#80s moodboard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biancadjarin · 2 years

Text

Head Over (Chanel) Heels

EM x spoiled! Reader (self-insert)

chapter one chapter two chapter three

Tonight has to be perfect. Your parents left the house to you for the week while they take their annual anniversary trip to Europe and you vowed to throw the best end of summer party this town has ever seen. Every senior in Hawkins is invited, at least the ones you want to see outside of fluorescent lights. You invited everyone from your private school and your neighbor and good friend Steve is inviting all the cool ones from Hawkins High.

“A rager y/n? Are you sure you can handle that?” Steve asks as he drives towards your house. “We can just hang out this weekend and watch a movie like we always do. You pick, I’ll get it at family video” he smiles at you, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching out to rub your knee. “No Steve I wanna do this. I’ve thrown parties before.” “You, me, Nancy and Robin doesn’t count as a party, princess.” He teases. You roll your eyes, facing out the window, ignoring him. He pulls into your circular driveway, shifting to park. Steve sighs, “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up if it doesn’t go the way you think it will. That’s all.” He pushes out his bottom lip, pouting at you. You can’t help but laugh “Steve everything is going to be great! You just worry about inviting people from your public school.” You say like it’s a bad word. “And I’ll take care of everything else. Get ready for the night of your life!” You pop open the door and swing it shut with a spin, your plaid skirt twirling around you and you skip up to your palatial house.

As you stand in your black lingerie in front of your LBD section of your closet, you run your fingers over the options. Satin, silk, lace, cashmere. You land on a beautiful vintage Valentino dress, a hand me down of your mom’s, satin and shorter than originally after you had it hemmed, long ribbons draped off the shoulders, a golden clasp in the middle. You hear your girlfriends downstairs giggling and popping champagne bottles, people already ringing your doorbell. You’ll take a little more time primping and then you’ll make your entrance.

You take in the party from the top of the stairs, music and conversation already at a high volume. Madonna’s Material Girl blasts as you start your descent. All eyes turn to you, smiles dancing across people’s faces as they drink you in. When you get to the bottom your 3 besties from school run over to you shouting empty compliments and praise. “Here’s your drink, Y/N.” You take the glass and head towards the kitchen to pop a frozen raspberry in your glass. You keep them in the freezer, never know when you’ll need one. You push the swinging door to the kitchen and almost bump into someone holding a beer. “Oh” you say, surprised. “Sorry” he chuckles, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“And who are you?” The long haired boy looks left and right, making sure you’re talking to him. You raise your eyebrows at him in anticipation. “E-Eddie.. and you are?” He asks in return giving you a toothy grin. “Who told you you could crash my party Eddie?” You put your full glass down and slink over to his side of the island in your kitchen. Planting your palm on the cool marble, standing close to him, craning your neck a bit to meet his pink rimmed eyes. “I-uh-Steve-uh-Harrington. I came with him.” “Hmm… Steve must really be desperate for friends after him and Nance broke up.” You let your eyes fall down to his chest, dingey faded concert tee causing a small wince to escape your throat in disgust. He reeks of weed. Unbelievable. But he also smelled warm and woodsy. Like leather and generic bar soap. You aren’t sure if you like it or hate it.

Eddie dipped his head down and to the side to meet your eyeline, “I-I’m sorry if me being here isn’t cool.” His eyes sparkling with sincerity. “But, if it helps,” his wolfish smile returning to his face, his cheeks pushing up little wrinkles by his eyes, “I have party favors”. Your eyes go wide as he pulls out two skinny white rolled up papers and holds them up to your face with his pale, slender fingers. “And you brought drugs to my party?” You scoff “M’going to find Steve.” You begin to storm out of your kitchen when you feel his hand shoot out and grab your waist. “Wait y/n wait.” He pleads. You turn around with a furrowed brow, eyes shooting daggers at him. “That is your name right? Y/n?” His eyes study your face as you grit your teeth at him. Who does he think he is putting his hand on me, on my vintage Valentino?? “Listen, I’m sorry about the weed.” He slips the joints back into the pocket of his tight black jeans, your eyes watching as his fingers push them down deep into his pocket. He takes a step closer to you, softening his voice to a whisper. “But if you let me stay, I promise I’ll be good.” His hand’s still on your hip but you don’t move. Can’t move. Feel like you’re in a trance looking into his deep mysterious eyes. His fingers knead softly at your waist until the sound of glass shattering back out in the living room snaps your attention back to reality. You shake your head, hand pushing into his chest. “Fine” you reply with a roll of your eyes as you turn and push through the swinging door back out to the party.

