll kill you."
Your entire body jerked so violently you nearly dropped the cigarette.
You whipped around to find Eddie standing a few feet away with both hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, looking almost apologetic.
"Oh, my God!"
"Sorry."
"You scared the shit out of me."
"I gathered."
Your face immediately flushed as you instinctively tucked the cigarette behind your back.
For a second, he just looked at you before reaching into his own jacket pocket and pulling out a pack.
"...Really?" He held it up, "I feel like we're past pretending."
Your shoulders relaxed just enough to pull your own hand back into view. He wandered over and leaned against the wooden railing beside you, taking a drag before looking out over the empty park.
"I always figured you hated me."
Your eyebrows pulled together. "What?"
"You look at me like I'm contagious."
"I don't."
"You kinda do."
"No, I..." You laughed quietly to yourself. "I just thought you thought I was pathetic."
He turned so fast he looked genuinely confused. "Why the hell would I think that?"
You shrugged. "'Cause everybody does."
He stared at you for another second before huffing out a laugh through his nose. "Jesus."
"What?"
"You really believe that, don't you?"
You didn't answer, so he looked back out into the darkness. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why do you care so much what these assholes think?"
You looked down at the cigarette between your fingers. "I don't."
"Bullshit."
"I don't."
"You apologize when people bump into you."
"...So?"
"You help every old lady in Hawkins carry groceries. You volunteer for school shit nobody wants to do."
You sighed. "So?"
"So, none of it's for you."
Your jaw tightened. "I'm just trying to prove that I'm not..."
He finished it for you. "...your mom."
You stared at the ground. "My dad left."
He nodded once. "I know."
"I just..." You swallowed. "I keep thinking if I can just be good enough then eventually people will realize I'm not gonna end up like her."
Eddie actually laughed, not meanly, more out of disbelief.
You frowned. "What's funny?"
"They won't. They already decided who you are."
You looked over at him.
"They've had your whole life to change their minds. They haven't."
You hated how quickly tears threatened your eyes. "So what am I supposed to do?"
He looked over at you like the answer was obvious. "Fuck 'em."
You blinked. "What?"
"Fuck. Them."
"Eddie—"
"No, seriously." He flicked ash onto the pavement. "You could cure cancer tomorrow, and half this town would still whisper about your drunk mom."
You stayed quiet.
"You could save somebody's life. You could become valedictorian. You could go to church every Sunday. And Tommy Hagan's still gonna call you trailer trash because it makes him feel better about himself."
You stared out into the empty darkness.
"So stop trying."
Your eyebrows knit together. "...Stop trying?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"That's terrible advice."
"It is."
"You know it is."
"I do." Another tiny smile tugged at his mouth. "But tell me I'm wrong."
You couldn't. Because somewhere deep down, in the place you tried very hard not to look at, you knew he wasn't.
He turned to face you fully now. "You spend every damn day trying to prove to people who don't care that you're worth something."
His expression softened just a fraction. "They don't get to decide that."
He nudged your shoulder with his. "You know what I'd do?"
"What?"
"I'd give 'em something to actually bitch about."
You looked at him like he'd grown another head.
"I'm serious, “ he grinned. "Skip class."
"No."
"Steal a stop sign."
"No."
"Spray paint Principal Higgins' parking spot."
"Eddie."
"I'm brainstorming."
Despite yourself, a laugh escaped, and he pointed at you immediately. "See? You’re considering it!"
You rolled your eyes. "You're a bad influence."
He smiled wider. "Nah."
He bumped your shoulder again. "I just think life's a hell of a lot easier when you stop begging people to like you."
You looked back down at the cigarette between your fingers. Then quietly asked, "And if they hate me?"
His answer came so fast it almost overlapped the question. "They already do."
You frowned, and he shrugged. "So you might as well have some fun."
By the time you got home that night, your mother's bedroom door was shut. You didn't bother checking if she was asleep; you already knew she was.
The television droned quietly from the living room, throwing blue light across the peeling wallpaper while an empty bottle sat on its side where she'd left it earlier in the evening.
