#eddie x reader

[soleks-syulang]

soooooo hypothetically speaking…

how would y’all feel about some eddie and volt blurbs from date everything? 🫣 i started playing a week and a half ago and i’m down BAD for that breaker box lol

date everything blurbs?

yes!

no!

Voting ended on6h

[thequietkid-moonie]

⸺ Eddie

⚘ Older brother headcanons (Eddie & Volt)

✧˖°.☾ Main masterlist || Mixed masterlist ✧˖°.☾

[milkyykiddo]

dirty little secret

★Ch 11/23 | masterlist | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

thefreak!eddie x valedictorian-to-be!fem!reader

[4.1k words] *You've been avoiding him for weeks. Eddie is desperate. He formulates a plan to get back within your orbit that works a lot better than he'd expected.

NSFW/MDNI- slow burn, frenemies to lovers, secret relationship trope, eventual smut, sorta-kinda mentions of religion, no monsters/upside down, canon divergence, characters are in high school, reader is of the age of consent, suggestive & sexual content

Chapter 11: One Way or Another

Eddie never claimed to be an honest man.

More often than not, he was lying about something. Fibs about late shifts at a job he didn't even have to get out of detention for his chronic tardiness. Tall tales of sickly relatives that didn't exist to get extensions on assignments he'd never end up turning in anyway. Made up trysts with fictional groupies from the Hideout and fabricated affairs with married women just to get props from his friends who knew better than to believe a word he said. It was so easy for him. The lies slipped right off his silver tongue. Sure, no one ever actually believed half the bullshit he spewed, but it was still fun for him regardless. As Eddie saw it, lying was one of the few simple pleasures in life that even the rich man couldn't gatekeep.

Though he'd never typically think twice about his dishonesty, for whatever reason, deceiving you felt like taboo. Just considering it had a guilt he wasn't quite used to tying his guts into knots. He'd never thought himself a godly man either, but he imagined a special seat in hell reserved just for him for the sin of taking advantage of your goodness.

As bad as he might've felt, it still didn't deter him any. He could atone for it in the afterlife for all he cared. Presently, Eddie was desperate.

 You hadn't talked to him in three weeks. Well, you had, technically, but Eddie didn't think a rushed 'hey, can't talk right now' counted as quality conversation. You were busy. He got that. With everything you put on your plate, the self-inflicted hell of student clubs and extra credit and whatever else AP students spent their weeknights doing, you were spread thin. Adding illicit fraternization with the town's pariah on top of all that, it was a marvel to Eddie that hypertension hadn't taken you out yet.

But this was getting out of hand. Every single time he'd approached you, he was quickly rebuffed, left gawking in the middle of the hall like an idiot as you scurried off to wherever your presence was, apparently, desperately needed before he could even finish asking how you were.

Contrary to popular belief, Eddie wasn't completely hopeless. He was more than capable of putting two-and-two together and all trains of thought led back to that kiss on the couch.

He didn't think he'd done anything wrong. You'd kissed him. He'd reciprocated. What else was he supposed to do? Even if he'd come off as a bit too eager, which was entirely possible knowing his track record with the few unfortunate souls who'd been stupid enough to give him the time of day, you didn't seem that put off by it after the fact. You seemed pretty normal about it, actually.

The end of the night went exactly as he'd expected it to. A few yawns, an offer to drive you home. You'd laughed at his shitty jokes during the drive, glared at him when he'd said something dumb and sort of offensive. The usual. Though, it was sort of awkward when he'd pulled up to the curb two houses down from yours and got the bright idea to try to kiss you goodnight. You'd turned your face away. His lips pressed into your hair. That he'd just brushed off as shyness on your part. In the days since, he'd started to rethink it. All of it.

Originally, he thought he'd just cut his losses. If you wanted nothing to do with him, so be it. Graduation was only a few months away, and after that, he was getting the hell out of Hawkins anyway. He could settle for bitterly staring at you from across the cafeteria until June. No big deal.

That resolve lasted all of two days before Eddie startled awake with clammy skin and sticky boxers, one eye peeled open and vaguely set on the fuzzy image of his uncle stood in the doorway, reaming his ass for oversleeping again.

"You know you can set an alarm on that fancy digital clock you got there, right?" Wayne had bitched and all Eddie could do was nod dumbly in response, his half-baked brain still lingering in the liminal realm of a wet dream that you'd been the star of.

Eddie stared at himself long and hard in the bathroom mirror that morning, utterly repulsed with himself. But by the end of his cold shower, it was decided: he was going to get you to talk to him, one way or another.

The idea had come to him in first period calculus.

Mr. Collins, an antique from the nineteenth century, had stood at the front of the room, complaining about the class's unsatisfactory performance on last week's test. As he spoke, his dry tongue continually darted out to drag over his dry lips, missing the smear of cream cheese at the corner of his mouth every time.

"O-kay," Mr. Collins announced in his weak, wobbly croak of a voice, drawing the single word out slow enough that each syllable sounded like their own distinct thought. He slowly hobbled over to his desk, gathering a stack of papers into his arthritic, liver-spotted hands. Each trembling movement made him appear fragile, like he was constructed of paper mache. His crepey face scrunched up as he squinted through thick lenses at the papers. "Let's see."

He turtled around the room, making it as far as the second row of desks before giving up and instructing everyone to just pass the tests around amongst themselves. The girl sitting in the seat in front of Eddie's held his paper between her index finger and her thumb at the very corner of the page as she passed it back to him, like she thought something that belonged to him must've been diseased.

Just as Eddie had expected, a big fat 'F' was penned in shaky script at the top of the page. Rather than balling it up to be immediately forgotten like he usually would, he marveled at it this time, drinking in every little red 'X' crisscrossed beside each problem like they were individual answers to his prayers.

The second the bell rang, he was up from his seat, barreling into the hallway like the place was on fire. Hotfooted, he rounded the corner just in time to catch your retreating frame following the stream of students towards the west wing of classrooms. Shouldering past god-knows-who and stepping on what's-her-name's foot on his way, he caught up to you, taking a firm hold of your elbow before wheeling you around into a nearby alcove between locker rows.

"Christ on a cracker!" you griped, startled and semi-breathless, your hair swept into your face. With both hands pressed firmly to Eddie's chest, you shoved him back. "What's the big idea?"

Eddie reveled in the sound of your irritation, a welcomed reprieve from your detached snubbings. He grinned at the sight of your flushed cheeks, your impatient glare as you brushed your hair behind your ears. He was so delighted to finally be acknowledged by you again, he'd had to remind himself to manage his excitement.

