hippiepowrs

[hippiepowrs]

'cause I ain't had nobody hit it like you hit it (2/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part one here.

3.6k

cw: 18+. smut, references to hard drug use, unprotected piv, situationship becoming something more, shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, eddie embarrasses the fuck out of reader but don't get it twisted, he's down bad, no y/n, no physical descriptors

an: sorry for leaving y'all on that little cliffie in the first part. I hope this makes up for it! 😉 also, make sure you check out the fanart if you haven't already - there are some specific allusions to it in this part, and it'll enhance the experience if you've checked it out. accreditation: I attribute those clever details to the very talented artist 🩵

now, enjoy the utter filth! xx

The sound is a bucket of ice water down your spine. Your back stiffens ramrod straight as your grasping fingers find the front of Eddie’s tank, fisting it up tight in a startled search for comfort. Eddie separates his lips from yours with a loud click, an annoyed frown already marring his brow as he cranes his neck to look around you toward the closed door. When the knocks come again in quick succession, there’s a split second you think he will tell you to get off him, and your stomach swoops with something just short of devastation. But Eddie doesn’t even bother asking who it is; he keeps cupping your cheek even as he barks harshly, "Busy, man. Go take a walk, come back in ten minutes." 

After a brief pause, you hear the creak of wood followed by the plodding steps of whomever had come calling descending the porch stairs. It’s somewhat of a relief, but the interruption has disturbed the haze you’d fallen into. You almost want to ask who that was, if Eddie’d been expecting any visitors or customers other than you, but you bite your tongue, not wanting to dampen the mood between you two even farther. As your heart keeps racing while you attempt to regain your composure, your eyes search his face. They flit about before being captured by deep brown, ensnared by the look he’s leveling you with. Eddie’s gaze bores into yours, dark with longing and mischief as if he’s daring you to defy him. 

As if he can see through your eyes straight down to your soul and all that it longs for.

The tension returns in an instant— sticky and hot as your thighs flex around Eddie’s hips, and the subtle shift reminds you he’s still buried inside. Your desire for him simmers like an ache low in your belly, plaintive and wanting. And he must read that on you, because despite the clock ticking down the seconds until his visitor returns, Eddie just has to tease you.

"Yeah?" His voice is a low whisper, a teasing challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. "S’like that, huh? You want me to make you cum now?" He glances up at the wall behind him, drawing your eyes to a row of scrawled lines— a tallied record of the pleasure he gives. It’s yet another way he’s found to rile you up, a reminder displayed in a place you can’t help but see every time you visit him. "And you think you’ve earned another tally?"

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his gaze again. "Need it, Ed..." you whisper, your heartbeat rabbit-fast at the prospect of him really giving it to you.

His smirk widens, a flash of smug satisfaction dancing in his eyes. "Aww, baby needs it so bad," he teases, his tone laced with mock sympathy before it darkens. "You're such a fuckin' whore. But only for me, right?"

A heady mix of desire and shame courses through you, slinking through your veins, burning you up inside. Because, for all intents and purposes, he’s right: you are a whore, giving yourself to your dealer like this. And this thing between you and Eddie may be more than that to you— may be more to him, too, though you don’t know for sure— but on the surface, that’s exactly what you are. A whore, only for him.

It’s demeaning and nasty and so fucking arousing all at once. 

"Mhmm." A strangled hum of agreement is the most you can manage through your mortification. Even so, you know that won’t be enough for Eddie. 

"Tell me," he demands, his voice a low growl that makes your pussy flutter around him; his fingers tighten on your hip, blunt nails biting in, dimpling your softness. His expression doesn’t change, but you know he likes being able to affect you with just the sound of his voice and the things he makes you say.

"I-I'm a whore for you, Eddie..." you admit, forcing out the words though they make your face positively burn. "I'm your whore—"

His hand crawls into your hair, pulling you back, and you moan as your neck stretches tight. "That's fuckin' right," he says, licking up your throat. You gasp and tremble. "My good little whore."

The teasing is becoming too much; you’re so turned on, you’re nearly beside yourself. You need to move; need him to move. "Please," you cry, whiny and pathetic, your eyes prickling with frustrated tears.

It’s all part of the game, of course-- his casual dominance, your needy desperation. But a harsh exhale against your chin shows that Eddie isn’t as unaffected as he wants to appear. Without ceremony, the still-smoldering joint, only half smoked, is ground out against the edge of the wooden coffee table and dropped into an old bottle. With both hands now free, Eddie pulls you into his chest, his grip firm and possessive, his palms spanning great swaths of your back and his fingers stretched wide. 

Low and husky, he murmurs, "Hold on now, kitten.” 

Hastily, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as his hands dip, dragging down until his fingers dig into your bare ass cheeks. You moan quietly at the rough neediness in the gesture as he manhandles you up so he can slide himself down further on the couch, planting his feet wide on the carpet, his dark jeans and checked boxers pulling taut just above his knees. He’s still stretching you out on his dick, and you bite your lip at the duality of feeling: the dull pain where your skin dimples under his hands, the low pulse of pleasure as his shifting presses him deeper into you. 

You’re anticipating it, and still you choke on a gasp as Eddie uses his grip to slam you down onto his lap just as he thrusts up into you hard— once, twice, again, quickly setting a brutal pace that, if you weren’t so wet for him, would ache in quite a different way. As it is, this ache is exactly what you need— bruises on your ass from his blunt fingertips, burns on your knees from the scratchy cushions, and the battering of Eddie’s cock bullying deep into your pussy, making you feel so fucking good. 

He grunts as you dig your nails into the sturdy, smooth lines of his shoulders, holding onto him tight; you bury your whimpers in his neck, the sound muffled by the heat of his skin as he pounds into you with dizzying ferocity. But that just won’t do, because Eddie wants to see you— wants to see the way he wrecks you. Briefly, one hand leaves your ass to pull you back by the scruff of your neck. You whimper as you lose your hiding place but you don’t fight him, obeying despite the desire to burrow away from his discerning stare. 

"Just needed my dick all the way inside you, stretching this wet little hole out, didn’t you." Eddie chuckles, his gaze burning into yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, hitching with every bounce of his thighs against your ass. "I know you did. You’re always so fuckin’ desperate for it."

You shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze, the heat rising to your cheeks as you try to avert your eyes, but you know he sees right through you. Every movement, every glance, every subtle shift of your body betrays the desire that burns within you.

Mercifully— or maybe unmercifully— Eddie goes on without expecting a response. "Comin’ over here, wearing your tiny little shorts, sittin’ on my couch, staring at me when you think I don’t see," he continues, his voice a low rumble that makes your scalp tighten as he leans in and murmurs in your ear. “No one else is givin’ it to you as good as me, huh? That why you gotta beg me for it?” As he mocks you, you squirm in his grip, embarrassed even as your pussy squeezes tight, your body betraying you with its unrelenting arousal. 

"Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good," Eddie mutters quietly against your cheek. "Love your little pussy." 

You go boneless on him as the embarrassment mixes with adoration. You tuck your face against his neck again, and this time, it’s not to hide. Your hands snake down his tank to claw at his back, nails dragging lines across his skin as you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over his throat, lavishing him with the depth of your feeling. His words vibrate under your lips. “That’s right, just like that. I gotcha. My pliant little fuckdoll.”

"Oh," you moan, your voice barely above a whisper as you surrender yourself to him completely. "Fuck—"

"Could do anything to you, hm?" Eddie rasps, never faltering in his pace as he fucks up into you.

As your breasts rub against his clothed chest, your hard nipples quickly become oversensitized by the friction, spurring you to meet him thrust for thrust. "Yeah, yeah," you gasp, your voice trembling with need, nearly overwhelmed by his words and the feeling of his fat tip kissing that spot inside. He’s working you so quickly at this angle that you nearly see stars. "Whatever y’want,” you slur, well on your way to being cock drunk. “M’your good girl, Eddie."

He chuckles, amused and fond. "That’s why you get the free ride, babe,” he tells you. "Cause you’re just so good."

There is no deliberate thought driving you anymore, just instinct as you ride him with abandon— tits shaking, ass rippling, head thrown back, mouth open, fists in his hair, drool on your chin, arousal leaking onto his thighs. Your lashes flutter, eyes half rolled back as you start to ascend.

“Jesus Christ, I swear, you’re—” Eddie pauses, swallowing harshly, like he’s gulping back what he almost said. “You’re so sexy like this,” he rasps finally, breath ragged, biting his lip when you throw it down harder on him. “So sexy. All mine.”

My whore. My fuckdoll. Mine, mine, mine. That sentiment makes you bold. You summon all your faculties to pull your face back from his neck and tip your head coquettishly, looking down at Eddie like you own him and not the other way around. 

“Yeah, baby?” It’s a little breathless with effort, but still, you manage to sound sultry in a way you almost do not recognize. “You like that?”

Eddie’s pupils blow wide. He chuckles breathlessly, but he doesn’t look amused. “Go’n, fuck me,” he grits out, and his eyes are pitch black with desire, but as you keep looking down at him, there’s a flash of something else— something more akin to awe. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

And you do, more than you ever have before. The room collapses to nothing but the slapping of skin on skin— furious, sweaty, gasping plunges downward met with equally sharp upward thrusts that gradually have him sinking lower on the couch. By the time Eddie’s ass slips to the edge of the cushion, you’re slumped over him, hands squishing up his cheeks, lips mashed together, kissing like you need him to live. Each time he punches in, you keen like a wild animal, the sound garbled and mixed with his low, rasping whines. There’s salt in your mouth and you don’t know whose sweat it is, his or yours. Eddie’s breath puffs from his nose like he’s sprinting for his life; one of his damp curls tacks to your cheek as your bodies writhe together all slick, sticky, wet. You’re fucking each other so hard it almost hurts—

And then it does hurt, because on your next desperate bounce, Eddie’s ass slips off the couch, toppling you both to the floor.

Buzzing with adrenaline and on the knife’s edge of your orgasm, the fall only radiates dull pain for a moment before you’re over it. You lift your face from the carpet to see Eddie’s head all wedged up at an angle against the couch’s leg, his arms splayed, legs still caught in his pants and boxers like he’d tripped taking a piss or something. Your eyes hone in on his cock— wobbling in the air, flushed and slick with you down to the matted-curl base, miraculously still hard and, most importantly, entirely unharmed. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie groans, his face contorted in a pained wince. If you weren’t so close to cumming, you’d ask him if he was okay, but as it is, your only thought is to crawl on top of him and hastily throw your leg over his hip. Before he can even blink, you’ve impaled yourself on his cock, engulfing him in the heat of your throbbing pussy with a filthy, wet squelch. 

