taurus, non-binary icon, aspiring author, aemond targaryen apologist, lover of fanfiction & dark romance 🦇🖤
I am an actual author, I have two books out currently:
✦︎ 𝔏𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔰: A sapphic dark romance
✦︎ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔐𝔢: A paranormal dark romance
Find me over on my insta!
‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ this is just where I dump all of my ideas ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊
𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 & 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 🫶🏻 I write for: eddie munson, jim hopper, steve harrington (stranger things in general)
‼ loud reminder that this is an 18+ blog! minors dni ‼
࣪𖤐.ᐟ 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ
𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖒𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓:
rockstar!eddie x groupie!girlfriend!reader (18+)
“you know I like my girls a little bit older" (18+)
between villages (fluff)
last date (hurt/no comfort)
rabbit (18+)
muse (18+)
waiting out the rain (18+)
ex huband!eddie thoughts
𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖔𝖓:
"why are you doing this to me?" (18+)
suck and blow (suggestive)
We have the most perfect foster kittens rn and it’s making me question whether my ex-roommate’s cat was just the worst and most annoying kitten ever born, or if it just had a bad mom.
Valentine's day parties were always bad news. Though, this was your first and that was only something that Eddie had remarked over the thick exhale of a half-smoked blunt.
"Why?" You had asked with caution, a sweating fresh beer can gripped in your fist, running the rim over your glittery top lip as he chuckles in response.
"Valentine's parties aren't even a thing," Robin chastised in passing, plucking the joint from Eddie's fingers and taking a long drag of her own, cherry red reflecting off of sparkling gunmetal blue.
"Why do you think there are so many Halloween babies?" he snorts harsh through the nose, miles past the comfortable buzz of a cannabis and alcohol induced merriness, hazy eyes and heavy lids. You scoff, Nancy grimaces, and Steve shakes his head though he's laughing along.
"You're gross" your nose crinkled, a deep angry furrow in your brows.
"Hey," Eddie had held his hands up in surrender, chin tucked and bottom lip pouted in smug petulance, "You asked, sweets".
Steve had watched you the whole night, stuck to your side, newly in love and completely awestruck by you in every shape of the word. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the secondhand smoke, but the longer the minutes ticked by the harder it was for Steve to maintain composure.
You drank and you danced, laughing the entire way through, glossy rouge lips marking red solo cups at a rapidly growing pace. Steve had tucked you into his side, hands roaming over the curve of your waist, kneading rough fingers into the fat of your hip with much more fervency at midnight than he did 10 o'clock.
Liquid courage sits pure and fiery in the center of his chest, as if he needed it. You had only been official since Christmas Eve. You had been parked up outside your house, third date under his belt, where the whites of your eyes shone crystalline, where the apples of your cheeks and highs of your shoulders bathed in the warm amber of the street lights.
Steve could barely get the words out, heart pounding in his chest, pulse flooding in his ears because you were so pretty, so smart, and everything he ever had wanted.
So how could he help himself? When you stumbled into the hallway of your apartment, the biting cold of a late winter night clinging to the highs of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. You were still laughing, Steve almost twice as loud, both equally comfortably intoxicated.
He kisses you in chaste at first, curling a large palm around your forearm. His eyes are glassy, cheeks stained a rosy pink, hair mussed and undone from where you had selfishly been raking your fingers through it the whole night.
“C’mere” he whispers through a breath as he draws you in, focus glued to the plush of your mouth, all stretched lips and white teeth. Steve Harrington just can’t help himself, can’t help but be all over you now that you were in the safety of your entryway. Just the two of you.
It was clumsy, borderline messy, noses bumping and teeth clacking. He couldn’t get enough, especially not when your hands clasp around the back of his neck, willing him closer, touch cementing right at the nape of it.
Steve groans at the sweep of your tongue over his lips, a desperate sort of noise that has your stomach knotting. You could double over with the sickness of it all, how in love with him you were, his constant shower of utter devotion in every little press of his fingertips, every sweep of his gaze.
"That's my girl" he hums between a kiss when you follow the press of his palm to the small of your back. Please just a little closer. Your mouth open and waiting on him for more, moving into his space amidst a phantom pull of a string, lips slick and etching over the seam of his when we grins.
Your skin burns when his fingers slip up the hem of your shirt, seeking out those dimples just above your waistband. He has to feel you, every possible inch, to take as much as you give him because how could he ever have his fill?
Maybe it was selfish, to want more than you could ever give. To stitch himself under your ribs. A giddy, foolish, love-drunk thing in the early spring of this relationship, rose-coloured glasses shading his every outlook cotton candy pinks and sugarplum blues.
The steps back toward the couch were languid, neither of you having to think too much about it. You were dizzy in such close proximity to him, his mouth on the apples of your cheeks, the meld his fingers to squeeze at your hip.
