#eddie munson x original character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punk-in-docs · 2 years

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🕷 Don’t Need Telling Twice 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.4k words

Summary: Movie Night at Eddie’s place. All the little things that sneak into the cracks in between new love and affection. So I was intending to get a lot filthier with this but somehow it turned out sweet enough to rot your teeth- Eddie being insecure. Wayne being parental, Pencils being nervous. Let’s see how they iron it out man. (It’s really just me waffling about insight into these two lovebirds)

Saturday morning in your scruffy yet clean kitchen. Stereo cranked high. Melded into your happy place.

The bright slip and drip of the opening guitar licks to ‘Should I stay or should I go.’ Joe’s condescending spitting voice begins. You twirl around with the greased baking sheets in hand.

The kitchen is warm, it’s got this odd glow about it, from the slanted sun gushing in through the cream drapes that have yellow flowers on them. The shabby wood cupboards and the creamy tiles of the breakfast counter with its little peach-pink roses, which is now cluttered with baking trays.

Entirely rose tinted in your view. But you’re blasting the Clash. Loud enough to wake the neighbours.

You’re making cookies for your date tonight. Moms tattered pink apron hanging limp off your body from too many washes. Really it’s a scratchy old thing.

This morning did come around quick. Sunrise like a copper-red wound knifing slashes across the sky. Burning the whole horizon to that fantastic blood orange. You’re too squirmy to sleep. Too excited.

Seeings as you were up early, you put it to use and ran to the store. And now you were knee deep in cookie batter. Chocolate chip. Little starbursts of Cocoa powder and flour dusted everywhere. Head banging, head shaking and hair flicking along to Joe Strummer and his ridiculing tone.

You kick the walnut stained cupboard door closed. It’s wonky and juts out like a stubby tooth snapped off a jaw. It’s always been like that.

Every door in your kitchen creaks. Whines all aged. The appliances have their knacks and sticky tricks that come with years and years worn behind them. Temperamental.

Sure even your whole house is nothing fancy. You’ve never had that much money to scrape together, or give a shit that the whole place is dated. One thing wins favour over all that; your place is cosy.

It’s stuffed with life. Scored deep with it. Consumed. It’s not some ultra chic monotone black-red wasteland. It’s got posters and art on the walls, the crazy bohemian touches that come from your entirely whacky mother.

Sure this house wasn’t all that. But she made it great, and celebrated it in it’s own uniqueness.

Same goes for the best kind of people too. She’d say that to you with a wink.

Handfuls of pennies and some imagination went a long way. Clicking her tongue and shooting you her fierce brand of optimism that seeps out her every pore: eternally unflinching.

A lot of it, this house, echoed its funky warm pattern after the musical, magical, mental, woman who birthed you.

Forever hunting thrift stores for funky things. Weird shaped clocks. The Who posters. 60’s pop art. French Impressionism posters. Stupid cartoon lamps with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on the shade. Broken and chipped from the Goodwill but she liked that it wasn’t perfect or level.

She bought prints of famous artworks. Degas. Van Gogh. Millet. Flower drawings, or pressed leaves and flowers behind a sheet of glass. Not one piece of furniture matches in your living room. Or any room. The rugs are old and squishy soft, worn to death. It’s whacky to say the least. But you’d take it over any home they’re always flashing from the interior pages of a magazine.

She has blue daisy pillows on the couches. Always buys godawful cheap lemon candles that are all sugar acidic when they burn. But it cements that scent of home to you now.

There’s no inch of wall space not covered by frames or colour. One day she got up and impulsively painted your kitchen a bright buttery yellow. Just because. Flowers stamped everywhere cause she saw the idea in some hippy book.

And she filled this house with second hand books, too many, spilling over with them. She crammed your home with laughter, and literature, arts, and so many idols of your taste in music came from her.

You wouldn’t trade her for the entire world.

Flighty and bonkers as she is. You hate her being away so often, and with Charlie gone off now with her serious boyfriend, it does chip at you on the sadder days. Being here alone. It gouges just that little bit more when she’s not around.

The days when Linda says something particularly cutting, or times when jocks insults jab just that little too deep. You do miss her then. You can’t hate her for it. her job is a real earner and it makes her so happy. She brings you back souvenirs from every little corner of the globe she’s seen. Postcards. Snow globes.

She trusts you. She always says you’re her favourite kid in the world. That she knows of.

She’s not like some of the other Hawkins Moms you’ve seen. Not at all. The ones who all go to the same lousy hairdresser for the ruler straight highlighted bob. Go to Jazzercise on Thursdays. Hate their ignorant husbands. Wear beige cardigans and chunky gold jewellery and are the queen of boring casseroles and insist their kids be in bed by nine.

Then there’s her. Jagged and wound down and much looser. Etched in coolness. Less controlled - more quirky. Crazy hair even on a good day. Cherry ice cream smile. Young by their standards. Berkeley dropout. Strolling around in her suede fringed jacket and a Patti Smith t-shirt and boot cut jeans.

You’ve always seen the way other moms raised their brows at her appearance. They think she’s trashy. A single mom who dresses and eats and acts the way she does.

Scoffing behind her back at the rhinestone jacket or her vintage cowboy boots. She’s punchy. She doesn’t give two shits. She loves both her kids passionately and would be the first to swing a punch, split her knuckles open for you. Always in your corner. No matter what.

She had you both so young and braved through your dad walking out. Good riddance. He never did have the balls to do the important shit.

She told you that once you were just on the cusp of being old enough to understand why he wasn’t around.

Told you as she wrapped her arms around you and engulfed you in a hug. Smelling like Yves Saint Laurent Paris and gold Newports. She kissed the top of your head.

He couldn’t hack responsibility babe. He had his chance. Too bad he blew it. Cause I happen to think you’re the coolest pair of kids in the world.

She bucked up and scraped money together and it stung a bit sure. Pinched the corners of life at times. But she turned the back of her Brooke Shields shiny hair to the stares she gets in this town. Flipped the bird to those Carol’s and Susan’s who dared to judge her.

Somehow they thought she was a deadbeat mom. But she’s now raised two honour roll kids. First Charlie. Now you.

You’re on track for Indie State. Charlie went to Purdue. She said she’d love you even if you wanted to flip burgers or fix greasy old clunker cars for a living.

The phone shrills out loud as you’re scooping sticky chocolate chip dough into the greased sheets. It clumped between your fingers.

“Hang on.” You call out with no patience to the ringing, as you lean over to pluck it from the wall. Cradle it between your shoulder and ear. Trying to locate a dish rag for your smeared messy hands.

“Yeah.” Figured it would be someone for Mom, or a telemarketer.

“How’s it hangin, Pencils.”

Immediately a grin bursts on your lips. It’s Pavlovian. He smiles. You echo it.

You hear his voice? Ok then. Your stomach flew to bits. All fluttery like confetti.

“Well well well. If it isn’t my favourite metal head.” You say as you balance your trays down. Bumping the counter with your hip.

He chuckles through the phone. You hear the crackle of his exhale. You can picture his smile and it’s doing something to your guts that is just, crazy.

“Hey, c’mon now. Play fair. You never told me you were seeing other metal heads? I bet it’s that lanky haired bastard from the pizza place on Beechwood Drive, in his Slayer tees.” He twirled the old green phone cord around his finger. It clacks around that chunky silver ring of his.

He’s so quick to step up and play around and you love it. You can hear the jokiness layered on his voice. Hear him moving around cause staying still is his worst nightmare. Typical Eddie.

God. Look at you. You’re both twirling the phone cords around your fingers like middle school girls. Crushes thick in your throats and smiles. Choking your hearts fully. Paper airplanes tossed with love notes folded inside. Initials crossed together in a pink love-heart.

“Yeah.” You tease. “But his hair isn’t as great as yours. And don’t you know by now that I’ve got guys lined up around the block. I’ve had to have a ticket booth installed.” You pick up your wooden spoon to mix.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Linda. I thought I rang my pencils.” You hear the soft scuff of his laugh.

“Hang on one second, my lipgloss needs refreshing.” You pout. “And I feel like I should be singing ‘If I only had a brain’.”

He beams and it’s so wide his cheeks hurt.

“That’s not the Wizard of Oz I’m hearing over there pencils, right?” He deciphers.

“Saint Joe of Strummer. Our lord and saviour.” You tell him proudly. Cursing when you splodge a little of the sticky dough on the countertop. Looking around for the dish rag.

“I’m of the Anti-Christ church myself. Ozzy is my devil and I’m bound to obey.” He leers. His voice drops and it slithers between your legs to hear it get deep.

“Mmm. Sounds kinky.” You flirt. Trying your hardest not to drop dough on your bare toes where you’re scooping it to the tray. He’s a great distraction to your focus.

“If you’re into blood play and satanic practices baby, I got some great news for ya.” He fiddles with the empty microwave packets on the kitchen counter.

Chicken pot pie from two nights ago. The Kraft mac n’ cheese that he shovels down like air. Usually scraping it out the pan, eating it with a too big wooden spoon. As he reads a rock magazine at the kitchen counter.

“Sadly no. Dungeon stuff only. Oh and leather. Face masks. Lots of whipping too. And biting.” You tease.

“Hang on. Lemme get a pen and some paper… I’ll make a note…” He rustles around like he’s actually searching for it. Wiry body with the twisted phone cord wrapped around his torso.

You smile at his eagerness to please you.

“I don’t think you need to take notes, Munson. Last time was pretty sensational.” You blush. Mixing your batter and flirt is creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Jesus. You’ve no idea. It’s been driving me crazy. I should be committed. Look, I couldn’t even wait til tonight to hear your voice. I-“ He sighs in wanting. His tongue was tripping away from him. He drew back. Worried he was being too much.

He couldn’t wait. He had to call you.

“Munson. You never have to be sorry for calling me.”

Cause, I fucking like you.

“You know, you can call me Eddie. Pencils.”

“First name basis? How brazen.” You rib.

“Yeah, later on I was planning to show you my ankles. Risqué or what?” He flirts. You chuckle.

He’s wandering over to the window and flicking the curtain aside with his fingertips to see the same old drab and murky Forest Hills staring back at him.

“What would the village elders say-“ You gasp. “My reputation will be in tatters.”

“Not possible. Your name isn’t Linda.”

“I may have to kiss you for that one.” You warn.

“I’m very open to that.” He says very quickly. Twirling a packet of reds around the shiny surface of the table. Considering lighting one up. The rush of your voice is his nicotine until he hangs up.

You close a cupboard door and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound. “Learning drums over there?” He seeks.

“I’m baking.” You offer up.

Phone at your shoulder and between your ear still as you mix the dough with your other hand to fold in the chocolate chips. Shaking the packet and watching the chips fall. Plinking into the thick batter. It’s very messy and clumsily done.

“Tell me you’re wearing a tiny pink Betty Crocker apron?” He all but purrs down the phone. Licking his lips.

“It’s pink and frilly.” You drawl.

“Mmm. More-“ He rasps down directly down the phone. Grinning. Holds it right to his mouth to talk louder into the receiver.

“Pretty heels too. Lacquered hair like Donna Reed. Whole shebang.”

“Fuck.” He twirls hair around his finger. Almost bites down on his skull ring.

“The images in my head are so unmatched right now. You’ve no idea.” He charms.

“Damn.” He moans again. It’s low and it strikes a direct chord with your pussy.

Shit. You’ve had delicious filthy dreams about those moans. Your hands on that hard dick of his.

“Yeah and don’t forget my strand of pearls.” You grin.

He splutters. Oh he could give you pearls if you wanted them. It’s what he’s been dreaming of.

Such a horny boy.

“You’re the perfect date you know. Kinky as fuck, into whipping and leather. But pearls and baking.”

“You don’t even know what I’m baking-“

“You say pot brownies pencils, I’m gonna go out right this second and buy a goddamned ring.”

“Remember the four C’s. Colour. Clarity. Carat. Cut.”

“Shit. You want a diamond? Hmm I was thinking more along the lines of a pop ring. More in my budget. Or maybe something out the claw machine in the arcade.” He bargains.

“I like a man who puts in the effort. And, hey I’m not picky. I’ll take it. Diamonds are way overrated anyhow.” You decide.

“And just to lay your mind at rest I’m making Extra Chocolate, chocolate chip cookies.”

He cradled his aching throbbing heart. Hand splayed over his chest. Made a groaning noise like he was mortally wounded. A crackle of the sigh rattled the phone.

“Alright. You’re officially too good for me. I’m gonna have to hang up.” He jokes. You laugh.

You really hope he doesn’t.

“Don’t do that.” You ask quietly. “I need to talk to someone sensate. I beg of you.” You urge. “I had to listen to Linda bitch all the way home on Friday about how low fat ice cream sucks, and how much she wants to bang James Spader in Pretty in Pink.”

“Wow that really says a lot about her taste in guys.” He commented. She really was Tiffany-twisted, that girl. Wrapped up in her own over groomed looks, bouncy blonde curls, and sex life. Lived by rules out of Cosmo magazine and fad diets.

“My ears wanted to commit suicide by the time I got home. Thank god cause as I got out the car she started to mention the words sleepover and boyfriend and I just about had the sanity to slam the car door, before anymore came out.”

“Wise move baby.” He beamed.

You preened at the nickname that did dirty things. Finally you now had the cookies ready for the oven.

“Alright...” You clunked the wooden mixing spoon down. “First wave of troops going in. I’ll you know their condition after battle. Hopefully they make a worthy addition to our night as I am trying to impress you with my passably mediocre baking skills.” You charm.

“Hey don’t practice too hard now. You know us guys like em stoopid.” He puts on a southern-belle twang.

“If you can navigate yawself round a tree girlie. Keep on walkin. Them slick city fellers can have ya.” He drawls.

Your laugh makes his whole mood hop into giddy.

“You’re such a goof.” You smile. He couldn’t wait to see that grin of yours in person again. In a mere handful of hours-

“I didn’t need another incentive to be impressed by you, pencils...” He smiles. Tone slipping back into genuine. “Already there.” He offers.

Before you can respond. Hurricane Munson struck elsewhere.

“And uh, Whatever condition those troops are in. I’ll take it. I’m not picky either. Charlie. Tango. Bravo.”

“Good.” You answer. Twiddling with the corner of the dish cloth. Fondness settled like warm oozy mush on your chest. Inescapable.

You could spend hours down the phone listening to Eddie crack his jokes. Twirl around. Get distracted. Put on stupid drama club voices like he was at Hellfire

“There aren’t trees in the way of your trailer are there? Cause I won’t be able to navigate round them all on my own.” You joke in reference to his earlier remark.

“You’re the perfect lady.” He sighs in a sweet hum.

“Oh and uh, I picked the movies for tonight.” He suddenly announced. Sounding cheeky. Brimming with it.

“Yeah?” You asked with inflection. “Yeah.” He answered. With none.

“You’re not gonna tell me are you?” You clued up.

“Leave me to have my wicked wicked fun.”

“VHS tease.” You complained all snarky.

“Scoot your pretty ass over here and come see for yourself you coward.” He dares. Tongue tipped out between his smiling teeth.

“Six still good?” You check. Up on your tiptoes and swirling around the tiled floor. Stomach swooping with anticipation.

“Golden.” He answers.

“Guess I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the skirt.”

He sucks air through his teeth. “Ah same here. I hope we don’t clash.”

“Bye, Edward.” You joke. He gasps.

“Mm. Definitely gonna have to let you see my ankles now.” Comes his voice. Smile traced on it. You could tell.

“I’m counting the minutes.” You dip your voice low.

“See ya.” He parts. Slinging the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall. Smile charged to megawatt from your conversation. He wants to twirl and flip his hair. Goddamnit. He couldn’t keep still.

Then he drags his eyes to his surroundings. The crushed beer cans crumpled up on the kitchen counter, and the coffee table. The overflowing ashtrays. Trash in the kitchen. The dishes. The laundry strewn sofa. The dust- he chews his lip.

It was like he was seeing this place through fresh eyes. And it needed rectifying. He rolled up his sleeves.

Shit. He needed to hustle.

It was fair to say Wayne and Eddie had to grow used to living with each other.

The veil of constancy was Eddie’s safety blanket when it came to the gruff and earnestly stoic man, that was Wayne Munson; he pretty much remained himself. Didn’t change much.

Liked his bacon crispy. Made a peach cobbler that would blow your socks off til next Tuesd ay, but couldn’t assemble a sandwich neatly at all. Used to drive big semi trucks across the states. Did the crossword in the Hawkins Gazette. Adored Billie Holiday. Collected comical mugs. Liked strong coffee with cinnamon and had a dislike for cilantro. Loved old spaghetti westerns and that twanging soft country music he always hums too, which had carved space out of his soft-soppy Tennessee heart.