Schooling his features into something he hoped resembled glumness, he began the charade. First came the sordid tale of yet another failure despite his best efforts, then the anxiety that he would end up flunking for a fourth time. A made-up threat from a guidance counselor he hadn't spoken to since August that his chances at graduation hinged on administration-mandated tutoring was his grand finale. It was complete hogwash, hardly passable by Eddie's usual standards of fibbery, but you were eating it up, nodding along solemnly to every fraudulent word.

He was on a roll, and by the time he'd proposed that you be the one to tutor him, you were practically leaping at the opportunity to help. Of course you were. Eddie hadn't expected anything less from the sweetheart of Hawkins High herself.

***

Eddie leaned back against his headboard, legs crossed at the ankle, still basking in the success of his ploy. There you sat on the foot of his bed, flipping through your own calculus notes saved from the year before. His textbook lay heavy in his lap, opened to a glossy page of foreign symbols beside numbers and italicized letters. You'd tasked him with attempting the first problem from a sample set to assess his proficiency, what concepts he had a grasp on and where he was lacking, but the lined notebook page in front of him remained pristine. Not even a scribble in the margins.

He couldn't focus. Not on indefinite integrals, anyway. He was too absorbed by the crunch of the eraser end of your yellow #2 pencil between your teeth. The chimerical image of your mouth pulled into a pleased 'o', shimmering behind a gauzy dreamlike film, was still seared into his brain. Not entirely unwelcome, but distracting nonetheless. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

You peeked up from your old notebook, depositing your pencil into the crease between the pages. Obliviously, you smiled at him. "Done already?"

"Hm?" he hummed, his gaze quickly flicking up to meet yours. The tips of his ears felt hot. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

Thankfully, you seemed to misread his preoccupation as ineptitude. Understanding as ever, far more than Eddie was deserving of, you murmured, "I get it. It's tricky."

You set your notes aside and crawled across the bed to him.

"Here," you said quietly, slipping his pen out from his clammy fist. You peered over his shoulder at the first problem on the page, leaning in close to his side. Close enough that he could smell the light, airy scent of whatever laundry detergent your family used wafting off of your cable knit cardigan. Eddie had to bite the inside of his cheek just to ensure that he wouldn't accidentally let an embarrassing sound slip out. "I'll do this one and explain the steps as I go."

You reached across him and copied down the equation from the book onto the notebook page. Slowly, you went through the problem, notating the derivative operator off to the side, giving a brief, yet thorough review of derivatives and anti-derivatives and the like. The same stupid shit that Mr. Collins had discussed ad nauseum in class. Though, for the first time, Eddie was actually absorbing what was being said. Not because your explanation made any more sense than that crotchety little bastard's had, but because he felt he had no choice but to pay attention, not trusting himself to look anywhere other than at your slanted handwriting in front of him.

"And so that's where the indefinite integral expression comes into play," you murmured, drawing a definitive circle around your final answer. You smiled encouragingly at the side of Eddie's face, handing the pen back to him. "Now you try."

Eddie obeyed, copying your steps for the second question, all the while trying to ignore your nearness. Close to his ear, you hummed, and in his peripheral, he saw you nod slowly. Then, you said, "good. Keep going," in a low tone that made his mind wander to a place he wished it wouldn't with you sitting so close.

The tips of his ears burned hotter and he shook his head to make his hair conceal the effects of your soft spoken praise. He felt self-conscious as he worked, knowing you were watching, until you scooted back to nestle into his lumpy pillows.

Quietly, he went through the lengthy problem set, finding that each question was easier than the last, that he'd actually learned something. A positive consequence of his trickery, he supposed, one that he'd use to plead his case when he arrived at the gates of hell. Eventually, though, he grew antsy in the silence, each moment without conversation feeling like a waste when you were finally next to him again.

"How are things?" he asked between questions. Unable to help himself, he hinted at your recent elusiveness. "You've seemed super busy lately."

With a soft huff, you sunk deeper into the lumpy pillows behind your back. "You know how it is. Spring musical auditions next week. Fundraisers that need organizing. The paper being a pain in my ass. The usual."

The exasperation in your tone made the corner of Eddie's mouth quirk up, your complaints about obligations no longer a bore to him, but something he savored now after weeks of being deprived of them. He doodled a crude rendition of a spiderweb in the margin of the page as he asked, "What're you covering this time?"

"No clue yet," you answered dryly, the expected response. Eddie bit his lip and peeked at you over his shoulder.

"Write about the Hellfire Club," he suggested, not for the first time. Like all the other times before, you rolled your eyes and shook your head. Undeterred, he pressed on. "Why not? It'd be a hell of a lot more interesting than some Student Honor Society food drive."

At the mention of your piece from the last issue in December, the first issue that you'd managed to make this school year, your eyebrows ticked up towards your hairline. Your eyes glimmered with mirth as you scoffed out, "Since when do you read the school paper?"

"I skim it every now and again," Eddie shrugged halfheartedly. In truth, he'd snatched up every issue put out since you'd started talking to him regularly, searching frenziedly for your by-line on the grayscale pages. But he'd never readily admit to that. "That's not the point. The point is, you should consider it."

"What's in it for you?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Exposure," he mumbled. "And, y'know, we'd get to hang out more."

Unconvinced, you snorted, good-naturedly teasing, "I think we hang out plenty enough."

Half-stung, Eddie winced, snickering lowly as he crossed his arms over his chest. His tone dripping with lighthearted accusation, he asked, "Do you even like me at all?"

"Eddie," you chided, deflecting like always. "Focus."

"But it's so boring!" he protested, laughing again. A strange warmth blossomed in his chest when you mirrored his grin. Quieter, braver, he murmured, "maybe I just need a bit of incentive."

Warily, you eyed him, your smile dropping completely. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean," he countered lowly, offering you a smirk that appeared much more self-assured than he felt.

His heart was in his throat and his palms were so clammy he had to wipe them off on his jeans. It wasn't too late to chicken out and backpedal, he knew, but how far had that gotten him in the past?

Not very.

So, hoping for the best, Eddie rolled for charisma.

"Each question I get right?"

Eddie waited on bated breath as he watched you gnaw on your lip with your brief contemplation, already thinking up a graceful response to your inevitable rejection.

You exhaled slowly, and even slower, a coy sort of smile unfurled across your face. An unequivocal sign that he hadn't lost you all the way just yet. With feigned reticence, you muttered, "Whatever will get you to focus, I guess."

Eddie didn't need to be told twice. He returned to his work with enough gusto to have you chuckling uneasily at him. Beside him, you shifted, propped up on one hand pressed into the mattress behind his back as you peered down at his paper, watching him go.

The first correct answer earned him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's it?" he complained, pressing the back of his hand against the sticky kiss-print your lipgloss had left behind.

"Don't push your luck," you warned, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Yes ma'am."