“Oh, fuck!” It’s a ragged moan this time as his mouth falls open, the cords of his neck pulling tight on an even more strangled sound as you go right back to fucking him like he asked you— like you mean it.

Pleasure returns in an even more potent swell as you consider how feral it is that you and Eddie are now fucking on the floor like animals. You’re making sounds of pained ecstasy, punching them out of yourself as you slam down on him until he’s hitting so deep you can feel it in the back of your throat. Your muscles are quivering, burning with effort, so much so that you can’t help but collapse forward, bracing your forearm against the edge of the couch cushion. You whimper as the move changes the angle, dulling your pleasure, but you can’t find the strength to hoist yourself back up while still chasing your orgasm— and you need to cum so badly now that you want to fucking cry. 

But Eddie’s got you. When you slip, he’s there the next moment tilting his hips, matching you thrust for thrust, hooking an arm around your back and pressing his forehead against your sternum. His skin is hot, sweaty and tacky, and his breath huffs ragged over your bouncing chest for a moment before he presses his face into the plush curve of your breast. 

And then you hear it: Eddie’s voice breaking as he moans out your name against your skin. 

Dizzying flutters burst in your chest just as pleasure twists violently in your belly, a throbbing ache you can feel pressing at your walls, clawing its way up to break the surface inside you. You heave a tight sob as you cum, back arched, neck straining, consumed whole by the intensity of the feeling. Distantly, as if through a tunnel, you register a brief flare of pain; your spasming pussy clenches around Eddie’s kicking length as the pleasure peaks at the sensation, breaking in waves that gradually gentle and then finally ease. And it’s when you collapse weakly against Eddie’s chest, quivering as his arms fold around your back, that you realize the pain you felt was Eddie’s teeth sinking into your breast as he came with you.

When you finally have the strength to open your eyes, you're both still breathing fast, Eddie's bare arms bunching up your disheveled tank and sticking to your lower back as he holds you, panting into your mouth. "Shit," he mutters, chuckling under his breath. "That was..." 

He leaves the sentence unfinished, but you understand his meaning. It was really fucking good— better than usual. And maybe it was because there was a thrill in trying to finish before his visitor returned, but maybe... maybe it was more than that.

“Even the part when you fell on your ass?” You whisper, smiling when his eyes crinkle.

“Sure,” he offers. “Even that part.”

You hum, nudging your nose against his, and when you pull back, there's a strange glint in his eye— something fonder, sweeter than it had been before. You smile at him again, and maybe he sees something in your gaze too, because he doesn't kiss you filthy, nor peck you as a quick punctuation to your fucking. Instead, he strokes back your hair, his brown eyes darting down to your lips. And as he leans in, your heart thumps—

That infernal pounding starts up again, louder this time and accompanied by the muffled sound of a male voice calling impatiently, "Hey, Eddie, open up— I ain't got all day, man!"

Your stomach lurches. Has it really been ten minutes? 

Not that it matters, you berate yourself, ‘cause he’s back, and you’re still naked on the fucking floor. You dismount Eddie quickly, collapsing down to all fours so you can reach for your clothes where they’re bunched under the other side of the couch. As you scramble to your feet, tearing your panties and shorts up your legs, you hear Eddie curse quietly under his breath. 

"Gimme a goddamn second!" he snaps, still lying on the ground, lifting his hips and shimmying up his boxers with a level of nonchalance that belies the urgency of the situation. 

You climb onto the couch, your chest heaving from adrenaline and exertion as he pops up in front of you, hopping several times to get his tight jeans the rest of the way up. He flops down on the other side, spreading his legs comfortably, seeming content to just let his belt hang open like he can’t be bothered with it. You glance at him skeptically to see he’s already looking back at you with the same expression, though his is also tinged with some amusement. It takes you a beat to realize why, but when you do, you rush with prickling panic. Because your top’s still rucked up around your collarbone, leaving your bare tits, complete with the new impression of Eddie’s teeth, on full display. Miraculously, you manage to yank it down just as the front door knob twists sharply.

And then, to your horror, the door pops right open.

Your jaw goes slack as a guy around your age— rail thin and pale, dressed in an oversized flannel and a ratty pair of jean shorts— steps into the trailer. Eddie grunts a casual greeting, nodding at the visitor as he lopes up to the couch just as casually, slapping Eddie’s lazily outstretched palm like they’ve done this a million times before. You’re still attempting to process the fact that the front door has been unlocked this entire time when the guy casts a cursory glance your way, his eyes quickly flicking you up and down. You snap your mouth shut, your lips pressing into a flat line as you pull your legs up like they can shield you from his appraisement.

“Hey, man,” Eddie says, cracking his neck to the side. “How was that rock I hooked you up with last time? Good shit, right?”

Obviously a customer, then. You try to ignore the exchange, but you’re inescapably conscious of the fact that this guy could’ve walked in on you and Eddie fucking at literally any point in time. That awareness prickles as you shift, trying to mimic Eddie’s casual posture, though your attempt fails miserably as you feel a small gush of wet warmth leak between your thighs. You blanch as you realize Eddie’s cum is probably dampening your shorts; quickly, you adjust your legs, hoping to conceal the telltale spot. But your traitorous mind can’t help but consider how you likely look— hair mussed, lips swollen from Eddie’s kisses, one strap of your stretched-out tank top sagging down your arm. Like I’ve been totally fucked stupid, you think sourly, casting a flat look toward Eddie who, aside from a sweaty face and lips that are just the slightest bit puffier than before, appears no worse than normal.

Your fingers tap an impatient beat against your knee as you wait, eager for them to finish up so this awkward situation can be over already. The exchange drags on until the guy is finally pocketing his product as Eddie counts his money. 

“Alright,” Eddie says at last, leaning to one side to stuff the bills in his pocket. “Pleasure doin’ business.” You hold in a relieved sigh as he jerks his chin up in a nod, flashing his customer a friendly look that’s half warm eyes and half sharp teeth.

The guy’s about to turn toward the door when Eddie speaks again, and the feigned innocence in his tone makes your stomach sink.

“Oh, shit, almost forgot—”

His ringed hand stretches out, rooting around on the messy side table for a moment before snatching up a ballpoint pen. Your eyes widen in disbelief as he glances behind him, casually reaching up and scratching another line into the wall— drawing everyone’s eyes to the tally marks and, in particular, to the words written above them.

Cum counter.

All you can do is stare at Eddie, utterly at a loss. "Now get the fuck outta here," he says to the guy, his eyes never leaving yours. "My baby's tired, and it's time for her nap." 

And that motherfucker smiles at you— so wide his cheek dimples.

Not his whore; not his fuckdoll. His baby. Your heart swells behind your ribs even as your body heats several degrees with mortification; the customer’s long gone before you can decide whether to kiss Eddie or kick him. 

It’s a decision you’ll have to make a lot from now on.

#ohhhgh my lord #someone save me #need him so bad

[hippiepowrs]

you really got me

rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!reader

warnings: gn!reader, fluffy fluff, gareth and jeff being little shits, grumpy eddie

a/n: heres a silly little blurb. i like rockstar!reader and i hope some other people are into it too... bc if so i will post more :3

wc: 655

A comforting warmth envelops you from behind, Eddie’s space heater of a body holding onto you tight. The two of you have been on tour together for the past few months, double headlining heavy metal shows all across the country. As fun as sex, drugs, and rock and roll for a living is, it does get tiring at times.

Eddie’s changing room backstage is quiet and still, the only people inside being you and him. It’s a rare sight, as he’s usually the one to be inviting everyone inside to smoke a joint or have a beer with him. The two of you lay on the couch, simply enjoying the calm before the storm.

Your peace and serenity quickly gets interrupted with a loud knock on the door, followed by Gareth and Jeff simply barging into the room, hefty camcorder in hand.

“…Let’s see what Eddie’s up to…Oh! Here are these two lovebirds. They make me sick.” Gareth narrates, pointing the camera directly at you.

Your eyes slowly open, drowsily looking over to the source of the noise. The boys continue to walk closer, fully putting the camera up in your face, causing you to block it with your hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gare,” your hoarse ‘morning’ voice squeaks out, “What the hell is this for?”

“We’re making a tour video. Tom said the fans would like it.” The mention of Corroded Coffin’s manager clicks everything into place. Of course he’d want them to record behind the scenes footage of the tour.

Eddie, the rock of a sleeper that he is, is still fully conked out behind you, his arms trapping you onto the couch.

“I look like shit right now,” you mumble, “can you get that thing out of my fucking face?” Any perceived aggression is recognized as playful between you and the other band’s members, but you do seriously want him to get that damn camera out of your face. Looking down, you remember you’re only wearing one of Eddie’s muscle tees, specifically the Judas Priest one he cut a little shorter than he intended a few years ago.

The show isn’t supposed to start for another few hours, as the bus somehow had no mishaps and got you guys to the venue earlier than normal. Gareth has decided to record whatever the hell he feels like in this time, so now he’s walking around Eddie’s dressing room and pointing out all the gross shit on the floor.

Finally, Eddie starts to stir, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. A few soft groans sound from behind you, and this quickly alerts Gareth.

“There he is! Thought you were dead there for a second.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie murmurs, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Makin’ a video.” Gareth turns the camera around to his own face and gives it a big thumbs up.

“Do that shit later, man. Jesus Christ.”

“Someone’s got their panties in a twist.” Gareth giggles, panning the camera over to Jeff, who starts to laugh along with him.

“Get out of my damn room.” Eddie even sits up halfway to send the message, taking an arm off of your waist to point them to the door. Gareth recognizes that Eddie doesn’t want to fuck around right now, so he quickly scurries out with Jeff in tow to find another person to bother.

Turning over to face him, you giggle softly at his moodiness. “He wasn’t wrong. You are pretty grumpy.”

“Can a man not be allowed to cuddle with his partner in peace?” He groans, flopping back down onto the couch and brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“You look like a mess, you know.”

“Shut up. Cuddle me.”

You oblige, wrapping your arms around him. His messy mop of curls falls over your head, his serious case of bedhead being the last thing he’s thinking about.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson

[hippiepowrs]

weed smoking boyfriend

eddie munson x gn!reader

a/n: hi sorry i disappeared i had a lot going on but i could not miss this special day so here's a lil blurb for all who celebrate. idk if 420 was popularized by 86/87 but since it originated in 71 we're going to pretend, okay???

warnings: weed. a lot of weed smoking. r and eddie both very very stoned. fluff. established relationship. making out but nothing bad.

wc: 562

Eddie isn’t exactly a holiday guy. Sure, he likes a good day off from school or work, but he doesn’t love the capitalistic ideals that seeped their way into every holiday that could’ve been enjoyable to him. 

But Eddie will never, ever give up an excuse to get stoned off his ass. 