You stood there for a second, keys still dangling loosely from your fingertips, looking at the familiar scene with the same detached exhaustion you'd carried for years before quietly setting your bag down and making your way toward your room.
You should've done your homework. Should've packed your lunch. Should've folded the load of laundry that had been sitting in the dryer since yesterday. Instead, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at your bedroom window.
"So stop trying."
The words refused to leave your head. You'd spent so much of your life worrying about what people thought of you that the idea of simply... not caring felt impossible.
You almost laughed when you got to the picnic shelter and found him already there.
Eddie was sitting on top of one of the weathered tables with one boot planted on the bench beneath him, lazily flipping a guitar pick between his fingers like he'd been expecting you all along.
The second he noticed you, the corner of his mouth curled upward. "I was beginning to think you were responsible."
"I am responsible."
"Ah. My mistake."
You rolled your eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Hanging out."
"By yourself?"
"For about..." he checked an imaginary watch on his wrist. "...forty-seven minutes."
"That's kind of sad."
"It is."
You stood there awkwardly for another second before shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. "So..."
"So,” then he suddenly hopped down from the table. "Wanna commit a crime?"
You blinked. "...Excuse me?"
He pointed dramatically toward the road. "Nothing huge."
"Eddie."
"Nothing illegal-illegal."
"Eddie."
"Victimless." He grinned, "Mostly."
You stared at him, and he stared back. "...I'm kidding."
You visibly relaxed.
Then he added, "Unless you say yes."
"I am not committing a crime."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He started walking anyway. Curiosity got the better of you after about twenty feet.
"...Where are you going?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Benny's."
"The diner?"
"The abandoned diner."
"It's closed."
"Very observant."
"Eddie."
"What?"
"We can't just..."
He raised an eyebrow. "...Walk inside?"
"Yes."
"Sure we can."
"No, we can't."
"We absolutely can."
"No."
He looked at you for a second before smiling that stupid smile again. "You comin' or what, sweetheart?"
You should've gone home; you knew that. You knew it with absolute certainty. Instead, after one quick glance up and down the empty road...you followed him.
The chain-link fence surrounding the old property had long since been bent out of shape in one corner, creating an opening just wide enough to squeeze through if you turned sideways.
Eddie slipped through first with practiced ease before holding the fence open for you with an exaggerated little bow.
"M'lady."
"This is trespassing."
"It absolutely is."
He didn't even sound concerned. You ducked through anyway.
The parking lot was cracked apart with weeds growing through the pavement, faded yellow lines barely visible beneath years of neglect. The old sign still hung crookedly above the building, half the letters missing, while dark windows reflected only the moonlight overhead.
You suddenly became very aware of how quiet everything was.
"Eddie..."
"Hm?"
"What if somebody sees us?"
"They'll think we're teenagers."
"We are teenagers."
"Exactly."
He reached the side entrance and gave the handle a tug. Locked.
He frowned dramatically. "Foiled."
A second later, he leaned down, reached beneath a loose cinder block, and triumphantly pulled out a rusty spare key.
Your jaw dropped. "Eddie."
"What?"
"How did you know that was there?"
He slid it into the lock. "I have my secrets."
The door creaked open with enough noise to make you physically cringe.
Dust floated lazily through the beams of moonlight pouring in through broken windows while overturned stools still rested upside down on counters exactly where they'd been left years before. Everything smelled faintly of mildew and old coffee.
You looked around slowly. "This is..."
"Kinda cool?"
"Kinda creepy."
"I'll take that."
The two of you wandered quietly through the empty diner, your fingers ghosting over chipped countertops and faded booths, every little sound seeming amplified in the silence.
You paused in front of one of the old menus still bolted to the counter.
Cheeseburger. $2.15. Coffee. 40¢.
You smiled to yourself. Then all the lights overhead suddenly flickered.
You froze. "Eddie."
No answer. "Eddie?" Silence.
You slowly turned, and he was gone.
"...Eddie."