After another problem solved, he looked at you, meeting your hesitant gaze with playfully puckered lips. You huffed out a soft breath through your nose, rubbing your lips together. Then, chaste as a Catholic schoolgirl, you pecked his mouth.

You pulled away quickly and placed your hand on his shoulder, resting your chin on your knuckles, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with every slow blink you made at his paper. Though the warmth of your breath against the side of his neck made his skin prickle all over with excitement, Eddie chose to behave for once.

He had gotten what he'd wanted from you, but felt none of the expected triumph. If anything, he felt sort of like a scumbag, pushing you like this. The game was no fun without your enthusiasm. Having it ruined so soberingly, he didn't want to play anymore. In solemn silence, he answered a third question, then moved onto the fourth without ceremony.

Ever-so-gently, you squeezed the meat of his shoulder as you murmured, "Hey, you got that one right."

"I know," Eddie said, strained, continuing on with the problem he was solving.

Where Eddie's courage had run out, yours had been enough to make up for it, evidently, as you placed two fingertips onto the side of his chin and turned his face towards yours. His dark eyes flitted over your features quickly. Your gaze remained unwaveringly on his mouth. In the midst of his anticipation, he panted like a dog.

When your mouth pressed gingerly to his parted lips, he let out a choked sigh. His fingers curled into a tight fist on the rumpled sheets beside your hip. He ached to touch you, but forced himsef to take only as much as you were willing to give.

He half-expected it to end there, a polite sort of kiss to humor him, to stave him off until the next. But you lingered, opening your mouth just slightly against his. Even Eddie wasn't stupid enough to pull away first.

He sat as still as he could manage with his restraint thinned to tissue paper, dumbly following along with the torturously slow pace you had set. He kept his hands to himself, even as your own flattened against his cheek to gently cradle his jaw.

The tip of your tongue just barely grazed the seam of his lips, quick and, from the feel of it, wholly incidental. The second the sensation registered in Eddie's troglodytic brain, stars burst behind his eyelids like he'd been punched between the brows.

All bets were off.

With a quick swipe of his arm, the calculus textbook was flung from Eddie's lap onto the floor. The thud reverberated through the trailer and you flinched, jolting back just slightly. Eddie chased your mouth, clumsily crashing his lips into yours again. His hand flew to your hip, blindly shimmied up beneath the hem of your shirt to grip onto bare, supple flesh. Cold fingers against warm skin, you gasped softly against his bottom lip. Eddie was quick to take advantage of the gap, his tongue sliding into your mouth without much finesse. He was rusty, admittedly, his kiss unskilled in its urgency. You didn't seem to mind as you opened your mouth wider to accommodate his tongue's desperate intrusion.

You held tight to the nape of his neck, fingernails gently scratching against the base of his scalp. A shiver rippled up Eddie's spine and he groaned softly into your mouth. You answered him with a soft, stifled sound as he prowled over you on his knees and crowded you back into the pillows. On one trembling elbow, Eddie leant his entire body's weight beside your head. His sweaty fingertips traced along your hairline, a gentle contrast to the harshness of his kiss.

Beneath him, your chest heaved with your ragged breathlessness. You seemed to lag a millisecond behind, unable to keep up with the impatient rhythm he'd unwittingly forced unto you. In the back of his mind, Eddie vaguely considered the possibility that he was overwhelming you in the midst of his own desperation, but he couldn't seem to make himself slow down.

Just slightly, you tilted your chin down, forcing Eddie to allow you to suck in a quick, much needed breath. A thin thread of saliva stretched between your mouths; he broke the fragile tether with a gentle swipe of his thumb over your wet bottom lip. Through half lidded eyes, he drank in the close up view of your flushed cheeks.

Gently, you tugged on the back of his neck, urging him back to you. He obliged your silent request, meeting your mouth slower this time. After a firm, lingering press, he gently nudged your face to the side with his soft hold on your chin. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. He dragged his lips along the line of your jaw, following it to the soft, tender space beneath your earlobe.

An experimental kiss to this spot left you shuddering. He parted his lips, licked the salt from your skin, and you squirmed under him. Your knee grazed the inside of his thigh, just barely missing where he twitched in his jeans. He hissed out a sharp breath.

When he thoughtlessly sucked the delicate flesh between his teeth, you made the most glorious sound he'd ever heard.

A greedy bastard like him, he wanted it again, and all the others he could coax out of you. He sucked harder, earning a breathless excuse of a gasp. Your nails clawed into the sleeve of his flannel, pulling it taut around his bicep. Against your skin, he grinned before laving his tongue over the faint mark he'd left behind. His lips trailed lower, another nip given on the side of your neck.

"Eddie," you whispered, hot and tremulous against his ear, making his head spin. He could've died right then and there a happy man. Or, if the universe willed it, after he'd at least gotten your shirt off.

His hand, having a mind entirely of its own, slid back beneath the hem of your shirt, skating slowly up your stomach. The tips of his fingers just barely brushed against the underwire of your bra. It seemed that was as far as the universe would allow him to get.

The trailer shook with the slam of the front door. Eddie froze on top of you, mouth still opened wide over your pulse point. A soft grumble under breath came next. Then the clang of keys being thrown onto the coffee table.

Wayne.

You reacted first to the untimely interruption, quick to shove Eddie off of you so that he fell heavily onto his back, the mattress creaking and swaying with the momentum. As you hastily pushed yourself up to sit, pulling the sleeve of your sweater over your hand to wipe the slobber from the side of your neck, Eddie rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. His gaze swung to the open doorway of his bedroom, seeing Wayne stood stiffer than usual in the living room.

The old man's widened eyes shifted from Eddie to you, back to Eddie, then back to you in a rapid succession.

"Well, hello, miss," Wayne addressed you gruffly, but politely all the same. He swiped a hand over the belly of his wrinkled denim shirt. "Pardon my shabby attire. I wasn't expecting company."

With that, he looked at Eddie pointedly.

"She's a friend from school," Eddie supplied not all that helpfully.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," you said primly, charming as ever, albeit a bit strained. "I've heard nice things."

Nice things? Eddie resisted a scoff as he pushed himself up onto his knees.

He resisted looking at you all together as he mumbled, "We're studying."

Wayne looked at the textbook thrown open and face-down on the carpet, then to both of your flushed faces. His sun-weathered face crinkled with a sort of stifled grin as he nodded slowly. "Sure."

With that, he shuffled a few steps back and turned towards the wall of trucker caps. He nicked one from its hook, inspecting its frayed brim before fitting it over his graying head, as if that's all he'd come in for.

"Well," Wayne muttered coarsely before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging back from whence he came, closing the door gingerly behind him, as if making a point at his offering of privacy.

In the following silence, Eddie and you sat on his bed, staring at the emptied hallway, listening to the slam of Wayne's truck door, the sputter of the old engine, the crunch of gravel beneath his retreating tires.