It was clumsy the way you fell back, tugging Steve along with you, giggling the whole way. He was right there with you, all boyish charm and fluttering lashes when his gaze cascades over the intricacies of your features.
"Been waiting for this all night" he's huffing through a groan, completely drunk off of the sight of you beneath him, fingernails catching on your tights where he's scrambling to inch them down your thighs, dipping his chin down so he can follow the new bareness of your legs.
"Anyone would think that you like me, Harrington" you tease and he smiles again despite himself, still staring, chest heaving harder the more skin you're showing as he slowly undresses you. Cotton slides through his fingertips, the elastic of your bra beneath his touch when he's smoothing his hands over your ribs, a sigh of relief an even bigger wave the more he can touch.
Always touching, searching, studying, learning. Soft, gentle, starstruck. So many saccharine words he could pluck from the air right now. Like he's found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. How are you even his?
He's on you again, the couch groaning under the shift of his weight, pressing himself between your legs when you spread out to give him purchase.
Of course he's still smiling. How could be not? His nose trails along your jawline, your skin a gleaming trail where he's pressing one two three kisses on his way up, and each corner of your mouth for good measure.
Hurt, no comfort
Inspired by Dial Drunk x Noah Kahan
Additional tags: mentions of past seggs, alcoholism, driving under the influence, break-up, 18+
Eddie's fingers grip the leather steering wheel of his van. It's only a ten minute drive back to the trailer park from The Hideout, but winter winds whip into his open window and snap at his face, making this the most uncomfortable ten minutes he's had since... Well, since the last time you broke up with him and he went on a bender.
His eyelids are drooping. Every time he blinks they take a beat longer to reopen. Not that it matters, Eddie doesn't even have the headlights on.
The radio though? That Black Sabbath tape you'd pocketed from your job at the record shop is the only thing keeping him from drifting off the road. Die Young vibrates the dashboard and rings in his ears, nearly drowning out the howling wind that's screaming at him to get it the fuck together.
Eddie swats his palm against his cheek. The quick, sharp sting electrocutes him for a second, wakes him up just enough to get within the lines — or at least he thinks he's between the lines. Faded yellow and white paint crawls up this backroad, winding across the pavement like a corn snake and making it hard for him to decipher what's real. Bald tires churn up dirt as he drifts toward the edge again. This time, he isn't given the grace of correcting his mistakes.
Blue and red lights flash in his rearview mirror. It's the first time Eddie has really been allowed to see in the past six minutes, and what he sees is Chief Hopper's Blazer riding his tailgate as if it's his job.
"Put it in park, Munson. Don't make me show up at Wayne's with a warrant for evading." Jim eventually says over his car's loudspeaker.
Not that Eddie was going to run. Sure, he'd considered it — but that would be so typical for a Munson. Wouldn't it?
Besides, he's gotten himself into enough shit lately. Eddie accepts that he's spending the rest of the night at the station, that he'll have to pay another eighty bucks to get his van out of impound in the morning, and slams his foot on the brakes.
Soon, the bright whiteness of a flashlight is burning his eyes. He shields his face as Hopper approaches his window and leans against it.
They don't say anything for a moment. This is the second DUI Eddie has caught in the past six months, the second time you've broken up with him, incidentally. And rightfully so.
Eddie can't blame you for breaking things off. He just... fucks up. Right? He's a Munson, it's in his blood. But he'd bleed himself dry for you.
"Eddie..." Hopper starts, his voice soft and disappointed.
That's the worst part. Eddie just can't handle being a disappointment.
"Yeah, I know..." He responds.
Hopper slaps his hand against the hood of the van and begins to go through the motions. Step out of the car, blow into this tube, walk this straight line and follow my finger with your eyes. Eddie's never been good at tests. He's especially worse when he's eight beers and a joint deep.
"Alright, well, I'll do you a favor and let you leave your car, but I gotta take you in this time, kid." Hopper reluctantly tells him while snapping a pair of cold, metal handcuffs behind his back. "You wanna use my car phone to call someone?"
Eddie lets Jim lead him to the Blazer by the wrists.
The only person he wants to talk to is you. The only name and phone number he can even remember are yours.
"Call my girlfriend," Eddie slurs.
He's wobbly on his feet, but the seat in the back of that patrol car is a hell of a lot comfier than the barstool he was just sitting on for three hours. Eddie settles into the back of the truck and listens while Jim dials those seven digits that he used to eagerly punch after school, after shows, after every single Hellfire campaign so that he could ramble to you about how it all went.
The line rings, and it keeps ringing. It's only ten o'clock, he knows you aren't asleep. Your shift ends at eight, so he knows you're home.
With each ring, Eddie sinks deeper into himself. He can't hear anything else. Not the angry wind outside or the Black Sabbath still blaring from his own radio. Just every long, eerie, unanswered ring.
