hello. 33. her/she. ace flux/aegosexual. i like memes, youtube in general (mostly dan and phil), naps, video games (dead by daylight player ((T_T)), fanfics and food. 👉👉
I need everyone to know, I mostly reblog Steddie art, and I write Steddie fic, but I also don't mind Billy Hargrove. He's not my fave character (that would be Eddie) but I like reading and occasionally writing fic where he is involved with either Steve, or Eddie, or both. If you are interested in that sort of situationship too, please follow me, and I'll follow you. I need more Billy friendly blogs in my sphere. And if you don't like Billy or have his name blocked or any of his ship names, that's totally cool, you can still follow me, I'm fucking autistic and love categorizing shit and making lists so tags are extensive on my end. You will never find me posting about him without his name attached, so you will be safe from any content you don't want to see if you're utilizing tag blocking.
seeing your CC art makes me want to request if you could also doodle some Jeff & Eddie? 👉👈 I think too many people overlook this friendship and I 100% they would do some shenanigans together
oh in my heart they are THE best friends, brothers from another mother, etc etc.
could talk about them all day, but instead have a little sketchpage of the boys <3<3
After defeating Vecna Eddie goes through a depression and Steve takes care of him he would deflects his own feelings by fussing. Steve makes Eddie’s doctor appointments, bullies him into showers, buys him dumb socks with little Garfield on them because It’s how Steve says “I love you” without saying it when Eddie’s too fragile for direct stuff.
Summary: Insecurities after Eddie casually mentions the perfection that Chrissy Cunningham is. What if the unspoken feelings are mutual between the two?
The furious scratching of your pen halted when Eddie's voice broke through the silence.
"Do you think I could ever do Mrs. Wheeler?" Your head snapped up, disbelief flashing across your face. Eddie leaned back, blunt dangling between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his grin. That grin always managed to look both reckless and stupid while remaining devastatingly charming.
"What." The word came out flat, sharp, your chest tightening at the audacity of his question.
He exhaled slowly, eyes glinting with mischief. “You heard me. I mean, do you think I could realistically bag Mrs. Wheeler?”
You licked your lips as you stared at the man in front of you. The old wooden table creaked as he shifted to face you fully, curls falling into his eyes. You stared at him, trying to find the right words, trying not to betray the fact that you were hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. No matter how stupid his questions could be.
"No."' you shrugged your shoulders a bit and looked at the now deflated smile on your best friend's face. A triumphant smile creeping up on your own. All this before looking down at your sheet of paper, going back to writing the essay you had been putting off, one that you would surely have to convince Eddie to do.
“Why not? Think about it- me and Mrs. Wheeler would be the hottest couple in Hawkins.” His voice carried that theatrical cadence, the voice that painfully screamed Eddie. The same one he used when narrating Hellfire campaigns, except now it was about Nancy Wheeler's mother not to mentions mikes mother.
You sighed, lips twitching despite yourself. “Okay, number one: she’s Mike’s mom. Two: she’s married. And three: she’s waiting for me to turn a respectable age so she can leave her husband and marry me.”
Eddies mouth a gap. Eddie Munson's theatrics came in full kick.
Eddie’s jaw dropped, hands flying wildly in protest. “You’re insane. She’d pick me over you any day. I’m her dream man.”
“You don’t have boobs, Eddie. Everyone likes boobs. Doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight- boobs are boobs.”
The argument spiraled, your essay forgotten, laughter and sharp words bouncing between you. Then, in a rare moment, Eddie passed you the joint.
A rare occurrence for Eddie Munson. When he first met you, he noticed you hated the smoking. He always noticed the way your nose scrunched when he smoked, the way your eyes lingered on the burning paper. He offered every time, and sometimes you accepted. Not because you liked it, but because it felt like sharing the blunt was sharing something deeper, something intimate. Like every inhale was a kiss you’d never get to have. You hated the idea and sight of him burning up his lungs and ruining them. You constantly joked about how he would die with his lung suddenly bursting and him blowing up.
It started when life got harder, and you needed comfort, that, and you just felt that it brought you closer to Eddie as if the high bonded your souls together.
Eddie rambled on, his theatrics pulling smiles from you despite the heaviness in your chest. But then his tone shifted.
“I’m gonna need you to write down Cunningham’s name in that list thing you keep.” His gaze landed on your face once again, scanning over you as he played with his rings, his untamable curls framing his face.
Your head snapped towards him. “Cunningham? As in Chrissy Cunningham?”
He nodded, lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. “Yep. That one.”
Your brows furrowed. “She’s buying?” You had never heard of or imagined perfect little Chrissy Cunningham near Eddie, much less buying from him.
“Yeah. Shocked me too.” His grin widened, rings glinting as he toyed with them.
“And you’re selling to her?” Your voice was sharper now, suspicion lacing every word. Your eyes squinting at Eddie to see if it was one of his thoroughly played out jokes
“Yeah. We talked earlier. I was debating it, though. I wouldn’t want to ruin her.”
The words hit like a punch to your gut.
Wouldn’t want to ruin her.
Your stomach dropped. The sudden spiral of thoughts going through your head overwhelming every sense of your being. Did Eddie think you were ruined? Damaged goods because you occasionally smoked with him, always laughed with him, and lived in his chaotic orbit? Was Chrissy untouchable, pure, while you were already a damaged good? Were you a lost cause for not being an untouchable being that Eddie couldn't obtain?
You swallowed hard, his voice fading into background noise as he rambled about Hellfire.
I wouldn't want to ruin her.
wouldn't.
want.
to.
ruin.
her.
Sure, the comment was made with no malice behind it, but you knew about Eddie's middle school crush on Chrissy Cunningham. You had met Eddie in 8th grade. Well, his 8th grade your sixth. You only realized your crush on Eddie in the 8th and his sophomore year.