Asking to pick up where he'd left off seemed pathetic, even to Eddie, and the few inches of bedsheets between him and you seemed wide as a gulf now anyway. Accepting his humiliation and the fact that the mood had been effectively killed, he leaned over the edge of the bed for his textbook.

"Where did we leave off?"

[that-crippled-princess]

A Live Wire who has a possessive streak.

Eddie and Volt are surprised, considering the fact that you're dating your entire household, which is all dating amongst itself. Your possessive streak isn't unwelcome, though--far from it.

Volt enjoys it. Immensely. Eddie's protective side doesn't come out to play very often, so Volt quite enjoys getting to be shown off by not one, but two partners.

Eddie acts all stoic and gruff about it in public, but he also enjoys it. He has two guard dogs now.

Speaking of guard dogs: all three of you are both the guard dog and the protected. Someone asks sweet Eddie to do one too many things with the power? Volt is there to turn them down because Eddie can't not help an object in need, you reaming them out and telling them they better be on their best fucking behavior when you see them tomorrow. Eddie said he was off this week.

A patron takes things too far for even Volt? Eddie has materialized from behind the bar to drag them away, you and him cussing them out as you throw them out. If they blame the alcohol, Eddie refuses to serve them for at least a week. If they blame the fact that they were in a club environment, he bans them from the club entirely.

You perform at Open Spotlight and get some shit from objects? Volt curses the name of whoever besmirches the decisions he makes about his show, especially when it comes to his live wire. He bans the object(s) from ever performing at The Breaker Box. You've been missing the days when you got to perform, and he'll be damned if anyone ruins that for you. Eddie reassures you that you were fucking amazing, to which you simply reply with a smug "Oh, I know." You soften when you sincerely thank him and Volt, who has returned with a pale blue tint still on his cheeks, for having you. Your attitude sparks again when you tell them that, if they work for it, maybe they'll get a private show. The three of you can't get to the bedroom fast enough.

Eddie and Volt enjoy it when you get a tad possessive and show them off. Flaunting your knowledge of them. Calling them nicknames only you're allowed to call them. Sidling up to them in public and claiming them with a hand on Eddie's waist, or Volt's arm, or their lower backs.

You love when they show you off in turn. Eddie will come up behind you and slide an arm around your waist, dropping a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there. Volt glides over to you and takes your hand, brushing a tender kiss to the back of it.

Volt catches your eye while he's in a conversation with a few other objects and throws you a wink, and both your and his conversation partners notice and titter about it. In the same situation, Eddie gives you a small smile, and his conversation partners tease him about finding someone who finally got through that tough exterior. Your boys will stride over to you and have you loop your arm through theirs, and they take you back to the circle of objects they were conversing with, showing you off to them. It makes you feel all warm and fluttery.

The possessive, jealous sex is insane.

[corrodedcoffinfangirl]

My I request platonic!eddie x younger sibling(like teen)!reader who ran away at some point (I imagine it’s in response to their mom being dead, dad in jail, and the town thinking them and their brother are demonic just cause of Eddie being a metalhead)? Maybe they reunite due to something related to the upside down, or maybe reader gets arrested and has to get picked up several towns over, whatever you want. Maybe with the vibe of Dashboard by Noah Kahan?

I’m sorry if this is too specific or ramble-y!!!

a/n: Hi babe! Glad to finally get this to you, and I have ideas for a part two if there is interest...This was an interesting dynamic to write, and it was a bit hard to settle into. That being said, I did my best! I usually write for fem readers (and I also made her in her 20s), so I hope that's okay!

Devil Shows Up On Your Dashboard Again

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Sister!Reader

Warnings: mention of parental loss/grief, namecalling, estrangement, reader has kleptomaniac tendencies

"Chop, chop," the officer instructs, brutely, routinely, as if shoving people into little cells for something as simple as a few stolen pairs of earrings, a few bottles of perfume - just little things - was an everyday occurrence. Which now that you thought about it, you supposed it was for this man. He just looked like any old cop, but there was something slightly endearing about his expression. Not like the typical harsh, over dramatic run-ins you'd previously had with the fuzz. It reminded you of that guy back in Hawkins...What was his name? Oh yeah, Hopper. He had been alright as far as these badge-flashing assholes went. This guy looked different though: buff, dark-skinned, with a shiny bald head. At least he wasn't actually from Hawkins, Indiana. That place made you want to barf.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile. "Alright, kid. Who's your phone call going to?"

Your smug smile dropped. You had no idea. All of your friends were sleeping off their hangovers, or getting themselves into worse situations than you had today. As fun as they were to be around, they didn't know the first thing about your life or the other way around. They didn't know that you'd grown up in a suburbia nightmare, wrought with prisses who'd made you feel like you should've been dead. They didn't know that your mom was six feet below ground, or that her shitty husband had left you and your older brother (with no food in the house) to spend the rent on drugs and lottery tickets. They didn't know that the constant harassment, shouts of "Trailer Trash!" or "Devil Incarnate!" directed towards your brother, and then towards you, had been the real reason you'd changed zip codes. It was never the wanderlust, it was straight fear. It made you sick to think about how weak you really were. So, yeah. You had no idea who that phone call was going to. The officer tapped his dress-shoed foot, and sighed.

"I don't got all day, your highness."

You stared up at the ceiling of the cell, looked at the water stains forming pictures in the plaster. One kinda looked like a Siberian tiger. Huh. But, before you could think, one word shot out of your mouth.

"Eddie."

"I need a full name there, hun." The cop flipped open a mini legal pad and clicked a pen.

What the fuck were you doing? "Edward Munson." You recited his number to Mister Shiny Head, surprised you could even recall it. It'd been almost two years now. Two years since you and your brother had graduated (At the same time, despite him being three years older than you—Mrs. O’Donnell really had it out for him). Two years since you'd seen Wayne and him. Your eyes misted over at the thought of them, and you swallowed, annoyed with yourself for even letting them cross your mind.

“Eddie Munson…as in..as in Corroded Coffin? As in ‘Fire Shroud’?”

That stupid fucking song. It was all over the radio with it’s blasting guitar solo and raw vocals. You nodded, nonetheless.

“All right, Miss Munson. I’ll give ‘im a ring.”

。:+* ゜ ゜゜ *+:。

The door of the cell opened again, that loud screech made you want to punch someone. Two loud clomps, and you could see your older brother’s beat-up Reeboks as your eyes burnt a hole in the nasty floor. You heard a sigh, and a rather large swallow. A sniff. Almost like he was about to start crying. He probably looked at you and just saw Al, after all. You physically could not move your head to meet his eyes.

Baldy tsked, and said, “I’ll give you two a sec. Eddie, she’s good to go. Get her stuff at the front and sign a little paperwork fo’ me. Thanks for the autograph.” A loud screech again as the door closed, but no sound of a key turning.