He’s lucky that Wayne will be out all day. Even if that man put up with a lot, Eddie would probably get his ass beat for hotboxing the entire fucking trailer. 

The two of you are on his bed. Eddie, sat against the headboard, and you on the foot of the bed, laying on your stomach. A foggy haze covers the entire room, a result of the nausea-inducing amount of weed the two of you have smoked. You went between joints and his bong, just to have some variety. 

Now, both of you lay there, absolutely blasted out of your minds, barely able to conjure up a single thought. 

“Baby,” he giggles, “do you think that, like,” he pauses, “I don’t know.” 

Thinking that he’s the pinnacle of comedy, you silently laugh so hard that tears form in the corners of your eyes. 

“Come here.” He puts out grabby hands towards you, urging you to lay next to him. 

Obliging his request, you crawl your way up the bed and lay your head right next to his, staring right into his sleepy eyes. 

“Your eyes are, like, so brown.” You say in awe, quickly devolving into yet another fit of giggles. 

“Yours are, like, uh, they’re really pretty?” He says, seemingly unsure of his words in his inflection. The goofy grin plastered on his face speaks differently, telling you he is totally infatuated with the way your eyes looked, looking at his own. 

His eyes dart down to your lips, signaling to you that he wants to kiss you—which you’re able to pick up on, no matter how high you are. 

The kiss is gentle, yet sloppy, the two of you so uncoordinated that spit is getting all over your faces. Eddie’s hands quickly find their place around your waist, pulling you on top of him as you begin to make out. 

Every touch feels like heaven. Your hands find his hair, scratching at his scalp, which causes Eddie to let out the most pathetic of moans you’ve ever heard in your life. 

“Mmm, love you.” He mumbles into the kiss, the words so slurred they can barely be made out. 

“Love you more.” You murmur back. Drowsiness begins to take over for the two of you, and the draw of sleep doesn’t take long to cause you two to pass out, lips still smushed against each other’s faces. 

The morning light comes in no time, shining through the curtains and directly onto your faces. Your drool is sticky on Eddie’s chin, still laying exactly how you fell asleep. 

Lifting your head, you wipe your chin in confusion. 

“Jesus Christ, babe, what the fuck happened last night?” You ask, still a little giggly from the pure volume you smoked. 

“Hmm?” He tries to act like he knows exactly what’s going on, but is too asleep to comprehend your words immediately. 

“Oh.” His fingers touch his chin, which is covered in mostly dry, but some wet, spit. “A lot of fun, I think.” His signature sleepy morning grin covering his face. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff

[hippiepowrs]

rockstar!eddie keeping your photo taped to the back of his guitar. some pictures are sweet, like you making a heart with your hands or him kissing your cheek.

but most are not so innocent. you sticking your tongue to reveal a puddle of his cum. a close-up of your lips sucking on his thumb. his name written in your lipstick across your tits. even a sneaky one he took when you were riding him reverse cowgirl.

and without meaning to, those photos become a sort of litmus test for corroded coffins to brag about how close they were to the stage.

"i was close, i could see the pic. it's eddie doing a body shot. trust me i was right there!"

"no way, dude. i was at the vegas show. it's some chick in a hottub."

[hippiepowrs]

hi tumblr friends tiktok is mad at me so i am going to reside here for a while i think. i have a few one shots in progress hopefully i can finish one of those soon 😭

here’s a shitty eddie doodle hope you enjoy

#gwenposting #eddie munson

[hippiepowrs]

which makes you shine

eddie x reader, 1.6k

foreword: okay by clicking Keep Reading you agree to not perceive me at all. sacred oath!!! you promise?? title is from Which Will by Nick Drake <3 this one goes out to the bitches (gn) who can never take a goddamn compliment.

___

Eddie wasn’t sure exactly when you started rebuffing his compliments, only that you’ve been doing it with more insistence in the recent weeks.

He thought it was sweet, in the beginning, the way a passing joke of his about how hot you were could end in you blushing and rolling your eyes; or better yet, with a light shove to his chest that he’d use to his advantage, pulling you in by the wrists and smothering your face in kisses.

But lately you won’t even let him call you pretty. Lately, you’ve taken to cringing away from his soft-voiced praises- whining at him playfully to stop if you happen to be in public, outright ignoring him if it’s just the two of you at home. 

It kills him. It really does. Not hyperbole. Every time Eddie gives you a compliment and it isn’t taken, a part of his soul dies.

It’s not as if you’ve forgotten how words of affection work- you’re more than comfortable calling Eddie all kinds of mushy things that make his heart sputter, his head in your hands, drinking in your love with a dreamy smile. 

Maybe you need to learn how to bask…? Eddie’s not really one for complex psychology, but he’s gotta find a fix for this, and quick- this morning you were stretched out on the bed, sleep-warm cheek pressed to the pillow, and when he leaned over to kiss your forehead and whispered “Morning, beautiful,” your first action of the day was a frown. 

Followed by a stretch, a yawn, and a question about going to the diner (which didn’t need to be asked, anyways- he always took you to Nell’s on Wednesdays; part deep-seated ritual, part his absolute lack of ability to say no to you.)

Eddie watches you now from across the diner booth, arms crossed in his leather jacket, tapping a finger mindlessly and arrhythmically against his bicep, mulling. 

You’ve taken on the task of fixing up the two mugs of coffee, deftly peeling creamer lids and sugar packets apart, stirring both with the same stick, slip of tongue around the wooden stirrer to catch the drips. As if in a trance, Eddie watches as you wrap your hands around your own, sighing sweetly with contentment as the first taste of caffeine rushes in.

Eddie fights every base instinct that surfaces- looking gorgeous today, thanks for doin’ mine, pretty girl, you gonna come sit by me, sweet thing?- and instead takes his own mug in hand, rings clinking against the porcelain as he feigns casual and tests the waters.

“Nice bracelet. New one?”

“Oh- mhm.” Your attention shifts to the thin braided rope around your wrist, the trace of a smile around your eyes. “Max is really into friendship bracelets right now. She gave me green and blue, which I think is… good? Dunno. Lots of teen bracelet-making politics that I’m not aware of.”

Eddie chuckles, and your smile is swallowed up by the rim of your mug. A running mental checklist appears in his mind- so she’ll take the compliment if it’s of a thing. Interesting.

His plan was to start slow, maybe ease you in over the course of a few days, gradually picking up speed on the Compliments Agenda but he really can’t help himself. There’s morning sunlight spilling in from the window, and when you turn your head to look, it lights you up in a million beautiful ways and the words are gushing out before he can think to stop them- “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

With a wince, you’re turning away from the window, light on your face and in your eyes dimming. 

Eddie’s heart plummets. Falls straight to the bottom of his stomach. He says, carefully, aware of how thin the ice is- “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

You blink, your expression neutral save for a slight pinch of confusion between the brows- “Do what?”

At first, Eddie thinks you’re fucking with him, ‘cuz how could someone as smart and self-aware as you have a blind spot this big; when he realizes your reaction is genuine, he tamps down the urge to spill his guts and show his hand all in one, instead opting for gentleness- “You realize every time I give you a compliment, you’re real goddamn loathe to take it?”

Another few slow blinks, and then your face falters, shame crawling up quick and sick like a wave- “No I don’t. Do I?”

Eddie laughs- just shy of exasperated- and slides his left hand palm-up towards you. “Sure do, sweetheart. S’like flirting with a very hot but very intimidating sorcerer and rolling nat ones on my charisma checks.”

You giggle, and though it’s muted with embarrassment Eddie counts it as a victory; your hand fits snug in his against the table, and he squeezes, wading out a little further into the testing waters now that the initial ice is broken- “Is it that I don’t give you good enough compliments? Hm? Need to up my game? ‘Cuz I’ll do it for you, babe- I’ll hit the books. Shakespeare and all that shit.”

This eye-roll of yours is steeped in fondness; Eddie swipes a thumb over the back of your hand, your eyes fixed on the point of contact as you say, softly- “No, it’s not you. It’s me. I just- sometimes it’s hard…”

The sentence sticks in your throat like a scratched record, and you shift in your seat, uncomfortable. Eddie can feel your overwhelming desire to pull away, to retreat, so he sets his coffee aside and adds another hand to the mix, feeling your pulse point jump beneath his thumbs. “What do you find hard about taking a compliment from me?”

There’s a soft sheen over your eyes, tears of frustration or sadness or maybe both as you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t- I don’t know, it’s like… some days it’s easy and it feels good. Other times it’s hard, like I can’t… like my brain won’t let me accept it.” 

Around the coffee mug, your knuckles leach white, shoulder in a half-shrug, head tilted to meet it, like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin and the only thing holding you back is Eddie’s hands. “Sorry. I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job explaining.”

“You’re doing a great job.” Eddie soothes his thumbs against your wrist, and you melt into the touch, just slightly, but enough for your shoulder to drop back into place. “So… it’s not that you don’t like my compliments, it’s just, sometimes, it’s harder for you to take them?”

You nod, voice devoid of any usual color as you whisper, “Sorry.”

“Hey-” he tugs at your hand, finally getting your eyes on his, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Thanks for telling me. Now that I know what the problem is, you’re lucky I got a cure.”

“A cure?” Incredulous but curious, your eyes stay on Eddie’s even as he leans back against the booth, dropping your hand to spread out his own in a jazzy flash.

“Yup. Eddie Munson’s Surefire Cure to the Compliment Blues in Six Steps. Now, normally-” here Eddie leans in, conspiratorial, casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder to the near-empty diner before saying in a low tone, “-I’d charge fifty bucks a step. My methods are very exclusive and in high demand, but lucky for you-ooo…” This last word at a higher, sing-song volume as Eddie straightens to his full height, sweeping a grand gesture through the air, “I’m running a special.”

Your nose crinkles in amusement. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You can have all six steps for the low low price of taking my scheduled compliments- once a day, at the time of my choosing, no takebacks or backtalk allowed.” Eddie’s elbows come back to the table with a thunk, eyebrows raised in your direction. “We got a deal?”

“I guess I shouldn’t pass up this great offer,” you intone, dryly, but with a hint of levity that has you shaking Eddie’s outstretched hand. “Okay. You got yourself a new student, Mr. Munson.”

“Please, Mr. Munson was my father- call me Dearest Professor.”

A genuine laugh from you has Eddie finding his heart again, pulling it up from his stomach to slam properly into his chest as he catches your eyes again- “Also, lucky for you, my offer includes the first step. You are so beautiful, and pretty, and smart, and I love-”

“Wait, wait,” you titter, nervous and breathless, casting your own looks around the diner- “We’re starting now?”