But the words hung in the air. You swallowed.
Did Eddie think he ruined you? Were you damaged goods now that you indulged and hung around him? Was Chrissy this untouchable being pure of sin or whatever made you ruined? Did the smoking make you broken or ruined? Did he mean to say that Chrisy was worth more to a degree, or was she held to a higher pedestal than you because she was Chrisy?
"They have no idea what's coming, I mean, I have been working on this for weeks-" Eddie, being caught off guard by the look on your face.
"Ruin her?" the slight hurt and pit in your stomach fighting hard to be masked and hidden away, or at least attempted to be hidden from Eddie.
"You think you will ruin her with weed?"' confusion took over, rather than that overbearing feeling in your chest.
Eddie froze, wincing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean… she’s Chrissy. She wouldn’t be caught dead doing this. Not that it’s bad. It’s just… she’s Chrissy.”
He gave a half smile, still wincing as he heard his own response leaving his mouth.
"Oh." you swallowed hard trying to shake the sinking feeling in your gut.
Shes Chrissy.
You felt yourself slipping into your head and rubbed your fingers against the table. Eddie opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed.
The name echoed in your head, heavy and cruel. You weren’t Chrissy.
You smiled up at him with a tight line.
"So, at what time is your next campaign I need to know what Henderson has to say about it."
Eddie hesitated, guilt flickering across his face, but then he launched back into his rant, words tumbling out with his usual flare. You nodded, pretending to listen, eyes drifting back to your paper.
But the essay blurred, meaningless. All you could hear was the echo.
A week had passed since you had become hyperaware of Chrissy Cunningham's existence, your eyes would linger as she passed by the halls. Chrissy Cunningham’s name had become a ghost that haunted every hallway, every classroom. Your eyes lingered on her without meaning to, tracing the way she laughed with her friends, the way she seemed untouchable. Even when Eddie’s arm draped casually around your shoulders, the warmth that used to feel protective now burned with doubt. It wasn’t the same flare of happiness it once sparked it felt hollow, like a reminder of what you weren’t. You told yourself Eddie didn’t think of you as ruined, that he loved you in his own way, maybe not the romantic kind you dreamed of, but something deeper, something platonic and safe. And wasn’t that better than nothing? Better to be loved in fragments than not at all. Still, the words hung in the air. I wouldn’t want to ruin her, echoing like a curse, twisting every smile into a question you couldn’t answer.
Movie nights with Eddie were your sanctuary, the one place where the world blurred into laughter and comfort. You couldn’t always afford the tapes, but somehow Eddie always managed to pull one out of thin air, grinning like he’d just robbed the universe.
“Alright, sweetheart, tonight’s feature presentation: low-budget horror with questionable acting and even worse wallpaper choices,” Eddie announced, throwing his arms wide as if he were on stage.
You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous. Who paints their kitchen lime green?”
“The true horror isn’t the killer, it’s the interior design, blind, I tell you. All of them blind,” Eddie quipped, leaning forward with mock seriousness.
The movie played, but Eddie was louder than the actors. He imitated the protagonist’s screams, clutching his chest dramatically. “Oh no! I’ve been stabbed! Tell my story, Y/N!”
You shoved him, laughing. “You’re such a dork, Munson.”
“Correction: I’m a loser and a dork. I'm a double threat, sweetheart. We have to get my title right.” He lunged at you, and suddenly, you were wrestling on the couch, laughter spilling out of both of you. His fingers dug into your sides, tickling mercilessly, and you squealed, begging him to stop.
"Eddie Munson i mean it, stop it right-" your breathless laughs and heavy breaths being pushed out of your chest without your permission.
You flipped him, breathless, hair falling into your face, and Eddie grinned up at you, curls wild, eyes shining. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.” His voice dipped, teasing, but there was something in his gaze that made your stomach twist with butterflies.
You tickled him back, Eddie yelled and screeched, telling you to cut it out.
Both of you breathlessly lay there, you on top of Eddie. The floor of his trailer digging into his back. Your hair falling into your face, tickling at eddies cheek from the proximity.
For a moment, the world stilled. His eyes flicked to your lips, and you leaned down, heart pounding, breaths mingling. His lips brushed yours, soft, hesitant, electric, and you felt yourself melt into the warmth of him. The kiss lingered, the feeling electric despite your lips not connecting yet, the feelings you bottled up for so long making their way up, ready to be released with a kiss.
Then the phone rang.
You both jolted apart, hearts racing. Eddie gave you an apologetic smile, exaggeratedly groaning as he dragged himself to the wall phone. Your chest still buzzed with childlike excitement, the thought screaming in your head: you almost kissed Eddie Munson. A breathless laugh leaving your chest.
Eddie picked up the phone, his smile and frizzy hair making him look all the more breathtaking, the moment still fresh and new to both of you. You watched him smile brightly on your face, still feeling the proximity both of you shared. But then his smile faltered, voice dropping. “Wait… Chrissy, slow down. What happened?”
And just like that, the butterflies died. The pit in your stomach returned, heavier than before. Chrissy’s name hung in the air, and the comfort of Eddie’s laughter dissolved into something sharp, something that reminded you....
She’s Chrissy. You’re not.
You sat on the couch, chest heavy, the movie flickering across the screen like it was mocking you. Every scream, every chase scene blurred into background noise against the sound of Eddie’s voice on the phone. You tried not to listen, tried to let the static drown it out, but Chrissy’s crying bled through, sharp and undeniable. Each word Eddie spoke carved deeper into you.