“’Course, man,” Eddie replied, voice full of genuine kindness.

You sat there…waiting for him to say something. Do something. Literally anything. But he wouldn’t. Your fists clenched tightly, leaving those familiar crescent moons in the skin of your palms. Your nostrils flared, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Swallow it down. But no-

“Why’d you even show, Eddie? Don’t have anywhere else to be?”

Nothing. You finally dared to look up, and meet your brother’s eye. There he was, in all of his “lead man of Corroded Coffin” glory. He had aviators perched in his bird’s nest of curls. Although - it actually looked quite nice - styled, smooth…no more frizz. Clad in a pair of leather pants and a tattered Metallica tee, Eddie looked somehow the same and shockingly different all at once.

You glared, and he just cocked his brow and crossed his hands across his chest. It was a move you would’ve pulled had the roles been reversed. Siblings. He opened his mouth to speak, demeanor changing again, like he was some sort of breathing kaleidoscope.

“Do you even,” Eddie’s voice broke, and he looked to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Do you even understand?” He asked, softly. “Do you? I- Fuck, Wayne and I…And now you call me. Not to check in and say hello. Not to explain why you left. Not to say ‘Merry Christmas, Eddie!’ or ‘Tell Wayne I say Happy Birthday!’, and definitely not to congratulate the band-”

You cut him off. “I don’t give a FUCK about your stupid little garage band! Okay, Eddie? I don’t! God forbid, I have a life, and other things to worry about. You haven’t even tried to call-”

“Are you FUCKED in the head!? REALLY?? Are you going to tell me I didn’t try?” Eddie’s head dropped into his hands, and he took a moment to catch his breath. “You’re my little sister, and I thought you were fuckin’ dead, okay? I scoured every inch of Hawkins, and then the next town over, and then the next. And then I did it again, because I LOVE YOU.”

You swallowed, nostrils flaring, eyes burning. You stood up from the stupid little cell bench to face him.

“You always look for an easy way out, okay? The world doesn't just restart once you leave. The clocks don’t reset.”

“I just needed someone to get me out, Eddie. Nothing more. Sorry if it inconveniences you.”

His jaw dropped, and he laughed from the shock of your words. “Well here I am, asshole. Go get your shit from the front. I’m really glad you called me, and next time you want to steal CVS cologne, be a little less obvious about it.” He turned on his heel, and began to walk down the hallway.

“YEAH? OKAY, EDDIE! GO SIT IN YOUR TOUR BUS, AND DON’T COME BACK! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” You yelled, startling the officers chatting around you.

You began to cry when you really saw him leave. You hated yourself for wanting him to come back. You hated yourself for how you’d talked to him. You hated yourself for letting things escalate so quickly. You hated yourself for just changing your zip code, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. You hated that it had been. Eddie was right.

part two..?

[marsuv]

Hello! I have two requests. Both songs i think would make great fanfics for eddie.

1) Hanging by a moment -lifehouse 🩷 (eddie falling in love with someone.)[fluff]

2) Scotty doesn't know - lustra❤️‍🔥 (eddie x reader with shitty boyfriend)[smutt]

I think Scotty doesnt know has been done before but im not 100% sure.

Thank you for the request! 💕

Hanging by a Moment – [Read here]. This one took me a minute to figure out, but it struck me as the ultimate campfire song!

Scotty Doesn't Know – [Read here]. I had an idea for this one almost immediately!

[kinda2sleepy]

Something something Eddie Munson X Reader Backrooms Doom…. Does anyone hear me??? Someone hold my hand.

[milkyykiddo]

dirty little secret

★Ch 10/23 | masterlist | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

thefreak!eddie x valedictorian-to-be!fem!reader

*It's the first week back at school and you find yourself on strange footing with Eddie after New Years. During a movie night at his place, the boundaries of your friendship are tested once more.

[4.9k words] NSFW/MDNI- slow burn, frenemies to lovers, secret relationship trope, eventual smut, no monsters/upside down, canon divergence, characters are in high school, reader is of the age of consent, suggestive language/content, graphic horror movie descriptions.

Chapter 10: Psycho Killer

After the holidays, coming back to Hawkins High was a depressing affair. It was worlds apart from coming back in August. At least then there was the charm of seeing how much everyone changed since June or the excitement of getting to brag about vacations or at the very least the residual warmth of the summer to make it feel less bleak.

By January, everyone was tired of the snow and each other. Being a senior only made it worse, apparently. Vickie had made that clear enough. With it being too cold out to bike, she'd taken it upon herself to start driving you to school. Rather than it feeling like a favor she was doing you, it seemed more like an opportunity for her to bitch about how tired she was of everything. School, Hawkins, you name it. Graduation couldn't come soon enough. Senioritis, she'd called it.

Compliantly, you listened to her ranting, or rather, pretended to as you pressed your forehead to the chilly window and watched the town whir by in a blur. The second Vickie had taken a break to catch her breath, you leaned over and turned up the heater to full noisy blast. It's not that you didn't care or that you couldn't relate. You could, to some degree. You couldn't afford to let that defeatist attitude rub off on you, though. There was too much that needed to be done to let yourself become complacent.

In the halls, the other students moved like they'd begrudgingly emerged from a deep hibernation. Groggy frowns, dragging feet. It was infectious, making your shoulders want to slump subconsciously. To compensate, you lifted your chin, forcing a smile as you chipperly greeted everyone you passed on the way to your locker.

Eddie stood at the one next to yours, his ack facing the slow stream of trudging zombies. Your steps faltered, as did your cheerfulness. You hadn't seen him since New Years. Granted, it has only been a week, but it felt longer. Much longer. Yet, somehow, not long enough.

Just when you were thinking about walking past your locker like you'd never seen Eddie, he glanced over his shoulder, catching you in the act of awkwardly lingering in the middle of the walkway. The corners of his mouth curled up into a small smile. You gave a shaky attempt of your own in return as you closed the distance, each step feeling unnatural and robotic.

Your fingers quivered as you twisted the combination on your locker, your voice strained politeness as you asked him, "How was the rest of your break?"

"Good," he murmured, staring hard at the neighboring locker. His fingers aimlessly turned the lock on the door. "Yours?"

"Swell," you lied, rather unconvincingly, through your teeth. Truthfully, it hadn't been swell. Not even close. You'd spent much of it, more time than your pride would allow you to admit, replaying that strange five seconds on Jason's porch and the conversation that had come before it. The details were fuzzy, most of them purely invented, you were sure, from how many times you'd folded them over in your mind. The way Eddie had looked at you when you admitted you couldn't bear to be seen with him. The pure betrayal. Or maybe it was disgust. You weren't sure. The memory was muddied by now.