He had hatred for people with nasty gossiping sniping souls. Ugliness born inside, he thinks people don’t ever shift it on or lose that. He worked his fingers to the bone for the modest home and the little money they raked by on. He was unfailingly honest and generous. He had few words to give. He was Eddie’s weather-beaten yet reliable rock.

Eddie can imagine that Wayne getting to know him was more of a challenge; tricky to navigate; herding cats, walking on-knives-and-eggshells kind of difficult. How do you get to know someone when their character is set on shifting sand?

Thing is. Eddie never really changed that much.

He’s still the starry-eyed kid leaping on the couch, shredding air guitar to Metallica in filthy sneakers cause the moment just ran away with him. He’s the one making a huge show of not stepping on cracks in the pavement cause he’s down enough as it is. Not breaking mirrors, ever, and picking up sidewalk spilt pennies. And apologising and stepping over weeds in the trailer lot. Not trampling them underfoot.

Eddie was still the boy inside that felt bad for struggling weeds. The one to feel sorry for a squashed little dandelion.

Wayne wrenched open this home to this kid as a stranger. Barbs and shame-wrapped guilt set in his heart that he didn’t know his brothers own kid better than he did. He kept to his lane. He stayed out the way of his brothers numerous convictions. Remained a stranger to trouble.

But then, when need came knocking; he offered up, no questions asked. The way a bird offered the gentle lift of their wing, to something foreign needing shelter, in a warm bramble nest, from the raging storm.

Eddie will never forget the first words he heard out of Wayne’s mouth. Around the corner of some bland police precinct. Warm. Firm. Dependable.

“He’s my family. He’s blood. That’s enough. Kindly let me see him.”

He didn’t regret stepping up to bat for one minute. Maybe he’s grouchy and he’d never fully ‘get’ or approve of everything his nephew did, or enjoyed. But he didn’t chew him out, or pick at him for it.

He learned what flavour pop tarts Eddie liked best for breakfast. When he needed sleep or help. When he needed space. When to warn him to watch his attitude, or his mouth, or manners, and when to back off. Parental things.

Eddie was a stale eyed kid when he first met Wayne. Perhaps innocent and maybe just jaded enough to see beyond the rose-tinted prism of childhood. He was jaggedy-rough round the edges and not worn into himself yet. Caught up in the hard knocks of social care and down-and-out on his luck, as a mostly unwanted eight year old. That stuck some nasty pins in his ego pretty early on.

Wayne could see how Eddie kept expecting to be shuffled on elsewhere. Big shining eyes that a puppy would envy under a scruff mop of hair. Clutching all he had for dear life. His scruffy collection of tattered comics and stubby pencils and half broken toys.

Kept looking around the trailer like he shouldn’t get too attached. Sat gingerly on the edge of the sagging bed. Shouldn’t make mess or get comfy. Cause soon, he’ll have to pack his scrappy things into that sad cardboard box and eek out a wobbling lipped goodbye. Sad that home hadn’t stuck, again.

Eddie kept that empty scruffy little box sat in the bottom of his closet for six months. Just in case.

Wayne threw that box right in the trash.

Bought him a beat up old turntable. Put a shelf up in his room and a stood a few second hand fantasy paperback books on it. Bought him a few new things that didn’t belong to someone else first.

Wayne watched Eddie fall into stability. To learn how to put roots down. Grow steady and then in quick spurts, into who he was. In that way kids do. The way they grow into clothes that were too big. Shoes that would eventually fill out to fit their steps.

He watched the love of music come blasting in. Middle school. Rolling Stones magazines. Catching Black Sabbath on the radio one day. The appreciation for that loud thrashing dirty-steel rock he now loves. The one that ran vein deep. His idols with the crazy scruffy long hair. He discovered Ozzy and Axl, Judas Priest and Lemmy.

Watched him sew on badges that he bought for pennies at dime stores, and get bloody fingertips cause he really was useless at needlework. Found his signature rings at a cool vintage place outta state. Watched him saw off the arms of his denim jacket and come home with a swing in his step and a DIO shirt from the goodwill - a twinkle in his eye. Determination threaded in this burgeoning passion. Tip of the iceberg.

A plan Wayne. I have a well executed, thorough plan. Foolproof.

Mmmhmm. Is this gonna end up exactly like the last plan you had, kid?

Let’s find out.

Gone from the sweet boy who was too scared of everything, and everyone boring, and being judged, and now he’s turned inside out, full circle, to become this genuinely sweet young man, who turned against that boring tide of beige normalcy.

Eccentric and whirly with the unfocused energy that never burned out. Dynamite blaze kid. Even when he tried to hide scrapes on his knees, and raw knuckles. A shiner that he let his shaggy fringe cover, from an attempt to fight and claw back.

He still gave Wayne that shocking toothy grin with a fat lip and a busted nose, cause he was actually stupid proud of himself - and the way he stuck up for some freshman. The tiny nerdy one who had a carton of milk poured over his head by the meat head jocks. Having pages ripped out his science textbooks by them and spread to the wind like leaves.

Eddie sat beside the newbie with bleeding raw knuckles, cracked jokes, sellotaped those torn pages back together - wonky. Just to show that someone out there, cared.

The smiles became armour, devil horns and Gene Simmons tongue. The hair started to grow out into rioting curls. Doe eyes glinted promiscuity; to those who didn’t know him well enough to know there was no shred of malice anywhere in him.

Eddie collected parts of himself, the way someone would laundry plucked off the line- like the badges and pins he secured on his chest and flashed around for fun.

He found his first DND board and his dice at a yard sale. And then came that sweet head-muzzy strain of Colombia gold, and Reefer Rick and light frothy cans of beer on an empty stomach. He found acceptance. Ripped jeans and scuffed knees. The exquisite pin pricks of a scratchy tattoo the day he turned 18. Asked if he could wear the old sagging leather jacket he found hung in the back of the closet, from Wayne’s younger and more hip days.

The way he went full bonkers-gaga over seeing his 24 fret NJ warlock in the window of a music store in town. Bursting big heart eyes over it and saving up for months. Awfully tempted by the idea of some piercing, somewhere, but nearly fainted when he got in the shop. So that was the end of that. He founded Hellfire and he protected his fellow freaks. Scraped together his high school band.

Collected the little lost sheepies in armfuls, in bunches, so that no one within his reaches would ever have to sit and console that festering hungry chasm of being an unwanted kid, with nowhere to turn.

Cause Eddie knew well enough, it was a bottomless gremlin pit with gnashing teeth, and it would take take take as long as you bothered to feed it.

And all that learning and comfiness, and living, now it currently tapered down to Wayne not being at all surprised, by watching his nephew shaking frail little spindly spiders out into the doormat, talking soothingly to them.

Shooing them out off the glossy pages of his rock music magazine. Telling them to get used to the brave new world of Forest Hills outside these four walls.

“-And kudos by the way for eating the flies. Appreciate you for that. Sorry I’ll have to take down those cobwebs. Consider this your eviction notice.” As he jimmied the last one off the paper and it crinkled noisily. Bracelet on his wrist jingling.

Wayne is peering over the shield of his paper. Coffee steaming away in a chipped Snoopy mug by his side. Cigarette dangling from his fingers. Watching Eddie crouch right at the mouth of the trailer door. Holding it open and watching the insects lope away in new brave directions.

Pieces of clarity started to to swim together when he takes a look at Eddie’s clothes.

Different to his normal threads on a Saturday night; Either he’s kicking his feet into reeboks, shouldering on his leathers and vest to go out a party at some place, and come back reeking of grass and beer breath. Or; he’s shuffling around in his thread bare plaid pyjama pants and a ratty AC/DC tee, asking what’s for dinner through a smeary eyed yawn.

This is neither; he straightened up to go and neatly return the magazine to his room, as opposed to throwing it down to rest in any old place. Odd.

Wayne took notice of his clothes. Black jeans that were suspiciously clean of ash stains or frayed knee holes. His long sleeved black skull tee rolled up to his elbows, ink on display. Chest blazoned with a band name he’s never heard of, and down the sleeve too in gothic red. His hair was all fluffed up - like he’d finally discovered what a comb was.

Eddie saunters back into the room. Flitting from place to place. Shoving beer cans in a bulging garbage bag. Along with empty crushed food packets that he left out. Sweeping crumbs off the counter with his bare hands. Probably over the floor but the effort was there- picking cigarette butts off the floor that he was careless enough to drop.

And Wayne didn’t even have to shoot his usual look, clearing his throat at him, about that nasty habit. He was clearing up entirely on his own. Without prompt.

He was rushing. Rushing was the antithesis of Eddie’s speed. A thin film of sweat on his brow under that choppy lollop of a fringe. He’s crammed garbage bags full. Shoving stuff inside.

Says something under his breath that sounds like “shit” as he darts back into his room. Wallet chain jangling behind him. Socked feet thudding softly on the carpets.

He keeps an ear open for what sounds like commotion. Frantic tidying. The shuffling of clothes by the armful. Closet doors shutting with a thwack. He talks to his guitar as he hums and tidied.

“I know I know. Sweetheart. I should have done this earlier. Don’t look at me like that…”

He rounds up his dirty clothes and does a sniff test - again. That was the third time tonight.

Movement clattering along the hall. Socked feet storm back to the washer. He’s stuffing an armful of mostly all black clothing into it like he’s trying to dispose of body parts in there. Ramming in so much he has to shut the door quick.

“Rat bastard.” He hissed after he shook the dream fresh laundry powder in and slams it shut. Punches it for good measure. His rings clack on the metal-metal contact. Shook his fist out I n the air cause that hurt more than he thought it would.

Now he’s back to the trash bags in the kitchen. Looping them up and walking across the door to dump them outside in the garbage cans. Hopping across the sharp gravel in socked feet like a jumping hare.

Wayne sees that determined set in his brow as the door snaps open and back in slams Eddie at a million miles a second. Frowning at everything he sees. Sloped brows. Mouth curled into a grimace.

He comes to empty the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table near Wayne. Well, it was an old soup can that somehow turned into an ashtray. Annoyed that he missed it. Muttering to himself. Scooping away dust. It was like watching a one man ant farm.

This led to him now being stood on the couch, suddenly reorganising the shelf behind it. Batting cobwebs away from mugs and wiping a hand on his jeans.

“Jesus. I mean how dusty is this place?” Eddie asks to no one in particular. Not expecting an answer.

Silence. Rustling.

Wayne folds up his paper and nicely slaps it down on the arm beside him. Folds his hands in his lap. “Eddie.”

Eddie turns around like a doe eyed deer caught in semi headlights. Twisted at the waist. Back of his shirt riding up over his lithe waist. Peek of his back and his plaid red boxer band showing over the back of his jeans.

The bony notches of his spine poke through skin where he’s leaning over. He blinks owlishly at his uncle. One foot braced on the back of their elderly moth-eaten couch.

“What the hell you doin?” Wayne asks with kind bewilderment. Shaking his head at his kid.

“Spring cleaning?”

Wayne’s eyes narrow as he lifts his hand up and sucks on his cigarette. “Sure?” He checks.

“No?” Comes the answer. Carefully. Wincing. Wayne takes a breather.

“There’s cobwebs. And, dust.” He explained. Pointing to the wall before him. “Look see, dust.”

“Why the sudden aptitude for household chores there, huh?” Wayne asks as he nurses his cooling coffee.

To his shame they don’t exactly keep the place pristine. He tries his best, but on some days work takes it clean outta him. Eddie’s room resembled a garbage tip bomb-site most likely.

Eddie swallows. “You know. Just- some light maintenance.” He shrugs. That was the most plausible answer his brain spat out upfront.

“On a Saturday night?”

“I’m um, totally slammed on Sunday.” He admits. Clapping off his hands.

“Kid. How stupid do you think I am. Because frankly, all I’ve seen, is all I need to see. If you get my drift.”

Eddie turns away and continues his frantic cleaning. Polishing a mug with his shirt sleeve.

“I have… guests… coming over tonight.” If he makes it plural maybe he can get away with it.

“Your DND club.” Wayne guesses. This earns a snort from the metalhead.

“I once saw Gareth eat pizza off the canteen floor. Like I’d bother dusting here for those doofuses.” He grins.

“Then question remains; who are you dusting, and laundry-doing and taking out the spiders for?” Wayne leans forward and asks. Scratching the stubble at the side of his grizzled jaw.

Eddie clings to silence. Which he never does. Never ever does this boy exist without noise bursting out his mouth. Looks like a sheepish kid again.

Wayne’s gaze meets his. ‘Well?’

Cause he would support whomever Eddie chose to bring home. Girl or boy, or undecided. He’s no dummy. He’s got eyes in his head. He’s seen things. The little quirky tics in Eddie’s character when he likes someone. He knows his kid pretty darn well enough by now.

“A girl.” Eddie concludes turning away, like it was casual, cool, and nothing to get worked up over. No biggie. Just… the girl of my dreams. So what? I can be casual about this. It’s totally fine. And normal. Normally fine.

“A girl.” Wayne nods.

“Change this record. It’s skipping.” Eddie leers. Pointing a funny wagging finger at his relative.

“This girl. She royalty or something.”

Eddie cuts a look. It’s just bordering on grumpy and peeved.

“Listen, she ain’t coming to inspect the place or audit us. A little dust and clutter isn’t gonna put her off spending time with you, now is it.”

Eddie sighs. Itched the back of his head. Screwed his eyes shut.

“No. See man. I wanted to be presentable. Cause when she walks in this trailer, she’s gonna be expecting me to look and act like sleazy, greasy trailer trash. And I just. Wanna-“ he clenched his fists.

“Just wanna be….presentable.” He mumbled. Repeating. As he softly scuffed the couch arm with his foot. He sighed. Rubbed a dusty knuckle in his eye until stars scrawled black and bursting.

“Goddd. Look at me. I’ve showered twice. And I untangled the knots out my hair. I used that fancy bar soap I got for xmas that smells like lemons. I brushed my teeth for a whole two minutes. May have used a splash of your cologne. That stung like hell by the way.” He added naughtily. Pinching the collar of his shirt in two fingers and flapping it up and down to cool himself off.

“I’m sweaty. My hair feels itchy. I don’t know what I’m gonna say. She’s gonna be stunning, and awesome and I feel like I’m having a heart seizure or probably a stroke over here. I don’t know man. Fuck-“

Wayne let’s him get it out. As he’s learned with Eddie sometimes it’s best. He often just needed a ramble. To let his tongue lash til he ran dry.

He kicked the couch again. Harder. Still standing up tall on it.

“What’s she like, this girl. She into the same kinda stuff as you?” Wayne enquired.

It dipped muzzily into his big soft heart seeing Eddies mouth hooked right up into a petite smile when he asked about you. One side curls.

“No she’s, uh, she likes Punk music and Bowie, Talking Heads, Billy Idol, and like, you should hear her, she talks about all these artists and shit I’ve never heard of. It’s amazing-“

She’s entirely too good for the likes of me.

“She’s so cool. Effortlessly cool y’know?- And creative?! She likes scary movies and she works in the record store. She hates jocks. I cannot believe she’s actually bothering to look twice at a moron like me. Super senior, King of the freaks.” He jabs his fingers into his bony skull clad chest.

Because Eddie didn’t think it was exactly a secret that flunk out’s like him, were never exactly crawling in babes, or cramming in dates on the weekends.

“I really like her.” He mumbled openly. Wiping palms on his jeans. That’s what this effort all whittled down too.

He couldn’t meet Wayne’s eyes as he said it. It seemed to good to be true. His hopes were so little. Floundering seeds.

He wanted this to go well. He whirled his eyes elsewhere and fidgeted through his words. Typical Eddie.

“I gathered as much from your general-“ Wayne waved his hand around in the air of the living room and towards the kitchen “…Running round. Giving me whiplash just watching you, kid.” He stubs out his cigarette.

Eddie stays where he is. Stood couch top. Absorbing the information Wayne fed him.

“Why don’t you get down from there. Leave the dusting the hell alone. And just relax.” He soothes. Always a balm to the frizzy fraying nerves.

Eddie looks like it could be a trap if he dares to let himself chill out. You say it like it’s easy.

“She must like you to come all the way out here to spend time with you. Just be yourself. I guarantee you, that’s what she’s interested in. Not the state of this place.” He shifts in his chair and groans a little. Adjusts his legs.