“It’s going to be okay, Chrissy, I promise I-”
“Wait, no. Don’t apologize. You needed someone to hear you. There’s no need to-”
“Chrissy, you aren’t a burden. I promise.”
Your stomach twisted, sinking into itself as you stared blankly at the screen. The protagonist was running toward safety, the last survivor, her blonde hair catching the light, her delicate smile untouched by the horrors she lived around her. She looked like Chrissy. She looked like everything you weren’t.
“No need to thank me. Bye, Chrissy. I’ll talk to you soon. Good night.”
Eddie sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he hung up. His mood was dampened by Chrissy's situation, but he couldn't help the giddy feeling in him. He turned, eyes finding you on the couch, hair tangled, face half-lit by the glow of the TV. For a moment, he just stared, like he was memorizing you, before he let out a dramatic groan and flopped across the couch, sprawling until his head landed in your lap.
“Jason’s a real prick, holy crap,” he muttered, looking up at you with a grin that carried a glint of something unspoken. His eyes lingered, analyzing you, searching for a reaction you refused to give. You kept your gaze locked on the TV, pretending the movie mattered more than the ache in your chest.
“Sooooo… about that thing earlier, I think it was-”
“It’s getting late, Eds. I should head home.” Your voice was steady, but the words cut through him. His smile faltered.
“What? Why?”
“It sounded like Chrissy needed you. And we finished our movie. Besides, I need to brush my hair.”
His brows furrowed, lips parting like he wanted to argue. “You can always spend the night. I mean-”
“No, it’s okay, Eds.” You stood, brushing off your shorts, forcing a smile. “Thank you for the movie night. See you tomorrow. I hope Chrissy’s okay.”
“Wait-” His voice cracked slightly, softer than usual, but you didn’t let yourself turn back.
You left, practically running from Eddie’s trailer, the night air biting at your skin. Only when you were far enough away did you let out a tired sigh, clutching at the stitch in your side. “Shit, I really have to work on my cardio.” The words came out bitter, half a laugh, half a sob.
And still, the thought gnawed at you: did Chrissy ever feel this way? Did she ever have to wonder if Eddie Munson would choose her over the rest of the world?
You hadn’t really heard from Eddie all weekend. The silence gnawed at you, every hour replaying that almost-kiss until it drove you insane. By Monday, when he waved at you in the hallway, his small smile felt like a knife twisting in your chest.
“I didn’t hear much from you this weekend, Eds.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I was busy.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away. “Chrissy really needed to talk. We kinda smoked, I showed her around town. I was gonna call, but… I needed her advice. Then Jason didn’t drive her to practice, it was this whole thing.”
Your chest caved in. That moment between you and Eddie hadn’t stopped replaying in your brain, the proximity, the way your thoughts short-circuited. And now it was all overshadowed by Chrissy Cunningham. Again.
He kept talking, voice casual. “Then the cheerleaders are having these tryouts since one of them broke her leg. They’re looking for a replacement and…”
That was when the idea hit you. If Eddie liked Chrissy so much, if he cared about her practices, maybe he could care about yours. Maybe if you were more like her, he’d look at you differently.
“I’m actually trying out.”
His head snapped toward you. “What?”
“I’m trying out to be a cheerleader.” The words felt foreign, heavy, like they didn’t belong to you. Your stomach turned, but the thought of Eddie caring about your practices the way he cared about Chrissy’s made it worth saying.
“Since when do you like cheerleading?” His tone wasn’t cruel, nor was it meant to mock you, but it stung.
“What, you don’t think I can make it?” The defensiveness hit before you could stop it, insecurity clawing at your chest.
He shook his head. “No, it’s just… I didn’t think the whole prep thing, skirts, pompoms, makeup, was your thing.”
Maybe the issue was that you weren’t feminine enough. You liked who you were, you thought Eddie did too. But in that moment, you realized he liked those things in a friend, not in a partner.
So for the next two weeks, you worked. Stretching, practicing, forcing yourself into routines that didn’t feel like yours. Eddie asked if you were sure, more than once, his voice carrying doubt you couldn’t shake. The pit in your chest grew. The feeling in your stomach continuously sank as anxiety and insecurity crept up.
Tryouts came. Everything was going well, you felt your palms sweating, your heart beating ringing in your ears. Everything was fine everything was perfectly fine, the anxiety you felt was nothing, or so you told yourself.
That was until you slipped, crashing hard onto the gym floor. Eddie was in the bleachers, you hadn’t known he’d be there. He wasn't supposed to be there. Your heart dropped when you realized he was there for Chrissy. His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face as he almost jumped from the bleachers.
Chrissy ran forward, concern etched across her features. “Are you okay?” she asked, genuine kindness in her voice a panic rising behind her. genuine concern was all that her features showed. And you understood why Eddie liked her. She was light, effortless.
But Eddie’s voice cut through, frantic. “Oh my god, are you okay? Hey, look at me.” His eyes locked on yours, wide and terrified.
Your pride burned hotter than your knee. “Yeah, I’m fine."
They continued asking, especially about your knee, the pain throbbing from it almost distracting you from the humiliation that you were currently facing. Tears burned in your eyes, you refused to let them fall as you blinked them away, anxiety making its way back up.
"That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry.” Your voice shook your heart beat overwhelming you.
Chrissy shook her head. “Don’t apologise. Don’t stand on it, you’ll hurt yourself more.”
Eddie reached out to steady you, but you pulled back. “I promise I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he insisted, voice breaking, eyes pleading.
Both Eddie and Chrissy crowded in too close, their voices overlapping, Chrissy’s soft, careful questions and Eddie’s frantic insistence that you weren’t fine. Their concern pressed down like a weight, suffocating, leaving no room to breathe. Every word felt like pity, every touch like proof of how small and fragile you must have looked sprawled on the gym floor. Your pride burned hotter than the pain in your knee, humiliation clawing at your chest until it spilled out sharp and raw.