“Ah ah. No backtalk. That handshake was a sacred oath,” Eddie chides. “As I was saying- I love you. Your hair looks lovely like that. Sometimes I think about stabbing my eyes out like that Oedipus guy just to make sure your face is the last thing I’ll ever see-”

“Not sure Oedipus is the best role model for-”

“No backtalk,” Eddie says, sternly, with a finger point that settles you back into the booth. “Fine. If I was Orpheus I’d look back at you one million times just to see ya. Better analogy?”

The pull of your throat is rough as you fight to swallow down words, nodding silently instead, squirming a little in your seat but still leaps and bounds better than any aftermath of a compliment that Eddie’s witnessed in weeks. 

“All right,” he sighs, ready to be done with pushing your comfort zone, wanting to take up the rhythm of your playfulness again something desperate. “Class is dismissed, for now. Good job.”

You glow under the praise- seemingly, a distinction between compliment and job well done, Eddie files that under his checklist- then ask, “So what’s step two?”

“Huh?” 

“Of your… Complimenting Me Until Death course. Or whatever you called it.”

Eddie takes another sip of coffee, spinning the laminated Nell’s menu around on the formica tabletop- folks can say what they want about ol’ Eddie Munson, but DMing has given him a very special skillset of pulling things out of his ass and turning them into gold. 

“Step two is ordering pancakes. Obviously. Get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

#THIS IS SO CUTE #i love him so much he’s so silly goofy

[hippiepowrs]

— if you're feeling lucky

pairing: fwb!eddie munson x f!reader

summary: friends with benefit never ends well... or does it? based on this prompt by @dumplingsjinson (wc: 1.2k+)

warnings: just absolute fluff, maybe tiny angst, and a kiss, and thats it, oh and my shitty writing.

author's note: ignore the corny summary im lazy. the title has no meaning i just luv that song omfg. not proofread. based on this lovely request i got from angel @voyeurmunson i hope i did it justice i am so very rusty!!!! and the ending is rushed i AM SORRY

pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Y​​ou knew this would eventually happen. You agreed to this stupid "arrangement" knowing that this would be the outcome.

Just because you couldn't keep your feelings in check. Just because the two of you kissed hazily one night, minds filled with each other and the cheap weed Eddie provided. Like a knot that had been waiting to be undone, unraveling, so quickly, fading just as much—if not more quicker.

You should've seen it coming.

From the way your last rendezvous ended, when you accidentally kissed him goodbye on his way home. It was a simple, honest mistake.

Or was it?

The two of you had a set of rules; fucking with no feelings attached, make sure none of it got in the way of your friendship. It was supposed to be simple.

But that goodbye kiss was intimate, more than just fucking, and much more than your stupid friendship.

His cheeks burned a salmon pink, your plushy lips tainting his with something he had never experienced before; pure affection. Making him splutter, almost tripping on his way out of your house.

You barely registered what you did when he finally left, too enamored to even notice. Your son-of-a-bitch subconscious playing its tricks on you, feelings acting out before your logic can even kick in.

Stress ate away at you, but you assumed he wouldn't make a big deal of it. That this wouldn't ruin anything. He would forget this by Monday.

By the time he ignores your fifth call, and even goes as far as to avoid you in town, you start to blame your poor assumption skills. Try to ignore the insecure feelings that churn in your stomach.

Anger replaces those thoughts in an instant, because how could he just fucking end things without even talking to you?

Did he not even like you as a friend anymore?

Did one kiss really disgust him this much?

A lump sits in your throat at the unanswered questions, anxiety seeping through your skin, eating away at your organs, consuming you.

And after hours of endless anxious thoughts rummaging through your mind—and a long talk with your girlfriends where they urged you to talk to him, you end up at his door, arms crossed against your chest, wearing a scowl.

He opens the door with a bewildered gaze, your name falling softly from his lips, like a prayer, devoid of the lewdness it held than the last time you saw him. Much more affectionate, shattering your heart in every way possible.

"What is your problem?" You don't mean to go all out on him, especially when looks this good, bittersweet gaze meeting yours, tousled curly hair framing his face just in the way that has your heart skipping a beat.

"W—what?" He splutters.

You brush past him in a fury, "do you hate me now or something?" Your anger doesn't hold the same weight anymore, tone now laced with insecurity, a sadness that finds its way into your skin.

You don't let him talk, "do you realize how fucking childish this is? Ignoring my calls? Avoiding me?" He watches the way your brows quirk when you explain yourself, teeth pulling on your bottom lip worry, he wants to kiss it, your thoughts, worries away.

"That's not—"

"You could've just talked to me if—if you had any problem, ignoring me is fucked up."

Plushy lips open to speak, to explain himself, but you don't let him, fluttering your thick lashes at him, rambling on and getting more and more upset each time you spoke, tugging at his heartstrings, making him want to slap himself for being the source of your worries.

"We could've just talked this out, you know? W—we could've set up clearer boundaries and uh—" You were growing more and more frustrated, words getting mashed together with how emotional you were being.

"Will you let me—"

Again, you didn't let him speak, wanting to get it all out, knowing that this might've been the last time you spoke to him. Ever.

Your lip wobbled at the thought. "I—I just... 'm sorry, I broke the rules, okay? I—I swear it won't happen again, I don't want our friendship to be—"

"I can't be friends with you anymore!" He breathed, tone loud enough to startle you, the weight of his words taking a while to sink in.

You gulped, physically, mind too hazy to register what he said, that horrible feeling caging your chest, eating up the words that are unable to leave your lips. "Oh... uh—uhm, o—okay." You nervously nip at your nails, not knowing what to do.

"I can't do this anymore, either." He adds, pointing toward the space between the two of you, and you're unable to meet his gaze, too scared. The tears begging to be let out.

"Why—" You take a deep breath before you continue, prying your gaze from his stupid wooden floors, and back into those swirly caramel hues, now big enough to hypnotize you. Softening you in seconds. "Why not?"

"Fuck..." He mumbles, this time he's the nervous one, cheeks flushed with the prettiest pink all over. Fingertips trace against your features, settling on your cheekbones, and you let him. "Because I'm starting to get greedy, sweetheart."

Hope gnaws at your insides, the way something flashes in his gaze has you healing all over, the hold both of you have over each other is strong enough to gravitate you, yet both of you are too dumb to see it, notice it.

Until now.

"I can't just have that and be okay with it... I want—fuck that, I need more," He grumbles, desperate, a silent plea. Your mouth grows dry, lashes fluttering heavily to process it, the world stops spinning on its axis at the implication of his words.

"I need you." You can't help the way your gaze turns mellow, melting into his touch, everything you craved, and more, right in front of you.

A little taste of heaven.

Rolling your eyes playfully, plushy lips stretching into the prettiest smile, followed by a giggle—a heavenly sound he decides he can't fucking live without. "You absolute idiot," you breathe with a shake of your head.

"You didn't think to tell me that? Were you just gonna pull away? Bury your feelings away?"

He mocks a thinking face, "I'd write a few songs about it too, probably." Grin growing wider the more he looks at you, barely registering what the fuck is going on. That you even showed up at his door. That you're even entertaining the idea of being with him.

He's at the palm of your hand, and you don't even know it.

"Idiot."

Pushing a palm over his chest dramatically, he tilts his head in a manner that has you wanting to squeeze his cheeks. "An idiot you like back?"

"Unfortunately." His lips downturn, an exaggerated pout that has your smile stretching.

"An idiot I like too much that it's embarrassing," you add with a scrunch of your nose, a gesture Eddie wants to worship, want to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

"I'll take embarrassing," he whispers, licking his lips before leaning in. You stare at his parted lips a millisecond longer, before pulling him by his stupid Hellfire shirt, pressing your lips hotly against his. 

Eddie only freezes for a second before his instincts take over, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat, deepening the kiss, lips parting to taste you, fully, completely. 

Only breaking the kiss once you consumed him, lazy smirk sitting on his lips, “Told ya we couldn’t be friends anymore,” he teases, that pretty dimple sitting on his cheeks. “Shut up,” you reply with a giggle, interrupting him before he can observe your features and try to drown you in compliments, fisting his shirt once again and pressing your plushy lips against his.

[hippiepowrs]

rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader thoughts?

okay so i've had a lot of thoughts about the rockstar!e.m. x rockstar!reader dynamic and i've thought about making a fic for a long time but now that i'm actually posting my fics i thought i would ask what you guys would prefer for a longer format narrative

if you have any other thoughts feel free to let me know :3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson

[hippiepowrs]

bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, on a sunny day Eddie's daughter bumps into you. (4.1k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

a/n: i think i might make this a little series if you guys would like that <3

It was warm outside. 

Early spring had its advantages, flowers started to bloom, the sun shone brighter and longer, and the rain fell only at night when you had trouble sleeping. 

You had just moved here, and you still weren’t sure or knew that much, so you tended to keep to yourself. You’d go to work, to the little shop on main street, back to your little trailer. 

You were sitting down on your little kitchen floor, looking at the way your washing machine turned around, waiting for your hair to dry after the shower, so you could sleep with fresh sheets tonight. You enjoyed this sort of calmness, a new found happiness that you weren’t aware you could achieve. 

You placed the white sheets on the little laundry basket that you had lying around, cloth pins scattered on its bottom. You held it, against your waist, your left hand grabbing it while you struggled to open the door. 

You whispered along the words of a song that was playing from a beat up radio from across the street, taking your time, as you placed every sheet perfectly, enjoying the sun shining on your face. It was all going as well as it could. 

“Hi.” 

It startled you, not as much as it could, the little voice coming from down below you, it forced you to look down, a little girl looked up at you, half hiding behind your sheets, she was wearing a black faded black sabbath shirt that didn’t belong to her, the seam of it well past her knees, white socks on her feet, her hair was black and curly, half hiding her eyes. 

“Oh. Hi.” You smiled at her, the sweetest tone you could fathom came out of your lips. She became shy for a second, as she grabbed one of your clothes pins and handed it to you. “Thank you, buddy.” You smiled as you grabbed it, placing it on top of one of your cushion covers, even if it didn’t need an extra one. “You’ll get your socks dirty.” You point out. 

She smiled in a shy manner, covering her face with her hands as she nodded. 

“Bug?” She turned around as soon as she heard his voice. Her arms went up, demanding to be held by him. “There you are!” He had a soft and playful tone, as he grabbed her. 

You felt stuck there for a second. He was tall, with curly dark hair, strong decorated by tattoos arms that flex when he held her, close to his chest. The same smile she seemed to have was imprinted on his face. It’s not that he is attractive -which he undeniably is- but he seems to shine, in a beautiful light, warmer than the sun. 

“I’m sorry if she annoyed you, we were playing hide and seek.” His words come out way too quicker than he had wanted them to, with an apologetic look on his face as he swayed his body, her giggles invading the space between you. 