Eddie let’s out a huff. Slumps down the sofa and throws his body onto it. Crazy hair flicking after he moved. It’s fluffier too. Some lame attempt at his own hands to pretty it up from its usual insanity.

“What you guys planning on doing?” He seeks. Sips his coffee. Distraction worked well, too. He often found.

“Ordering pizza and watching a couple movies.” Eddie says up to the ceiling. Scanning for cobwebs. Fiddling with the rings on one hand. One knee twitching up and down.

He had the stack of videos ready on top of the TV. Night of the Living Dead. Nightmare on Elm Street. And then Ghostbusters for something undeniably cheesy. The microwave popcorn in the kitchen. A number for the pizza place hemmed in on the fridge with magnets, as per usual.

Wayne makes a soft noise at the back of his throat at hearing that. A smile creeps on his lips. He idly reads the folded back of his paper.

“What?” Eddie quizzes.

Wayne’s smile grows if anything.

“I may be an old man. But I was young once. I do happen to know what that means.” He stared Eddie down in that parental way.

“You’re gonna be careful with this girl, right. Safe sex ain’t no joke.”

That did it.

“Aww man, c’mon.” Eddie choked, cringing, as he launched himself up out the sofa and quickly scurried away like a jangly pillar of goth black missile. Aimed sharpish in another direction.

“It’s a first date, by the way. I’m not gonna be breaking out the condoms and whistles and bells here.” He lets out.

He’s shaking his head and losing himself in the confines of his room. Music is softly shredding out the low stereo. Alice Coopers ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ sneers softly into his room. He cranks it up.

Wayne stood up. Smiling and shaking his head in making his kid cringe. Gathering his things for work. Walking to the kitchen slowly to empty the dregs of his cup. Leave it in the sink for later. He grabs his things as he walks on past the front door. Heavy work boots crushing soft on the carpets and then the lino.

He walks right up to Eddie’s door, peers into the clustered metal gilded mess of his room.

Shocked to notice he could actually see the floor. And the raunchy pin ups were safely shepherded away inside the closet. The playboy magazines he pretends he doesn’t know about shoved under the bed. The dresser and side tables were still messy as. There’s been an attempt at making the bed. The sheets are straightened and tucked in.

“Listen now, you’re 20 year old man, and you have a zipper. I won’t say any more than that. But you best play it safe. Y’hear?”

“NO.” Eddie fairly shrieks.

“Not listening anymore.” Comes the answer as he faffs around and pretends to be busy with some things in his closet.

“Eddie.” Wayne smiles.

He turns back around and stands up. Expression of limited enthusiasm.

“Wayne. I am the town fuck up in a lot of ways. But not in this way.” He marched back to his bedside. Throws the blue Trojan condom packet up in the air and catches it. A silent ‘see?’

His uncles brow crooks up. Shuffling his wallet into his jeans. Pulling on his heavy fleece lined denim jacket. “Jeez. Those things still in date?”

Eddies face falls.

“They expire?” He flips the packet and looks at the back.

“Lord. I am gettin out of here. Save me some pizza would ya.” Wayne dismisses with a shake of his old head.

This high school romance thing was better left a young man’s game.

Eddie thinks he forgets how to breathe, when the buttery headlights of your car slant into the big window of the trailer.

He poked his head out the door earlier. The air is cool out tonight. Hung with moisture, so thick you could sip at it. Icy cold like a dirty clear martini. The kind of night that bloats up and leaves the taste of wet grass on your tongue.

The headlights are a sobering neon yellow under the cushy spring night that was churning slowly in dregs and streaks, to a violet. Lilac bathed air punched with cold. One of those night slow nights that gets slipped into dark majesty, and the stars cluster bright like winking pearls.

Eddie’s eyes have been on the windows for an hour. He’s paced groves in this thick matted carpet, he’s sure of it. Eyes set on the windows like he’s on a mission. Trying not to chew his nails. Got him acting like a pound mongrel waiting for their owner to come home.

The car lights flick off. Engine cuts dead.

And now he can hear the slam of your car door. His heart rockets into overdrive with scary amounts of adrenaline and stabbing excitement that will, he’s sure, undeniably make a moron out of him before then night is out.

You’re stepping up the creaky porch. He knows those snaps and shifts of the old steps. You’re knocking on his door.

He takes a deep breath. Fills his crappy sentimental lungs, that he placated with a cigarette, twenty ache filled minutes ago.

He cannot open the door fast enough, and the sight of you the other side, roundhouse whirls into his chest. Smacks right between the ribs. Fists him by the front of his t-shirt and yanks-

You’re like that song Wayne hums and taps his feet too, when he makes eggs on a Sunday mo rning. ‘Like being hit by a falling tree, woman, woman what you do to me.’

“Ah woman bearing beer. You’re definitely welcome inside.” He grins. Leaning against his door.

He thinks he keeps on imagining how pretty you are. But here you stand with the cheap orange light of the trailer washing back over you, haloing your body like a wash of heaven, and he’s gotta remember not to stare.

You’ve brushed this smoky-sparkly purple eyeshadow on. Nightshade purple like the sky out tonight. Big lashes all dark too. Your lips are pink shiny and glossy. (You so totally stole a tube from Linda, naughty pencils)

You’re wearing a brown corduroy skirt and a black polo neck. Long brown leather boots up to your calves. Your hair is so silky. Eyes shimmering this angel honey warmth at him.

You’re holding an eggshell coloured plate of Saran-wrapped cookies. Piled high and dark chocolate. In your other hand you have a six pack of coors and something else-

“Best part?” You begin.

You hold something up, tilt your head and there’s that smile.

The thing you hold, it’s all canine teeth and fake tufts of hair. Two triangle ears. Tacky acetic smell of plastic. “For the Heist.”

A wolf man mask. A smile leaps onto his lips.

“You think of everything.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Got yours I hope Pencils?” He asks with a levelled look as he widens the door for you to step in.

“It’s in the car. Messes up my hair.” You shrug. You climb up the last uneven wedge of a step and move to come inside.

“Hey.” You smile. He liked that you goofed around first. Went traditional greeting second.

“Hey back.” He said softly. Pretty smile all wide. Espresso dark eyes fixed unendingly on your face.

You nervously chew your lip and gaze down. You want to lean over and kiss his cheek but didn’t want to overstep or be weird about it.

You clunkily flounder on the doormat. Self doubt lingers on your fingertips. You wish you could just escape into the confidence to lean over and kiss him like you did the other night. But then you had a belly of vodka and Dutch courage backing you up.

Decide hand him over the plate of cookies. He can smell the cocoa and sugar sneaking out when he takes the thing off you. “For you-“ you gift.

“Troops made it. Well done boys.” It makes you chuckle. Wiggles the plate in one hand and talks to the cookies.

“Hope you got a sweet tooth. I made so many.”

“Always.” He answers to your enquiry. “My diet is 98% Oreos and mini powdered donuts.” He beams.

You nudge the beers in your hand too. “Fridge?”

He takes them off you gently. “Yeah, here, gimme.” He bundled them up and stepped past you. The door snapped shut behind him and you took in the space as Eddie padded to the fridge.

You smile as you gaze around the walls. The scratchy orange curtains. The warmness of the lamps splashing up light. A very well beloved couch and all the mug keepsakes and hats on the walls. It’s cosy. It’s a home. Capital H. Just like yours. You can see that from one glance.

The Campbell’s soup can used as an ashtray cause the actual red glass ashtray next to it was overflowing with pocket junk. The plaid shirts yet to be ironed, crumpled somewhat clumsily in a laundry basket. Some sepia family pictures tacked to the space above the counter where the sun won’t bleach them. The red pansy pattern on the sofa that clashes with the lone saggy yellow throw pillow. The marbled malty brown carpet.

A place that sure wasn’t fancy, but had character and warmth in swathes more than anything designer and clinical green money could buy. It’s a sagging trailer sure, no hiding that. But you imagine with a cold shower of outside patting at the roof, these friendly yellow walls would swallow you up in their charming blanket of old cigarettes, male cologne and powder dreamy detergent. Some scratchy record playing blues and a snuggly throw on that couch, it would be a sort of enclosing haven.

“It’s uh- not much. But… a place to crash or to hang your hat, as Wayne says.” Eddie trails off. Setting the cookies on the counter. Nodding in jest towards the numerous baseball caps.

“I like it. Honestly. You should see my house. Moms hippy-bohemian posters and pretty strange sense of interior decor reigns strong.” You tell him.

“I’d like to see that.” He says as he clunks beers in the ancient whirring fridge. You smile over at him. You nod and share eye contact.

“Come through the front door this time though, perhaps. Save your ass from that thorny rose bush.” You encourage warmly.

“Awh. You’re worried about the state of my ass.” He preens. Leans against the counter and gives you moony eyes.

“Damn right. Someone’s got to be.” You answer back.

“Thank heaven it’s you.” He simpers. Smile

Slowly crawls up and your stomach warms all dizzy. You bite your lip.

“Drink?” He offers. Hands splayed over the counter. “We got Pepsi, ginger ale.”

“Actually, a beer would be great.” You nod. Cold buzz light give you some courage to finally bump your mouth to those soft sweet lips you adore. And had missed.

You should have done it tonight the second he opened the door. Damn politeness. You should’ve sprung on him.

“Two beers. Coming up.” He grins. Drums the counter with open slaps of his hands. Dives for the fridge.

You unzip your boots. Worried about getting wet marks on the floor.

“Princess. Your shoes are probably cleaner than this carpet.” Eddie explains wryly from behind the fridge.

Coming back to see you standing into the mushy carpet in your bare feet. Painted toes mulberry purple. Sparkles glitter gritty over the deep paint.

“It’s the principle of the thing now, Munson.” You say as you toe them off. Stuff your socks inside. You place them by the door and wander over to the jut of the counter. Standing the other side looking at him. His skin itches and leaps with the realisation of your smiling at him. He more than likes it.

He’s got the beers before him. Cracking them open. The fizz and the hoppy mist. He slides yours on over for you to catch like a saloon bar in a western.

“Mi’lady” He says as he raises his can up for you to crash them together in a toast. A tinny clank where you toast. His rings clack on the side of the can.

“Thank you, gallant Knight.” You flatter. After taking back a cold hop filled sip.

It makes you think of that slanted drunken time in Kyle’s garden. Sharing polite sips of a warm beer. Stealing glances under fringes and sparing longing looks.

You watch his brows raise with surprise at your choice of title. “And here, I thought I was the jangly belled jester dude. Or the scrawny but lovable bard.” He grins all toothy.

“Fraid not. You’re my Knight in shining DIO vest.” You tell him.

If you had to, you’d rearrange the entire solar system by hand to see the sight of Eddie Munson blush again the way he is now. His cheeks full with it.

He scratches the back of his neck and looks like he wants to twirl away and hide in his hair all bashful.

“You rescued me from the pack of Ogres and brought me healing Campbells aid. Not to mention some very seriously delicious behaviour in a closet.” You played along. Fiddling your fingertips along the edge of the counter. “That’s Knightly behaviour, my guy.” You nod.

“You’d be ok with being my maiden then, huh?” He can’t ignore the very bloated intent behind those words. Chews the inside of his lower lip. He can taste beer and he’s so aching to kiss you again.

“More than ok.” You met his longing brown gaze. Those melty eyes standing stark under that chippy fringe. “Hey, as long as you don’t think I’m the Dragon. I’m fine with whatever.” You hold your hands up.

His smile brightens. “I think we all know who the dragon is, pencils.”

You laugh.

His heart swoons.

And then it twirls somewhere different. He looks intent. Like he wants to grab something but can’t. Pent up. Like he’s digging fingers into the counter to keep from something else.

“Ok, excuse the shit outta me but, fuck it, I should have done this the second I saw you tonight.”

He suddenly bursts into movement around the counter. You follow where he rounds it in record time. Chain jangling. Socked feet padding the floor.

Emotions are chunky jagged things that can’t contain him. Slip off his body like oil slick. Beat off him like rain bouncing off concrete. It can’t contain him or maybe it’s the other way around.

He comes your side and you can barely have a breath before he’s cupped your neck either side, so gentle, and pushed his lips onto yours in a kiss so sweet it made your brain wipe blank.

His body cages you back into the counter. Tile top digging the back of your waist. Your hands flounder for a second. You smile to his lips before your hands come to his back. His belt buckle jams to your skirt and it makes your stomach flutter with want.

He tastes the same and it’s a flavour you’re oddly fascinated by. Smoky brush and hoppy beer. Maybe a little acrid but you don’t mind it. So traditionally Eddie it makes your knees wobble.

His thumb is soft on the line of your jaw. Savours the way He languidly kisses you out of breath. He swallows a sugary clasp of a little gasping noise you made. Wants more- more more more of them. He’s caught in your orbit and never wants to fall out of this clutch of your gravity.

Tastes the gloss off your mouth and he prays you don’t think him a massive perverted creep for this.

When you break for air, his lips don’t wander far. Spit wet and near yours and now he’s wearing sugar high pink gloss too. His nose lays along the line of yours.

“Sorry-“ He gasps.

He may have short circuited your brain with that kiss. Glitched something out for sure.

“I don’t see what sorry has to do with that.” You murmur softly. Leaning up to brush your nose into his. Try to contain this harsh vein buzz he’s got going in you.

“Inviting you over to my trailer and mauling you.” He gasps as he rakes a soft brush of hair off your cheek. Back tenderly behind your soft ear.

You push on your tiptoes. Capture his mouth in a slowly melting peck. Hand sliding across his cheek. Palming a cheekbone. Fingertips nesting in that dry wild mane.

“I don’t mind a little mauling.” You explain. He rests his hands on your hips with a self satisfied chuckle. Thumbs stroking the waistband of your skirt.

“Not very Knightly.” He quipped. Going dumb the way you plucked kisses at his mouth in-between his attempts to speak.

“Chastity is overrated. I’m not waiting in a fucking tower to protect my virtue.” You tell him.

You’ve got his fucking chest skipping and his heart is on the roof of his mouth. Cheeks ache from smiling.

He holds your waist like he’s afraid you’ll move or drift away. Ridiculous. You’ve patiently waited to get here. You’re not budging. Eyes set on yours. The wet gloss glimmer of your lips and those eyes he pathetically wants to stare into like he’s discovered a new form of Eden.

“I can’t believe I didn’t work up the courage to talk to you sooner.” Bursts out his mouth before he can stop it. A shy little confession that he feels very nerdy to have given a voice too.

“Wanna know something?” You tell him all softly. Stroking over the wavy tips of those choppy bangs.

“If not guess I’ll just kiss it outta you…” He decides. Eyes dizzily on your lips. His hips sway into you and he tilts his head to plant a sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I think I had a crush on you from the very second you got sat behind me in history class.” You explain.

You couldn’t help it. There you were all wrapped and stirred up in your love of punk and anarchy. And then in walks this crazy, messy leather clad and metal dipped kid with doe eyes and trouble stroked deep into his smile. The frenzy and the non-conformity. Clutched you good.

“Why do you think I always tapped on your shoulder asking for a pencil, pencils?” He teased. But he wasn’t done;

Sense slotted into place.

“Do you know why I call you that by the way?” He checks. Voice such a soft chasm of purity.

“I assumed the way I’m always covered in graphite and ink, and paint splatters.” You shrugged.

“No.” He raises your hand up and marks a kiss the back of it. “But I do really dig that look on you.”

“Alas-“ He continued. “Its because you never snapped at me. Never once rolled your eyes or ignored me when I tapped on your shoulder. You didn’t dismiss me the way everyone else did.”

You’re floored. Stood pinned to this counter and you’re so touched.

“You always gave me a pencil. Always. And you smiled at me as you did it. Didn’t tell me to keep it with disgust or bark that you wanted it back right after. Look at it like you’d contract rabies from being touching something I’d used.”

You indeed smiled at him. You asked about the patches on his vest. About the bands you’d not heard of. Told him the answer to a random question of the pop quiz if you saw him struggling. Twisted around and caught sight of the horned devil skull he was doodling and thought it was cool.

You lit up when he came into class or when he said something funny. And sure, he did show off in the hopes it would earn that beam of yours. He always felt like opportunity slipped out his hands when you scurried away after class finished.

He tried every day, to stay and catch your eye- make you laugh again. Just something to rouse that little kernel of connection he had to you. And when he saw you around you were always alongside the blonde one he assumed was too cool to approach.

“Wow, we’re morons. It’s only taken us this long to get things going.” You supplied casually.

“Pencils. Trust me. I noticed you beside that blonde poodle friend of yours a lot. I thought how pretty and awesome you seemed. Would’ve tried to talk to you, but I kinda thought you hated me.” He admits with a wince.