“Eddie, stop it! Just stop already — I get it, okay? !” The words tore from you before you could stop them, tears blurring your vision as both of them froze, their kindness suddenly unbearable.
Tears spilled down your cheeks. Eddie froze, startled. “What do you mean? Hey, hey, look at me. You’re okay.”
“Just stop.”
You turned, limping out of the gym, leaving Eddie and Chrissy behind. The parking lot was empty except for his van and a few teachers’ cars. You sat on the sidewalk, knee throbbing, tears burning. You hated being seen like this. You hated that you’d snapped at Eddie when all he’d done was care. You hated that Chrissy was everything you weren’t.
The gym doors slammed behind you, and Eddie stood frozen, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t meant for it to spiral like that. He hadn’t meant for you to think Chrissy mattered more. Hell, he hadn’t even come for Chrissy, he came because he knew you’d be here, because he wanted to see you try, wanted to be the one cheering you on.
But then you fell. And the look on your face when you pulled away from him, that hurt worse than anything.
He grabbed the ice pack from the nurse’s office, snagged some painkillers, and pushed through the doors into the parking lot. The night air was heavy, and there you were, sitting on the curb, shoulders shaking. Eddie’s chest tightened.
He walked over, slow, uncertain, holding the ice pack out like it was some kind of peace offering. You didn’t look at him, but you didn’t push him away either. He sat down beside you, the silence stretching between you like a chasm.
You sighed, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”
Eddie shook his head, eyes locked on you. “Don’t be. You think I came here for Chrissy?” His voice was quiet, raw, stripped of its usual theatrics. He winced slightly as he asked.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, curls falling into his face. “ I don’t care about cheerleading, or pompoms, or whatever. I care about you. I wanted to see you out there because it mattered to you. Because you matter to me. I wasn't there for Chrissy. I was there for you”
His words hung in the air, heavy and trembling. He wanted to reach out, to steady you, to make you believe him. But he stayed still, afraid you’d pull away again.
“I know you think Chrissy’s perfect. And yeah, she’s kind, she’s sweet. But she’s not you. She’s not the one I spend every night with, laughing at dumb horror movies, wrestling on the couch, and always wondering if it's the right time to kiss you or hold you close. I mean we almost-” He stopped himself, biting his lip, heart racing.
Eddie glanced at you, eyes soft, vulnerable in a way he rarely let anyone see. “I don’t want you to change. Not for me, not for anyone. You’re already… you’re already everything.”
The silence pressed down again, but this time it wasn’t empty. It was charged, aching, full of everything Eddie couldn’t quite say.
"I'm sorry", your voice small.
Eddie’s eyes softened, his voice quiet but steady. “Don’t be. I was there for you, not Chrissy. And I’ll always be there for you.”
He swallowed hard, curls falling into his face as he leaned closer. “And you aren’t ruined. That came out so wrong. You’re the most perfect person I know, and it scared me half to death. I love you. I’m so, so, so sorry.”
Your breath caught, eyes burning as the insecurities that had weighed you down seemed to lift, replaced by something warmer, lighter. Tears welled fresh, but this time they carried relief. You smiled through them, voice trembling. “I love you, you big loser.”
You leaned in, lips brushing his, and Eddie met you halfway. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were afraid it might shatter. But then it deepened, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, the taste of smoke and sweetness lingering as your lips moved together. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, tender, the kind of kiss that felt like home. Every second carried unspoken promises, every breath shared like it was something sacred.
When you pulled away, your forehead rested against his, both of you smiling through the tears. “I think I fucked my knee up. We might have to go to the doctor. And I hate cardio.”
Eddie laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained, breaking the heaviness in the air. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, grinning. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to a doctor before you start running laps out here.”
He helped you up carefully, his arm steady around your waist, and for once the pain in your knee didn’t matter. Because Eddie Munson was holding you, and he wasn’t letting go.
I spent the afternoon arranging our books by size and color (and it’s so satisfying and looks amazing) and my partner came home and stared in shock at the bookcase and then said “i’m a librarian, you can’t do this.”
it has occurred me during this process that apparently not everyone thinks about books by what color they are? like, literally when i’m looking for a book, i picture it in my mind. i have a very…tactile experience with the books i read and idk! i thought everyone did that lol.
my partner was like “how will i find [this book] for instance” and i replied “easy, it’s purple” and he looked at me like i was a witch.
This actually is interesting in terms of information-seeking behavior, which is a thing librarians think about a lot and often actually study (some library jobs require you to publish, and academic librarians, for instance, will often use the students at the college they work at to study how they search for information in order to figure out how to best provide them services).
When you go for an MLS (Master’s of Library Science, which is a thing, and which is usually required for “professional-level” library work [which is also a weird and contentious concept that I won’t go into here]), one of the things you study is the organization of information. This deals with how to determine what a book or other material is “about"—a concept we tongue-in-cheek call “aboutness"—and how to convey that to a potential user of the item and make it easy for them to find. Things like keywords and subject headings, do I put this book about how often wild birds attack aerial drones in with books about birds or with books about technology, if its a fictional novel do I put fantasy in it’s own section or mix it in with all of the other fiction, so on and so on.
OP is organizing books by how they would look for them. OP’s partner is thinking in terms of aboutness. This is a system that works for OP because it’s their personal library: they know basically what books they own and they only own books that are relevant to them, and if they know what the book looks like, that can be a quick way to find it.