After ten or so rings, Hopper ends the call. He's not good at these things — sympathy — and Eddie isn't good at receiving it.
"Do you want to... maybe, call your Uncle... See if he can—"
"Call her back," Eddie interrupts.
That fucking dial tone won't stop ringing in his ear.
But Hopper hesitates. "Son, I don't think that's such a good ide—"
"Call her the fuck back!" Eddie spits.
He's sweating, can feel it collecting beneath his messy bangs. Heavy heartbeats thump in his throat and his head is starting to spin.
Slowly, Jim dials the numbers again, and Eddie listens to it ring. And ring, and ring. He recalls that New Year's Eve party where he kissed you for the first time, how your lips tasted like vodka and how that was the only drink he would have for a month after. Eddie remembers when the two of you got your place, how you didn't have any furniture but you had a cheap bottle of wine so you celebrated by getting drunk and making love on the floor. He recalls it all. Every kiss, every screaming match, every goddamn ring that has never gone unanswered... until now.
Hopper ends the call one more time, and Eddie doesn't say anything.
"I don't think she's answering this time, Eds..." He eventually says. Cautiously, quietly, as if Eddie is an unpredictable dog.
He's not as unpredictable as people think, though.
When the phone rings on the side table next to your couch, it's completely predictable. No one calls you this late, no one besides Eddie. And you think about picking up the line. It would be so easy. Just give in to your aching heart and all will be right again. You're sick of crying yourself to sleep on the couch. Sick of hearing the fucking phone ring all. night. long. Sick of all those memories that keep plaguing your mind.
But you're strong, too.
You remember him taking you to your first show and sitting on his shoulders so that you could see, how he'd gotten way too drunk by the end of the night and you had to drive home. You remember the beer on his breath, thick and hot on his tongue whenever he kissed you. You didn't mind it at first, maybe you'd even liked it for a little while, but eventually it got stale.
Eddie isn't unpredictable. He's a creature of habit. Bad habits.
So instead of picking up the phone, you white knuckle the arm of the couch. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw. You let the tears fill your eyes. But for the first time, you recognize that you cannot save Eddie Munson from his own self-destruction.
Hopper flips off his lights when Eddie doesn't say anything. He pulls out onto the back road and starts toward the police station while Eddie rests his head against the inside of the door.
The shadows of trees stretch across the road, illuminated by silver moonlight. Eddie watches them come into vision and then disappear again, and it feels like you'd ceased to exist in his life just as quickly.
He's not unpredictable, Eddie is a creature of habit. Habitually getting himself in trouble, habitually letting you down, and habitually having to make it up.
It was almost too much. Steve's doting right at the shell of your ear, kiss bruised lips skating over your sensitive lobe. Your bare legs spread wide, the plush of your thighs cushioning his hips that are rutting into you at a torturously slow pace.
"Steve" your voice is whisper soft, almost choking on it as he rolls his hips, and it aches. A short and sweet gnaw right at the centre of your chest, where all of those nagging stupid feelings bloom. You loved him, that much was clear. Truly, deeply, maddeningly.
But it was hitting you now, all at once; the secluded lowlight of his bedroom, bursting the highs of his shoulders and the knuckles brushing through your hair in brilliant gold, Steve holding his weight up on two shaky forearms, loving on that tender spot behind your ear exactly where you like it most.
He hears the wobble in his name when you say it, revealing himself from the slope of your neck where he's leaving kisses in his wake. He's completely dishevelled, chestnut locks pushed back in a rush, though some strands fall loose to tickle at your forehead.
God, those eyes were so warm, blissed-out and heavy lidded, but bursting with nothing but raw devotion. Though yours are glossy, the pathetic kind that makes you want to fold in on yourself because you were surely ruining the moment, swimming with tears that are yet to fall.
"Hey" he stills though you try to coax him to keep going, a squeeze of your inner thighs to his sticky skin. Steve settles his weight further onto you as he inspects your flushing face, his eyebrows heavy set where he's worrying over you.
"Honey. My angel, you're okay" he's murmuring, shuffling himself so that he can cradle your cheeks in his hands. This was almost worse, those delicately steadfast feelings transitioning into that of a freight train, full speed ahead with no sign of stopping.
You're nodding, yet those tears are falling loose now that he's noticed, now that he's being so sickeningly attentive, and his palms are cold to your skin where your cheeks are aflame.
"You wanna stop?" he suggests and it startles you, a sob trapping at the back of your throat when he begins to pull back a little. Your hands clasp over his wrists so that he keeps that gentle hold, you'd beg him to stay if you must.
"No, no, I don't" a fat droplet falls when you blink up at him, a thick rivulet that paints the curve of your jaw, swelling a damp spot into your pillow.