“Why?” You ask almost sadly. Ready to crunch up your own conscience in guilt.

“That’s what people usually do. They don’t even get to know me they just decide to skip right to the ‘hating my guts’ part.”

You shake your head. Boldly.

“Not this people.” You say. Cupping his cheek. “And I’d like to spend a lot of time proving that tonight.”

Your free hand slunk to his waist. Holding him with a perfectly lovely touch that has his knees swooning. Fuck it, yes. He could swoon too.

He smiles at that. And it’s so stunningly honest it makes the slippy walls of your heart ache. Lays his lips onto yours again.

“What’s say we order this pizza, get buzzed and uh, do some very dirty hand stuff on the couch whilst we pretend to be interested in it?” He grins.

“Perfect.” You slip up and kiss him again. Arms crossed over his shoulders. Body entirely pasted to his.

“Does this mean we’re officially dating now?” You ask him sweetly when you pull back. Not having moved one inch away. Engrossed, entangled and entwined.

“It better.” He nudged his nose to yours. And it really was as simple as that.

“Fuck. I wanna kiss you again. Can I-“ He started, and before you can even answer. Before your tongue can shape and push words out your teeth. He’s on you again.

“Baby. We’re way past asking permission.” You break away and breathily tell him as the kissing gets heavier, more intense. Arms squeeze harder. Getting closer when there’s no room to spare already. Crushed. No breath. It’s glorious.

“Don’t tell me that.” He flirts. If you give him free-reign, you’ll never be able to reel him back again. You just won’t. He’s far too, far gone.

“Believe I just did.” You tell him. Ballsy.

He leads you stumbling by the waist over to the couch. Smiling. Nibbling your lower lip. Sucking and his tongue sweeping yours. Knocking and kissing, knees touching. Falling and falling into each other again. You gasp where you awkwardly clash together on the lumpy couch cushions.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one Pencils.” He teases. Face all blushy and definitely love-drunk. Kiss dazed. Funny how you’d quite forgotten about those beers all of a sudden.

“Bring it on, Munson.” You urged.

🕷️This here? Oh no biggie. Just the next part of Eddie x Pencils 🕷️

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @stiegasaw @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @poppy-metal @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx

#eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #super freak series #stranger things s4 #stranger things #i would die for this man #punkwrites

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blueywrites · 10 months

Text

out to play

part one of the cottage: a beastly collection

werewolf!eddie x fem!satyr!oc, 8k

collection tags: all installments will feature monsterfucking unless otherwise noted. 18+ only.

story tags: 18+. established relationship, primal play, rough consensual sex, unprotected sex, scratching, biting, blood, pain, overstimulation, knot emergence, aftercare. 1st person pov. includes physical descriptions of the OC named Juniper/Junie.

here it is - my little writing break passion project! while this will not become a full-blown fic, I do have another nonsequential part already planned, and I am very open to contributing more to the monsterfucking universe 😌. If you have any ideas, let me know!

enjoy 🥰

In the wood, about a three-quarter mile by meandering path from the nearest village, there is a cottage. It is nestled among the alders, having been fitted into a small clearing like a creature smooths and flattens the ground to establish its resting place. This resting place is fringed on all sides by wild bramble, tall goldenrod, and soft ferns, which insulate it from any who may wander its way without being meant to.

The cottage is quaint. It has four walls made from large stones of varied shapes and colors, a mish-mash of protection borne by the earth. Its windows are shut up tight by wooden shutters, and it is topped by a thick thatched roof to keep out the bitter wind. Its chimney is cold now; firewood lies in a dwindled pile near the modest garden out front, ready to be stored away for the season. In the small clearing where the cottage dwells and in the forest beyond, all is still quiet— the honeybees are sleeping, and the birds have not yet returned from their migration south. But the clover is beginning to emerge again. Dew has replaced the frost. And today, the air is sweet with the promise of springtime.

We are out to play.

Only the barest rustle gives me away as I weave between the alders, step delicately over ferns, and skirt the thorny brambles with equal parts caution and swiftness. My hooves skip lightly over low brush, nearly silent; I take care not to be noticed as I pick along, weaving a meandering path through the wood for some time. I continue drawing farther from my cottage and its clearing until, guided by some intuition, I allow myself to slow and pause near a felled tree.

My soft ears flick, searching for tell-tale sounds. I scan the awakening forest, trying to catch a tell-tale glimpse of that which I’m evading. Yet, all is still. For some long moments, it is just me and my breath alone in the wood, and the prickling awareness that keeps me wide-eyed and alert to every sight and sound begins to wane. I relax; my bunched muscles ease, no longer ready to flee at the merest suggestion of danger. It is safe here now.

I take stock of myself. My bangs are mussed, and a blind attempt to tame them yields what is most likely lackluster results. Still, as I lift my thick braid from my shoulder, examining what I can see of its end, it seems to have held its shape. This consolation is quickly overshadowed as I move down my body and realize something with my dress doesn’t feel right. I smooth my hands down the linen, frowning lightly as I try to figure out why it is pinched and pulled uncomfortably around my midsection. That mystery is quickly solved when I reach behind me, unwedging the hem where it has bunched above my tail.

In my escapade through the wood, my furry rump has, apparently, been exposed for all around to see. I am bare beneath the dress, having donned it only for modesty’s sake in case I were to encounter someone unexpected here— perhaps a villager who’d wandered too far from the road, or some curious children following the stream too deep into the forest. Though, since I’d chosen a frock short enough to keep me unencumbered as I run, I’m now realizing that it might be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I won’t bother with the dress next time. What’s the point? No one ever comes this far in, anyway—

There’s a subtle crackle nearby, and instantly, my prey-mind overwhelms me.

With a squeal of fearful delight, I take off at once, bounding into the brush. Knowing he’s been exposed, my hunter abandons stealth, and his pursuit becomes obvious now. Pounding feet race over old, crumbling leaves. Branches rustle and snap as they’re pushed hastily aside, almost close enough to brush me. When a familiar raspy cackle kisses the end of my braid, adrenaline bursts like goosebumps along my skin. I squeal again, but the sound subsides into a girlish giggle as I feint from him and dart to the left. With great commotion, the sounds of Eddie’s pursuit falter as he scrambles to adapt and continue after me.

Bits of my hair fall free from the braid. No longer neat, they feather my cheeks, blowing in the wind I create with my escape. I feel that wind lift my hair and ruffle the hem of my dress; I feel the ferns and the grass crush under my hooves, and I grin. My heart throbs as I race through the wood, thumping wildly with the euphoria of the chase.

In the winter months, we could not indulge in this game of predator and prey. The snow was too harsh on the soles of Eddie’s feet, and he always refuses to wear shoes, only relenting when I insist he wear them on our forays into town. Even with his tough skin, the threat of frostbite is daunting. Plus, though I am sure-footed, Eddie is more so; and as I would make every attempt to escape him, there’s always a chance my hooves would skid on hidden ice. I did not want his feet to freeze, and he did not want to risk me hurting myself. With these concerns in mind, we spent the winter occupying ourselves with other activities. But now that the ground has thawed and spring is here — on this, the warmest day in many months, sweet and fragrant with that new emergent growth and pregnant with supple dew instead of biting frost— I begged Eddie to play chase with me once again.

He’d seemed hesitant at first to oblige my request. His hand had cupped my cheek, broad and callused, his fingers tipped with blunt nails I always file short for him. “Full moon’s tomorrow, Junie,” he reminded me, searching my face. “You sure you want me to chase you?”

I nodded, my eyes bright and eager, and he relented quickly. Being cooped up without the release of the chase had been difficult for both of us. Eddie was too pent-up to put up an earnest argument, and I was too aflame with the promise of play to care about what time of the month it happened to be, though I knew that Eddie would likely be rougher than normal because of it. Eddie always gets a little wolfier in the days leading up to the full moon, something he and his friends jokingly refer to as ‘pre-lycanthropic syndrome.’ I know that he is more easily excitable, more feral, when his transformation is imminent. Today, as he pursues me with the intent to capture, the thought of that is quite thrilling.

That thrill spurs me on now as I redouble my efforts to escape. No longer do I try to be silent as I flee— the only priority now is to evade my mate for as long as possible, to fuel the stirring in his blood and mine. But at this first test of true exertion, I find my joints are stiff, still creaky from disuse. I had, after all, spent most of my time curled up within our cottage this winter, tangled in blankets with Eddie near the fire. Reading, dozing, fucking, nuzzling, murmuring, grazing, only to doze again and repeat the process day after day. We did this all within the comfortable nest we’d made for ourselves, wiling away our time until the spring finally returned.

I know I will become more limber the more I frolic; I need only to warm to it. But being what he is, Eddie needs less time to adjust after a long, lazy winter. From the corner of my eye, I see one of his broad hands sweep towards me, tipped with wicked claws longer than they typically are when playing this game. Those claws snag and tear through the side of my dress, and though I do not slow, the scratch blooms like a chilly sting across my ribs.

That pain only excites me more. I feel my arousal stir, mixing with the impulse to flee from that which is chasing me. I gasp for breath, my muscles burning as my body chooses which way to go in a flickering haze of instinct. My eyes dart over rocks and logs, ferns and bushes, moving only a split second faster than my hooves follow.

I don’t think too hard about where I am running. There is no way to evade Eddie forever; the chase always ends the same way.

And end it does. In a field of blooming heather, Eddie finally catches me. There’s a sudden heavy weight upon my back, a lurch, and then firm arms snatching me tight around the waist as I careen toward the ground. The impact dazes me, and I lay limp as we roll. The landscape becomes a blur of purple-tipped stalks until Eddie pins me down by my shoulders, looming over me.

When my doubled vision clears, all I see is him.

Eddie’s curls brush my clavicle, tickling my sweat-dewed skin, mixing with my braid which has finally fallen entirely to disarray— dark oak on pale wheat. My breath burns ragged in my lungs as I gulp deep breaths of air, staring up at my captor. I can see his gaze is fixed on my throat, where he my pulse is pounding beneath the thin skin there. Hungrily, he eyes me, panting out his exertion, revelling in the sight of his prey beneath him. And now that I am caught, there is no thought of escape— instead, I melt beneath him, laying pliant as I drink in each beloved feature of the one who has won me.

Eddie’s handsome face betrays his arousal— dark eyes wide, pupils entirely dilated, nose scrunched, mouth open in a grimace of feral delight. He is wolfier than usual, as he warned me he might be. His ears are pointier, tufted with fur; his teeth are longer, especially his canines. Both the top and bottom sets look wickedly sharp where they frame his deep pink tongue, which wags with each heaving breath— not quite lolling from his mouth, but close to it. I can see that it, too, is rougher and longer than it typically is when we play chase. The thought of what he might do with it now that he has caught me makes a wicked thrill bloom low in my belly.

Eagerly, I devour more of my mate. I trace reverent eyes over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, his heaving chest, his nipples tight from excitement, the sparse hair between his pecs, which is denser now with his partial transformation. My breath begins to quicken as my gaze sweeps over lean, angular limbs, a soft belly that conceals a powerful core, and a trail of thick, dark hair leading down from his navel beneath his britches. Those are tented impressively, and I shiver at the sight. Unconsciously, I draw my tongue along my bottom lip. I throb between my legs as I anticipate the reveal of his straining cock.

As the sight and scent of my arousal grow more apparent, Eddie becomes evermore excited, descending further into the animal part of his nature. With muscles coiled and quivering with tension, he wraps large hands around my bare shoulders, pressing me down to the earth and squeezing, as if urging me to stay there. His claws begin to dig into my skin. I can feel the cold sting intensify as his grip tightens enough to make blood well up around each sharp tip.

But the bloodletting is not frightening. It just makes me submit further to him. My eyes remain wide and doe-like as I gaze up at him adoringly, and my plump lips part just slightly. My mouth pools with saliva as I imagine him slipping in there— his thumb, his tongue, his cock, anything would do. My soft, fuzzy ears flick with anticipation at the thought, and my thighs press together, an ineffectual attempt to soothe the ache inside until Eddie takes care of me. I am his prey: helpless, docile. Entirely at his mercy, and so utterly happy to be so.

Typically, Eddie would now divest me of my clothing, perhaps by shimmying the hem of my dress up my body, or by untying the bows atop my shoulders and letting the dress fall away.

Today, our play is not typical.

Eddie rises up onto his knees, towering over me as the sun glints off his wild curls, casting an auburn halo at their edges. A small sound escapes me at the sight of him— proud, powerful, imposing for the wicked smirk that crooks his plush lips and the white tips of savage fangs that peek from between them. He would be a terrifying sight to behold if not for his eyes. Even when he is overcome with lust, and Eddie’s eyes are wide, frenzied, pitch-black with his desire, when he looks upon me, there is a softness in their corners, never overtaken by the violence he is capable of.

That softness is there when he pins my legs with his powerful calves, pressing tight so I will stay still and flat beneath him. When I do not resist, Eddie takes up the bottom hem of my dress and begins to rend it apart, exposing my flesh for him. I keep my arms curled in the heather above my head, watching as his claws make quick work of my clothing. It does not bother me to have my dress destroyed; the sacrifice is worth it to see how Eddie relishes in the sight of me pliant and obedient beneath him, allowing him to destroy my clothing.

The fabric tears unevenly, parting in jagged strips. I hold perfectly still as the fur of my legs is revealed up to the top of my pelvis, midway between my mons and my navel, where it transitions into skin. He continues up my body, and the ripped fabric flutters down like the kiss of a bird’s wings on my skin. Rip, and my navel is exposed. Rip, and my ribcage emerges. Rip, and my breasts fall free, with little pink nipples the color of ripe watermelon. Cool spring air kisses them puckered, and the sight pulls a low rumble from Eddie’s throat. It is clear from the gleam in his eye that the sight has tantalized him, reminding him of the other place on my body that is so brightly-colored.

I know before it happens what the sight will have him do.

Sure enough, Eddie’s warm knees are suddenly no longer crowding the outside of my thighs. I look down the plane of my body to find him discarding his britches with impatience, and then all at once, Eddie seizes me with needy roughness. My bare back drags against heather flowers made abrasive by the sudden motion. The feeling is unpleasant, as my skin is far more sensitive than my fur. Yet I do not dwell on it, more arrested by the way Eddie is parting my legs as he hefts me onto his lap, lifting my lower body easily, tilting me up until only my shoulder blades are pressed to the ground. My inner thighs stretch tight around his waist as he pulls me close to him. He plants me there, with my ass resting on his muscled thighs. His broad, clawed hands squeeze at the rolls of tender fat that mound up at the outer juncture of my hip and thigh, covered by soft, bristly fur. I sigh at the feeling, thinking about how Eddie often draws his nails through my fur. Whether blunt or sharp, I relish in the feeling of my mate doting on me that way. And I know he loves the breathy sounds of contentment I make when he strokes up and down my legs, scratching lightly as I stretch and preen and lilt into his loving touch.

But Eddie is not interested in tantalizing me with light, delicate touches today. Instead, his gaze is locked on the place between my legs where my fur parts to reveal bare flesh. It’s the deep, watermelon pink of my pussy— the same color as my nipples, but soft like the skin at my inner elbow, puffy and supple.

I feel a familiar rush of pride at the way Eddie’s panting mouth waters, tantalized by my sex. Drool glistens, gathering underneath his tongue as he salivates at the sight of me. I feel the rough pads of his fingers carefully spread my sticky lower lips, angled to keep his claws from catching my delicate flesh. I hope that he will lift me high and swipe that hot rough tongue through my folds. My fingers crawl along the grass in anticipation, reaching for the strong knobs of his knees. I want to hold them, to squeeze them in my grip when he buries his face in my pussy, ravenous for the sweet taste of my arousal.

But Eddie surprises me. Instead of lifting me to his mouth, he slots the underside of his hot cock against my heat. Pinching my plump lips closed with his thumb and index finger, he creates a tight space where he can rut along the length of my pussy without entering me.

I gasp at the first thrust along my slick, sensitive flesh, and Eddie grunts in satisfaction to hear it, rumbling deep in his chest. He is being quieter than usual— that is, he typically talks more than this, but it seems that with his transformation so close, he’s caught in the haze of his baser nature. He is communicating with his body and his sounds, and so, I decide, will I. I tip my chin and hum happily for him as he drags his cock along my hot slick pussy with one long, slow thrust, and he rumbles back in reply. Again, he drags himself along my heat, and my hips squirm in his lap; he answers with one more slow thrust, as if he’s savoring the feeling of teasing my body in this way. And then Eddie begins to grind against my sex with a rough, staccato rhythm, rutting with sharp jerks of his hips that have me throwing my head back against the soil, moaning out my pleasure. He gathers my slick with his fat cockhead and catches my clit every time he ruts forward— there’s a spark of fire at the end of each thrust, and I whimper as that delicious feeling begins to build in my lower belly, enough so that my tail begins to twitch, a tell-tale sign of my pleasure.