A low voice echoed somewhere deeper inside the kitchen. "You should not have entered this place..."
You immediately covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.
"...for many years..." The voice dropped lower. "...the spirit of Benjamin has wandered these halls..."
You rounded the corner to find Eddie standing half-hidden behind the old serving window with both hands raised dramatically in the air, eyes rolled upward in what had to be the worst ghost impression ever performed by a human being.
"...searching eternally..."
His voice deepened another octave. "...for the teenager who last desecrated this place."
You snorted. He continued anyway. "...many have entered..."
He slowly pointed toward an old stain on the floor. "...none have survived..."
Your shoulders were already shaking. He took one giant theatrical step forward. "...except Gary."
You blinked. "...Who's Gary?"
He pointed randomly toward an overturned booth. "I don't know, some virgin, probably."
Another pause. "He seems alright."
That was it. A laugh burst out of you so suddenly and so loudly that it echoed through the entire empty building, the kind that made your stomach hurt.
When you finally caught your breath enough to look back at him, Eddie wasn't talking anymore.
He was just standing there with his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, looking at you with the tiniest smile you'd ever seen on him.
"What?"
He shook his head once. "Nothing."
"What?"
"I just..." He looked down at the floor before letting out a quiet little laugh. "I don't think anybody's made you laugh in a really long time."
The smile faded from your face, replaced by something softer.
"...No."
He nodded as if he'd already known the answer. Then he looked around the abandoned diner before grabbing an old salt shaker off one of the tables and setting it carefully on top of the jukebox.
You frowned. "What are you doing?"
He looked back with complete seriousness. "Leaving evidence."
Your eyes widened. "Eddie."
"Gotta keep 'em guessing, hon."
Looking back on it later, you wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the exact moment things started getting out of hand. There wasn't some grand declaration, no dramatic pact.
No night where you suddenly decided to become a completely different person. It happened the way sunsets happened, so slowly you didn't notice until it was already dark.
The first "crime" had been wandering through Benny's abandoned diner and leaving a saltshaker on the jukebox as “proof of entry”.
Then it was climbing onto the roof of Hawkins High after midnight just to watch the stars because Eddie insisted they looked better from up there.
Then it was buying one gas station soda and sharing it because neither of you had enough money for two. Then it was skipping the last period on Fridays because "Coach barely takes attendance anyway."
Then somehow...
You found yourself sitting on top of Skull Rock with your legs dangling over the edge, a warm beer balanced between your knees while Eddie attempted to explain why Black Sabbath was objectively superior to every other band in existence.
"I don't think objective means what you think it means."
"It absolutely does."
"No."
"It does when I'm right."
"You are impossible."
"I'm also correct."
You took another sip and immediately grimaced. "This tastes disgusting."
He looked genuinely offended. "It's beer."
"It's awful."
"You'll acquire the taste."
"I don't want to."
"You will."
"I won't."
Three weeks later, you'd stolen half of his can before he'd even asked. The scary part wasn't that you were changing; it was how easy it was.
One Saturday afternoon the two of you wandered aimlessly through Starcourt with exactly eleven dollars between you, neither of you intending to buy anything because neither of you could afford to.
You drifted through little novelty shops, picking up snow globes and cheap plastic rings and tiny stuffed animals before putting them back exactly where they belonged.
Eddie stopped in front of a rack of ridiculous keychains. He picked up one shaped like a tiny rubber chicken. Held it up, looked at you, looked back at the keychain, then quietly slipped it into his jacket pocket with all the subtlety of someone hiding a television.
Your eyes widened. "Eddie."
"What?"
"You just stole that."
"I did no such thing."
"I watched you."
"You have no proof."
"I literally saw it."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "Allegedly."
Five minutes later, he casually dropped the little rubber chicken into your hands while pretending to examine baseball caps. "For you."
You looked down at it. "...Why?"
He shrugged. "It looked stupid."
You laughed. "I love him."
"I knew you would."