“She didn’t, not at all.” You smiled at him, before looking back at her, she was giggling at you now, and a soft spot was found deep inside your heart. “She was helping me do laundry, actually.” You point out to the extra wood clothespin that she had given you. 

“Oh, so you can help the pretty lady and not me?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, the infectious laughter growing louder and stronger as he holds his face closer to hers. 

But you don’t really listen, the only thing in your mind right now is his voice calling you pretty. 

pretty, pretty, pretty. 

Your cheeks become warmer, pinker. 

As soon as he notices, he realises what he had said. 

He had called you pretty before even introducing himself. He feels like a fool, he meets a pretty girl and is only focused on the one in his arms. 

He tries to fix it, a soft grin dedicated to you as a nervous scoff leaves his lips. 

You don’t really mind the silence, or the opportunity to look at him, and his dark chocolate eyes, but you have the impulse to tell him your name, and you do, with an upside down smile that passes down to him. 

“I’m Eddie.” He says in return, grabbing your hand not thinking much of it, though he didn’t think he’d feel a sort of sparks as soon as your hand met his. To be fair, neither did you. “This little bug is Lua.” He adds, as he lets go of your hand, slowly, so his fingers can tickle her again, making her giggle once more, her tiny hands grabbing his hair in a playful manner. 

“Hi Lua.” It’s not that your voice comes out shy, but the high pitched baby voice makes your tone come out with a bit of a treble, as if nervousness that she wouldn’t like you took over. “Thanks for helping me with laundry.” You add, as she hides, pushing her face against Eddie’s chest, the pureness of that gesture makes your smile wider. 

If you weren’t so focused on Lua’s reactions, you would have caught Eddie lost into you, as he had never experienced such kindness or softness from someone that wasn’t already close. 

He was used to the stares, and the silent judgment from everyone, way before Lua came into his life, and mostly it came from people around his age, or way older. His constant thought behind a string of ‘shut up grandpa’ and ‘go back to your retirement home’ that he never said out loud. The world could be mean, but he would never let her little girl know that. At least not yet. 

He wasn’t used to this though. 

A kind stranger, around his age, that doesn’t really judge, and interacts in a playful manner with her. It was more than he could fathom. 

“‘r welcome.” Lua mumbled as she looked up from her hiding spot for a second, before burying herself back into his arms. 

Eddie’s heart felt full for a moment. Lua wasn’t used to strangers, and she didn't really like to talk out loud to people she wasn’t used to. Though these days she was only used to uncle Way and Stevie, or aunt Rob. So seeing her, not only talking back after you told her something, but having seen her approach you out of her own will, it made his mind stop worrying for just a second. Lua’s social ability was just as good as his in that moment. 

The thought made him smile to himself.

“We should check if our’s is done.” He mumbled to Lua’s ear as he started swinging his chest again, hugging her tightly as he felt how she was starting to get heavier. “That way you can stop wearing dada’s shirt.” He looked attentive at your face, waiting for your reaction. 

He felt better when he didn’t see nothing but a compassionate smile. 

Eddie was also used to people thinking he wasn’t the dad, maybe an uncle, maybe an older brother. Eddie was also used to people opening their eyes wide as soon as they hear dad when referred to him. 

But you didn’t. 

Truth be told, it did shock you a bit. But the little girl was a carbon copy of him. The same wide smile and wild hair. And the world was mean and complicated enough, you didn’t need to make it harder for someone you had just met. 

“We’ll see you around?” He asks, with a hopefulness on his voice that you’re not too sure what it means, or what you actually want it to mean. 

“Yeah, I moved in a while ago so…” He nodded as he pointed at the little trailer right in front of yours. 

“That’s us.” 

“Way!” Lua blurted out as she looked back at where she called home, and Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle and give her a kiss on her temple. 

“Yes! And uncle Wayne too.” You noticed that his tone is sweeter, calmer and a bit higher when he talks to the little girl on his arms than when he talks to you. “If you ever need anything…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, the end of it implied, and you’re left nodding, telling him that if they ever need anything you’re here too, waving bye to Lua as she looks over Eddie’s shoulder, her little hand waving back. 

You finish hanging your laundry dry, as you think about what just happened. 

You had finally made friends that weren’t work related, and one of them was a baby. You sort of chuckle to yourself. It felt stupid, but it also felt good, knowing someone here, and that someone being nice, and kind. 

It felt as if you were finally on the right path. 

-

“Bug, please?” Eddie whined for the fourth time, while Lua was still on the higher part of the couch, looking out the window. 

She shook her head again, Wednesdays were always the longest days in the Mudson household. Eddie took another big breath, while he looked at his wrist watch once again, afraid he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon. 

“Okay… You can either stay here with uncle Way, or you can come with dada to the garage. Please?” He bargained, for the last time, begging to some higher power she’ll climb down the sofa. 

He could scream out of excitement once she finally did. 

“friend?” She asked, in a mumble as she pointed out of the door. 

She had been doing that for a while now, ever since Eddie had found Lua in your yard, she kept asking to go see you, for some reason that escaped Eddie’s mind, her little girl seemed to have an infatuation with you. 

Eddie sat down on the floor now, and Lua started walking closer to him, he laughed in defeat as she giggled, her little steps approaching him. 

“Once I get back from work, deal?” 

Eddie held his hand out, waiting for her to shake it as she usually did when she knew she had won whatever she wanted -which happened frequently- but accepted with glee once she tried to hug him, with her usual clumsiness. Her arms not quite reaching the back of his neck until he helped her up. 

He enjoyed this little moment. 

Holding her close while nothing else was going on. A long day ahead of him that he wasn’t totally ready for, but then again he wasn’t really ready for a lot of things that he ended up being capable of. 

Wayne’s steps broke the small intimate moment. 

“You made a friend, Lua?” He asked as she giggled at the sight of him, even if he still was half asleep, Wayne always seemed to have more than enough energy for her. 

“She did.” 

“Who?” 

“New girl.” Eddie nodded at the trailer that could be seen through their window. 

“Huh.” Wayne had never been a man of many words, but the way his facial expression changed usually left nothing to the imagination. In this case, it was a warning. An overprotective warning. 

“She seems nice. Lua approached her.” She smiled, as she always did when she heard her own name. Eddie knew that she liked to be included, no matter what. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard. 

“You did?” Wayne’s eyes opened wider, as he squatted down to meet her eye level, she wobbled her way into him, as she giggled once again. She had a secret power, or at least that’s what Eddie thought, to make everyone happy. 

“Friend!” She said again, pointing at where she had last seen you. 

“Okay bug, see you in a bit?” 

“Lo you.” She muttered as she waved bye, Eddie’s heart warmer as he opened the door and blew her a kiss. 

“Love you too, bug.” Eddie opened the door, stopping on the frame as he always did, checking his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed with him. 

“Kid, if you plan on going over, make sure she’s okay with it. Not a lot of people are.” It was another warning, his left eyebrow raised, his tone sharper. Eddie just nodded. 

And before he knew it, he was already on your door, knocking and hoping you’re actually home. 

You were, and the nocks on your door wake you up. You had always been a light sleeper. You found your way out of your bed, and you didn’t care if your hair was a bit knotted than usual, messier or that your eyes were still adjusting to the light creeping through your windows. You opened the door and there he was. Tall, handsome Eddie, in his washed up jeans and his white shirt that had some small car grease marks on it. His opened blue short sleeve shirt with the little name tag made you smile internally. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, as soon as you made eye contact with him. 

He took a second, you stood there, sleep still present on your face and overall demeanor, but what caught his attention -even if he tried not to- were your naked legs, barely covered by an oversized shirt that you evidently used as a sleep shirt. Still, you looked pretty, he thought. He also felt bad that he had woken you up. 

“S’kay. Morning.” You half joked as you smiled up at him, your head resting against the door frame, your arms crossed over your chest, the air making you feel a bit colder than you were deep in your sheets. 

“Yeah, morning.” He was left speechless. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden he wished he hadn’t knocked. So you could be resting, being face to face with you, he could see the little bags under your eyes, and he imagined how much you were enjoying getting to sleep in. 

“You knocked to tell me good morning?” If you hadn’t had a smile on your lips, or your voice wasn’t as sweet and soft as it was, Eddie would have felt even worse. When in reality it made you inexplicably happy that he was the reason you had woken up. 

“No, yeah, sorry.” He chuckled in a nervous manner once again. “Uh, Lua has been asking for you, and uh… I’m done at work early today, and if it’s not too weird and if it’s okay we could come for a bit after, don’t worry if you don’t feel like it i-” 

“I’d love that.” You cut his nervous and anxious rambling off. “I’m free today, so I can go pick up some things for her?” 

Eddie relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his smile finally appearing. 

While you had to try hard to hide your excitement. 

“You don’t have to…” 

“Shut up. She deserves it.” 

Even if you weren’t aware of it, that was the best thing you could have said to him. But truth be told, you were actually excited, you had been thinking about him, and the promise of a new friendship since you had met him, so this? It felt like the perfect excuse. 

“What time were you thinking?” 

“Uh, I dunno, my shift ends at around six, so maybe…” 

“I’ll have snacks ready by six then, don’t worry.” 

He was way more thankful than he could express, but he tried his best anyway. 

“Thank you princess, it means a lot. Truly.” That nickname rang in your ears for a while, the same way it did when he had called you pretty. It was made obvious that you had liked it by the way you were starting to blush. 

“Don’t worry Edds.” You stayed just like you were for a second longer. Looking at him, and the way his dimples were showing when he smiled as wide as he did, and a spark in his eyes he seemed to reserve for you. “Hope you have a good day at work.” 

He was the one blushing now, and the one he was left with the way you had called him Edds, the sound of your voice present on his ears for a while after he had started driving. It wasn’t until he arrived at the garage, when he realised he was smiling at nothing, like an idiot. 

-

You might have gone a bit overboard. 

You had gone into town, and before you knew it your fridge was now filled with various juices and milk. The good ones that you usually didn’t buy for yourself. You had thought about baking a cake, but you ended up deciding that that felt too much as a birthday type of treat, so you went for your comfort recipe. 

The cookie dough was already done, and you were chopping up the chocolate bar into smaller bits. You hated dark chocolate, so milky sweet one was the only acceptable one. 

Morrisey’s voice kept you company as you mutter along the lyrics. 

You looked over your little home, you had cleaned, deeply. Afraid that Eddie would judge you, or that Lua would somehow hurt herself or something could happen to her. You tend to do that, over worrying about things you can’t really control. 

Then again, Eddie was doing the same thing. 