The little brushes of my tail against his hairy thighs show him how good he’s making me feel, and as I think about how it must look, him using my body like this, it flicks even harder, more insistently. But my mate does not indulge in what I can only imagine, though he could easily watch himself rut in and out of my pink lips if he were to tip his chin. Eddie does not look down to see the way his cock grows sticky with my gathering arousal. Instead, his wide, dark eyes remain fixed on my face, taking in every detailof my expression, feasting on my enjoyment. It’s as if the only sustenance he could ever need can be gained by the sight of me beneath him— my lower lip clamped between my teeth, my glazed eyes locked on his face, my expression so clearly transfixed by him, so entirely enamored with him.

Eddie sees the way I’m looking at him, and the corners of his eyes soften even more. He grins down at me fondly, but the movement of his body does not soften with it. It only intensifies. Each inhale becomes a huff, each exhale a grunt as he ruts harder along my heat, hard enough that his hairy balls start to slap against my ass. He maintains this faster speed only briefly before I feel his grip falter and his cock lose traction in the increasing slickness. But Eddie adjusts quickly. He finally looks down at the place we are nearly joined and watches as he pinches my slick, puffy lips tighter around his slippery cock, adjusting the angle of his hips to compensate. And once he regains his pace, Eddie ensures that it will not happen again. He abandons his grip on my hip to reach higher up, grasping handfuls of the flesh at my waist to pull me up against him.

It’s a commanding hold that ensures our slick, heated bodies remain pressed together tightly, as tight as can be without one of us being inside the other. Eddie grinds himself against my pussy, undulating his hips in a slow roll he is clearly enjoying, and I’m enjoying it too— enjoying the teasing pleasure of his cockhead catching against my clit, enjoying the sensual scratch of his wiry bush rubbing against the soft fur between my thighs, enjoying the way he gnaws his bottom lip and regards me through his eyelashes, his stare unwavering. I’m relishing in all of these things, yet before long, it is no longer enough for me. I begin to yearn for his next thrust to catch his head on the rim of my entrance. I want his cockhead to snag there, to pause for a moment as it threatens to breach me. Until all that is needed is the slightest cant of Eddie’s hips for his cock to ease right into my aching hole and stretch me open at last.

My pussy flutters at the thought, as if trying to entice him with the promise of its grip. When he doesn’t seem to notice, I begin to coax him with a slight rocking of my hips, biting my lip to try and stay my protestations, to resist the petulance rising within me. But when he ignores the language of my body, I am forced to make myself known.

My whine is a high, needy thing, quiet at first, then repeated with increasing strength and desperation until he cannot escape me.

This Eddie cannot ignore, and his eyes flick up to mine. His face is beautiful and rugged, his expression animalistic. That plush top lip is half caught in a snarl and those dark eyes are half-lidded, with eyelashes that almost flutter as he works his cock with my soft body. As my whining increases in pitch, I watch a flicker pass across those dark eyes— smugness, or knowing, perhaps, though Eddie doesn’t yet acquiesce to my request.

But I have caught his attention now, and having caught it, I know he will yield to me. Eddie may be the predator between us, but I have learned that what he truly desires is to give me what I want. Even if Eddie winds me up for his own amusement, in the end, he is too soft, too devoted to deny me for long.

So I play into my strengths. My brow pinches pleadingly; my lower lip quivers, pouting out for him, flushed darker from having been bitten and chewed on as I tried to maintain patience. I look up at him, doe-eyed and weak as I sniff and wriggle, whimper and whine. Please, I implore him with my eyes, still neglecting speech. Please fuck me.

That flicker of smugness in Eddie’s eyes is replaced by a deepening of umber to gold, accompanied by a gradual flush that raises high on Eddie’s cheekbones. He is moved by watching me beg for his cock, and there’s no way for him to deny it.

As soon as that understanding passes between us, it’s as if a string has snapped. Without warning, Eddie wraps his massive hands around my hips and, with an ease that is equally startling and arousing, he flips me over.

Ever conscientious, Eddie continues holding me around the middle to keep my chin and shoulders from slamming into the ground too hard. But I wouldn’t have cared. Not even if he’d been too far gone and I’d found my teeth scraping fresh, fragrant grass. My moan of anticipation is almost a bleat as my hands press the heather flat beneath me. When I feel Eddie nudge at the inside of my knobby knees with the outside of his, I scramble to assume a position he can mount me in. I arch my back and spread my knees, sticking my ass high in the air. The breeze caresses me between my legs, a cool kiss against overheated flesh, though even that brings little relief when I’m aching this way.

When that slight breeze is suddenly interrupted, I know that Eddie has moved to kneel tall behind me. His claws bite into my furry hips as he grasps me, his grip tighter than it has been yet today. The ache inside lessens as flutters of anticipation replace it; my heart throbs the whisper I hold back from voicing. Finally. Finally. Finally.

Imagine, if you will, the nature of my mate. Roguish, playful, and so mischievous, I sometimes can’t decide whether to kiss or smack him. I know this— I relish in his wild cackle and his manic grins, most of the time. So perhaps it should not have surprised me when Eddie’s cockhead presses against the thin skin below my entrance, sliding down, down, down with even pressure before skating right past my entrance and pressing against my sensitive clit instead.

Despite the promise of this new position, despite the way I’m arched and ready for him, Eddie chooses to rut himself along my pussy again, teasing me more. From this angle, he has more to reach, too, in his efforts to torment me. He slides up, up, up again, and I feel his cockhead slip between my asscheeks; the underside of his thick cock rubs along just the rim of my entrance and over my puckered hole in slow strokes that do not satisfy me.

Of course, I whine again. The sound is more rough, less sensual, almost a growl of frustration as if in some pale imitation of Eddie himself. And Eddie has the gall to chuckle. It’s a rumble in his chest, but lilted, almost a purr until it breaks at the end into the familiar sound of Eddie’s raspy laughter. My tail is wagging now— not in desire, but in impatience, with jerky flicks that convey my displeasure. I dig my blunt nails into the earth, trying to endure my mate’s teasing, but I am quickly passing desperation, approaching feralness.

I will need to play dirty.

I coordinate my plan with the slow withdrawal of Eddie’s cock. When his cockhead lifts from my lips, I widen my knees, lowering my ass slightly in preparation for what I will do. And then my next shift comes all at once— exaggerating the curve of my spine, pressing my shoulders flat to the ground as I reach behind me. Stretching my arms as far back as they’ll go. Grabbing handfuls of my inner thighs, inching my fingers inward, searching for flesh beyond the fur. When I find that smoothness, I turn my head. And with my cheek smushed to the heather, as the flowers smear the apple purple, I look back at Eddie, arresting his attention to my hole as it stretches when I pull my sticky lips apart to entice him. “Eddie,” I whimper, high and throaty and sweetly feminine, abandoning my attempt to match him in wordlessness. “Please, baby, I need you.” I tighten my fingers. Divots form as my plumpness mounds up around them, and I stretch open my hole a little farther. “Need your cock, Eddie. Please.”

Rough, quick, filthy, more wolf, more man, any which way— I don’t care how Eddie takes me, as long as he takes me now.

When his powerful thighs press to mine so immediately, I let go of my pussy lips, quickly raising my hips and tucking my hands under me again. I can’t see his face anymore, but this is it. I know it. And it’s such a relief to be stretched, to be split open when he enters me at last. We both whine simultaneously as we feel my pussy yield to him, welcoming him in with a lewd squelch, hugging him tightly.

So tight, and wet, and warm, only for my Eddie.

I hear him rattle a sigh of relief as his cockhead pops in. I imagine the way his face looks— eyes closed, lashes brushing his cheeks, head tilted, neck stretched, wild curls dipping down his powerful back. Eddie is finally fucking me open with short, shallow strokes, growing slowly deeper until at last he’s plunging all the way in, nudging up against the end of me. And now that he’s seated fully inside, I want it hard and rough— I want so badly for him to beat into me until my brain is fuzzy and my legs are trembling. In my wanting, I begin to rock back into him, moving myself on his cock in defiance again of the dynamic we have set for our play today.

Eddie allows me to assert myself for a short time before squeezing my hips again, holding me tight with a warning growl low in his throat. I’ve let you have your fun, that rumble seems to say. Let me fuck you now.

I am eager for Eddie to take the lead. Perhaps overly eager as I show my earnest submission, whimpering and humming as my hips jerk to a stop halfway sunk down on his cock. There, I hold still, turning my face and smushing my cheek to the crushed flowers again. I want Eddie to see my thoroughly docile expression, my innocent eyes, my downturned ears. My small tail falls slack, and if he were closer— if he were pressed all the way up inside me— I would trace a soothing pattern with its tip along his soft belly, hoping he would accept the gesture.

Eddie smiles, a slow grin full of heat and satisfaction, and I uncrick my neck as I see that he is not upset with me. The relief mixes headily with my arousal, and I press back into his touch as he grabs palmfuls of my ass, fanning his fingers in my soft fur. I feel him spread my cheeks, hear him hiss as he sees the evidence of my desire for him. He plays with me— pushing himself slowly in to watch my cream gather thick around my entrance. I can feel it beginning to mat the hair that frames my bright pink lips, and I imagine my arousal dragging sticky along his thickness, coating the hot flush of his skin and his throbbing veins as he inches out and back in, over and over. I know he will do this for as long as he likes. I am happy to let him, to be the plaything he has caught, stretched out on his thick cock.

And almost better than the way Eddie is making me feel is the evidence of his own enjoyment. Little absent sounds of satisfaction murmured under his breath. His claw-tipped fingers flexing, grabbing, groping. The increasing desperation behind his thrusts as his pace begins to quicken. The brush of his soft belly against my tail as he begins to curl his body over me, seeking more leverage. Lost in the feeling of my squeezing heat.

Those little sounds soon subside to panting, and I lose myself in my own pleasure until something wet and warm drips onto my spine. One drop. Another, catching the first. Combined, they crawl down the slope of my back, slipping toward the nape of my neck. As they dampen my hair, I feel them chased by a new drop— a third, and then a fourth.

I realize what it must be: Eddie’s drool, dripping from his open jaw onto my back.

The feeling of his spit— the knowledge that I have him so drunk on my pussy that his mouth is just hanging open in absent enjoyment— makes me flush warm with giddy pleasure. A warm spread of happiness in my chest; a sparkling, tightening heat low in my belly, like embers of a flame. I seek to grow that burn; unconsciously, I roll my hips, rubbing Eddie’s tip inside me.

As if in a coordinated effort, Eddie juts into me sharply just as I roll my hips. The effect is is startling— he ends up slamming in to the hilt so roughly that I feel his balls squish up tight against my inner thighs. It’s almost painful, but in the best way as I’m wracked with a sudden burst of intense pleasure. The feeling is dizzying, overwhelming, as if I’d been shot through with electricity, hoof to head. It punches a moan out of me, one loud enough to stir the wood around us; my pussy flexes and flutters on his hardness, my puckered hole winks, and my tail stiffens straight up, quivering from base to tip.

Such a visceral reaction from his mate must speak to the beast inside Eddie. He crowds me into the ground, belting his arm around my waist, squeezing me to his chest. His heavy warmth envelops me— tight, tight, so tight and sticky with his sweat and mine. The hold presses the breath from my lungs, which I regain quickly as I gasp as bright pain blooms in near the base of my neck— Eddie’s curls spill across my upper back, barely a warning before his sharp teeth sink into my shoulder.

I cry out, squealing a broken sound as he begins to rut hard and fast into my cunt. Suddenly, all I am is sensation, every nerve awakened as I flood with adrenaline and arousal. I feel all of it at once, and somehow each sensation so distinctly: Eddie’s balls slapping against my furry mound, beating an even rhythm. His corded throat rumbling as he hums around my flesh in his mouth. His warm breath fanning me as he huffs through his nose. And then the feelings converge into the sharp, cold agony of his teeth in my shoulder and the hot sparkling pleasure of his cock plunging into me.

The potent combination drives me quickly to overstimulation. I reach back and fist my hand in his wild mane of curls. And even though, as Eddie rocks his body into mine, each tug makes his teeth dig a little more into my shoulder, my fist just tightens as I endure the onslaught of sensation.

Tugging so viciously on Eddie’s hair isn’t meant as a complaint, but his decision to bite me was clearly impulsive, and perhaps he interprets it as such. He releases me quickly, and there’s both relief and disappointment in the loss of his teeth. Relief and disappointment in my conscious mind, but at this juncture— so overwhelmed by sensation— instinct takes over. By instinct, my body drives my actions. It hunches my back to lower my hips, which retract and squirm away from the intensity of that stimulation, afraid of my coming orgasm as much as it yearns for it.

I act on instinct, and so does Eddie; as I shift away, his predator-brain activates. I hear him growl— an intimidating sound meant to make prey freeze. I do. And I find my tail snatched in a commanding hold and tugged hard.

My furry knees drag against the crushed heather as I’m pulled back into the curve of Eddie’s muscular body. In one motion, before I can make a sound, he uses my tail to lift up my hips and sink his cock into my gaping cunt. I gasp again, and it chokes off into a pained moan as Eddie sinks his teeth back into my shoulder.

Eddie might be consumed by his predator-brain, but he does not rip through the muscle. The action is not to devour, to consume, but instead to keep me still, to take my pleasure no matter how overstimulating it might be. He holds me there with his teeth in the meat my shoulder and his hand fisted around my tail, fucking with feral, single-minded intent into my cunt. He wants me to fall apart beneath him; he wants to possess me entirely, to work my body to the point of shattering pleasure.

And Eddie will get what he wants. My heart pounds as he bullies my cunt, unrelenting in pursuit of my orgasm. My breath puffs out in little vocal squeaks, which grow more and more desperate and broken until the feeling finally surges up, powerful and dizzying and utterly unstoppable as it overtakes me.

It’s a euphoric release from a build-up so intense it had been approaching agony. I shudder, jerking as it crests and breaks inside me, and then pleasure is all I know.

In the moment, I am not conscious of it, but my cunt clamps down on him, squeezing hard— almost possessively— around Eddie’s cock. Almost instantly, his grip on my tail eases, softening when he feels it twitch and quiver erratically as I begin to cum. His teeth release me, and he growls again, but this time it is warm— possessive, satisfied as I writhe beneath him, caught in the throes of the blinding pleasure he has given me. My brain is blank, fuzzed completely stupid as I cum.

Slowly, I come back to myself. Eddie is still draped over my back, and I’m beginning to bow under his weight, my muscles weak and slack in the aftermath. Sensing my exhaustion, Eddie pulls out and turns me over, and I remain limp as he manipulates me onto my back. My chest is heaving, my body shaking, my cheeks hot, my eyes heavy-lidded. Dazed and absent, in a state of total bliss. I only realize I’d been screaming out my ecstasy when I swallow, and my throat feels raw.

With as much gentleness as he can muster, Eddie folds me in half. My legs fit into the crooks of his shoulders as he bends forward over me, bracing his palms in the dirt alongside my shoulders as my hooves hover in the air, tickled by the soft fur that tufts his ears. Eddie is a sight— wild, sweat-drenched curls, pink chest, a vein popping in his forehead. There’s desperation in his brow, the darkness of his eyes, and the pinch of his plush lips. I whimper as he enters me again, still achingly hard; I stare into his eyes as he begins to fuck into my sopping cunt, squelching into me with audibly lewd strokes. He fucks me slowly now, savoring the way my pussy hugs and grips him, the way she sucks him in greedily every time his hips draw back. I can’t help but stare up at him with such utter, mindless devotion, and that devotion is mirrored in his expression. Despite his need, Eddie clearly wants to relish in the feeling of me pressed beneath him as long as possible, and I can see how he’s fighting himself as his nostrils flare, his lips press pale and thin, and his brow begins to twitch, that vein throbbing now as he stubbornly tries to hold back.