The party goes on smoothly, Steve and Eddie mingling and drinking, Eddie’s eyes watching you when he thinks you’re not looking. You make your way around the party, small talk with everyone, make sure the drinks are filled and the music is good. You’re pretty tired and close to hitting your social butterfly limit. You grab a glass of champagne, really your first drink of the night, and make your way outside to your back patio. Most people are mingling around the pool, the under lit water casting a glow making everyone around it look icey blue. You lean on the decorative cement half wall that separates the tiles of your patio and the grass of the garden and take a swig. “Having fun?” A voice appears beside you. You turn, looking him up and down, then turn back with a flip of your hair. “I’m having a fabulous time.” Eddie smirks, his forearms leaning on the wall next to your hand that isn’t holding your champagne, beer bottle fidgeting in his fingers. “Looks like it. Over here all alone.” “Is there something you need?” You ask condescendingly. He shrugs taking a swig of his beer. “This place is beautiful” he points towards your backyard with his chin “I thought Steve’s house was nice..which it is but this is…” he whistles as his eyes widen. Your heart softens at how persistent he is to be nice to you. “Thanks” you say coldly. “Maybe you can show me around?” You cock an eyebrow at him. He straightens up and stands close to you. “Like a private tour? Just me?” You hate that the sound of his voice is making butterflies appear in your stomach but here we are. He watches you waiting for a response, your eyes focused on the glass in your hand as you swirl the champagne around it. You scan the crowd, everyone seems to be having a good time, they probably wouldn’t notice your absence for ten minutes.

You push off the cool cement and meet his eyes, giving him a scowl. “C’mon” you motion him with your hand as you start to head back in. He follows you like the puppy dog he is. “I think you’ve seen the first floor” you say over your shoulder. You don’t wait for a response but he nods anyway, watching as your hips slink up your grand staircase. Your baby pink Chanel kitten heels clicking on the marble with every step. Your dress is probably a little too short to be climbing stairs in front of someone you think as you peek over your shoulder at Eddie. His head tilted and eyes half-lidded as he tries to catch a peek, his gaze snaps back to your eyes quickly. You giggle and continue up the stairs. Once at the top, you lead him down the hallway. “The first guest room” your red manicured finger points. “Bathroom, ‘nother bathroom, ‘nother guest room. Parent’s room. Mom’s closet-” “Your mom’s closet is a whole room?” Eddie asks, mouth agape as he stares at the white closed door. “Wait until you see mine.” You smirk at him. You lead him to the end of the hall, pausing at your double frosted French doors, your hands poised on the handles. You feel nervous. Why am I bringing him into my room again? “This your room?” Eddie’s soft voice interrupting your thought. You spin and turn to face him, leaning on the doors. “Listen, Eddie-” his face lighting up when you say his name, puppy dog eyes sparkling, dimples deepening. “I don’t let many people into my room. It’s like my… special place. You understand?” “I don’t know what I did to deserve this honor.” He says bowing his head at you and looking up through his dark lashes with a giggle. “But I accept.” You sigh, holding in a smile and turn back around, opening your doors. You hear the opening chords of Tears For Fears’ Head Over Heels starting to play down stairs. 🎶I wanted to be with you alone🎶. “Woah” Eddie says as he takes a step “wait” he freezes, eyes wide. “Shoes off” you say pointing at your creamy area rug. He nods and slips off his black boots, letting them fall by your desk. You watch as he wanders around, taking in what you take for granted everyday. “Smells really good in here” he says as his fingers absentmindedly tap the neck of his beer bottle. “Holy shit!” His body moves faster to the wall opposite your bed. “Is this your guitar?” He points at the Les Paul hanging there. “No” you smile sweetly “my dad’s. He used to play. In the 70’s.” “Coooool.” His eyes glued to the shiny black paint. “You mind?” He asks, hand hovering over it. You shake your head. You’d tried to learn but gave up after one lesson. You didn’t have the patience for something so tedious. Eddie lifts it gently, walking backwards to sit on the edge of your bed, placing it on his lap. He slowly begins to turn the knobs at the top and tickle the chords, tuning it by ear. A moment later he’s playing a few notes. G, F sharp, E, D, E. The same song playing downstairs.