"What's the matter?" He's right back on you again in a second, his chest deflating with relief though now he's even more confused, swiping his thumbs over your under-eyes, collecting another wave that threatens to spill.
Your bottom lip wobbles when you think about it, gaze skipping over his features; the scrunch skin at the front of his brows, the shadow cast beside his nose, one two three espresso marks that litter below his cheek and above his jawline, the two that dot over his jugular.
So fucking beautiful it has your heart tripling in size and squeezing in an iron fist. Steve tips his head in inspection and you may as well be chalk in his hands the way you crumble.
"Fuck, Steve, I love you" the admission takes your breath away, a trembling inhale through the nose because what if he doesn't say it back? What if he doesn't feel the same way and he never speaks to you again?
You could shake him when he beams. A wide, goofy boyish grin that has his cheeks rippling and teeth sparkling. He shifts forwards on instinct, groaning when he dips his head to peck across your cheeks, each corner of your lips and the tip of your nose.
Steve's large hands are smushing the sides of your face this time, a feathery pull of your lips with his thumbs.
"I love you too, you idiot. That what you were crying over?"
More tears, maybe a whimper but you weren't sure, not over the white noise in your ears. All repose and fondness, cool aloe to a sore sunburn.
"You kidding me, Harrington?" a bruised chuckle blows from the base of your lungs, and you're gripping him tighter when he joins you in giddy delight. Though you gasp when his abdomen draws back, a heavy, leisurely paced plunge right to the hilt, so deep you can feel him in your stomach.
"I love you" he says again, that grin faltering, a familiar slope of his eyelids when he remembers to move, a sensual nudge that causes your lashes to flutter. This seems to have sparked something in the boy, a deep-rooted primal sort of desire that's cranked him up to the nines.
His hands move in one swift motion, finding the swell of your hips and the fat of your thighs. In half a second one of your legs is hurled up over his shoulder and you're panting. He's urgent with it, the push of his shoulder to the crook of your knee, calf pillowing to where you can feel his back muscles puckering.
You swallow when he looms back down over you again, bottom lip between his teeth, renewed stamina and a shift in the environment now you had both finally fessed up. You're stretched out wide for him then, wider than you thought you could go, especially when he's forcing your other knee out and to the side.
"I love you" you repeat through a moan, jerking him back to you again, your hands anchoring to his scalp, tugging at the roots until he makes those syrupy sweet noises he saves just for you. You meet in a press of your lips, his mouth hot on yours, just one drawn out mulling over of one another.
You tilt your head into his when he's nosing at the column of your throat again, echoing those words like a mantra. Each time he says it, it's different. Breathy, earnest, dizzy, resolute. All combined into one at some point. But he says it over and over, matching the growingly desperate pace of his thrusts, messy when you're squeezing him so blindingly good.
He's purring into your skin, kissing the words to seal them there like the wax seal of an envelope, as if he's sharing a secret. He's tender though he's probing incessantly deep, coring you out and mapping your insides so he can recite you as scripture.
You needed more, more, more. And Steve Harrington was never one to deny you of what you desired most.
Robin Buckley x BiFem!Reader
ModernAU
TW/Tags: recreational drug use, sexual innuendos, mutual pining, BODY MENTIONS, angst, public displays of affection?, disgusting teasing?, maybe a lil cringe on the reader's part but funny to me?
Robin's mouth sits agape. She doesn't remember when she last took a breath, fearful of the sound that might escape her throat. A whispered moan, or a fucking scream because goddamn jesus christ how the fuck can someone as magnificent as you exist.
"You okay over there, Buckley?"
Eddie's words register in Robin's head, but she's barely able to respond. It doesn't help that she's stoned off of her fucking ass, as are the rest of you. Her head begins to move ever so slightly side-to-side.
"No," she whispers. "Absolutely fucking not."
It's pathetic, really. Robin's like a dog on a leash, and it's obvious to just about everyone but the wrong people, thank god.
But that doesn't exclude you. You knew exactly what you were doing when you texted Robin that Eddie had just gotten in a fresh stash and offered to smoke her out after work. You know exactly what you're doing now as you sit pretty on your knees, right there on the dull brown carpeted floor of your's and Eddie's shitty, shared apartment. Robin's own fucking t-shirt hangs off of your frame, obscured partially by a three foot bong you'd cleaned just for the occasion.
Good god she can taste the blood in her mouth from the hole she'd bitten in her tongue after the last hit.
Eddie is, of course and as always, the unfortunate third wheel. The platonic, straight(?), best friend of a closeted lesbian and a raging bisexual that won't just fucking admit they're insufferably in love with each other. Or maybe they just want to finger bang. He's refused to put much thought into it.
No. Why would you admit it?
Instead, you make it as clear as you can without spelling it out. You take one more hit and hold it deep, picking up the phone on the floor to your left and flipping through the songs playing just loud enough to not send Robin into a fucking panic attack.