The next store over, your eyes landed on an embarrassingly ugly pair of fuzzy six-sided dice hanging from a rotating display. Purple. Covered in silver glitter. Absolutely hideous.
You looked around once, twice. Your heart hammered so loudly you were convinced everybody could hear it. Then your hand darted out almost involuntarily before shoving them into your pocket. You practically speed-walked out of the store.
By the time Eddie caught up with you outside, your face was bright red.
He stared. "...Did you?"
You silently pulled the fuzzy dice from your jacket. For exactly three seconds, he looked completely speechless. Then he started laughing so hard he had to lean against the side of the building.
"You committed a felony for ugly fuzzy dice."
"I know."
"They're hideous."
"I know."
"I love them."
You shoved them into his chest. "They're yours."
His smile softened almost immediately. "For me?"
"They looked like something you'd hang in the van."
He looked down at them, then back at you, then quietly looped them around his fingers. "They're the nicest thing anybody's ever stolen for me."
From then on, it became something of a game. Nothing valuable and certainly nothing useful. Just tiny, ridiculous little things.
A plastic dinosaur. A guitar pick with flames on it. A novelty lighter that barely worked. A little ceramic gnome. An ugly pin with a smiling hot dog on it. Cheap friendship bracelets. A pair of sunglasses with one cracked lens.
Each one ending up in the other's pocket with no explanation beyond, "Saw it. Thought of you."
It wasn't about having things; neither of you really had anything. It was about choosing something absurd and deciding that it belonged to the other person.
The biggest offense came a month later. You and Eddie sat in the grass across from the Hawkins water tower while he shook a can of black spray paint absentmindedly.
He looked at it, then at the tower, then at you, then back at the tower. "...Terrible idea."
"Horrible."
"We absolutely shouldn't."
"Nope."
Silence.
"...Wanna?"
You looked at the water tower, looked back at him. Thought about every report card you'd brought home. Every teacher you'd smiled politely at. Every grocery bag you'd carried for strangers. Every time someone had looked at your mother's face and decided they knew yours too.
Then you looked back at Eddie. "...Yeah."
The climb was terrifying; your knees shook the entire way up. Halfway up, you almost turned around. So, when he noticed your hesitation, he reached down, grabbed your hand without saying a word, and helped pull you onto the platform.
Your breathing hadn't settled by the time he handed you the spray can. "You do it."
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. "No."
"You should."
"I can't."
"Sure you can."
"I've never spray-painted anything."
"So make it memorable."
You looked over the sleeping town stretched out beneath you. Every little house. Every little street. Every little person who thought they already knew exactly how your story ended.
Your thumb pressed down as the black paint hissed into the cool night air. In embarrassingly uneven letters, you wrote exactly two words.
FUCK 'EM.
You stared at it. Then immediately covered your mouth with both hands as laughter escaped you. Not because it was particularly funny, but because it felt impossible.
Eddie looked at the words, then started laughing too. The kind that echoed into the darkness. When the laughter finally died down, he bumped your shoulder with his.
Quietly, almost fondly. "I like you a lot better like this."
You looked over. "...Like what?"
He smiled at the town below. "The version of you that isn't apologizing for existing."
One day, Eddie's shoulder would brush yours, and you'd think nothing of it. Next, you'd find yourself looking around the cafeteria for him before you even realized you were doing it. Then suddenly every stupid thing he did became inexplicably funny.
Every time he walked into a room, your eyes followed him without permission. Every time he leaned over your shoulder to point something out in a comic book or hand you the lighter or steal your cigarette, your brain seemed to short-circuit for reasons you couldn't quite explain.
You tried very hard not to think about it. Mostly because it was Eddie; everybody knew Eddie flirted with everyone.
Everybody knew Eddie called half the female population of Hawkins "sweetheart." Everybody knew Eddie was just... Eddie.
Besides, you had more important things to worry about than some embarrassingly obvious crush.
Which was exactly what you were trying to tell yourself while staring at him instead of paying attention to whatever story he was currently in the middle of telling.
He stopped midsentence. "...Hello?"