“You play?” You ask him, raising your eyebrows, walking closer. His skilled fingers dancing around the neck. He breaths a gust out of his nose, “Do I play?” He mocks, “babe, you’re looking at the guitarist and sometimes lyricist of Corroded Coffin.” He winks at you, fingers not missing a beat. “Am I supposed to know what that is?” “Probably not” he looks up at you “but maybe you could come watch us sometime.” You snort out a laugh, “yeah I’ll put that at the top of my to-do list”. He smiles softly, eyes falling to your legs and slowly sweeping his gaze upwards. “C’mere” he says suddenly. You look at him questioningly. He slides the guitar off his lap, holding the neck in one hand and pats his thigh a couple times. “I’ll teach you something. C’mon!” He says excitedly. He scooches back just enough from the edge of your bed to create a little spot for you to sit between his spread thighs. Everything in you is saying not to but you feel your heels start to walk towards him anyway. You let your hands come out from behind you to steady yourself on his thighs, nuzzling in perfectly to the spot he made for you. He pushes his chest to your back as he raises the guitar again to rest on your laps, the curve of it fitting perfectly over one of your thighs. “So this hand goes here” he takes your left hand in his and raises it to the neck, “and this one” he grabs your right hand and gently places it along the strings, his fingers resting on top of yours. “You feel how they get thicker as they go down?” “Mhm” “Now you gotta press pretty hard with this hand and then strum softly with this one. Got it?” “Mhm” His left hand leaves yours to graze over your collarbone, collecting the hair that sits there and pushing it behind your shoulder. “Do you have a favorite song?” He asks as he rests his chin on your exposed shoulder, his mouth just inches from your ear. You feel his eyes looking at you through the corner of yours. Words, say words y/n. “Um.. Landslide?” He hums, “Fleetwood Mac?” You nod.

His fingers begin to gently press over yours along the fret and you let your right hand strum the chords. The room fills with the soft sounds of your favorite song and your heart begins to soften as the corners of your smile lift up. Eddie’s heart is beating faster and faster as you melt into him, his chest completely flush against your back, his eyes looking over your shoulder as his chin still rests there. Your nerves begin to dissolve when you realize he’s just as nervous to be this close to you. You decide to mess with him a bit. “Am I doing this right?” You ask him in your best ditzy voice. He leans forward some more, eyes dipping down to where your hand is motioning. You arch your lower back slightly and lift your ass, dragging it against his crotch slowly. His breath catches, grunting slightly “Y-yeah you’re-you’re perfect, y/n”. You wiggle your hips slightly, pushing them further into his lap. “I’m what?” You ask, grin growing wider. His chest rises and falls with a small laugh. “I can’t be the first person who’s called you perfect. I mean-look at you.” You feel his crotch starting to tent beneath you, something long down his tight pant leg beginning to grow firmer.

He slips his hand down and behind the guitar, snaking it around your waist, his tattooed arm pulling you impossibly closer to him. His mouth is near your ear again, his warm breath tickling you. He hovers there for a moment before kissing right behind it. Your body’s burning up, chest rising and falling with your quickened breath. You gently lower your dad’s guitar to lean against your bed frame. “Guess our lessons over.” He laughs. “Why’s that your favorite song?” The fingers on his hand that isn’t hugging you tracing down your shoulder blade, kisses following behind them. “My dad used to sing it to me. When I was little.” “Aww” he coos, “didn’t think you’d be the sentimental type.” You roll your eyes, “you don’t know much about me.” “That’s not true.” He smiles against your skin. “I know your favorite song, I know you smell like roses and your skin is as soft as one. I know you don’t let just anyone into your room so that must mean..” he pauses to lift you roughly onto his lap, pushing his hands into your hips, bunching up the buttery fabric of your expensive dress. “It must mean you want me here.”

Part 2 here 🫶🏻

#self insert fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson moodboard #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #Eddie munson x spoiled! reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfic #80s moodboard

151 notes · View notes