You exhale in time with a familiar tune.
"Please tell me you guys fuck with Billie Eilish" You beg, and finally, Robin sucks in a deep breath while tossing her head back with... frustration.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Eddie curses, and your eyes dart up.
He's mid tossing his hand toward the nearly incapacitated Robin sitting on the sofa across the room.
"You've fucking broken her!" He yells.
And at the bridge of Lunch, you burst into a fit of California Kush induced laughter.
"Baby I think you were made for me..."
Unknown who the spacers belong to. If anyone knows, please tag them!
a lil perv!eddie x fem!reader blurb bc I luurrrvvv him *dreamy sigh* 18+ DUH
cw: peeping tom eddie, masturbation, female anatomy and descriptions used for reader character.
It wasn’t Eddie’s intention to watch you shower. Honest, scout's honour, cross his heart, swear on his life.
"Eds, I'll be there in a minute!" you called from somewhere down the hall once Eddie knocked twice out of politeness and let himself into your apartment. Every second Friday night you accompanied him to The Hideout as part stagehand, part hopelessly devoted onlooker, not that Eddie was aware of the hopelessly devoted part.
He was early, which you didn't mind, it wasn't unusual for him to hang out with you a couple hours before a Corroded Coffin gig. It had become a comfortable routine. A couple of beers and a bi-monthly catch up between two friends. What could be more innocent than that?
Eddie has set his leather jacket over your winter coat that hung on the coat rack to his right, shaking off the chill of a December evening, a couple of now lukewarm bud light's tucked securely under his armpit.
"S'fine, sweets. Take your time!" he called back to you with a hand cupped around the side of his pale face. He ruffled a hand through his wild mess of hair, stepping towards the living room where he would wait for you whilst flipping through your beloved vinyl collection that grew by the day.
Though Eddie's ears perked up when he heard the turn of the shower faucet, the rush of hot water in the pipes groaning beneath the dry wall around him.
He had to pass the bathroom to place the beers in the fridge, and that's how he convinced himself that surely it would be okay to sneak a quick side glance through where the door lay creaked open as he walked by. Just for a second. That's fine, right?
Steam poured through the space between the hallway and where you had stood completely stripped under the running water. Your figure blurred slightly behind the glass, though Eddie could perfectly make out the tread of your hands through your sleek sodden hair, the expanse of your exposed back, the supple curve of your ass that he had though about filling his hands with more times than he could count.
Skin, skin, skin. Your glowing, drenched, hot, unveiled fucking skin.
You turned a little toward his direction and his mouth had run dry, cheeks flushing beetroot and he tried to gulp but there was nothing to swallow. The building heat that carried a crimson blush over the high points of his cheeks channeled right to his cock in half a second flat.
He had to think of his Great Aunt Donna's sagging wrinkly tits he had been scarred with the image of at the ripe old age of seven years old to get that boner to go away.
Eddie had never driven you home quicker later that night, barely able to meet your eye the entire time, and flailing at some excuse that he hadn't slept well the night before. He even slipped in about fifteen drawn out yawns for good measure on the short drive from the shitty bar in the centre of town to the front of your apartment complex.
"Call you tomorrow?" you had flashed him a toothy grin, none the wiser with your wide glassy eyes and satin pink lips that stretched so fucking wide when it was directed at him. Eddie gave a strained smile, a quick Mhm in reply, and his adam's apple bobbed when you hopped out of the passenger seat.
He knew the intimate dips and curves of your body beneath your clothing, the way your exquisite breasts sat without the support of your bra.
His attention had locked onto the sweet breadth of your thighs every now and then as you talked about something he wasn't even paying attention to. An asshole move, he must admit, but you didn't seem to notice his lack of regard, and he thanked whatever God above him that you were especially unaware of his wandering gaze.
Smooth skin that gleamed pearlescent under your sheer iridescent tights, denim skirt hugging that one disastrously distracting area just right, where the dip the hem pressed a mouthwatering accentuation into the plush of them. His eyes had snapped back to the road, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, jaw set, his thundering heart beat swimming in his ears.
Eddie had never thrown the door open to the sanctuary of his trailer with such urgency, almost tripping on his jeans as he undressed himself on his venture to his bed. He ran a hand over his face when he collapsed onto his back, cursing himself, cursing you. Though his other still travelled down to palm the strained tent over his boxer shorts despite his shame.
The guilt of his actions weighed heavy in the pit of his stomach. A stupid goddamn perv. How could he? What would you say if you found out? Would you ever talk to him again?
He wipes the sweat that's now beading at his hairline. He would take this to the grave. Despite his mortification, he flushes hot all over when the memory crashes over him, and he couldn't hold it back any longer.