A quick shower, fresh clothes, and hair almost dry. Lua looked up at him with excitement, as he tried to find something else for her to wear. She had a tendency to steal his shirts when he wasn’t there, in an attempt to be close to him, or at least that’s what he thought. So the negotiation began. 

“Bug, which one?” On his left hand he had a light blue dress that Joyce gave him a few years ago, on his right he had a newer pair of overalls. She stood there, shaking her head as she hugged the shirt she was already wearing. “You need to get dressed if you want to go see your new friend, bug.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, as soon as she realised they were going to see you, she pointed at the overalls and had no issue getting ready. 

Thank god for you, he thought. It had never been that easy, normally Lua hated changing clothes, especially when she was already comfortable. But this time, she didn’t only do it, she helped, and was excited to. 

Lua wasted no time, her hands hitting your door as hard as she could, which resulted in soft knocks you still heard. 

“Hi.” She beamed up at you, holding her arms open for you, her voice higher than you remembered. It might be her childish excitement, or at least that’s what you think. 

“Hi Lua.” You met her level of excitement as you squatted down so you could meet her, her arms trying to hug you, waiting for you to help her get up so she could do it. Used to this type of hug with her dad. 

Speaking of, Eddie was speechless. Mainly because Lua doesn’t really hug people that are not him, or Wayne. Steve maybe had gotten two or three hugs, she usually blew kisses. Also he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted them there, or were just being nice, but that doubt went away as soon as he heard your voice, and saw the way you smiled at her. 

He also was pretty sure that he could smell cookie dough. 

Lua found her way in, passing you by as you greeted Eddie. She didn’t have time to waste, her curiosity always winning. In her defense, your house was full of colour, and she wasn’t used to it. Every pillow was a different colour, and they were everywhere. Your couch was green, which she didn’t even know that was a possibility. Your walls had photos, and posters, and drawings. She had so much to look at she was grinning from ear to ear, laughing as she moved around. 

Eddie did the same, in a more discrete manner. He found his way in the middle of your living room, he looked at the stacked shelves, they were full to the brim, various fantasy books that he recognised -mainly because he had already read them- cassette  tapes and vinyls also shared a big portion of space. He smiled to himself everytime he knew a group that you seemed to like. Your vhs collection also caught his eye. You, on the other hand, were left there, holding your hands in an anxious manner, not too sure what to do now. Seeing how father and daughter act the same in different ways. 

“You’re listening to the Smiths?” He asked, once he caught on to what was playing. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll uh… turn it off.” You became embarrassed, knowing that probably he didn’t like that type of music, or maybe it was too loud. Eddie smiled, shaking his head no. 

“No, it’s fine. Lua likes them, that’s all.” You looked down at her, and relaxed once you saw her dancing along. She was moving up and down, kind of in tune with the music. 

The little timer started, letting you know that the cookies were now done.

“Lua, you like cookies?” She didn’t even need to say anything, her eyes opened as she heard the word, she walked next to you, Eddie following closely. 

He grabbed her up, letting her sit down on the counter. He was grateful all the trailers were the same, that way he knew -kinda- where everything was. 

“Carefull, bug. It’s hot.” 

“Hot.” She repeated, pointing at the baking sheet that you took out, fresh golden chocolate chips came out. “For me?” 

“Well, not all of them.” Eddie answered, with an amused tone in her voice that made you chuckle in response. 

“We have to wait for them to cool down a bit.” You told her as you placed them on a plate, the tips of your fingers slightly burning. 

“Why?” Her eyes opened in wonder, not really following you. 

“‘Cause when they’re too warm, they can give you a belly ache.” You explained to her, earnest in your tone, as you touched your own stomach. 

“Only five minutes, bug.” Lua turned around, looking at Eddie with a confused look. “You can wait five minutes right?” She looked at him, slowly. You couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the way they share the same look between them. 

-

You were on the couch. 

Eddie didn’t count it as cuddling, not really. 

You were just sitting down next to him, his arm brushing yours, as you both looked between the T.V that was playing ‘Arthur and the Stone ’- you had a tendency to collect VHS, and the style and drawings had pulled you to buy it. You didn’t have an excuse until now to watch it, so you were just enjoying it as much as Lua did- and the little one, who was enamored by the story, while she colored in one paper lazily. 

Eddie had become a bit too comfortable. His body feeling heavier, warmer, he was on the verge of falling asleep. That same feeling shot sirens on his head. This felt too nice, too normal, too usual. He could get used to this, and that wasn’t good. 

He didn’t really know you. 

Eddie knew where you lived, how your living room looked, that you worked almost everyday -though he still didn’t know where-, and that you were incredibly nice. And sweet. 

Eddie also knew that Lua trusted you, and for now, that was enough. 

It was enough that you had taken time out of your day so you could bake them cookies, or buying the expensive juice that you had taken them in as if they had always belonged there. 

Lua giggled and Eddie’s eyes opened, seeing how she was pointing at the T.V when the boy turned into a squirrel, and the way she looked up at you, wanting to see your reaction. He was happy, more than he had been in a while. 

You were sinking deeper into the cushions. Deeper into him and this familiarity. You could get used to this, but you weren’t unsure if you should. You enjoyed spending time with them, and this was fun, but then again, it was scary. It scared you, the thought of it going wrong, or you doing something you weren’t supposed to, it was a bit too much. 

While you were sitting down there, with him that close, his smell lingering in the air, his warmness by your side, the risk of this crush evolving into something else was too much. 

You didn’t care. Not at all. 

Neither did Eddie. Not even a little bit.

-

there might be a part 2 coming soon! xx

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

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ok so my senior dog has not been doing great as of late (to put it lightly) and i'm taking her to the vet tomorrow, but the tests they're gonna want to run are gonna cost a very pretty penny (also putting it lightly) and unfortunately i am very very poor, so...

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one night lookin' pretty

eddie munson x fem!metalhead!reader

you and eddie hate school dances, but you decide to go to the prom this year--with someone who isn't eddie. eddie does not like that, but can't say anything.

a/n: this is my first longer fic so i hope you like it. prom season is coming up so this is kinda self indulgent (as if all my fics aren't). this one is for all my weird girls out there! title from one night in the city by dio btw. :)

warnings: hurt/comfort. angsty for a while but gets fluffy. swearing. a guy being a total asshole to reader. reader wears a dress. reader and eddie both self-described as 'freak.' eddie being a jealous and insecure idiot. both are oblivious as fuck. eddie is REALLY dorky. eddie's backstory and parents--i did not read that book so i don't care if it's canon. idiots in love in the end. pretty cliche but i don't care!

wc: 3.8k

It’s prom night, and Eddie is sitting alone on his couch. Without you. 

Usually, you guys skip every school event together in favor of watching a shitty movie and smoking half of his stock, but tonight was different. Someone asked you to the prom, and it wasn’t him. 

He’s been acting off for the past two weeks, you noticed. He’s been quiet and snappy, and has been opting to jack up the stereo instead of talk on your drives home. When you asked him what was wrong, he pushed you away. So, you left him alone about it. He made it clear he wanted his space.

He didn’t even want to show up to see you in your dress. You called him last night to see if he would come over–he told you he was sick. He wasn’t fully lying, though. The thought of you going to that stupid school dance with that stupid school boy made him nauseous. It didn’t make sense to him. How did you switch your views on the prom so fast? Months ago, the two of you laughed at the idea of going. Now, you were dressed up all pretty, just like all those popular girls you claimed to hate. He had to watch that sleazy ass car pull into to the trailer park, right up next to his. He’d never admit that he watched you step out of your trailer with that guy, and wished it was him. 

Being completely honest with yourself, your date isn’t even exactly your type. Todd isn’t some freak like you or your friends, but he isn’t a complete asshole either. He asked you in the hallway two weeks ago, and your instinct was to laugh at him. You laughed in his face, but he didn’t budge. He really wanted to take you to the prom, so you told him you’d go. It felt nice to be wanted. It was okay that he wasn’t some rock n’ roll dude like you’re into–it’s not like you’re marrying him. It’s just the prom. 

You and Todd arrive at the Hawkins High gym, hand in sweaty hand. Pushing the anxiety clawing at your throat back down, you give him a smile as you walk to get your photo taken together. The frilly, glittery background reminds you that this place isn’t for you. Again, you push that down. 

The music isn’t really your style, either, but everyone is having so much fun you feel the need to pretend. None of your friends are here, so you’re stuck. Maybe you should have pregamed, you think. Too late now. Todd pulls you onto the dance floor with a fervor you’ve never seen in him. You don’t understand how a person can have so much fun dancing to this shitty music. It’s a lot easier to get through when you pretend that Todd is Eddie, and you’re dancing to mixtapes in his room. You decide not to think about the implications of that right now. When the song ends, you offer to grab punch for the both of you. Maybe it’ll be spiked. 

As you make your way back to Todd, you see him chatting with a few of his friends, and from this distance you can just begin to hear them.

“So, when do I get my twenty bucks from each of you? She’s totally ruining my reputation right now.” He laughs, and your stomach churns.

“Okay, yeah, you proved us wrong. You got her here, you danced, you win.” His friend confirms the fear that’s been looming over you like a dark cloud since Todd first asked you out. 

“You at least better hold onto her long enough to get her home with you tonight, man!” Another friend cackles, and you think you’re going to vomit.

How were you stupid enough to think that he actually liked you?

God, you’re so gullible. 

At least there’s nothing to lose now, you think. Walking over to him, drinks in hand, you dump both of them on his head. They splash on his stupid hair and drench his stupid suit. The music keeps playing. A few people turn to look. The room doesn’t stop for you like some trashy romcom. Everyone just keeps going. 

Storming out to the parking lot, nothing can stop the burning tears from pouring down your face. You slump down against the brick wall, fabric of your dress sticking to the rough sidewalk. The warm spring air feels sticky on your cheeks. You wish you had stayed in with Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You need to call Eddie. Todd drove you here, so it’s either Eddie or walk, and these heels already hurt enough. Your body feels like dead weight as you drag yourself to the payphone on the wall, punching in the number that’s engraved into your heart. 

“Hey.” You greet, choked up. You’re trying to keep your composure. You know it won’t last long.

“…Hey. Havin’ fun with Mr. Popular?” There’s a bitterness to his tone. Usually he would’ve picked up on the fact that you were crying in a split second, but tonight he was too angry.

“Uhm, not really. Could you, uh,” you sniffle, blowing your thin cover, “pick me up? Like, now?”

You can almost hear his demeanor shift over the phone. A beat of silence passes.

“I’ll be right there.” He’s clearly still upset, because he hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. But his one-sided irritation can’t override the facts: he cares about you so much that he immediately hops in his van and starts speeding to the school, even faster than normal.