In a library that assumes the public (or people who do not own that particular collection of books) are using the collection, that doesn’t work. Books are often re-issued in multiple covers, or re-bound in new covers when they get worn out, and if the user doesn’t know what the book looks like or is expecting a different cover, they’re lost. That’s why non-personal libraries used standardized cataloging systems like the Dewey Decimal System or Library of Congress System to organize a book by what it’s “about”, and then put books about the same or similar topics together, marked with labels and signage so a person unfamiliar with the book or collection can find their way to it.
Basically, OP’s system works for their own personal library, because it’s best suited to how the primary user—OP themselves—looks for books. OP’s librarian partner is coming from a background of thinking in terms of a public-facing collection, where aboutness is the key criteria and communicating it to a user unfamiliar with the collection is the priority.
⋆˚꩜｡pairing: eddie x bff!fem!reader
⋆˚꩜｡summary: After three months of listening to your best friend brag about the size of his dick, you finally decide to call his bluff.
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit sexual content 18+ minors do not interact | no y/n, afab!fem!reader, best friends to lovers, alcohol use, light praise kink, unprotected p in v, eddie is a cocky mf, i think that’s all?
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 4.8k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: loosely inspired by this post right here, that has been sitting for literal years in my likes lol hope this is readable x // still on my writing break! just wanted to drop this<3
Eddie Munson was the bane of your fucking existence.
He was too loud, always yelling or laughing directly into your ear until it rang for the rest of the night. He was kind of disgusting too, forever burping in your face or wearing the same dirty socks because he’d forgotten to do the laundry again. He was annoying in every sense of the word. In fact, if you looked up annoyance in the dictionary, you’d literally find a picture of him grinning proudly at the camera.
Unfortunately, you’d grown more than used to all of it, considering he’d also been your best friend for years.
Although, lately, you’d been seriously considering giving him a different title instead. Best asshole. Best cocky motherfucker. Best creep.
Those last two had a nice ring to them, actually.
Especially considering that, ever since he’d lost his virginity three months ago, he’d developed an insufferable habit of flashing you that smug, sideways grin while going on and on about how big his dick supposedly was.
“I’m serious, sweetheart.” He leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as his gaze dragged lazily over you before settling on your face again. “There’s no way someone like you could fit it.”
Ignoring the second glance he snuck down your cleavage as you leaned over the pool table, you lined up your shot with steady hands and fixed your eyes on the cue ball.
“What do you want me to say, Eddie?”
You pressed the tip of your tongue against the inside of your cheek as the cue brushed over your knuckles while you drew it back, just enough to steady the swing.
“Congratulations?”
The stick slid forwards in one smooth, measured movement, sending the cue ball snapping across the felt.
“Or condolences for never, ever finding someone willing to hop on your monstrous dick?”
One by one, the balls found their places. The striped ball disappeared into the pocket with a muted click, clean and final.
You didn’t rush to celebrate. Instead, you studied the table for a second longer, taking in the angle you’d left yourself before stepping into position for your next shot. It looked good when you leaned over the felt, cue gliding through your fingers as you lined it up.
Except it wasn’t, and the object ball caught the jaw of the pocket with a dull clack before spinning back onto the table.
“Aw, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, straightening as you stepped aside.
Eddie let out a low whistle as he took your place, that stupid, cocky grin still plastered across his face. Leaning over the table, he tapped the cue against the rail once before lining up his own shot. A sharp crack echoed through the empty bar as the cue ball connected, sending one of the solids banking neatly into the corner pocket.
“Listen, dude, I’m just saying.” Eddie shrugged as he pushed himself upright and reached for his beer.
Circling the table with your cue balanced loosely in one hand, you searched the table for what he’d left behind.
“Saying what, exactly?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
“That it’s a genuine problem,” he replied over the rim of his beer bottle. “Remember that girl I fucked in the back of the van last week?”
Before you could even tell him to stop, he was already launching into the story.
Apparently, she’d spent half the time insisting he was too big while stubbornly trying to take all of him anyway.
You answered by leaning over the pool table once more, deliberately focusing on your shot instead of the absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. The cue slid smoothly through your fingers before the cue ball rolled forward with a satisfying crack.
“Dude.” You scrunched your nose in disgust as you straightened. “I do not need to know all the details.”
Eddie flashed that infuriating grin again, dragging the tip of his tongue lazily across his lower lip.
“You don’t have to hear the details,” he said with a shrug. “You could always skip straight to the practical demonstration.”
And there it was.
It wasn’t the first time Eddie had held your gaze a little longer than necessary while spewing some ridiculous bullshit about taking him for a test drive. It came with years of friendship – careless, empty words tossed around for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.
But, see, Eddie had somehow forgotten who he was talking to – you. The physical incarnation of intrusive thoughts, and the only person who could match Eddie’s freak – or his stupidity.
The rest of your friend group had perfected the art of staying out of it; they’d learned years ago that the quickest way to become collateral damage was to accidentally encourage either of you.
And once one of you committed to the bit, the other treated it like a declaration of war.
Big mistake on Eddie’s part for forgetting that.
“Alright,” you said with a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself away from the pool table. “Strip.”
Eddie’s hand stalled halfway to his mouth, the beer bottle hovering just below his lips. The cocky grin faltered for only a second before he recovered with a chuckle.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
“I’m serious.” You raised an eyebrow. “You closed the place an hour ago. It’s just the two of us here.”
Crossing the room, you slid your cue back onto its rack before grabbing your beer from the table behind him. You tipped back the last mouthful and set the empty bottle down with a hollow thunk before turning back to him.
“So…” You folded your arms across your chest. “Strip.”
“I’m not just gonna–”
“Why not?” You tilted your head, all mock sympathy. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”
Eddie scoffed, although it lacked some of its earlier confidence. “Of course not–”
“Then fucking strip and get on the pool table.”