The perk of your perfect tits under the running shower water, pebbled nipples that appeared painfully hard against the cool air surrounding you. Smooth bare skin, naked and glittering with suds that ran down down down. His cock jumps beneath the weight of his hand where he's stroking himself over cotton, and a stunted moan rumbles at the back of his throat.
His hand glides beneath the waistband of his underwear, thumb grazing over the very tip of his weeping head. Jesus H Christ, he has been on the precipice of orgasm for five godforsaken hours.
The foaming bubbles pooled at a dark thatch of hair right below your navel, partly obscured due to your position and the pure cock block that was the slightly ajar doorway.
Eddie trails his fingers down the underside of his shaft. How would you sound moaning his name?
"Nope, nope. Jesus, don't do that," he's berating himself, preferring you to be mute in his make-believe scenarios just for this minute, getting lost in his fantasies far too quickly. He wanted this to last as long as he could stand it.
Then came the image of you on your knees, spotting like watercolour as the reels of scenarios bled over one another in quick succession. Eddie scrunches his eyes firmly closed, a pained expression overtaking his features when his imagination overwhelms him.
You're staring up at him with an innocently coy grin, glittering wide eyes brimming with that devotion you held for him at the back of the bar during his gigs that maybe he had noticed after all. The pictures flick behind his eyes like a fucking porno on tape, the tip of his cock sliding past your pillowy lips, mouth hanging loose at the hinges of your jaw.
And holy hell, your tongue. Kitten licking the underneath of him, sliding right down to the curve of his balls and back up again. The hollow of your cheeks when you finally bobbed your head back and forth to take him right between your tonsils. He groans without restraint, fist enveloping around the shaft fully this time. He flicks his wrist once, twice, three times.
"Am I being good for you?" you would ask angelically when you released him with a pop. He swore he heard you right there, nuzzling your face into the throbbing length of him, still peering up with a seraphic gleam in your eyes through fluttering lashes.
"So fucking good, sweetheart. Holy shit," he groans through gritted teeth, mouth agape as his free hand grips the unmade sheets beneath him.
Eddie is almost writhing as he strokes himself languidly, picturing the sheer ecstasy that would be the feel of your sopping heat rutting over the curve of his chin. The taste of your dripping arousal coating his tongue, sucking on the bead of your clit and the sweep of your pubic hair over his nose.
He spills up and across his stomach with a wrecked sob and a deep crease between his brows, whimpering your name under his breath. He's bucking his hips up into nothing as he imagines burying his face into that thatched cunt he had bared witness to merely hours previous, your scent, your saccharine taste.
Gasping and drunk on his high, the ball and chain of humiliation was far off in the distance. Though it would creep back in soon enough.
Because it wasn’t Eddie’s intention to watch you shower.
Honest.
Scout's honour.
Cross his heart.
Swear on his life.
@vapekingg: “they knew what they were doing with steve harrington in season 4. shirtless, wet and bloody?! in grey sweatpants?! okay so this is now pornography”
bonus: “they gave him a breeding kink and made him talk about it”
Nervous Eddie, protective reader, and a drunk love confession. Idiots who are too dumb to realise their feelings are reciprocated. 9.4K of tooth rotting friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]
Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you.
He was your best friend after all.
What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.
His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why.
But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side.
"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?”
You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening. Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow.
The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again.
"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?"
To your surprise he actually listened.
His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs.
"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction.
You did laugh then.
A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold. His hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose.
"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.
God, why did that make you want to melt.
“Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head.
It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin.
"‘Am now.”
Tou froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.
A quick glance at Steve told you it was.
Your friend was looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t.
"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”
Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?”
You considered it but then the poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.”
He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.
"Eddie?”
Nothing.
“Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious.
The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.
You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck.
"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed with it and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”
There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return,reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.”
He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous.
"Jesus christ.”
"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.”
You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.
"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works on me.”
There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom, the kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed.
Friends totally did that, right?
It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.
And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contended groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face.
"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.”
"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.
And oh fuck, you were staring.
Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.
Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was.
You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs. Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight, before his lips descended on yours.
Jesus.
You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.
But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild.
It made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?
You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.
You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.
Gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes flicked back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.
Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.
You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.
But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.
Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak and stumbled and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes snapping shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing?
What were you thinking?
This was Eddie.
Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.
Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.
It felt wrong.
It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out.
He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs.
You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning, stained with heat. But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over lines of polaroids, fairy lights and old ticket stubs that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration, your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud.
The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear.
"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly.
It still felt like too much to look at him.
Maybe even more now because all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin, sweats slung low on his hips. Big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened.
You couldn’t.
Not yet.
So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps.
Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning.
There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings. The rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.
He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you.
Hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did, hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up.
And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you.
It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets.
An anxious habit he despised being the cause of because god, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check.
For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window.
And then he seemed to think better of it.