Eventually, though, even that Munson stubbornness isn’t enough to prevent Eddie’s aching balls from their release. He’s pressed in deep, and I feel them brush against me as they jump and tighten. Instantly, Eddie is pulling out of me, dipping down, leaning all his weight on one elbow as he fists his cock desperately with his free hand. I look into his fluttering eyes, feeling his cum begin to paint my lower lips as he shudders and bucks into his own touch. When I cup his face, Eddie rolls his cheek into my palm, and then he whines. Confused, I watch as his eyes scrunch tightly shut; he keeps bucking until his chest is heaving and he’s panting fast, grunting on each exhale. A curious feeling blooms in my chest as he trembles, still fucking his fist; I stroke back his hair, concern turning to fascination as he tears from my grip and abruptly sits up, towering over me and throwing his head back in a strangled howl. I drop my aching legs and prop up on my elbows, reeling as I look down my body to see the swelling at the base of Eddie’s cock, so bulbous it’s visible behind his fist as he strokes himself. And then his hand grips my thigh tight as his howl turns to a long, low groan of relief; he nestles his fat cockhead between my puffy lips to cum on me again.

I realize that this must also be because of his imminent transformation— his knot, this second release. His hot mushroom head pulses as he paints my clit with hot spurts of his cum. Eddie cums, and he keeps cumming, enough so that I can feel his spend drip down my entrance, collect in the rim, and then spill over onto my fur on its crawling path toward the ground. It’s the messiest we have ever been. I can feel how matted my fur is around my entrance, tacky and coated in his spend and mine. He’s still stroking his cock slowly, and I can see that the motion is inadvertently spreading some of his cum over his shaft, thick and slightly opaque as it sticks to his flushed skin.

Eventually— after quite a bit longer than usual when he only cums once, which apparently is not always the case, I realize with a little thrill of excitement— Eddie stops cumming. He sighs in relief, his shoulders sagging. And in the aftermath, I want to scramble to my knees and take him into my mouth, to explore that new aspect of his body revealed to me.

But Eddie has other plans.

Despite his clear fatigue, he lifts my hips carefully before I can make any moves to get up; my knees spread as he bumps one gently with his temple. As I give him access, Eddie leans down until his mouth meets the juncture of my spread thighs and begins licking my fur clean of his seed and my slick.

I am a little envious that he gets to taste that mixture of us, but after a few strokes of his tongue, I sigh, relaxing bonelessly in his hold. It soothes me how gently he licks me, and it feels so nice that I don’t even mind waiting to explore his knot. I hum contentedly as his rough tongue drags warm and wet over my fur in long, gentle strokes. And once my fur is clean, he licks between my lips, all over my puffy pussy, dipping into my entrance too. His chest rumbles as he tastes my sweetness mixed with his tang, and I can feel the vibrations in the backs of my thighs as he enjoys cleaning me. My tail quivers happily, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to my mound before setting me down again.

As soon as he lets me down, I right myself in a sprawl of limbs so I can crawl over to him. Eddie must think I am looking to cuddle as I usually do after we make love, because he lounges back with easy confidence, propping himself up with an elbow and opening his other arm in invitation. But I am not ready to cuddle; instead, I want to explore his knot.

I climb over his leg and settle to his side near his hip, ducking my head, my eyes fixed between his thighs. Cautiously, with a twitching nose and flicking ears, I draw close to his slowly-flagging erection, looking at his swollen base with unfiltered, wide-eyed curiosity. He huffs tiredly in amusement, and spreads his hairy thighs further, allowing me to sate that curiosity.

It is hot and sticky— I can tell without even touching it. Eddie’s body always runs hot, but the heat radiating from this new emergence is more potent than I’ve felt from him before. Timidly, I begin to touch his knot with light brushes of my fingertips, ready to flinch back should it make any sudden moves. It feels stiff like his hardness, just as unyielding, though mounded up in a supple curve rather than a hard line.

His thighs tense when I lick it, and I realize it must be sensitive. But though he grunts and his muscles draw taut, Eddie holds still, letting me lick up the vague tang of his cum from his velvet skin until I’m satisfied. When I have had my fill of his taste, I rest my cheek on his wiry bush, looking up at him. His brown eyes are warm, the line of his brow eased as he meets my gaze, and with fond gentleness, Eddie strokes my hair. He draws his fingers through the strands, lightly scratching my scalp as I hum. But when his fingers skim the base of my throat, pushing back the hair there, they freeze at the same time I register an ache. It’s the bite I am only just starting to remember as my post-orgasmic daze begins to fade.

Eddie whines, high and distressed, his eyes no longer hazy but now sharp with concern. “Junie,” he croaks, and my name is the first word he’s said since we left the cottage. He reaches for me, and I let him pull me onto his naked lap so he can examine my wound. He prods around it lightly with his fingertips, and I feel my skin is sticky with blood. I scrunch my neck, tipping my chin to try to look, but it’s too close for me to see, and that just makes it hurt more. Eddie grunts in protest, and I sigh when he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my face away from the mark.

I stare up at the alders, letting him fuss over me. I know he’s done when Eddie whines again and nuzzles me, pressing his nose against my neck in contrition.

“Told you I’d be too rough, baby,” he whimpers. “I’m so sorry—”

The words are mumbled into my skin, but nonetheless, I frown to hear how Eddie sounds almost beside himself. I take his face, stroking his cheeks and then his ears, rubbing them lightly between my pinched fingers in the way I know he likes. “I’m okay, Eddie,” I say quietly, letting him tend to me. Carefully, so carefully, I feel Eddie’s tongue brush over the punctures, and I keep rubbing his ears as he begins to lick the wound he left on my shoulder.

I am not concerned the way Eddie is; I know it will heal, and faster now that he’s coated me so thoroughly with his saliva. But Eddie still insists on carrying me back to our cottage. He leaves his britches and my tattered dress discarded in the heather. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his strong and steady heartbeat, which lulls me into hazy contentment until I crack my eyes and see stone walls and a thatched roof— our familiar resting place. I let my eyes slip closed again, and even so, I sense the moment he crosses the threshold.

Inside is warm, smelling of fresh herbs and our combined musk. I am filled with peace as he lays me in our bed, curling around me, keeping me safe with the heat of his body. My wolf and I are thoroughly worn, thoroughly sated. For now, at least. I am eager for what more we can get up to as the weather grows fair, and the birds and bees return.

thanks for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed it! 💙

#blueywrites #monster!eddie #werewolf!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #monster smut #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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with or without you | e.m.

eddie munson x f!reader ; [1.4k] summary: It's time to leave Hawkins, and unlike every scenario Eddie had built so far in life, the reality is: he doesn't want to go alone. Now that he has you, everything's shifted. For the first time, he sees someone else leaving this hellhole with him.

📝 this was a commission done by the lovely (and very patient)) @easy-peasy68 and i hope she likes reading it as much as i loved writing. i missed writing Eds. ⚠️Minors, DNI. Explicit sexual content. | 🏷️ established relationship, soft Eddie, unprotected sex, love-making, talks of the future.

The graduation cap lying on top of his gown looked lost amongst the rest of Eddie’s things.

What a weird, and happy sight, you thought, exhaling the smoke from your lungs. From ‘a loser who’s never gonna make it outta this fuckin’ town or even finish High School’ to a graduate, and one with honors.

Eddie came a long way from the angry, bruised, and hopeless guy you met months ago. Turning to your side, you analyzed his side profile lying in his bed right next to you, and sighed, content.

In a sign of syncronization, he echoed. He looked peaceful lost in thoughts like this. A lot different from the person on stage, or the guy running the role play table—he looked like Eds, the one who you met outside the hospital with a gown on, a cigarette between his lips, and a flirtatious remark for anything you had to say.

When you passed him the blunt, Eddie turned his attention back to you, and the hint of a smile showed on his face.

“It looks weird, doesn’t it?” he asked, pulling you closer.

“What does?”

“That thing,” he pointed at the cap, took a drag, and blew the smoke upwards so it wouldn’t go to your face.

It did look weird, but instead you answered, “It looks… out of place,” and bingo, Eddie laughed.

A win.

Anything that made him laugh with his chest like that counted as victory. Plus—Eddie liked to pull you even closer whenever something amused him, just like now.

His body wrapped around yours like an octopus; legs thrown over your middle, arms circling your waist, and his head hiding in the crook of your neck. “I’m out of place,” he chuckled. The feeling of his lips pressing against your neck made your exhale shakier—Eddie took advantage of it. “Hmmm,” the hum meant he noticed your shiver, so you curled up further into him. “And now… I can not be.”

So this was it.

The unspoken conversation that hung in the air between you two for weeks now—the one you two almost had a few times, but was always interrupted by something or someone; the inevitable moment where the future knocked on the door, and you discovered what it looked like.

The shift in the air would be comical if it didn’t turn your stomach into something quivering and alive. “Free at last,” you whispered to him. Your lips searched for the skin closest to you—his chest, out naked after his shower, exposed with all of its ink and scars.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Dangerous thing,” you joked.

Another laugh. This one, you felt vibrating against your chest. “It is.” Eddie squeezed himself around you, then pulled his head back just enough to look into your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about how much I always dreamt of this, y’know?”

“Finsihing High School?”

“Yeah.” His smile looked a little magical under the moonlight seeping through his bedroom’s window. “And whatever the hell came after that.”

Dangerous thing, indeed. “What was included in these dreams?” A question you hadn’t dared asking yet. It had been choking you, if you were to be honest, but it felt good to let it out.

What’s in store for you future?

Eddie had that answer ready. “I wanna get out of this town.”

The words froze you in the spot. Looking at him, with your body warm and held tight in his arms, all you could do was look for a moment. Forcing a smile on your face, you tried some words, too. “You should.” This town is quicksand. I’d know. “Don’t get stuck here like—”

“Come with me,” Eddie blurted the words out so fast that it seemed to surprise even him.

Wide eyed, he opened and closed his mouth again, then swallowed visibly.

“Sorry—” he laughed, looking nervous. “I meant—I’d like you to come with me too. If… if you wanted. If you think about getting out of here too.”

“Eddie…”

Overwhelmed by the feelings washing over you, all you could do was close your eyes. Bury your face in his chest like a cat, or like someone who’s trying to push their way inside.

You’d do it. If it was possible, you’d climb inside Eddie and live safe and sound in the comfort of his warmth.

“What, sweetheart?” His hand sneaks underneath your shirt—his shirt, and starts rubbing against your back. “Too much?”

You shake your head. Never too much. “You’re never too much,” this much you can say without choking on it.

Eddie was never too much. Ever since you met him, he was more than enough. He was—”perfect,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re perfect.” You climbed on top of him, finally feeling like you could breathe again. The words had ran their course through your body, much like he had all night long, and Eddie looked even brighter now. “You really want that?”

“I want all of you,” he replied with a seriousness that was rare for him.

“Just like that?”

He shook his head. “No—not ‘just like that. I thought about this. Been thinking about it. I mean…I claimed ‘86 was gonna be my year and it almost killed me. Then I said I just wanted to make it out of ‘87 and right in the hospital I was gifted with, like, one of the best things that ever happened to me, so… yeah. Why the hell not? Uncle said he’d love a change of air. I need to get the fuck outta this town. I know it’s not your dream to work where you do forever, and as far as I know, nothing’s holding you here.” Eddie’s hands worked their way on your thighs as he said that, with his eyes kept solely on you. “I was just tryin’ to figure out how to ask you this.”

If he had any doubts, he could see in your eyes your answer, and they all dissipated.

“I wanna go,” you whispered, leaning down to get closer to him.

Eddie had a power in his hands; they could guide you wherever he wanted, and like his lips, they commanded any room he was in. “You’ll go with me, sweetheart?”

“Into the very fires of Mordor.”

Maybe it’s the fact that he sensed you meant it. Maybe it’s quoting one of his favorite books, or the way you’re already with eyes closed and ready to melt into his touch once more, but Eddie was a goner the second the words left your lips.

He muttered a curse under his breath, and then, “I can’t fucking believe you’re real,” which was the last warning you got.

Eddie was stronger than he looked.

When he flipped you over and took off the shirt he landed you after the shower, he did so without any struggle.

He got lost in the curves of your body with his eyes glued to you in a way he never had before.

Because he knew the way you adored to be touched, Eddie seemed to be on a high focused road—his tongue ran a path from your belly button to the middle of your chest, where he hummed low and nibbled, eating up all the sounds you let out. He sucked marks on both of your boobs, then sucked harder on your hardened nipples as he grinded his hips into yours.

“Eddie,” was everywhere.

“‘m here,” he answered, and he was.

Eddie made quick work of both of your clothes, and you were thankful there weren’t many.

The more you felt of his skin, the more you whispered his name, and the more he smiled. Eddie smiled as he told you to slow down, as he rubbed his dick between your folds in the cruelest teasing manner possible, as he pushed in slowly. He supported both forearms next to your head, holding you caged underneath his body, until all you could see was him, and asked you over and over again, “you’re with me, sweetheart?”

Over and over again, you answered, “Yeah, Eds, I’m with you,” and watched as the words got him lost in your body. You moaned them, whined, and eventually, all there was left was a scream of his name and the feeling of him overpowering all of your senses.

He was with you. And you’d be with him, too, wherever the road lead you two to be.

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kitmon · 1 year

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Inspired by The Yes Policy by the lovely @pinkrelish and the scene that made me audibly gasp 😌

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanart #The Yes Policy #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #Eddie munson x self insert #self insert #self insert fanart #self insert art #Eddie munson x original female character

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melodymunson · 2 months

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Eddie Munson x Reader x Corroded Coffin groupie

A little mayhem never hurt anyone

Eddie has a tour with his band Corroded Coffin and you go along as band manager and you are Eddie's long-term girlfriend. You and Eddie end up meeting another girl who was one of his band's biggest fans and you, along with Eddie, show her the best night of her life. Takes place in the late 80s. Reader Eddie and Groupie are all in their young 20s.

18+ only absolutely no exceptions. This is filth.

ao3 version

Sexual content, sexual themes, 3some, handjob, blowjob, pussy eating, p in v sex, fingering, girl on girl, lesbian sex, spit kink, facials.

Corroded Coffin had a small line of gigs lined up and what made it super awesome was that they could finally tour outside of Indiana and the small town of Hawkins. Eddie was thrilled when he found out the news and he, of course, told you right away. Once he knew he would play some shows, he was super excited because the band would open for none other than the thrash metal band known as Carnivore with frontman Peter Steele. It was going to be an amazing summer and Eddie already had the tour bus for his band purchased. You were a temporary fill-in as the bass player for the tour in 1987 when Grant temporarily took a hiatus. The year was now 1988. Eddie had spent the earlier half of the year working at the video rental place with Robin and Steve, and had a good portion of the money saved up combined with contributions from the other band members and savings from their music sales. When the day finally came to start the tour, you packed and loaded your bags on the bus. You and Eddie were wearing matching Hellfire Club tee shirts. He also had on his signature Dio vest and you had on your favorite leather jacket with pins from all of your favorite rock and metal bands. The first night of the tour was in Indianapolis. Of course, you had side-stage access to the tour and you couldn’t wait for it to start. It was going to be your first summer away from home and you couldn’t wait. Little did you know it would end up being the best summer of your life. Once you arrived at the tour's first stop, you went backstage and did your makeup.

By the time that the soundcheck had started, you were watching front-row and seeing your man play a cover of Master of Puppets by Metallica. You were so proud of Eddie and he couldn’t take his eyes off you as he played on the stage. Showtime soon arrived, and you were side-stage as the lights went down and the crowd cheered on Corroded Coffin. Eddie took the stage first and once the rest of the band started playing, he joined in and played an original song. One girl in the crowd caught your eye pretty quickly. She was gorgeous and one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her style was like yours and she had long black hair. She had on all black and red leather, sultry dark makeup, spiked jewelry, and the prettiest hazel eyes. It was then you noticed her Corroded Coffin logo tattoo. There were multiple tattoos adorning her body but the band's logo tattoo stood out. She knew every single word to each song and once Corroded Coffin finished playing, you went up to her and asked her name. She told you her name was Brody, and you gave her a backstage VIP all-access pass. The band was celebrating their first show with drinks at the bar and you and Eddie were watching Carnivore. Soon Brody stopped by the bar asking you and Eddie if you wanted some drinks and you gladly accepted her offer ordering beers and some shots of whiskey. You clinked glasses and gave a toast to keeping rock n’ roll alive.

When Carnivore was close to ending their set you whispered to Eddie you were heading back to the tour bus and he promised he would be there shortly. The rest of the band was off partying and you told Brody to stop by the bus in about ten minutes or so. When you were on the bus you changed into something more comfortable- a black lingerie slip. Soon after Eddie came onto the bus. He passionately kissed you as he took off his jacket and pushed you down onto the bed. A knock came mere minutes later and you looked at him with a raise of your brows.