Your eyes blinked. "Hm?"
"I lost you."
"I was listening."
"You absolutely were not."
"I was."
"What did I just say?"
You looked at him confidently. "...Something profound."
He burst out laughing. "Sweetheart, I was talking about Wayne accidentally super-gluing his fingers together."
"See? Profound."
He shook his head. "You are hopeless." The unfortunate part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.
By the time Founders Day rolled around, the rest of Hawkins seemed determined to spend the afternoon pretending the town was charming.
Children ran around with balloons tied to their wrists. Families wandered between food stands. Music drifted through the streets. Little American flags poked out of flower pots and storefront windows.
You and Eddie were approximately as interested as two stray cats.
Instead, the pair of you disappeared into the woods behind one of the nicer neighborhoods bordering town, settling beneath a cluster of trees, swapping what seemed like endless amounts of joints back and forth.
The conversation drifted lazily from one topic to another, interrupted every few minutes by laughter over absolutely nothing.
At some point, Eddie had ended up stretched out flat on his back beside you, one arm folded behind his head while the other lazily pointed up through the branches.
"I still think that cloud looks like Ozzy Osbourne."
You squinted. "...That's a squirrel."
"A very metal squirrel."
"It has ears."
"So does Ozzy."
"I don't think that's his defining characteristic."
He looked over at you. "I think you're judging me."
"I absolutely am."
He clutched dramatically at his chest. "How rude!"
The breeze pushed through the leaves overhead while somewhere in the distance fireworks cracked faintly against the afternoon sky. You rolled onto your side to look at him, but he was already looking at you.
Neither of you immediately looked away. Your stomach did something deeply inconvenient. So naturally… you blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind.
"...Let's go swimming."
He looked around. "In...the forest?"
"No."
"Okay."
You pointed vaguely through the trees toward the expensive houses on Loc Norah beyond them.
"The rich people."
His eyebrows lifted. "The rich people?"
"They all have pools."
"They do."
"They're all at Founders Day."
"They probably are."
"So..." He slowly sat up. "...Are you suggesting we trespass?"
You smiled innocently. "No…I'm suggesting we very politely borrow their pool."
He stared at you for a long moment, then a grin spread slowly across his face. "Holy shit."
"What?"
"You've officially become the bad influence."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"I think it's community service."
He laughed so hard he had to put his head in his hands. "Community service."
"They aren't using it."
"You are unbelievable."
"So are you coming or not?"
He stood up, brushing leaves off his jeans. "I'd follow you into active traffic at this point."
The neighborhood was eerily quiet. Massive houses sat empty beneath the afternoon sun, perfectly trimmed hedges lining pristine walkways that looked like nobody had ever actually walked on them.
You both crouched behind somebody's decorative bushes, trying very hard—and failing—not to laugh.
Eddie whispered, "We're gonna get arrested."
"No, we're not."
"We absolutely are."
"We're invisible."
"You are giggling."
"I'm whisper-giggling."
"That's somehow worse."
You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking anyway. Finally, you reached the backyard fence.
You looked at Eddie. "...Well?"
He vaulted over first before reaching a hand back for you. The second your feet hit the grass, the two of you looked around one last time before dissolving into another fit of laughter for absolutely no reason other than the absurdity of existing there.
Eddie looked over at the perfectly still water before glancing back at you. "So... now what?"
You shrugged. "I don't know."
"We didn't exactly think this through."
"No."
Then, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, you kicked your shoes off and sprinted across the backyard.
His eyebrows shot up. "Wait—" You didn't.
You reached the edge of the pool and jumped anyway, the splash echoing through the quiet neighborhood before your head broke back through the surface a second later, immediately pushing your soaked hair out of your face.
The first thing you saw was Eddie still standing exactly where you'd left him, staring at you in complete disbelief.
You grinned. "C'mon!"
"We are absolutely getting arrested."
"We're already trespassing."
"Fair point."
He looked around one last time before muttering, "Fuck it," kicking off his own boots and launching himself in after you.