You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”
You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed. Taking the opportunity to get more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off.
"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress.
But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers.
"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?”
You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”
Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.
"Touche.”
The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.
It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together.
You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.
"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.
“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.”
You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue.
"Idon’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.
His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.
“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.”
You huffed, too amused to be offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’
Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.
"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?”
“Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”
"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.”
"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.”
You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.”
"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”
"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”
"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand. “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.”
You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?”
"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.
He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the pretty flush that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.”
You hated that he was right.
Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness, no, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.
It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why.
Yet.
So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.
You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak, so you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him.
But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.
His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the warmth it spread through your belly.
"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.
You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt, threatening to brand the skin beneath.
“What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears, though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too.
'Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.”
"I was just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it. Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own.
You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?”
"Sam.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even close, sweetheart.”
“At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.
Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He defended mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way.
“His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.
But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’.
“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic”
He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours.
It made you gentle - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest and urged you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew. Fingers finding their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.
"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–”
You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.
“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothin’ bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go runnin’ off into the night to defend my honour.”
But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to.
He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.
And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.
"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, gentle, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.
He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.
He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch.
You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap.
It felt like his first mistake.
Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you?
He’d lost count.
All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe, that being this close didn’t feel as innocent as it had five minutes ago.
As it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.
Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips.
It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer.
Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer.
He licked his lips, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”
The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it.
Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?
"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?"
"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”
"Makes sense-" you shrugged, and then it sunk in what he had said. "-no, wait, hang on - what?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”
He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch. Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new kind of torture.
Eddie was in love with someone else.
And he hadn't even told you.
"Eddie–” you murmured weakly, because christ , he was still talking and you just really needed him to stop .
"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane , I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave it a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”
Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it.
'Eddie.” You repeated, only a little stronger this time. but to your horror, you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake.
You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth.
You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could.
And yet you were painfully still.
A statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising.
Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on.
God, you felt pathetic.
"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-”
“Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie, fuck-”
He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself out of his hold, drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.
"-you.”
You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bones as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had.
It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding.
Did you even know how?
The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again.
So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”
"Wasn’t you.” He whispered and neither of you could take your eyes off the other, your own breath trapped in your chest as he took a deep breath before he continued. Voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.”
You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.
You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild behind your ribs.
Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words.
He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him.
If it was maybe for both of you.
A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.
"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”
He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again.
You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound.
His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.
"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’ .”
And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers.
"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache.
“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”
He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.
Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?
"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when you’re other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.
"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”
"You could never do anything to make me not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he swore was pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.”
Eddie melted for you then.
“Yeah?” He breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming.
"Yeah.”
“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”
Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.
"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.
It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “Though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”
Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.”
You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted for him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you this close. Just because he could.
"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.
“Anything.”
"You gonna take me on a date Munson?”
As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could.
He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you.
He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”
“Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw. “Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.”
Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you. “Oh.” You breathed out.
He swallowed, hard.
And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh. ”
"How am I supposed to say no to that?”
His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.
The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need.
He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape.
"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all.
You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder.
"Can I kiss you now?”
It already felt like he was.
His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin. The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.
It was a fleeting thing, ending after a second because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right, it felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing.
It was just the timing.
“Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused.
"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”
“-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?”
He blew out a breath, visibly softening, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours. “Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”
His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.
"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”
Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming devastatingly lovely, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”
It’s like a fucking skin flick, the scene that you and Eddie create on rainy nights spent in the back of his van.
Windows fogged up, water beating down on the roof above you, Joan Jett playing quietly from the radio up front. Eddie’s all touch on nights like this. All heavy breaths and body language.
He’s long peeled off his clothes, every last article, along with yours, and settled between your thighs. Eddie’s forehead rests at the curve of your shoulder, breath heating your already sweat-slicked skin as his hands explore every inch. He acts like it’s his first time every time, and it never gets fucking old.
“Like that, Eds…” Your nails glide along his bare back, fingers dancing over his flexing muscles like the keys of a piano.
Eddie loves when you talk to him. His hips stutter when you moan his name, forearm bracing his body above yours as he lifts himself up. Not much, just enough for him to pull his lips to yours.
His plush, pillowy lips open against your own, tongues finding each other like moths in the night. Cigarettes, weed, and cherry licorice linger on his mouth. It’s your favorite taste because it’s uniquely him.
Eddie cradles your face in his wide hand as he kisses you, his free palm tracing down your soft body until he reaches your thigh. He wants you closer, wants to be deeper, so he pulls your knee over his hip and slots himself there. His throbbing cock nestling against the back of your cunt, massaging that spot that turns your brain right off.
A slew of curses are muffled by his mouth, and you feel his proud smile grow against your lips.
“That good, baby?” He breathes into you.