Then, there was the kiss. It had happened so quickly, you weren't entirely sure if you'd imagined it. Realistically, you knew that it had. You hadn't been drunk enough to delude yourself otherwise. It probably would've been easier if you had been. At least you wouldn't have spent an embarrassing amount of time ruminating over what it meant.

You weren't particularly eager to talk about it, and it seemed Eddie wasn't either as the silence lingered. Through the corner of your eye, you watched as his nimble fingers repeatedly twisted the lock in front of him. Left, right, then left again. Over and over. An imaginary combination. He jiggled the handle then went back to his slow revolutions of the lock.

"What are you doing?" you asked quietly, your unease making your tone unintentionally sharp.

"Trying to open my locker," he mumbled, jiggling the handle again with the tip of his tongue poised over his cupid's bow.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "That's not your locker, though."

"I know," he murmured with a stifled sort of smirk. He looked at you then, for the first time since your approach, subtly nodding his head over his shoulder. Discreetly, you followed the gesture, spotting Chance and Patrick chatting with some freshman girls by the bubbler. It took you a second to catch on, but when you did, the realization was written across your face.

Eddie's smirk widened. You repositioned your locker door between you, hiding behind it as you bit back a smile of your own.

"Let's do something tonight," Eddie suggested after a beat.

"Just the two of us?" you asked quietly, almost sounding meek. Cautiously, you peeked around your locker door to look at him. He was still miming trying the lock before him, with less gusto now, idly spinning it clockwise over and over.

Eddie scoffed out a chuckle, and with the same intonation of a snotty teenage girl on a cable sitcom scoffing 'duh loser' as she rolled her eyes, he said, "Yes. Just the two of us. Like every other time."

"Oh," was all you said in response. You swallowed, turning back to the mess of index cards scattered at the bottom of your locker.

"What, you don't wanna be alone with me?" he teased, only fanning the flame of your fluster.

"No!" you blurted out quickly, loud enough to catch the attention of passersby. Then, realizing how that sounded, you amended, "I mean...I just don't want it to be weird."

"Why would it be weird?" he asked. Though you couldn't see his face, you could vividly imagine his grin in all its incredulity. At that moment, just when you were sure your cheeks couldn't physically get any hotter, Eddie decided to pry your locker door back just enough to look at your face. His fingered were clamped just above yours, his pinky brushing against the pad of your thumb. Quickly, you yanked your hand away like it burned.

"Seriously, what's going on with you?" he asked through snickers as he eyed you, somewhat warily. When you didn't so much crack a smile, his own softened. Quieter, he repeated, "Why would it be weird?"

"Because you kissed me," you mumbled, begrudging and sheepish, like a scolded child admitting to a wrongdoing.

Eddie stared hard at the side of your face. You could feel it, his gaze, heavy and warm. It made sweat prickle at your hairline. Subconsciously, you dragged your knuckled along the edge of your forehead. In your periphery, you watched Eddie's expression shift. A strange reluctance glossed over his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching.

After a second, he turned away from you, peeking over his shoulder before going at the combination of his pretend locker again.

"It was just a New Years thing," he said quietly, sounding a bit sheepish himself.

It should have been a relief, the confirmation that it really hadn't been anything at all. Just a weird holiday tradition. The sort of thing that friends did all the time without it meaning something. Strangely, the clarity didn't make you feel any better. A hard lump of disappointment lodged itself in your throat, making your voice come out strained as you said, "Okay."

Eddie's voice was just as tight as he muttered, "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. He was making that same face he'd made on Jason's porch, right after he'd planted one on your upper lip. It was a sort of embarrassment that didn't look right on Eddie.

"No, it was okay," you assured him softly.

Eddie regarded you, biting the inside of his cheek as he assessed your expression. Slowly, the pensiveness dissolved from his face. One side of his mouth quirked up as he teased, "Just okay?"

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. The bell rang for first period. You snatched your Bio textbook from your locker before slamming it shut.

"I'll see you later," you said before sauntering off down the hall, hugging the textbook to your chest.

***

To you, it mattered little that it was the first day back at school. The teachers were kind enough to ease students back into the swing of things, as if two weeks of sleeping in and watching The Price is Right reruns all day was something that needed recovering from. As you saw it, you'd taken too much time away from your studies. No matter how ahead you set yourself, you were always a bit behind. There was always too much to do and not enough of you to go around.

Telling Eddie as much didn't sway him any.

"You're gonna burn yourself out," he insisted for the third time since getting in his van. "Besides, I'm tired of watching you study."

Resting your shoulder against the passenger door, you stared through the windshield with your arms crossed over your chest. It was barely five o'clock and dusk was already darkening the sky.

Wryly, you mumbled, "You know, you could study too."

Eddie glared at the side of your face and you pursed your lips to keep yourself from grinning.

"Seriously, what's the point of me showing you Sleepaway Camp if you're not even going to pay attention to it? That takes all the fun out of it," he complained, lifting a disgruntled hand off the steering wheel.

Slowly, you rolled your head against the headrest, turning your face towards him. The passing streetlights illuminated his petulant frown.

"Fine," you sighed with feigned exasperation, as if agreeing to put off your homework until after his stupid movie was some huge ask. "You're really putting me out here, though."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled good-naturedly, already smiling like the cat who got the canary all because he'd managed to wear you down.

Hand over hand, Eddie turned the steering wheel and the van groaned as it pulled into the parking lot. The sign above the store glowed a fuzzy fluorescent red, all letters except for the dead 'O' at the end, so that it read 'FAMILY VIDE.' The wind was damp with a sparse flurry against your cheeks as you slammed the passenger door behind you. You squinted against it as you followed Eddie's crunching footsteps to the storefront.

He paused with his hand on the door, fingers drumming their hesitance against the handle. His free hand shimmied into his jacket pocket, keys jingling from within as he mumbled, "Actually, if you wanna wait in the van."

You peered through the glass to see Steve Harrington, looking just about the same as the last time you'd seen him six months ago, stacking tapes by the counter. Once more, images of Eddie's crestfallen face on Jason's porch plagued your mind. Your stomach felt heavy.

Subconsciously, you pressed your palm to it as you shook your head. Quietly, you said, "No, it's fine."

Eddie was taut with skepticism, but he didn't press you any further. He yanked the door open and in real time, you watched his bravado reinstate itself.

"Welcome…" Steve started his unenthusiastic greeting, glancing up sluggishly from the tapes he was sorting, only to pause briefly. "…in."

Eddie grumbled out a sound that wasn't exactly a thanks, or words at all, and started towards the horror racks. Steve's thick brow furrowed inquisitively as his eyes met yours, clearly trying to parse if you'd just come in after Eddie or with him.