Eddie blinked, caught off guard for the briefest moment, before that crooked grin slowly crept back onto his face. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the grin returning despite the lingering pink in his cheeks.
“Jesus H. Christ. You’re actually serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Eddie.” You kept staring at him, thoroughly unimpressed by the fact he still hadn’t moved. “Do I have to come over there and do it myself?” You’d barely finished the sentence before uncrossing your arms and taking a few deliberate steps towards him. “Because I will.”
“What–”
“You know, I don’t believe a word that’s come out of your mouth for the past three months.” You stopped in front of him, curling your fingers into the open front of his flannel just enough to tug him a fraction closer. Holding his gaze without blinking, you added, “So here’s your chance, big boy. Prove me wrong.”
Eddie searched your face for the punchline, but there wasn’t one.
The flirting had become second nature a long, long time ago, neither of you really able to pinpoint exactly when. Somewhere along the way, the lingering touches, the forced proximity, and the teasing words had all become part of the game the two of you played more often than not.
A game that had never gotten this far before.
And somehow, Eddie didn’t seem to mind.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind his back and set his beer on the edge of the table, and then his hands settled on your hips instead.
“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips. “How about you take me out to dinner first, hm?”
“You already made me buy you a shot during your shift.” You shot him an unimpressed look before tightening your fingers around his flannel. With a firm tug, you slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor between you. “You’re stalling, and I’m getting impatient.”
A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s lips as he flickered his gaze up and down your face. “As you wish, sweetheart.”
His gaze lingered on yours for another beat as the tip of his tongue swept lazily across his lower lip. Giving your hips one final squeeze, he finally let go and took a few unhurried steps backwards. He winked, and then reached for the button of his jeans.
“This better be worth my time, Munson.”
Taking a few steps back yourself, you leaned against the edge of the pool table before hoisting yourself up to sit on it.
Ignoring the raised eyebrow Eddie shot your way, you hooked your fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and peeled it over your head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere in his general direction.
Eddie’s ringed hands stalled for the briefest moments as his eyes wandered over your frame – or, more specifically, the lacy bra hugging your chest just a little too well for his own peace of mind.
This felt vastly different from seeing you in a bikini.
Maybe it was because there was nothing casual about it. Nothing accidental about you taking your shirt off for him, on purpose.
Or maybe it was the faint outline of your nipples beneath the lace.
Whatever the reason, it was definitely not why his fingers hesitated for that split second before he forced himself to continue undoing his jeans.
Eddie’s entire shift had been so fucking loud that, by the end of it, his head had been pounding behind his temples.
Now though? The quiet was somehow worse. The low hum of the bar fridges beneath the counter and the steady ticking of the clock somewhere behind him suddenly sounded deafening. There was no music or drunken chatter to drown out the frantic pounding of his heartbeat – or the fact that you didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down.
Which, naturally, meant Eddie wasn’t about to back down either.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat and praying you hadn’t noticed, he forced that cocky grin back into place before kicking off his shoes and shoving his jeans down the rest of the way.
“Gonna take off that skirt of yours,” he scoffed as he hooked a thumb beneath the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “or do you want me to do it?”
“Hm.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider the offer as the tip of your tongue swept lazily across your lower lip. “Promise not to cum the second you see my panties?”
Eddie rolled his eyes, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth never quite disappeared. “Real funny, sweetheart.”
He closed the distance between you with a couple of slow, deliberate steps. Curling his hands around your hips once more, Eddie lifted you off the edge of the pool table in one smooth motion, earning a startled shriek from you. He pulled you flush against his bare chest, looking at you through his lashes before a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His tongue swept lazily across his lower lip as he let his hands drift from your hips to the waistband of your skirt. Tilting his head forwards, he brushed the tip of his nose against yours while his fingers found the button.
The soft click of it coming undone echoed through the otherwise silent bar, and then came the quiet rasp of the zipper down. The sound lingered in the air for a moment before your skirt pooled around your ankles with a muted thud.
“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked quietly, his fingertips lingering against the bare skin of your waist.
His grin lingered as his hands drifted back down to your hips. Warm, calloused fingers settled against your skin before tightening just enough to lift you onto the edge of the pool table once more.
“You gonna keep stalling, or are you gonna show that supposedly big dick of yours?” you murmured, instinctively curling your legs around his waist as a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
Eddie scrunched his nose in mock offence, looking almost genuinely offended by your choice of words. “Don’t objectify me.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been doing for the last three months?” You shot him a flat look.
He opened his mouth like he’d already thought of the perfect comeback, only to stop himself halfway through. A dry, disbelieving laugh escaped him instead as he shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“…Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”
For a second, you couldn’t remember what either of you had been saying as your gaze drifted across his face. It lingered on his parted lips for the briefest moment before finding his eyes again.
Eddie had always been Eddie – loud, obnoxious, and completely insufferable. The kind of asshole who’d burp in your face just because he knew it’d piss you off, steal fries off your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, and somehow turn every conversation into an opportunity to talk about himself.
Somehow, standing this close to him now, with your legs curled around his waist, he also looked unfairly handsome.
You hated that realisation.
More than that, you hated the fact that your eyes kept drifting back to his mouth – and that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by them.
You could see it in the way the corner of his mouth twitched into that stupid, cocky grin, and the way he stood there looking entirely too pleased with himself, as though he’d already decided he’d won.
There was no way in Hell you were about to let Eddie win this round.
So, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forwards and pressed your lips against his.
Eddie froze for the briefest moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden kiss. His eyes widened just slightly before they fluttered shut again, a quiet, almost disbelieving hum escaping him like he hadn’t expected you be the one to close the distance first.
Then, as if remembering exactly who he was kissing, that familiar confidence returned. His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly as he tilted his head, meeting you halfway and deepening the kiss with an ease that made your stomach twist.