“I bet that’s Brody, huh? What do you say we ask her to stay the night with us?” He asked mischievously.

“Sure. I thought you’d never ask. I guess things would be even more fun with another person."

He slapped your ass as you got up and waited patiently on the bed as you opened the doors to the bus and invited Brody inside.

“That show was amazing. I am really glad we met. Eddie’s band is one of the best I’ve ever seen live. I don’t mean to be a fangirl, but can I get his autograph?”

It was endearing to you how she truly loved Corroded Coffin. Some girls had made it backstage to hook up with you and Eddie, but her passion for his music seemed genuine.

“Of course, but right now, you should just relax and talk to us for a bit. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sounds like a good idea, but I’m fine for right now and I don’t need a drink. I think it's pretty awesome how you were Corroded Coffin's bassist for the band on the tour last year."

"Thanks, that means a lot. Grant is a great guy, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't the time of my life and I wish I could tour with the band more often.”

As you walked to the back of the bus, she followed you and once she saw Eddie's head banging along to Metallica's Master of Puppets on the radio, she got into the music too. He noticed and flashed her a big grin as she sat down next to him on the bed.

You wasted no time getting closer to her and giving her a signed Corroded Coffin poster, touching her hand and fingers as you gave it to her.

“Thanks. This is so great. I was thinking about following more of the tour. I hope you don't think that’s weird. I have so many posters and tee shirts of Corroded Coffin,” she added. She set the signed poster aside on the bedside table.

“That just really shows the band you love them and true dedication. It's great you are going to do that. Also love the Corroded Coffin tattoo” Eddie told her with a wink. It flattered him, to say the very least.

"Thanks its my favorite one."

So far, Brody seemed like the greatest fan ever. She was the perfect supporter- a fan any band would be lucky to have.

“I just want you to be comfortable with us,” you mused.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Brody asked as she looked at you with equal parts amusement and curiosity in her eyes.

“I’m just thinking about how hot it would be if we all kissed,” you suggested with a raise of your brows.

She looked at you, then Eddie, and back towards you again as a slight blush formed on her cheeks. She thought about what you had just propositioned, as so got up to get closer to you. She straddled your lap and leaned forward to crash her lips against yours, answering with actions instead of words. It turned you on so badly and made you want her even more.

She smelled like vanilla and eucalyptus, and you loved how she tasted. You kissed her back even harder and made her grind on your lap. When the kiss broke, you gestured Eddie closer to you both with a crook of your finger. He removed his shirt but put back on the denim jacket with his heavy metal patches, then kissed you with tongue as Brody watched. After possibly the best French kiss you ever had before, she leaned in towards Eddie and kissed him deeply. You moved your hands to her clothed breasts and cupped them as she moaned against his lips. Your fingers moved under her dress, pushing it up and ripping her tights along the way as she revealed to you she had no panties on. Your other hand still kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipples through the thin black material. Turning back towards you, she kissed you again as your fingers found their way inside her tights, ripping them just a little more as you desperately fingered her. As she ground against your fingers moaning desperately, Eddie watched as he kissed and bit your neck. Everything that was happening was making you so wet and you could tell Eddie was rock hard now. Already she was soaking on your fingers as you pushed them even deeper inside of her. She felt so fucking good and amazing as your fingers worked their magic on her clit.

"Eddie, feel just how tight her pussy is," you suggested as you grabbed his hand and replaced your fingers with his.

He moved two long fingers deeply inside of her, strumming her like he would his guitar as they looked into each other's eyes. The grin he had on his face as he fingered her wet pussy was priceless. You had her taste your fingers of her juices which she sucked greedily.

“Fuck, I want you to fuck me. Please. Eat me out while Eddie watches,” she begged and pleaded desperately.

“You want to be my pillow princess, is that it? You want me to eat your desperate pussy because you are so needy and you just have to have my mouth?”

You slapped her ass with your hand as Eddie continued to finger fuck her before stopping and bringing his fingers to your lips, tapping them so you could taste. You did eagerly and swished your tongue over his slick fingers.

“Yes, I want it all. And I want Eddie to enjoy himself, too.”

“Babe, just being here with the two of you makes me happy.”

You smiled at him, then pushed her onto the bed, laying her down and ripping off the rest of her clothes.

"She tastes so fucking good." You eagerly kissed him so he could get a taste too as Brody watched, clearly turned on by it all. He nodded in agreement and got up, stripping off all his clothes as you removed your slip. He leaned in close to you and whispered into your ear.

“Please, her pussy, as I eat you out. I’ve been dying to taste your sweet pussy again,” he told you with a wicked grin on his face.

Once Eddie was naked, he cupped your sex with one hand and your ass with the other and finger fucked you as he squeezed and spanked your ass. Mewls and moans escaped your lips. As he did this, you kissed and licked her inner thighs, wanting to get her nice and wet for you. He removed his fingers from your cunt and then sucked them clean. You were eager to feel his balls slapping against your ass. He took his time though with licking your clit and separating your pussy lips, wanting to give you the utmost pleasure and wanting you nice and wet before he fucked you. Your fingers moved over her wet entrance before you began to suck and tease her clit. Her pussy tasted so good and you loved how sweet it was.

"That feels so nice," she groaned as you pleased her with fingers and tongue as well as slaps against her pussy.

The wet and lewd sounds of you eating her out as he ate you out were such a turn-on, and you were getting wetter with each passing moment and more with each lick against your pussy.

"That's right baby, eat her out like it's your last meal. daddy's going to fuck you so fucking hard," he promised before giving your ass a few good slaps. Eddie stroked his cock and spit on it, then lined himself up at your entrance. It felt so nice to feel his big thick cock making contact with your aching and needy pussy again. It had been too long. He began inching in little by little as you began to slap and spank her pussy and she whined in pleasure and squeezed her breasts.

"I'm so fuckin wet daddy and her pussy tastes so fucking amazing," you moaned as he adjusted himself inside of you with a hand on your ass, his other hand pulling your hair back.

"I love fucking you baby and watching you please her," Eddie grunted.

He moved slowly at first, then picked up his pace as you licked, sucked, and spit on her clit while simultaneously rocking back and forth on his cock. He pounded into you mercilessly, wanting to make you feel amazing, and watched as you pleased her pussy. He felt his cock grow even harder as he fucked you, and a low groan escaped his lips. You messily ate her pussy, loving how she tasted. The sounds she was making and how she clenched the sheets beneath her with her fingers brought a smile to your face and made you want to make her cum even more. Your breasts bounced as Eddie fucked you deep and hard. His cock was already twitching inside of you.

"I love your mouth. Fuck! I love watching Eddie fuck you too," she whimpered loudly as she pleased her breasts pinching them and raising her hips to get even closer to your mouth.

"You taste so good and you are such a good girl for me," you seductively told her.

As you ate her out voraciously, she screamed your name and moaned her sounds echoing off the walls. You were so fucking wet and wanted to feel your fingers inside your pussy. You were so tight and he loved how the walls of your pussy hugged his huge cock. You could no longer resist the temptation to touch yourself, even though he didn't yet allow you to. As you fingered yourself, Eddie quickly noticed, and a scowl formed on his face.

"Don't touch yourself without my permission, doll. I want us to cum together," he forewarned you as he slapped your ass again, wanting to leave an imprint of red marks.

You removed your fingers and looked back at him with a bratty grin on your face, to which he grimaced. He slapped your ass even harder and left it a bit bruised as he fucked you at a fast pace. He wanted to make you cum and cry out his name, and he was eager to fill your pussy up with his cum. As he looked at you pleasing her, he watched the show eagerly and fucked you harder. The way he made you feel was amazing, and you were getting very close to your release.

"Eddie, I'm gonna cum."

"I know, baby girl. I know."

You fingered, sucked, and licked her pussy as you looked up at her with lust in your eyes.

"Fuck, that's so good. I love watching when you eat my pussy. Fuck!" She cried out as the loud sounds of fucking were heard throughout the tour bus.

His cock felt so good as he fucked in and out of you with deep thrusts and you were on the verge of cumming for him. It wouldn't be much longer before she would cum as well, because you knew just how to work her pussy like a pro. Her walls clenched tightly around your fingers as you ate her out, and her cries of pleasure were like music to your ears. It felt so wonderful to be eating her out as he pounded into you and pulled your hair. There truly wasn't a better position to be in.

As his pounding grew in intensity, his slaps on your ass became even rougher. Eddie loved watching you fuck another woman, and you wanted to please him so badly, but most of all it pleased you. The taste of her pussy and the sounds she was making let you know she was having the time of her life.

"I want to see Eddie make you cum," she cried out as she played with her breasts and watched him pound into your pussy as Eddie groaned.

"Eddie, your cock feels s'good," you moaned around her pussy.

"Make her cum, my dirty girl," he demanded you as he gently wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly.

The intensity of your licking and the thrusts of your fingers drove her over the edge as she whined and tugged on strands of your hair. Her eyes rolled back into her head as you pleased her and made her cum. She was so sexy and Eddie's deep and hard thrusts into your pussy and the slaps against your ass made your orgasm quickly approach.

Moments later, you came calling out his name, and he pulled out, feeling about ready to burst. Your mouths watered at the sight of him stroking his big length. Brody crawled over to you, spreading your pussy lips, looking at your wetness mixed with his pre-cum.

"Can I taste?" She inquired curiously.

"Please do."

She got down in front of you, wrapping your legs around her shoulders, and licked your sensitive bud as she swirled her tongue around your pussy, licking all of your wetness and sucking, making you moan so loud for her.

"Fuck, this is the hottest thing I've ever seen," Eddie groans lowly, resisting the urge to touch himself any longer so he wouldn't cum right there on the spot.

As she ate you out and made eye contact with you, you looked from her to Eddie, whimpering and moaning as you were getting overstimulated and nearing another orgasm.

"She's amazing at eating pussy, Eddie. Fucking me so good with her tongue I'm going to cum again," you mewled and pulled back her hair from her face tightly.

"Be a good slut and make her cum," he commanded as he kneaded her ass and slapped it.

Her tongue licked your pussy, then your ass, and she fingered you until you cried out, reaching your peak again. It felt so fucking good and had your legs shaking as she groaned into your pussy, then sucked her fingers clean.

After you rode out your high, you wasted no time sucking his cock into your mouth and beckoning her over. She crawled on her hands and knees over to you and Eddie and sucked on his balls as you deep-throated him.

"Yeah, you little sluts want my cum on your faces, huh?" He tsked. "Such dirty little girls."

Not being able to last much longer, he pulled out of your mouth and gave his cock a few final thrusts.

You both opened your mouths wide for him as he began to cum first on your tongue and face and then on hers, panting as his release left his body.

"So fucking hot. Taking my load so well. Fuck," he grunted as he stood back and watched you lick your fingers clean and spit some of his cum into her mouth. She spits back into your mouth and kisses you with her tongue as you share your reward. You swallowed and so did Brody. You both opened your mouths, showing him that his cum was all gone now. Watching with satisfaction, Eddie wiped the sweat from his brow. He tasted so fucking good and that night was one you wouldn't soon forget.

Taking groupies back to your tour bus, women and men alike was nothing new, but this girl was special. You gave her a backstage pass, one she could use for the rest of the tour and any dates she wished to attend. And she went to more of Eddie's shows, which led to more mind-blowing sex. Eddie trusted you and you trusted Eddie, and nothing came between the two of you. When you were on the road and had your fun- that was for the tours and after your rock shows as a reward. What happens on the road stays on the road, but that tour was one of the most memorable. What they said about bassists and guitarists having the best fingers was true. Now Brody knew it, too.

soundtrack

mayhem and Rock show by Halestorm animal by WASP nib by black sabbath rock of Ages by Def Leppard turn you by In This Moment I like it rough by Lady Gaga I love rock n' roll by Joan Jett girls girls girls by Motley Crue nothing but a good time by poison my lady dominate by William Control

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#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #rockstar #eddie munson x reader x oc #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #rockstar eddie x reader

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rafescurtainbangz · 16 days

Text

SCREAM x Stranger Things

(Chapter 1 & 2; drop 1 of 7) +18

Harrington | Hargrove | Munson

Minor DNI

Billy Hargrove x OC

Steve Harrington x OC

Eddie Munson x OC

4.8 K

written with my beautiful wifey and bestie @voyeurmunson

dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings: Graphic violence/gore, SMUT, swearing, drinking, major character death, drug usage

Fingering, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), pet names

Chapter I - The Queen

10/18/2002 - Hawkins, Indiana...

Liquorwise

Chrissy Cunningham's POV:

"What do you want, Cunningham?" Jason breathes; glancing over your shoulder as you eye the liquor aisle.

"Malibu." He shudders in reply, giving you a side-eye. "You asked, Jase."

"Well, I'm gettin' beer." He slaps your ass before walking away, shooting you a wink.

Nothing... I feel nothing. I thought it would be different; the both of us being apart for so long, coming back together for the weekend. Some grand reunion of sorts. So far from reality. It's impossible to believe that Jason Carver could be a bigger dick than he already was... Maybe it's Greek life; maybe it's the newfound freedom, no longer under mommy and daddy's thumbs, allowing him to flourish to peak douchebaggery.

We'll see how this weekend goes. Maybe when I go back to Ohio I can just tell him this long-distance thing isn't for me. Find someone new... That wouldn't be the worst thing.

UV Blue or Malibu? How am I going to stuff this into my purse anyway? You look down into your handbag, assessing the space. "Just get a 375, babe," Carol sings, "they're behind the counter." She pulls you in for a side hug, resting her head on your shoulder. "Fuck. I missed you, Chriss. Have I said that enough?"

"I missed you too, babe," you sigh. "You smell good."

"Love Spell."

"Mmm," you hum. "I'm excited for you to come to Ohio State."

"Me too, Chriss. It's gonna be a blast. Roommates, baby. You're gonna hate me by the end of the year I can feel it."

"Impossible," you giggle.

"Carol. Where you at, baby?" Tommy meets her gaze, giving her a sweet smile. "I'm buyin'. C'mon." She struts away; brown curls bouncing as she shimmies her blue Juicy track pants a little lower on her hips; just a glimpse of her pink lace thong and a lower back tattoo.

You shake your head and smile, as you draw your purse closed. A few bottles clink, catching your attention.

Your heart skips as you see a familiar gaze, gaping at you through the line of colorful liquor bottles. Eddie Munson. Holy shit... You give him a soft smile; the phone vibrates a moment later.

He gives you a playful wink and a nod, solidifying the obvious; making your heart beat a little faster. I shouldn't look. He's like my kryptonite; a fuckin' magnet, pulling me in every time I'm back in Hawkins.

Jason and I were on a break last summer... Three days. Enough time for Eddie to swoop in, just for the night. I haven't forgotten it. I haven't had anything that good since. Eddie's, skilled fingers pleased me in ways I couldn't mimic... And trust me. I tried.

Why does he have to be so pretty?

He walks past the aisle, his body now visible throwing you off slightly; his normal Hellfire shirt and black Levi's exchanged for a tattered clown costume. "Fitting," Jason cuts; his jaw clenching as he looks at him. Eddie scoffs and chuckles, breathily; shaking his head as he steps to the counter.

Your eyes track him, hearing his conversation with the clerk. That voice... You feel a heat spread across your body. He points up to the shelf, getting a small bottle of Black Velvet whiskey and a pack of smokes to go with his case of PBR.

"Let's wait 'til the trash leaves," Jason grumbles, swathing his arms lazily around your waist.

"Why are you being such a dick, Jason? We aren't in High School anymore," you sigh, nudging your way out of his arms; walking toward the till.

You look out into the dim Hawkins evening, watching Eddie's face glow in the light of his flame, sucking his cigarette as he shuffles to his van. Where's his van? Damn... You purse your lips, drawing them to the side; holding back your little smile as you watch him mount his black motorcycle.

Maybe I should just see what he said?

You reach for your phone, snatching it from your pocket; stuffing it back inside as you feel Jason press up against you, handing over his beer and a wad of cash.

"Thanks, Jase," you whisper.

"Of course, princess."

You breathe deeply, fighting off the memories of those words leaving Eddie's lips. No use. You glance out into the parking lot, scouring for his bike; his spot, taken by another.

Why do I care?

I do care... A lot.

The four of you make your way to Jason's Jeep, Tommy and Carol climb in the backseat, immediately pawing at each other as you lean your head against the headrest, shutting your eyes.

I wonder where Eddie's going...

"What's wrong, babe?" Jason's voice shakes you from your thoughts.