"Hey," Steve greeted you slowly, though it sounded a bit like a question with the way it lilted up at the end.

"Hi," you said, somewhat reluctantly.

The two of you stood there by the corner of the counter staring at each other for a moment, the strange tension of an old friendship gone stale hanging in the air. You scuffed the toe of your oxford against the dingy carpet. Steve pressed his lips together in a tight smile and nodded at nothing.

"So, how's it going?" He asked after the silence grew to something unbearable. "Anything new in your life?"

You pretended to not notice the obvious hinting in his tone, though Steve might as well been pointing directly at Eddie. You glossed right over it as you shook your head. "Nope. Same old."

Once more, Steve nodded, slower this time. He was staring so intently at your face, it sort of looked like it hurt. Like you, he was putting way too much effort into not letting his gaze shift to the racks on the right side of the aisle.

"You?" you asked in return.

"Not really," he exhaled, resting his hand on the corner of the counter. He leaned into it as he mumbled, "Just working here."

"At least you get to wear that nice vest," you said sardonically, gesturing a hand to the shamrock green monstrosity thrown over his striped polo.

Steve reflexively looked down at it, snorting as he ran his fingers through his hair. With a lazy grin, he peeked at your face through his eyelashes and jibed, "You don't think it brings out the color of my eyes?"

"Don't be fooled. He's used that exact line on three women today," a girl with cropped sandy hair grumbled as she approached the desk with a stack of tapes precariously balanced in her arms. She let them spill out over the counter with a huff. Steve glowered at her over his shoulder.

"Robin, I didn't know you worked here," you addressed her with pleased surprise.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she looked up from her sorting. She blinked at you a couple times, as if she didn't expect to be recognized. Which, to you, seemed silly, considering you had three classes with her.

"Hey, you're in band, right?" you asked, trying to be friendly. "My friend Vickie's in band. Plays clarinet?"

"Yeah, I know her," she muttered, her freckled cheeks taking on a soft pink hue. Beside you, Steve snickered and Robin grumpily flung the pen in her shirt pocket at him. Uneasily, you smiled, sensing something you weren't quite in on. Robin turned her back on you both, her fingers clacking fast on the keyboard in front of her as she asked flatly, "Find everything okay?"

There Eddie stood suddenly, sliding a VHS onto the counter between him and Robin. You gazed at its shiny cover: a bloody knife stabbed into an Adidas sneaker, a screaming face reflected in its glare. Exactly what you'd expect from a shitty slasher flick. You could already tell you'd hate it.

"Yep," he bit curtly, shooting Steve a sidelong glance. A muscle in his jaw popped as he tensed it.

"Y'know," Steve started, earning your attention again. He slid his hands into the back pockets of his Levi's. "It was really good to see you again. It's been too long."

"Yeah, it has," you agreed, meaning it as you mirrored his smile.

The printer noisily sputtered out the receipt. Robin highlighted the return date in neon yellow before carefully tucking it into the thin plastic film on the tape's case. Eddie barely even let her finish the job before he was snatching the tape from her hands. Before she could give the usual shpeal about the rental terms, Eddie was grumbling, "Later, Rob."

You suddenly felt yourself being shepherded away from the counter with a firm hand pressed to the small of your back. Your eyebrows shot upwards with your surprise. Steve's did the same.

"Bye," you threw out hurriedly over your shoulder before Eddie herded you out the door.

His palm remained firmly attached to your back, fingers digging gently into the tweed of your coat, as he guided you to the passenger side of his van. Without a word, he yanked open the door for you. You didn't slide in right away, instead staring up at him with a lopsided smile of bemusement.

"What?" he snapped at you, all red in the cheeks, before stomping around to the driver's side.

***

"Good for nothing, I say," Eddie griped from where he knelt in front of the TV set. The VCR whirred quietly as he jammed his thumb hard into the rewind button. "I'd bet they didn't even check before putting it back on the shelf."

According to Eddie, his VCR was a piece of junk and he couldn't just press the rewind button; he had to hold it down. Which made the sin of forgetting to rewind before return that much more damning in his eyes.

"Y'know, there are systems in place for a reason. Without systems, where does that leave us? In chaos, I tell you. Pure chaos," Eddie continued his whining as he braced his unoccupied hand on the corner of the TV. He rested his cheek against the crook of his elbow and sighed, "Do you wanna grab sodas or whatever while I deal with this bullshit?"

You didn't answer him right away.

He twisted his neck just enough to look at you. You were sunken back into the couch, smack in the middle, right in the crack between the cushions, gnawing on the cuticles of your right hand. Blankly, you stared ahead at the fuzzy grey static wobbling on the screen without even really seeing it.

"Hey," he said, more than slightly impatient. "Earth to space cadet."

You dropped your hand to your lap and blinked, your gaze refocusing on his crouching form. All you could see of his face were his eyes peeking over his arm, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You thought of The Fallen Angel. Dumbly, you mumbled, "Sorry?"

"Sodas?" he asked again, his dark eyes flickering towards the kitchenette.

You nodded, stretching your legs out before extracting yourself from of the lumpy cushions. Eddie turned his head as you slowly ambled past him, his gaze trailing your movements. Glass bottles clinked in the door shelves as you yanked the fridge open. You bent at the waist, carefully nudging styrofoam takeout boxes aside, searching for anything drinkable that wasn't beer.

"You were thinking about school, weren't you?" he asked from behind you.

Your silence was confirmation enough.

"Cmon, I told you to relax tonight," he groaned, though from the sound of it, you could tell he wasn't all that annoyed.

In the back of the fridge, you found two cans of some off-brand cherry soda. You snatched them up before standing upright.

"Since when are you the boss of me?" you retorted as you pushed the fridge shut with your hip.

Eddie's eyebrows shot up, his mouth falling agape. His thumb stabbed at the stop button and he pushed himself up to his full height. Slowly, he stalked over, his steps stopping a foot away from you.

"Well," he murmured, drawing out the single syllable as he stared down his nose at you. His lips curled back into a wolfish grin. "You are under my roof."

His fingers closed around one of the cans in your hands and, carefully, he slipped it out of your grasp. Your heart rate ticked up as you watched him pop the tab and gulp down a long sip, maintaining eye contact with you.

"Touché," you mumbled.

Eddie wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then nudged your side with his elbow. "Go on."

You crossed over to the couch, taking your place against the armrest. Eddie followed behind, pressing play on the VCR on his way. The opening credits rolled, cast members' names displayed over a scenic landscape. He flicked the side table lamp off and sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning back with a soft groan as he spread his knees wide. With a dramatic orchestral sting, the action began.

Halfway through the movie, you were curled into yourself, legs scrunched up to your chest. Peeking over your knees, you grimaced as you watched a camper get attacked by bees in the bathroom, the poor kid never getting the chance to pull his pants up from around his ankles. The grotesque image of the buzzing insects covering his lifeless face made your stomach churn.