You sit back at the edge of the sidewalk, staring into the empty night over the parking lot. God, this is so cliché. Freak gets taken to prom as a joke; left crying outside. You know how pointless it is to cry over this guy. You don’t even care about him, to be honest. But it’s not really him you’re crying over. It’s the extensive disappointment you repeatedly put yourself through after expecting different results—it’s the fact that you haven’t stopped thinking about Eddie all night. 

As you begin to probe deeper into the ethical implications of falling in love with your best friend, said best friend whips into the parking lot, tires skidding as he pulls right up to you and parks. He drives just how he lives his life—with a sense of urgency and passion you don’t see in many. His van stops diagonally in the middle of the pickup lane, and he hops out of the driver’s side door, so worried he can’t be bothered to close it before sprinting to your side. 

For the past six minutes—which is Eddie’s new personal record on getting to the school from Forest Hills—his mind has been racing with every possibility of what could have happened to you tonight. Maybe Todd had another girl, or is just boring, or maybe you got totally Carrie’d and some assholes poured pig’s blood all over you. Not likely, but hey, you never know the determination of Hawkins’ resident assholes. At least if you got Carrie’d you’d look metal as fuck. That would be a good album cover. But that’s not the point. What he’s more worried about is the possibility that that dickwad touched you in any way. Just the thought is enough for him to completely light up—he got pretty close to breaking his steering wheel from how hard he was gripping it. 

“What happened?” He tries to act nonchalant, but that’s something he’s never been good at. 

Your head is held between your knees, looking down into nothingness. He’s staring daggers into the top of your head, and you can almost feel the fact that he wants to say ‘I told you so.’ Reluctantly, your wet eyes tilt upwards, the rest of your head following. 

“Let’s just talk in the van.” He sighs. 

You don’t budge. Your legs feel far too wobbly to imagine getting up right now. He has zero patience at the moment, it seems, as evidenced by the fact that he almost immediately picks you up bridal style and carries you directly to the passenger’s side of his van. He fumbles with the door handle for a second before setting you down gently in the seat. You watch him drag a frustrated hand over his face through the windshield as he walks back to his side, and although you know you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re worried that you did. 

The engine roars into life, turning your seat into a makeshift massage chair. Eddie pulls out of the parking lot as quickly as he pulled in, but with a little more focus. He doesn’t turn his music on, which is a bad sign. 

“It was a bet,” is all you can say, voice soft and defeated, “because, of fucking course it was.” You stare out the window, head tapping against the glass as he hits a pothole straight on.

“I told you that asshole was bad news.” His voice is laced with venom. He’s never been good at controlling his anger—especially when it has to do with you. 

You stay silent. Anything you say right now will probably just piss him off more. 

“Why do you—why do you always do this to yourself? You’re always finding these guys that just want to take you out to say they were able to take you out. They treat you like a fucking trophy.” He scoffs. 

You look at him again, tears still silently falling. Even if you wanted to say something to that, you can’t seem to find your voice. 

“I just don’t get it. You’re, like, totally perfect,” he coughs, gripping the wheel harder, “and these guys you find are total douches. You can do so much better.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone better around here,” you mumble while staring out the window, like some kid talking back to their parent for the first time. 

“That’s not my point!” His yell rings out against the hum of the engine, the dull drumming being the only sound left as he hangs a sharp right turn. “I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to find some guy that you throw your morals out the door.” Eddie’s eyes dart to you for a moment before looking back at the road. 

“I haven’t thrown my morals out the door.” You argue softly. 

“Yes, you have! We always said we’d never suck up to the bullshit they want us to do, that we’d never let them turn us normal, and here you are at the fucking prom.”

“Eddie, it’s prom! It’s not like I fucking stabbed my mother!”

“We’re supposed to be the freaks! We’re Hellfire! We piss people off! That’s our whole thing! You can’t just—fuck—just throw that out!” He groans angrily, pulling into Forest Hills, slowing down as you near the Munson trailer. 

“I’m not throwing it out.” You say, much more firmly. 

“You’re throwing me out!” There it goes, the root of the entire issue. He’s always been worried that you’ll find someone cooler, someone less abrasive, someone who will make you laugh and smile more than he can. Logically, he knows that would never happen, but he can’t help his fear. He throws the van into park and slams the door as he gets out. 

Eddie was eight when he met you. He’d been living with Wayne for a little over a year by the time you moved next door, but he was still struggling. His mother left him first, then his father. He missed his mom a lot, but his dad probably caused him more pain, knowing that he had the choice whether or not to stay, but Eddie wasn’t enough. Uncle Wayne was nicer to him than his father had ever been, but that can’t fix a broken kid. 

Then one day, you showed up in your ratty hand-me-downs, a year and a half younger than him. He thought that girls had cooties, but you were different. You didn’t giggle or try to hide your gaze like the other girls did when they made fun of him to each other. Instead, you walked right up to him and said hi. 

You were new, and you didn’t have the best clothes—he could tell you were probably going through something similar to him—so the kids at school kicked you to the curb. You were just as pretty as the other girls, he thought, if not prettier, as much as a seven-year-old can be. But that didn’t really seem to matter to them. Your lunchbox was plain, theirs had characters. 

When the two of you got to be in junior high at the same time, him in the eighth grade and you in sixth, he thought for sure that you would find new, more popular friends. It was incredibly shocking to him that you’d rather hang out with some dorky boy with an ugly buzz cut who’s two grades ahead of you than the other pretty girls, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

He’s lived with that fear constantly since then, always preparing himself to see you walking into school one day in some pastel sweater instead of your band shirts and battle vest. He knows you won’t, he knows you’re better than that, and he feels so guilty for always expecting the worst, but he can’t help it. 

You hop out of the passenger’s side of the van, holding up the skirt of your dress like some elegant princess. But instead of some grand, ornate staircase, you’re simply walking up the concrete steps of the Munson trailer and following Eddie, who’s storming inside. 

“Eddie.” You sound like a scolding mother, tears having dried up a few minutes ago, and you shut the door behind you. “Why do you think so lowly of me?” Your voice cracks with the weight of the question. 

Eyes widening, Eddie never realized quite how much his thoughts could affect you until right now. “I don’t,” he says softly. “You’re the best person I know.”

“You say that, but you always think I’m gonna leave you for someone else. You’re my best fucking friend. I’m not just gonna cut you off at the drop of a hat.”

“I- I know that,” he stammers out, a little shaken. 

“Do you?”

“Look, I,” he sighs, finally turning around, “I’m just scared. I’m scared that one day you���ll wake up and realize how fucking lame I am, and you won’t want to deal with me and all my bullshit anymore.” 

“The world isn’t against you, Eddie.”

He opens his mouth to quip back something snarky, but he closes it as he thinks about your words again. 

“You hate yourself so much that it’s beginning to rub off on me, because I’m friends with you, and if I like you, you think that surely there’s something wrong with me, too.” 

He’s stunned into silence, your words stabbing him straight through the heart. 

“Can you at least tell me why you were being a dick for the past few weeks?” You switch the subject slightly with a sigh. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Because of Troy asking you to prom.”

“Todd.”

“Yeah, whatever. He was my problem.”

“Why were you mad at me for that, though?”

“I knew he was gonna hurt you.”

“You didn’t say anything about that, though. You just said he was an ass once and then pushed me away for two straight weeks.”

Standing in the middle of the dark trailer, Eddie is presented with two options: confess his lifelong, undying love for you, or don’t. He knows that the only good and honest explanation he can give you involves a love confession, and he hates lying to you. But one thing trumps the fact that he hates lying to you, and it’s that Eddie is a complete and utter pussy. 

Eddie is, and always has been, a pussy. In middle school, you acted as his bodyguard—self-appointed, and very passionate—which only made him get bullied worse. You didn’t care. You’d defend him until the end of time. You’d take a hundred tugs to your ponytail or face-plants in the lunchroom so that he wouldn’t have to. You weren’t very loud or talkative in school, until it came to defending Eddie. 

To Eddie, you’re this glowing beacon of light and hope in his life. Everything good comes from you. And if he confesses his feelings to you, and you don’t feel the same, that pillar comes crashing down. 

But…what if? What if you did feel the same? That’s stupid, he thinks. Clearly you don’t, because otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to prom with another guy. And he’s sure you already know about his big, fat crush, and you’re choosing to act like you don’t notice.

“I’m sorry.” You can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s fingering riffs on the side of his thigh. 

“You always get so upset when I talk to guys. It’s not like there can be only one guy in my life.” 

“I know that, it’s just–” This is going to be the worst decision he’s ever made, and he knows it, but he can’t stop himself. “--I’m jealous, okay?”

“Obviously you’re fucking jealous, dickweed.” As you call him your favorite nickname, the intent behind his words reaches you, and your cheeks begin to heat up. “…Wait.”

“Have you seriously not picked up on this yet?” Eddie is genuinely surprised at your reaction. “You—you’re perfect, you know that? You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know how you do it.” His voice is softer than normal. 

“Yeah, but—like, are you serious?” You ask. 

“I wouldn’t joke about this. I’ve been, like, totally into you forever. I’m surprised Gareth or Jeff didn’t say anything to you.”

“They did a while ago, but I thought they were messing with me.” 

“Okay, I honestly can’t blame you for that.”

A moment passes in silence, and you think about how to respond. 

“You know, I didn’t really want to go with Todd.”

“What? Why did you then?”

“I hoped that you would ask me,” you admit, eyes drifting to your feet, “but it was kind of a stupid thing to expect.”

His jaw goes slack as he hears you speak. 

“I guess that I’ve just kinda had this pipe dream where we’d go to prom together, and I’d be able to dress up all pretty, and we could dance together.” You avoid his gaze, until you hear him scurrying down the hallway. 

He emerges back out with his stereo in one hand and a cassette in the other, scrambling to place it down on the kitchen table and shoving the tape inside. He immediately skips to the song he has in mind. The familiar sound of Tommy Lee’s piano starts from beside you, and before you can figure out what’s happening, he’s offering his hand to you. 

“May I have this dance?” 

A smile grows on your face. “God, you’re such a fucking dork.” Your insult doesn’t come without placing your hand in his. He’s bright red, and he’s never slow danced in his life. 

Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home is interrupted occasionally by the sound of feet stepping on feet and the subsequent ow!’s that follow, as well as the flustered giggling of two idiots in love. 

Eddie pulls you a little closer, his hands firmly planted on your waist. “You look really beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, “sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

He feels extremely underdressed compared to you, him in his favorite torn up pair of black jeans and an Exodus muscle tee, and you in your stunningly gorgeous dress, looking prettier than any princess he could ever imagine. 

“Thank you,” you mumble back, flustered, “you don’t look too—fuck!—too bad yourself, you know.” A playful giggle comes with your words, and a huge grin grows on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah?” He teases, looking right in your eyes. 