The resulting wave soaked both of you, earning another uncontrollable fit of laughter as he surfaced, coughing dramatically and slicking his curls back out of his face.
"Oh, that's cold."
"It's the middle of July."
"It's still cold."
You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"I've been told."
For the next ten minutes neither of you did much of anything besides drift lazily around the pool and make complete idiots of yourselves.
You splashed him, and he retaliated by creating a tidal wave large enough to drench your face. You accused him of attempted murder. He insisted it was self-defense.
At one point he disappeared entirely beneath the water only to grab your ankle a second later, making you shriek loud enough that both of you immediately froze and looked toward the dark house.
Nothing happened. The silence lasted exactly three seconds before the two of you were laughing all over again. Eventually the laughter faded on its own, and the water settled with it.
You floated onto your back, staring up at the stars beginning to appear overhead while distant music from the Founders Day fair drifted faintly through the trees.
For a little while, neither of you spoke. You were just... there. Weightless. Peaceful. You turned your head just enough to find Eddie floating only a few feet away, looking over at you instead of the sky.
"What?"
He smiled. "Nothin'."
"No, what?"
He shrugged. "I just don't think I've ever seen you look..."
He searched for the word. "...happy."
Your expression softened. "I don't think I have been."
He drifted a little closer without seeming to realize he was doing it. "So..."
"So?"
"I'm glad you're here."
Your stomach immediately betrayed you. "I'm glad you're here too."
The distance just seemed to disappear all on its own until your shoulders brushed beneath the water, creating tiny ripples that spread lazily across the otherwise still surface.
You looked at him. His curls were dripping into his eyes, his denim vest abandoned somewhere in the grass, his stupid rings catching little flashes of moonlight every time his hand skimmed through the water.
He looked back at you with that same familiar softness he'd somehow always reserved just for these quiet moments.
His voice came out barely louder than the water around you. "...Can I kiss you?"
Your ears turned pink. "I was kinda hoping you'd ask."
The kiss itself was awkward in the sweetest possible way, interrupted almost immediately by the fact that neither of you had accounted for the simple logistics of trying to kiss while floating.
You bumped noses. He accidentally laughed into your mouth. You both pulled back, laughing just as hard, trying again only to nearly lose your balance and send another wave sloshing between you.
"Oh, my God."
"I'm trying."
"I can tell."
"I'm doing my best here."
"You suck at this."
"I've literally never kissed you before."
"Fair."
He looked at you for another second before gently reaching up and brushing a wet strand of hair away from your face. Then, slower, he leaned in again.
Just the quiet press of his lips against yours while the water rocked softly around you and fireworks bloomed somewhere beyond the trees, hidden from view. When you finally pulled apart, you stayed close enough that your foreheads rested together.
Then Eddie let out the tiniest laugh. "So..."
The water lapped gently around your shoulders as you stayed close, foreheads still touching, breaths mingling with the faint chlorine scent and the distant pop of fireworks.
Eddie’s eyes were dark in the low light, that familiar mix of chaos and softness that always made your chest ache in the best way.
“So?” you echoed, voice barely above a whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.
His thumb brushed your jaw, slow and reverent, like he was still processing that this was real. “So… I’ve been wanting to do that for a stupid amount of time.”
“Yeah?” You tilted your head, letting your nose graze his. “Took you long enough, Munson.”
He huffed a laugh against your mouth and closed the distance again. This kiss was less clumsy, and more certain.
His hand slid into your wet hair, holding you steady as the water rocked you both. Your arms looped around his neck, bodies pressing closer beneath the surface, legs brushing in the cool depths.
Somewhere along the way, it turned hungry, tongues meeting in a slow, exploratory glide that sent heat pooling low in your belly despite the chill of the pool.
He tasted like summer and stolen moments, and when he nipped at your bottom lip, you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you.
Eddie pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, breathing hard. “Fuck… you’re gonna kill me.”
You grinned, fingers tracing the damp curls at the nape of his neck. “Not yet.”