It barely registers—his words—but when they do, you know what he needs. Eddie pulls his hips back and fucks into you a single hard, unforgiving time, arching your back off of the makeshift bed.
“Tell me it’s good,” he continues, voice strangled and desperate.
And fuck, is it good. Eddie’s narrow waist fits perfectly between your thighs. He never lets you go without, never allows you to feel unsatisfied even for a second. You were made for each other, combined at the rib for at least these sacred moments.
“So fucking good, Eddie…” your labored words are swallowed by his lips, another snap of his hips against yours.
Eddie moves his hand down your body, cradling your hips in his palms and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. He knows you, better yet, he knows what he’s doing to you. The knot that’s been tightening in your abdomen pulls itself again with each rut, each whimper, every nudge of his veins against your slick walls.
A clap of thunder follows a flash of lightening, and his face is illuminated above you. Bangs dripping with sweat, messy curls tied up into a knot at the back of his head or tucked behind his ears. His cheeks are flushed and mouth ajar, eyes heavy and half lidded.
“Wanna fuck you out here all night,” he sighs, mouth no longer moving with accord from his brain. Eddie lowers his lips to the shell of your ear and breathes.
“Make your folks worry their ass off. They’ll have Hops banging down my uncle’s door by morning, and you’ll still be here coming undone for me.”
You begin to move as one, your hips rolling up to meet his with every downward thrust. It’s frantic, uncalculated and messy. The van around you moves in rhythm with your lovemaking, jarring forward and then sinking back against its tires. It’s all closing in, the walls inside your mind inching closer and closer together as something magnificent builds. If Jim’s red and blue lights were to ruin things now, it might just be catastrophic.
“Need you to give it to me, baby.” Eddie rasps, lips sliding over your collar, chest pressed against yours.
And you’re going to. Every time your eyes flutter open, glitter decorates the corner of your vision. You’re right there, just on the edge of oblivion —
— Until he pushes you over.
With the slightest nudge of his hips, Eddie slots himself against your g-spot. He grinds his waist against your core, pressing himself against your clit and sinking his teeth into your flesh. You feel the heat. Your own body warming beneath him, Eddie’s cum spilling inside of you. His hips stuttered and you’re deaf to the obscenities spilling from your own mouth. All you can hear are his.
All the pet names. All the praise. The whimpering and begging for you to take it all. You’ll take it all for him. You always do.
The come down isn’t as quick.
Eddie’s body heaves atop yours as your mind falls back into place. You’re buzzing, every atom in your body vibrating on a microscopic level.
“I think the rain’s stopped, Eds.” You whisper, but Eddie’s already made himself comfortable with his arms locked around your waist and his head on your chest.
“I’ll drive us back to mine in a minute,” he whispers.
“No, Eddie.” You laugh, fingers combing through his damp locks. “I need to go home, I have a curfew.”
Suddenly, you can breathe. Eddie lifts himself off of you and leans over the front seat, light from the radio illuminating his pretty face.
“Curfew was twenty minutes ago, princess.” He smiles while leaning down again.
If you’re already late, might as well make it count. Right?
There's nothing Eddie loves more than catching you at your most vulnerable — permanently — on film. He's an amazing photographer. That instant camera stays on his nightstand with the evidence of his skills tucked away inside the bottom drawer.
"Tongue out, baby. Just like that," he cooes while thumbing your lips apart, cradling your spit-soaked chin in his large palm.
In his other hand sits that fucking camera. Face half obscured by it, but you can still see the pleasure on his face. The tip of your tongue meets the dripping head of his cock, and then there's a flash.
You see him for just a second, Eddie in his entirety. The flex of his biceps kept lean by rigorous guitar practice. The small patch of hair on his chest that leads down into a happy trail beneath his waist. The grit of his teeth, the flex of his jaw.
The mechanical whirring of the camera cuts through labored breaths and rustling sheets, and then a square photograph is spat out. Eddie holds it up to the light while it develops, smile widening with each passing moment.
"Arch that back for me." He says later, "Good girl."
Your wrists are fixed behind your back, pinned together with his one hand while his other is preoccupied.
"Yeah, that's my girl. Keep still for me."
Another flash of light in the dark brings to life the crimson handprint that glows on your ass. Oh, Eddie's happy to see how well that photograph develops.
And hours later, with photographs scattered around you, sweat drying to your skin and midnight air blowing in through the open window, Eddie pulls your wobbly leg over his shoulder.
"Play with it, angel. One more good shot." He begs, knowing you love this just as much as he does.
You move your hand between your thighs, fingers trailing against your slick folds, fluttering over your clit and spreading yourself open. A gush of warmth follows after and you catch it on your fingertips, dragging Eddie's cum up over your clit and fingering it back into your hole.
Another flash of light. Perfectly timed. Perfectly angled. Eddie is the perfect photographer, and you are his perfect muse.