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you giggle, staring right back. 

Leaning in, he lets out a nervous laugh before pressing his lips to yours. It’s not some magical explosion of energy that cures all your problems and fixes world hunger; but his lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like weed, gummy worms and a hint of shitty beer, and it feels right. 

You kiss him a few more times before the song ends, all quick and chaste but completely full of love. Pulling you along with him, not wanting to let go, he pauses the tape and the trailer goes quiet again. 

“Was I better at that than Troy?”

“Todd.”

“Point still stands, fuckface.”

Eddie drags you down the hall to his bedroom, the familiar ambiance warming you like a comforting blanket. Jumping onto the bed with a plop, the boy pats beside him invitingly.

“Can I change first?” You ask, ecstasy of the moment wearing off, allowing you to remember how itchy this damn dress is.

“‘Course. Your shirt is clean if you want it.” He calls it your shirt, but it was his at one point. The old Metallica tee used to be his favorite one, too, which meant it got a lot of wear and tear. But then you started wearing it at sleepovers, and it quickly became your shirt. Eddie didn’t like to wash it afterward because it smelled like you. He always felt like a creep for that.

Your hand tries its best to wrap around and pull the impossibly tiny zipper down, but it doesn’t want to budge. Eddie, watching you as intently as ever, quickly notices and jumps up to help you. His fingers move to your waist, soft and nimble, and gently undo the zipper for you. You let your dress fall to the ground, and he looks away, flustered. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in your underwear before, but now it feels a lot more serious.

Quickly throwing on the hole-filled Metallica shirt and a clean pair of his boxers, both of you hop back into his bed. You’ve shared plenty of nights here before, but once again, now it feels different. You sense that it will become a common theme for your life in the near future. His hands snake back around your waist and pull you next to him, and you allow your head to rest against his chest.

“So… does this mean you’re, like, my girlfriend now, or what?” A goofy smirk is plastered across his face as he asks. 

You try to playfully shove him off of you, to no avail. “Are you seriously fucking asking me that?” You’re trying so hard to act angry, but your giggles give you away.

“Yes, yes it does.” You seal it with a kiss. Then one on his cheek, and the other, and his forehead, and the tip of his nose.

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

#hes such a dork you cant convince me otherwise #like he would be sooooo corny #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #eddie munson hurt/comfort

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patchwork

eddie munson x (implied) metalhead!reader

eddie wants to add a new patch to his vest but hates sewing.

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic!!! this one is based on the fact that i think eddie would be bad at sewing. like he could be good at it but it's funnier to think that he's not. also you will probably see a lot of metalhead!reader from me bc it's self indulgent and there's just not enough of it.

warnings: fluff. gn!reader. sewing needles (obviously). one mention of blood/vague mentions of eddie stabbing himself with sewing needles. established relationship. no reader pronouns. no use of y/n. use of "babe," "baby," and "sweetheart" as nicknames from both. playful bickering. eddie is a biter and impatient as fuck. swearing. sort of eddie's pov i guess?

wc: 877

Eddie is good with his hands. It’s undeniable. Between chords, riffs, strumming, and picking, his calloused fingers know how to move, and they know it well.

But the one thing he always struggled with was sewing.

To him, sewing was like the devil. A necessary evil in his life, but evil nonetheless.

There’s a reason his vest has always stayed so empty. Well, a few, but the main one is the fact that his fingers can never get the needle to move quite how he wants it to. He’s always stabbing himself so hard it draws blood, somehow. One time the needle went clean through. He was able to crack it for long enough to get his back patch on, and one or two more, but then he decided he’d be able to live with it like that. At least for a while.

But now he has you. You, the beautiful thing laying on the floor of his bedroom. You, the one with a cooler vest than him. He can’t let that slide for much longer, can he? He finds himself trying to sew on a new patch he got up in Indy, but he’s already giving up.

“Babe,” He calls from atop his bed, “can you sew this for me?” He gives you that look. The one where he tilts his chin down and looks up at you with his big, wet eyes and bats his eyelashes when he wants something.

“You can’t finish it yourself?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice that he’s keen to pick up on. 

“It’s–ugh… it’s just not going well.” He sighs, frustration showing. 

You stand up from your place on the floor and snake into the spot next to him on the mattress, getting as close as you can without sitting on top of him. 

“Baby, you have like… five stitches done.” You say, looking up at him with a sarcastically annoyed glare.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, though.” He pouts, playing it up like he always does.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure whether to argue or just accept it.

“Ugh, fine. Give it to me.” You pretend to be annoyed, but in all honesty, you can’t help but adore that he relies on you for things like this. It’s weirdly sweet, just like him. You’re able to quickly get into the groove of stitching the patch on, up and down, out and in. It’s relaxingly repetitive, but Eddie is looming next to you. He’s leaning over, a little too close, mesmerized by the way your hands work.

“Ed, can you get out of my fucking face?” You say playfully. He leans back a little to watch from a distance for a minute before leaning in and sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “Ow, you dick.”

He’s as impatient as ever. You can feel the way he’s practically vibrating beside you as he waits for you to finish with the stitching. 

“Go do something,” You tell him, knowing you’re only halfway done, and he won’t last at this rate. 

“But I wanna watch.” He pouts again.

“Put some music on at least, please?” You ask, putting on a softer tone so you know he’ll get up and do it. 

When he reaches his tape deck, he starts shuffling through his collection, trying to find the one that calls out to him. The previous album you were listening to finished a while ago, and neither of you were bothered enough to get up and change it. Eddie finds the cassette he was looking for, and pops it in with a grin. 

It’s the mixtape he made for you for your third date. A little corny, he knows. But, he’d never really gone out with anyone before he went out with you, and he didn’t want to fuck it up. Especially not when he found the coolest person to ever grace this horrible town. 

Your third date was a night that he’ll never forget. He picked flowers out of the rich neighborhoods’ front gardens, made a glorious mixtape out of all the music you guys talked about loving, and showed up to your house on time. That’s big for him. 

He took you out to a real dinner. It might’ve just been the little Italian place on Main Street, but Eddie made sure to save extra cash for the week leading up so that he had enough to pay for you. 

And now here you are, sitting on his bed, sewing for him. It’s so domestic that he thinks he’s going to explode. The way you’re so comfortable in his space, and you’re so comfortable around him. 

“I’m done, babe.” You softly call to him, holding up his prized possession to show your handiwork. 

His eyes widen when he sees you, the giant smile on your face, so proud of yourself—and an even bigger grin breaks out on his own. He almost tackles you onto the bed, engulfing you in one of the most aggressive, warmest hugs he’s ever given you. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” His voice is muffled in the hug, but he makes his point clear by littering your cheek with kisses. With one big smack of his lips on your skin, he mumbles, “God, I love you.”

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic

[hippiepowrs]

about me ୨ৎ˙⋆.˚

gwen. eighteen. they/she. writer, metalhead, fictional character obsessor.

new here, will figure this out as i go along.

requests open. messages always open, i need more people to talk about my interests with.

current interests: eddie munson. (not really ST, only him and some steve.) the lost boys. lisa frankenstein. basically all metal. stardew valley.

i will probably only write fem and gn reader. not really a ship writer. ♡

masterlist below the cut.

pinterest. artfight. letterboxd.

masterlist

eddie munson

he's a goner - fluff, gn!reader, 571 words

patchwork - fluff, gn!reader, 877 words

one night lookin’ pretty - hurt/comfort, fem!reader, 3.8k words

weed smoking boyfriend - fluff, gn!reader, 562 words

you really got me - fluff, gn!reader, 655 words

[hippiepowrs]

he's a goner

eddie munson x gn!best friend!reader

a/n: this is the first fic i'm ever posting on here i'm so nervous plz don't eat me guys

warnings: pining. yearning. longing, if you will. just eddie being totally whipped. swearing. weed use/vague descriptions of being high. d&d terminology. one line from gareth. no use of y/n or reader's pronouns. eddie's pov.

wc: 571

Eddie’s in way too fucking deep.

Maybe this is salvageable?

No, he’s a goner.

It’s not like this is a scene he hasn’t watched before–his best friend laughing, giggling, and smoking with the rest of the older Hellfire boys–hell, it happens every week. But there’s a certain point where the high starts to hit him just right, and he can’t help himself from staring at you. Despite his typical loudness, the usual brash and joking demeanor that overtakes him, he just sits in his chair, quieter than ever. It’s not unheard of for him to get quiet, so nobody thinks anything of it.

You’re the prettiest person to ever exist, he thinks. He finds himself thinking that a lot. The way one corner of your mouth lifts a little more than the other when you smile, the way your eyes crinkle, the way you sparkle as you giggle; he loves it all. He loves the way you look when you blow smoke through your lips. He’s never been more honored to roll in his life. He’d buy all the weed in Indiana if it meant he got to watch you smoke it. 

Eddie often finds himself wanting to write about you or draw you, but he’s nervous he won’t capture you correctly. You’re the kind of beauty that only the Greeks could capture. He wishes he could sculpt like them, just to be able to sculpt you.

A nudge to his arm breaks him out of his trance. He sees you smiling up at him from the floor. It’s a sight he hopes he’ll get to see for the rest of time.

“Ed,” You say, voice soft and a little tired, “Can you back me up here? Can you please tell these nerds that fighter isn’t the best class?” 

“What?” He mumbles, still out of it. “Guys, literally any class is as good as you make it. Except monks.”

“Fuck off.” Gareth responds, throwing a handful of chips in his mouth.

Eddie zones back out after that. Whatever B-horror movie Jeff brought continues to drone on in the background as you and the guys continue to argue, but he can’t be bothered to listen to any of the words he hears. By the time he zones back in, the guys are standing up and brushing themselves off, clearly ready to leave. They say their goodbyes and Eddie waves them off, leaving him alone with you. 

“Is it cool if I sleep over tonight?” Your voice is his favorite thing to hear. Even better than Hetfield or Dio.

“‘Course.” He says, voice more grumbly than he expected. “You know you’re always welcome to.” 

He watches you stand up, watches the way your shirt rides up as you stretch, admires the sleepiness in your eyes. He wants you in his bed, next to him, he wants to wake up to your face in the morning. He wants the smell of your shampoo to overwhelm him. He wants to kiss you, soft and sweet.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He mumbles under his breath, running a hand over his face before standing back up. Your footsteps are already trailing down the hall to his room, and he quickly follows. You’re halfway through throwing one of his shirts on, which you do every time you sleep over. He’ll never get tired of the way his worn-out shirts hang off your body. He’ll never get tired of you. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #first fic #this is so nerve wracking guys please #eddie munson x best friend reader