His lips were every bit as soft as they’d looked, and it drove you just a little bit insane how unfairly good the asshole was at kissing. The steady pressure of his mouth against yours sent warmth blooming through your chest, only intensifying when he lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally drawing back enough for the two of you to breathe.
“I thought I’d told you to get on the pool table,” you murmured, still slightly out of breath.
Looking up at him through your lashes, you swept your tongue across your lips, unconsciously catching the lingering taste of the kiss as you slowly unfurled your legs from around his waist.
Eddie, however, didn’t seem all that eager to let go. One hand lingered on your hip while the other drifted to the strap of your bra. He gave it a curious tug before letting it snap gently back against your skin, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“Getting desperate already?”
“Just wanna get this nightmare over with,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes, giving his chest of a half-hearted shove.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckled as he finally let go of your hip. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Turning just enough for the small of his back to meet the edge of the pool table, he hoisted himself onto it before shuffling towards the middle of the green felt. Once has was comfortably settled, he folded his arms behind his head and looked over at you with some infuriating grin.
“Gonna make me sit here in anticipation just so I can be impossibly disappointed?” you scoffed, pushing yourself away from the edge of the table anyway.
“Wanna do the honours?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he nodded towards his boxers.
Resting one knee on the felt before the other, you shuffled closer until you found yourself sitting between his parted legs. The green felt rubbed roughly against his back, but Eddie didn’t seem to care too much about it when your soft hands trail up his thighs.
Your gaze was fixed on Eddie, studying and memorising every single twitch of his face as you skimmed your fingers against the cotton material of his boxers before pulling back again.
You reached behind and unclipped your bra, slowly pulling the straps down your arms until there was nothing to keep Eddie’s eyes from drinking you in. Just for the Hell of it, you threw the lacy material in his face with a smug grin spread across your lips.
The soft glow of the bar casted soft shadows across your exposed chest, highlighting every dip and curve. His dark brown eyes are completely on your breasts, commuting each detail to memory – perfect, with a beautiful roundness to them, and hardened nipples that nearly drove him insane. Eddie’s palms itched to touch, to feel their weight in his ringed hands, and it took all of his self-control not to reach for you, to pin you down and cave in, to Hell with this stupid game between you.
But he waited, breath held, for you to make the next move as he did his best to keep that confident, stupid smirk on his face.
Eddie’s eyes pulled away from your breasts to the red lacy bra that had fallen onto his chest. “You know I’m keeping this, right?”
“You get souvenirs and I get disappointment?” you muttered, leaning forwards. “Doesn’t sound fair to me.”
“Only disappointment that you won’t make it fit, sweetheart.”
Anticipation coursed through your veins as your fingers grazed his hips before curling around the waistband of his boxers. Eddie lifted his hip silently, letting you slide his boxers down his thighs until he kicked it somewhere to the floor behind you.
The cool air fanned his bare skin, raising goosebumps in its wake – or maybe that was just the weight of your parted lips and gaze fixed on his cock.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The bastard hadn’t been lying.
There was absolutely no fucking reason for someone’s dick – especially Eddie’s, of all fucking people – to be this big.
He was long, a little thicker than your wrist, and the tip of his cock, swollen and desperate, was a beautiful shade of pink that matched his lips almost perfectly. And his balls, holy– They were absolutely perfect. Big, and round, and slightly droopy, beautifully adorned with a bush of tight, dark curls.
The lack of reaction – which, frankly was a reaction in and on itself – merely made Eddie’s smug grin widen as you kept staring dumbly at his cock.
“So, what do you say, sweetheart?” He chuckled lowly, reaching for one of your thighs. He trailed a finger along the seam of your inner thigh, delighting in the way you shuddered. “Is it gonna fit? Or is it too big for you?”
“I–”
“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” he reassured mockingly.
The tension between you stretched taut and electric as he guided your hand to his aching length. Eddie buckled into your palm, a low groan escaping his lips at the touch of your hand – so much softer, warmer, smaller than his.
“Shut up,” was all you could muster, although it sounded low and unconvincing.
You gave him a few curious flicks of the wrist before letting go of him again. The absence of your touch was infuriating, but the feeling quickly melted away as he watched, transfixed, as you shuffled to straddle him.
“Make me, sweetheart.”
You hovered right above his cock, and impatiently pulled your panties to the side while you lined him up with your free hand. Keeping your gaze fixed on Eddie’s, you swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and sinking down on his cock in one quick move.
A strangled gasp tore from your throat – or was it Eddie’s? – as you enveloped him in your slick heat. His hands immediately reached for your hips, his head mercilessly falling against the hard pool table.
“Jesus–” His breath hitched.
You let out a broken moan as you gave yourself good few seconds to get used to the forced stretch – he’s too long and too fucking thick, hitting you in all the right places while also making you feel completely impaled.
Biting your lip to keep the broken moans from escaping, you slowly began moving your hips in languid rolls. Each drag of your slick walls along his aching cock sent shockwaves rippling through you. You’re drowning in the feeling, lost to everything but the addictive pressure of his swollen tip hitting your cervix each time you sank back down.
“I– Fuck,” you whimpered, reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Son of a–” he gritted out, voice wrecked with need. He let out a strained chuckle while digging his fingers into your hips. “If you could only see yourself, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s gaze locked with yours, pupils blown wide and dark with desire.
“I-I can take it,” you whimpered, biting your lip when he rocked up into you, meeting your rhythm stroke for stroke. “S-see?”
“You for sure showed me, sweetheart.” He shot you that cocky smile you hated, moving your hips back and forth to help you. “I’m so upset I was wrong.”