Another kiss, messier this time, laughter bubbling up between you as you both tried to stay afloat without completely tipping over. His hands roamed down your back, over your hips, pulling you flush against him.
You could feel him, half-hard already through his soaked jeans, and the realization made you bold. You rocked against him experimentally, earning a low groan that vibrated through his chest.
“Sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice rough. He glanced toward the dark house, then back at you, eyes gleaming with that reckless spark you loved. “You wanna do something really illegal?”
Your pulse jumped. “Define illegal.”
He jerked his head toward the cabana at the far end of the pool: a fancy little pool house with wide glass doors, loungers visible inside, probably some rich asshole’s private oasis.
“In there. With you. Right now.”
You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks even as excitement coiled tight in your core. “Yeah. I do.”
He kissed you once more, quick and fierce, then helped boost you out of the pool. You both dripped across the grass, giggling like idiots as you tried to stay quiet, shoes forgotten somewhere behind you.
The cabana door was unlocked, because of course it was in a neighborhood like this, and Eddie ushered you inside first, sliding the door shut behind him with a soft click.
A wide daybed took up most of one wall, piled with towels and cushions. Eddie turned to you, water still dripping from his curls, his expression suddenly softer.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low. “We can just make out. Or not. Whatever you want.”
You stepped closer, peeling your soaked shirt over your head and letting it drop with a wet slap.
“I’m sure. I mean, I haven’t, like, done it with anyone else before. But I’ve… you know.” Your voice dropped, a little shy but steady. “I know what I like.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Shit. That’s… yeah. Okay. Fuck, that’s hot.” He reached for you, hands gentle on your waist as he walked you back toward the daybed. “Tell me what feels good, alright? We go slow.”
Clothes came off in a tangle of wet fabric and breathless laughs. Your shorts and underwear, his jeans sticking stubbornly until you both nearly fell over trying to help. Naked, he was all lean muscle and ink and those damn rings he didn’t even think to take off.
He laid you down on the soft cushions, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hand slid between your thighs.
You were already slick, and when his fingers found your clit, circling with surprising patience, you arched into him with a gasp. “Eddie—”
“Like that?” he murmured against your neck, kissing down to your collarbone. He took his time, learning you, adding a finger when you rocked against his hand and whispered for more.
The stretch was new but welcome, especially with the way he praised you in that wrecked voice, so good, so wet for me, fuck you’re perfect, until you were trembling on the edge.
When you finally tugged him up, legs wrapping around his hips, he looked at you reverently. “Still good?”
“Yeah. Want you inside me.”
He groaned, reaching down to line himself up. The first push was slow, careful, the blunt head of his cock stretching you open.
It burned a little, but you breathed through it, hands in his hair, urging him deeper.
“More,” you whispered, surprising even yourself with how steady you sounded. “I can take it.”
Eddie’s hips stuttered, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna ruin me.”
He sank in inch by inch, gentle but relentless, until he was buried to the hilt. You both stilled, foreheads pressed together again, breaths ragged.
“You okay?” he asked, voice strained.
You rolled your hips experimentally and moaned at the full feeling. “Move, Eddie. Please.”
So, he did. Slow, deep thrusts that built steadily, his mouth on yours, on your neck, whispering filthy-sweet things between kisses.
You surprised him again when you clenched around him deliberately, nails digging into his back, urging him faster.
The gentle rhythm shifted, turning hotter, needier. He hit that perfect spot inside you, and you cried out, legs tightening around him.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you,” he panted, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit. The pressure coiled tighter, and when it finally snapped, you came hard around him, pulling him over the edge with you.
Eddie buried his face in your neck, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, you just held each other, hearts pounding, skin slick with pool water and sweat. He kissed your temple, lazy and soft. “Holy shit.”
You laughed breathlessly. “Yeah.”
Then, the backyard floodlights snapped on with a harsh buzz. Voices carried faintly from the house. “What the hell—?”
“Shit!” Eddie’s eyes went wide. You both scrambled up, grabbing clothes in a frantic tangle, still half-naked and laughing hysterically as you bolted for the door.