When you peeked over at him, you saw that Eddie was having the complete opposite reaction, snickering to himself as if the scene were somehow funny to him.

"This is seriously your favorite movie?" you asked with a scoff.

"It's campy," Eddie grinned with a lazy shrug, slurping down his last sip of his soda. He placed the empty can on the side table before stretching his arm out along the back of the couch. When he glanced over at you, he snickered again. "Come on, you can't actually be scared."

"It's awful!" you protested emphatically, feeling justified in your disgust. To you, Eddie was the ridiculous one for actually enjoying this crap.

"Do you want me to turn it off?" he asked, rather patronizingly, as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

"No," you muttered, even though you really wanted to say yes. The last thing you needed was Eddie making fun of you for being a wimp.

You turned your gaze back to the TV, all tense in the shoulders as the leading girl snuck around a bunk in the dark, the eerie music making you brace for the worst. Eddie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Come here," he chuckled, waving you closer with his fingers on the back of the couch. Warily, you eyed him, his outstretched arm and condescending smile. The stubborn part of yourself wanted to stay right where you were, just to prove you could handle yourself. Then, the camera angle changed to the shaky view of someone watching from the bushes, and suddenly you weren't feeling so tough anymore.

Quickly, you slid across the couch, slotting snugly into Eddie's side. Your folded legs fell to the side, resting against Eddie's thigh and, softly, he cleared his throat as he readjusted himself. His fingers hovered in the air beside you for a moment before he gently rested his hand on your shoulder.

The tension of the scene built up to a fake-out reveal and you exhaled a shaky breath, relaxing against Eddie. Fractionally, his own stiffness eased a bit. You were relieved to see the scene change to daytime on the screen, a much needed break from all the slashing.

Your relief was short lived when the camera panned to a camper in the shower. You hadn't seen many slashers before this, but you knew well enough that nothing good ever happened there in these things. Anxiously, you began gnawing at your cuticles again.

"Oh god," you muttered against your knuckles, already wincing as the girl on screen obliviously washed her hair to the score's dissonant tune.

The music swelled and the camera switched to the killer's point of view, shaky with his predatory steps towards the shower curtain. Eddie, the cheeky son of a bitch he was, thought it'd be funny to choose that moment to jostle your shoulders, making a guttural 'rah' right in your ear. A girlish shriek erupted from your mouth. You flinched so hard, your ass jumped three inches off the couch.

Eddie's raucous cackling drowned out the poor girl's screams of agony.

"You rat bastard!" you shouted breathlessly at him, one hand clawing at your sweater over your heart, unsure if it was even still beating.

"Oh my god!" Eddie cried out as he smacked the back of the couch over and over. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, little tears glistening at their crinkled corners. "The look on your face!"

Beside him, you panted angrily. You imagined smoke puffing from your nostrils like a cartoon bull ready to charge. His glee incensed you. You snatched the throw pillow wedged behind your back and, as hard as you could, whacked his shoulder with it.

"Hey!" he whined, still laughing as he flinched away from you. "What the hell?"

"You nearly made me have a heart attack!" you barked, smacking him with the pillow again.

"Quit it," he mumbled through his chuckles. He grabbed your wrist and, with his free hand, easily wrenched the pillow from your grasp. He tossed it across the room like a frisbee.

With a scoff, you yanked your arm away and sank back into the crack between the cushions.

"Hey," he tutted, nudging your shoulder hard enough to make you lean. "You have to admit, it was funny."

"It was not," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Come on," he pleaded halfheartedly, still snickering at your expense. "Don't be like that."

He reached for your arm again, but stubbornly, you twisted away from him. Dramatically, Eddie sighed, mocking your sulking. He scooted across the couch, meeting you where you were at the center of it. He slung his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side again.

"I'm sorry, alright?" he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. You huffed, refusing to acknowledge the insincere apology. Close enough to your ear that his breath made your hair tickle the shell of it, he murmured, "Do I gotta get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Because I will."

"Don't," you muttered, scrunching your shoulder up towards your chin to block him out.

"At least look at me."

Through your nose, you sighed. Then, begrudgingly, you turned your face towards him. It was hard to maintain your pout when your eyes met Eddie's, dark and glimmering with mischeif in the glow of the TV. Obnoxiously, he poked his index finger at the corner of your mouth. "Turn that frown upside down."

You rolled your eyes as the corners of your lips involuntarily twitched upwards. You gently swatted his hand away as you snorted, "God, you're annoying."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled as he snaked his arm behind your shoulders again. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Unwillingly, your gaze dropped to it, stained cherry red from his soda.

A beat passed. Eddie shifted in place. You did the same, pressing in tighter under his arm. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

Just slightly, you tilted your chin up and your lips ever-so-slightly grazed his.

He let out a strained hiss of an exhale through his teeth, hot and syrupy against your mouth. Then, agonizingly slow, he pressed his lips to yours. A proper kiss this time. Full and on target and certainly nothing that could be brushed off as a stupid holiday tradition. A kiss that you initiated.

Eddie's free hand trembled like a leaf in the wind as he lifted it to your cheek. Just barely did he rest his palm against your jaw, like he was afraid to actually touch your face. Beneath his touch, your cheek burned.

Wide-eyed, you stared at him, or rather, what you could see of him this close up. His eyes were closed, lids fluttering, brows knit together. Feeling a bit foolish for having yours still open, you squeezed them shut.

Just then, Eddie pulled back, breathing raggedly. For a brief moment, you thought it was over, but he came back for seconds, a firmer press this time. He was more sure in the way he touched you then, his hand sliding along the line of your jaw until his fingers curled around the nape of your neck. The pad of his thumb swiped beneath your cheekbone and you softened against him.

With a slight tilt of his head, he gently coaxed your lips apart and you let him. Somehow, your clammy palm found its way to his chest, pressing flat over his t-shirt. His heart was beating even faster than yours.

When you broke apart again a few seconds later, you peeked your eyes open, only having enough courage to look at his mouth. The remnants of your lipgloss shimmered beneath his bottom lip, smeared onto his chin. Self-consciously, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Gently, he brushed your hair back from your face and let his gaze slowly roam over your flushed features. Then, he glanced over to the TV screen, where the end credits did their slow roll over a black background.

"Good movie, huh?" he asked with a breathy chuckle. He leaned away from you then, resting his back against the arm of the couch.

You watched him, how at ease he seemed as he stretched back and crossed his arms behind his head. Your heart rattled against your ribcage, stomach twisting with the damning realization of what you'd just done.

When Eddie looked at you again, you caught yourself and quickly nodded. Just as breathless, you answered, "Yeah. Great, even."