“You’re so fucking i-insufferable,” you gritted out, voice wrecked with need.
The pool table beneath you creaked as Eddie’s hips pistoned frantically while he kept guiding you. He thrusted up into your slick pussy, meeting each roll of your hips with growing urgency. The wet, sticky sounds of his cock filling you filled the silent bar, obscene and thrilling.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised hoarsely. “You were made to ride my big, fucking cock, hm?”
The way he filled you to the brim made you feel hyper sensitive, and it’s too much and it fucking hurt, but holy shit did he feel incredibly good.
Eddie watched you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of your cock-drunk expression. Your breasts bounce with each impact of your bodies, hardened nipples just begging for attention. Leaning up, Eddie captured one in his mouth, suckling greedily while he kept thrusting up in the same pace. He growled into your cleavage, biting down.
“J-Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” He breathed as his eyes trailed down to where you were connected, watching in fascination at how you were practically drenching his cock. “You take me so fucking well. Greedy pussy gripping, hm?”
With a broken whimper, you pushed Eddie back down onto the felt table, and sped up your movements. The tiny curls around the base of his cock brushed against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips, pulling broken moan after broken moan. He was balls deep inside of you, hitting that special spot, determined to melt your brain until you couldn’t even form thoughts anymore.
Eddie’s cheeks were impossibly flushed as he stared up at you with half-lidded eyes as his tongue slipped out from between his lips. You leaned forwards, digging your nails into his shoulders as you smashed your lips against his for a messy kiss of spit and clanking teeth.
“I’m c-close, Eds,” you panted against his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. “S-so fucking close.”
“Already, sweetheart?” Eddie scoffed, punctuating the question with sharp thrusts. “Fucking do it then, soak my cock.”
He ground against your sensitive spots, determined to push you over the precipice as his fingers found your swollen clit, stroking it with firm, purposeful circles. His own lips dropped open, a whiny groan slipping past his lips when you whined, loud and needy – he couldn’t help it, not when you looked like this.
Arching your back and crying out his name, you kept taking every deliciously painful thrust he gave you and, in return, you made him squirm under you with every clench of your pussy. He matched the tight circles he drew with his thumb to the quick snap of your hips, feeling the friction burning in your veins until your orgasm finally snapped.
“E-Eddie! Fuckfuckfuck.” You came hard with a loud cry of his name, soaking his cock as your thighs jerked. Distantly, you could feel a slick gush trail down to Eddie’s hips, sticky and addictive.
Eddie watched your body tremble before tensing, hips frozen against his as you threw your head back with a broken cry. His pubes tickle the inside of your thighs just right,
Frantically, he thrusted up, again and again, your body bouncing with every move. His grip tightened around your thighs, nails leaving crescent impressions in your soft skin.
“W-where do you want me, sweetheart?”
“I-inside, Eds,” you pleaded, high and desperate. “P-please, I need it. Fill me up.”
“Like you’re not filled enough already,” he scoffed against your lips. “Fucking take it then.”
Pleasure crested sharp and urgent, with one more thrust, two– then bliss exploded through him, stealing his breath and scattering coherent thought. You let him bite your lip while he throbbed and spilled into you, filling you to the brim until he’s practically covered in his own seed.
You slumped forwards, burying your face in the crook of his neck as it took you a good minute or two to come back down to earth. Eddie gave your hip a lazy squeeze, a contented sigh escaping him while his other hand drifted slowly up and down your bare back. His calloused fingertips traced absent-minded circles against your skin as he tried to steady his breathing.
Eventually, you pushed yourself up just enough to look at him. Your eyes met his, still slightly glassy, and you swallowed hard before a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
“So…” you started softly, only for the rest of the sentence to die somewhere between your brain and your mouth.
“So,” Eddie echoed with a tired chuckle, his thumb lazily brushing against your hip. The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as you’d expected; if anything, it felt strangely comfortable. “That was definitely… worth the wait.”
Eddie’s grin wasn’t nearly as cocky anymore; it had softened into something you’d never seen directed at you before. Or maybe it always had been, and maybe you’d just never noticed it before.
“You…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it much harder to get the words out than you’d expected. “You make it sound like this wasn’t just about proving a point.”
Eddie’s gaze wandered across your face before settling on your eyes again, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Because it’s wasn’t. Not really.”
The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that they almost caught you off guard.
Truth be told, it wasn’t as though the thought had never crossed your mind – because it had. More than once, actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself.
Somewhere between lazy movie nights, sharing his bed after one too many drinks, lingering hugs that lasted a second too long, and countless inside jokes that blurred the line between friendship and flirting, you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Actually crossing that line, though… you’d never imagined it would happen because neither of you knew when to shut up.
Eddie let out a quiet breath through his nose, his thumb brushing another slow circle against your hip. “Didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that,” he admitted.
You looked at him for a long moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“What did I do now?” His eyebrows pulled together in mock confusion.
“Instead of telling me about…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “…whatever this is, you spent the last three months talking about how dick was in the hopes I’d just cave.”
Eddie huffed out a laugh, averting his eyes away from you. “Sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud.”
“Because it is stupid,” you chuckled. “And so are you.”
A tired groan slipped past his lips as he pushed himself up, not caring if the remnants of your activities stained the green felt of the pool table beneath him. The hand on your back was warm as he trailed it up to cradle your cheek.
“So…” he trailed off, his voice quieter than before. “Do you wanna–”
“Give this a shot?” you finished for him, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.
Your gaze drifted slowly across his face, as though you were trying to commit every freckle and crooked smile to memory. By the time your eyes had found his again, your expression had softened.
“Yeah.” You held his gaze for a long moment before your smile grew a fraction wider. “I think I’d be pretty stupid not to.”
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