He yanked it open, you shoved his jeans at him mid-run, and the two of you sprinted across the grass toward the fence, wet footprints and discarded shirts left in your chaotic wake.
“Run, you beautiful criminal!” he wheezed between laughs, boosting you over the fence first.
You dropped to the other side, heart racing, adrenaline singing in your veins as he landed beside you. Hand in hand, still giggling like maniacs, you disappeared into the night, clothes askew, bodies buzzing, the stolen moment burning bright between you.
You'd never run so fast in your entire life.
The second somebody inside the house had shouted, every coherent thought in your brain had completely evaporated, replaced entirely by blind panic and the overwhelming instinct to get as far away from the expensive neighborhood as physically possible.
"Eddie!"
"I'm running!"
"I can see that!"
"Then why are you yelling my name?"
"Because I'm freaking out!"
"So am I!"
You were both laughing despite yourselves, tripping over roots and ducking beneath low branches as you tore through the woods with absolutely zero concern for where you were actually going.
Somewhere behind you, a dog barked.
You immediately grabbed Eddie's arm. "Oh, my God."
"It's fine."
"What if they're following us?"
"They're definitely following us."
"Eddie!"
"I'm kidding!"
"You are the least reassuring person alive!"
He reached back long enough to catch your hand, practically dragging you over a fallen log before the familiar outline of his van finally appeared through the trees.
"There she is," he breathed dramatically.
"My hero."
He fumbled with his keys, somehow dropping them twice before finally getting the door unlocked.
The second you both climbed inside, he slammed the doors shut, and the silence that followed seemed almost deafening.
You just sat there trying to catch your breath, exchanging one look before immediately dissolving into helpless laughter all over again.
"I cannot believe we just did that."
"I cannot believe we got caught."
"I cannot believe you said we were 'politely borrowing the pool.'"
"We were!"
"Eddie."
"We gave it back."
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. He reached behind the driver's seat and blindly started digging through the pile of jackets, shirts, and miscellaneous clutter that permanently seemed to live in the back of the van.
Eventually, he triumphantly pulled out an old Hellfire shirt and tossed it into your lap. "It's clean."
You held it up skeptically. "...How clean?"
He paused. "...Cleaner than the floor."
"I'll take it."
You disappeared behind the open side door just long enough to tug it on before climbing back inside, the oversized sleeves swallowing your hands almost entirely.
The shirt smelled faintly of laundry detergent, weed, and whatever incense Eddie occasionally remembered to fumigate the van with after cyph sessions.
It was strangely comforting.
When you looked back over, he was already looking at you, and there was that stupid grin again.
"What?"
"Nothin'."
"Eddie."
"Nothin'."
"You keep looking at me."
"'Cause you're wearing my shirt."
"So?"
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck with a laugh, suddenly looking far less confident than usual. "Looks nice."
Your face warmed immediately. "You think?"
"I know."
The adrenaline had started wearing off, replaced by something quieter. Something that suddenly made the cramped little van feel very small.
Eddie leaned back against the driver's seat, studying you with an expression that was almost disbelieving. Then he let out a quiet laugh to himself and shook his head.
"What?"
He looked at you again. "I've been wanting to kiss you for, like..." He paused dramatically, "...an embarrassingly long time."
You smiled. "I noticed."
"And now I finally can." His smile widened.
"...Yeah."
He reached over, tucking a strand of wet, messy hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness before pressing another quick kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally another soft one to your lips.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours for just a second and muttered with a little laugh, "Fucking finally."
You couldn't help smiling. "Took you long enough."
He looked mock-offended. "Me?"
"Absolutely you."
He pointed at himself. "I was being respectful."
"You were being a coward."
He gasped dramatically. "I have a reputation to uphold."
"You have many things."
"And?"
"Coward is one of them."
He laughed, nudging your shoulder. "Yeah..."
His voice was quieter this time. "Worth the wait, though."
hope you all enjoyed<333
dividers by @dividers-are-us
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