"Nothing." You open your sights, smiling softly in his direction, doing your best to mask your feelings.

"Is this about Munson?"

"Seriously, Jason?" You groan; crossing your arms, gaze falling toward the window.

"Someone's jealous," Tommy taunts from the backseat, making Jason glare at him through the rearview mirror.

"Fuck you. I'm not jealous of some fuckin' super senior dressed as a clown," he hisses; his expression darkening as he challenges Tommy to mention him again.

"He graduated, dipshit. And, I heard he's packin'," Carol laughs as she smacks her gum obnoxiously. "This big," she gossips; holding out her hands in an attempt to show just how big the rumors suggested.

Not helping, Carol.

"Yeah... Sure." Jason scoffs in disbelief as Tommy pinches Carol's side playfully, making her squeal.

"Can we just talk about something else? Literally anything else," you snip, your tone coming out a little harsher than expected.

"But it's funny..." Tommy bullies; pushing Jason even further. "Carver bein' jealous of the freak and all..." You glance over and see Jason's face turning a deep shade of red; hands, digging into the steering wheel.

"You're a dick. And if anyone should be jealous, it should be you, Tommy. Shrimp dick Hagan? Isn't that right, Carol?" Jason winks back at her making you roll your eyes.

"I'm a grower, not a shower. And, you're neither. So..." Tommy snickers.

Jason slams on the brakes, propelling the duo forward; bodies smacking into the backs of your seats.

"Jesus fuck, Carver!" Tommy yelps. Jason chuckles to himself, loosening in his seat slightly.

"No fucking way!" Jason gripes as you fall in line, slowing to a crawl; a string of break lights glowing ahead, drifting into Jones Family Farm.

You glance out the window, excitement building as you see Eddie's motorcycle parked on the side of the gravel road. You watch as he steps off, plucking a cigarette from his carton; plopping it between his lips.

"There's the freak now," Jason burns. He honks his horn loudly, making Eddie jump. Eddie glares your way, eyes zeroing in on Jason; flipping him the bird. "What a joke," Jason clips, rolling his window down and sticking his head out as Eddie turns away, walking in the opposite direction.

"You followin' us, Munson?" Jason hollers, making Eddie stop in his tracks.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Eddie retorts; a cool smile on his lips, seemingly unbothered by Jason and his antics.

"Let's just have fun. Alright?" You sigh; eyes, begging Jason to drop it.

"You two are killin' the vibe," Carol mumbles. "Mostly you, Carver. You on your period or what?" She spits through a cruel laugh.

"You're pretty funny, baby," Tommy chuckles; leading her out of the car. The door slams shut behind them, leaving you and Jason behind.

His jaw coils, fingers threading around the steering wheel once more. He stares ahead, looking out into the crowd of people, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly.

"You don't think I don't see the way you look at him, Chriss. I do... I always have."

"Munson?" You whisper, weakly. "Jase... He means nothing to me. He's just a friend. Only a friend. I wouldn't even call him that really."

"Promise?" He asks, hastily; his eyes softening as he looks at you.

"I promise..."

Jason nods; face, still pensive. You can tell he's completely unconvinced. It doesn't really matter... He knows that you'd never end up with Eddie regardless.

"I love you, Chrissy," he breathes.

"Love you," you push the words past your lips, giving him your best smile.

"Let's fuckin' go, Carver," Tommy calls out from the ticket line; his arms wrapped lazily around Carol's waist.

"You ready, baby?" Jason whispers.

"Ready, Jase." He swiftly steps out of the car, trotting around the front. Jason tugs the door open; helping you from your seat, weaving his fingers into yours. He draws them up to his lips, kissing the top. His blue eyes sparkle in the low lighting.

"You look beautiful by the way, Chriss," he coos.

"Thank you."

A cool autumn breeze swirls; leaves, crunching under your boots as you walk toward the gate. There's a mob of people gathered at the front, an absolute mess; clambering to the entry.

"Single-file line, people," Sheriff Hopper booms. "Single. File."

He ushers the crowd, herding the masses with his partner, Officer Jones. A familiar face pushes through the horde.

"Hargrove! How are you, man?"

"Carver," Billy answers, simply; his low gruff tone matching his appearance as he walks away, ambling through the parking lot toward his Camaro. He looks a mess; a dirt-stained Jones Farms sweatshirt and his tight Levis, hugging his muscular thighs. He adjusts his hat, turning it backward, the same logo on top; his sandy blonde mullet poking out the sides.

"Does Hargrove work here?" Jason asks, confusedly. "I thought he went to San Diego State?" Billy seals the deal, stuffing a pair of weathered work gloves into his back pocket.

"Maybe he took a gap year?" You shrug.

"A gap year when you have a full ride at a D1 school? Please... Be real, Chriss. He probably fucked up or something," he snickers. "Runs in the family I guess."

You hear his motor start up; Billy, quickly peels out, kicking up rocks as he races toward the exit, disappearing into the night.

"Damn... This place never changes. Does it?" Carol sighs, happily; giving you a smile as she draws your attention back to the group.

"It doesn't." You look out into the sea of people. "I love this place, Care."

"Me too. We've been comin' here for what, eight years now?"

"Damn... I guess," you chuckle. "We should share that apple cider thing... Do you remember?"

"Mmm... Please."

"You give 'em five dollars back, dingus!"

"You don't need the calculator, Robin. Give it to me," Steve grumbles.

"It's basic math, Harrington. You don't need a calculator." The two quarrel.

"We're going for speed and efficiency, Robin," he sasses; drawing out each word as he matches her stare, looking back at her in disgust. "Do you see this line?"

Robin takes two fingers, sliding the calculator over as she rolls her eyes away. "You are going to school for education... You sure about that, Harrington?"

"I just have to be smarter than a Kindergartener, Buckley." He gives her a little scowl, quickly double-checking his math; handing the couple their change.

"Two tickets."

"Please," you smile, sweetly; adding a little kindness to Jason's demand.

"Hey, Chrissy," Robin greets you, nudging Steve as well. He gives you that Hawkins famous smile, making Jason suck his teeth.

"This a class reunion or what?" Jason asks, condescendingly. "You guys doing anything these days or are you still hangin' out in Hawkins?"

"We go to ISU... Workin' here on the weekends during the fall," Steve adds; unappreciative of Jason's tones, taking one of his own. "Robin just gave you your tickets, Carver. You can probably go."

Jason chuckles, more at them than anything. "Losers," he puffs; not man enough to look Steve in the eye as he delivers his last little dig. Steve widens his gaze, holding back his laugh.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Chriss," he softens his tone; giving you a gentle smile.

"You too, Steve."

You eye the line of people; wrapped around the corner, seeing some familiar faces amongst the large group. No Eddie... I only saw him for a second and he's already completely taken over my thoughts.

"What's the policy on leaving this shithole? You girls wanna stand in line? Hagan and I can pop a few beers in the parking lot or something. This is horrendous," Jason complains as you come to a stop, taking your place at the back of the line.

"It'll be fun, babe," you try; nudging him softly with your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure," Jason grunts as he pops the beer bottle open with his class ring, shifting his attention to Tommy; lofting one at him as well. "We'll just get wasted in line then."

"Good idea, Carver," Tommy smiles.

You take the free moment to slip your phone out of your pocket, checking Eddie's text from earlier.

You blush as you read his compliment, shifting your phone away from Jason and the others as you contemplate whether to respond or not. You bite your lip lightly as you text a quick reply.

You glance over at Jason; completely lost in his own world, ignoring you entirely as he talks to Tommy about Phi Kappa Psi. Bitching about his new pledges. Your phone trembles in your pocket almost instantly.

Oh shit... You smile dizzily as your mind wanders back to a few months ago when you drunk-dialed Eddie, feeling the urge to tell him about the tiny tattoo you just got after one too many Jell-O shots.

Okay. Shit... What's the plan? I'll just go to the bathroom. Run into someone along the way. Nancy maybe? See him... Wait.

"Umm... I'm going to get that apple cider thing. Save my spot?" You ask, Carol. "Want one?" Your voice is softened; just loud enough for her to hear, letting Carol do the hard work for you if Jason asks where you went.

"Hell yeah. Thanks, Chriss. You're too good to me."

"Be right back," you beam.

You step away, bleeding quickly into the crowd; falling out of sight almost instantly. Alright... You look over at the concession line; packed as well. Perfect.

Fuck. This will buy me at least twenty minutes. Enough time to say 'hi' at least. Maybe give him a hug...

Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I want.

You can't help the excitement building in your chest as you push open the door of the small storage building. The heavy metal slams shut behind you, leaving you in complete darkness.

"Shit... Eddie?" You whisper.

"You came," his low voice hits your ears from somewhere in the shadows.

"Of course I did," you reply, sheepishly; stepping closer, following in the direction of his voice. Your arms reach out in front of you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the unlit room.

"Um... Eddie? I can't see anything," you laugh, lightly; coming to a standstill as your toe hits something hard on the floor.

"Oh shit. Sorry, sweetheart," he chuckles; reaching up, tugging the small chain hanging from the ceiling. The bulb flickers, crackling a few times before stalling to a dim yellow.

You glance around seeing costumes hanging all around you, creepy masks strung on the wall; a trunk full of weapons covered in blood, and a small vanity with stage makeup scattered messily across the old wooden top.

"So, this is where you work?" You turn your head back in his direction, seeing his warm brown eyes already on you, making your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, just a little side gig for fall. I get to dress up and scare the shit out of every fucker I hate in this town. So, it works for me." He shrugs his shoulders, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.

"How the hell do you make a clown costume look that good?" You giggle; taking in his ensemble. His toned chest is exposed slightly; a loose-fitting button-up draped on his frame, patches of red and black sewn on top of the raggedy white material.

"I ask myself that question all the time," he laughs, weakly as his cheeks blush. You adjust the ruffly black, collar around his neck. Your eyes drift up to his; Eddie's breath hitching as yours align. The light casts a golden glow over his perfect features, his eyes glinting wildly; that same untamed spark burning bright in his dark stare.

If only I could have him. I know he would be everything I wanted. The complete opposite of Jason; kind and funny. And, so fucking hot. Eddie would treat me like a princess.

But I can't. I could never be with Eddie. Not like that.

He steps closer to you, his eyes roaming your body slowly as he takes in each curve.

"You look beautiful, Chriss," he whispers, using the same words Jason said earlier. It meant nothing when it came from his mouth; but, hearing the words fall from Eddie's lips made your body tingle all over.

Your eyes shut, as his fingers begin to trace up your arm lightly. He leans in close; lips, meeting your ear as his fingers switch direction, making their way back down your arm, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

"Eddie, wait..."

His eyes flick to yours, one hand still resting on your thigh.

"My tattoo... it's here," you whisper; unzipping the front of your denim skirt, pulling the fabric down enough to reveal the small butterfly peeking out from beneath the lace of your light pink panties.

A smile spreads on his lips as he leans down just a bit, tracing his thumb over the ink, sending warmth across your body.

"Chrissy Cunningham with a tattoo? Now I've seen it all..." He hums as he drops to his knees, looking up at you with a hunger in his eyes. "You're a bad girl, sweetheart. Aren't you?"

"Only for you, Eddie." You surprise yourself as the words flee your lips. You couldn't help it. Every part of you craving more from him. Wanting to know what it would be like to be with him fully. Just one time.

"Only for me?" He mumbles, lustfully; leaning closer, pressing his lips to the small tattoo, his tongue skims along your skin, causing your knees to buckle slightly. A dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"Y-Yes," you stutter as he grips the hem of your skirt, pushing it up above your waist.

"Did you miss me, Chrissy?" He murmurs; hands slipping in between your thighs, separating them slightly.

"Of course, Eddie. You're my friend," you sigh, coyly; looking down at his mess of curls as he guides your legs even further apart. Eddie snickers at your reply, his fingertips gradually inching up your inner thigh agonizingly slow.

"Just a friend?" He asks just as his fingers reach your warmth, causing you to inhale sharply. He adds a bit of pressure, teasing you through the thin material of your tights.

"You know I'm with Jason, Eds. We can't be more than friends," you whisper, breathily; the contact with him making you feel lightheaded.

"Really good friends?" He flirts as his fingers begin making small circles over your clit, causing your lashes to flutter.

"Really, really good friends, Eddie," you pant; pussy aching for his skin on yours.

"Chrissy?" Eddie mutters as his eyes flick back up toward you.

"Yes, Eds?"

"If you want me to stop, you need to say it now," he burns, his tone dark and delicious.

You shake your head adamantly. "Fuck, Eddie. Don't stop," you plead.

A wicked smirk appears on his beautiful face as he takes your tights in between his fingers, ripping the material slightly, leaving your panties the only thing keeping him from you.

"Eddie, please..." You whimper; feeling his warm breath against your soaked panties. He slips the damp lace to the side making you moan.

"Shh, baby. Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you. But I wanna take my time," Eddie rasps, leaning closer, bringing his lips to your inner thigh.

"Don't you have to go to wo-" He silences you with his fingers brushing across your dripping slit, just enough pressure to drive you crazy, your pussy throbbing intensely. "Eddie," you whine.

"You want something, baby girl?" He continues gliding gently across your lips, your frustration growing with every second. I know he can be rough with me... I remember it vividly. Just fucking do it, Eddie.

"Please touch me."

"What about your boyfriend?" Eddie chuckles, devilishly; his finger continuing to torture your bud.

"I-I want you, Eddie," you admit, softly; cheeks flushing at the mention of Jason.

"Want me?" He questions as his digits begin a circular motion, toiling around your clit; making you whimper.

"Need you... Eddie, I need you!"

Eddie's eyes darken at your pathetic response, a delicious smirk pulling on his lips.

"Good answer, sweetheart." You let out a soft cry as he finally slips a thick finger into your warmth, the evidence of your excitement clear as Eddie glides in easily.

"Fuck, baby. How do you think Carver would feel knowing his girl is this wet for The Freak? Hmm?" Eddie digs, plunging his finger deeper into your soaked pussy making you gasp.

Your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket making Eddie pause momentarily.

"Speak of the devil..." He grumbles but you ignore him, reaching down; gripping his arm.

You tug on Eddie's wrist, regaining his attention. He follows your unspoken demand, slowly sinking his fingers back into your cunt. You wince slightly as he adds another; but, the pain adds to the pleasure that you're already so addicted.

"Shit... You gonna let me have you later, Cunningham?" He groans as you both listen to the sound of your slick.

"Faster," you cry.

Eddie hooks an arm around your waist, forcing you to remain at his pace, decreasing his speed instead as his eyes focus on watching your essence coat his fingers.

Fuck, he knows me better than I do.

He curls his fingers, rolling them in and out; in and out, each thrust making the knot in your stomach build. You clasp his shoulders tightly as you begin to rock your hips just a bit, making his digits sink knuckle-deep.

"Yes... I'm almost - Fuck, Eddie. I'm almost there," you whimper.

"Already?" Eddie smiles; gripping your thigh, slinging it over his shoulder before locking down on your clit, sucking and flicking; with enough tension to make you scream.

"Just... Just like that," you praise, breathily. Cradling his head in your hands, pulling him in closer as you pulse around his fingers.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb, smiling up at you; watching you carefully, pleasing you to the last possible moment. Letting up slightly when you soften around him.

"That was fuckin' beautiful, Chriss... Shit. You want more, darlin'?" He rasps.

"Please..."

"So fuckin' polite," he chuckles. Your phone buzzes again. "Someone really wants to get a hold of you, baby. You should probably take that. Yeah?" He says, calmly; a small grin on his face.

"No, I don't think-"

"Take. It." He demands, cutting you short.

"Eddie..."

"I won't make a sound. Scouts honor." He winks up at you, making you smile.

"Promise?"

"I swear."

You pull the phone from your pocket, seeing Jason's name on the screen; hurriedly bringing it to your ear. "Hey, Jase."

"Where are you? You've been gone forever." His voice crackles through the phone; cell service, weakened in the shed.

"Sorry, I ran-" You stop suddenly as you feel Eddie's fingers enter you again.

Shit.

"Chriss? You there?"

"Mhmm.. Sorry. I was just saying I ran into Nancy." You push the words out, doing your best to remain calm as Eddie curls his digits again, stroking across your g spot.

"Wheeler?"

"Mmm... Mhmm."

"Well, you haven't missed much. The line's still backed up a mile. Tell Nance I say 'hey'," he continues, completely oblivious to the pleasure felt on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. Of course. I gotta... Oh!" You gasp as Eddie's tongue flashes across your clit; fumbling your device as you struggle to hang up the phone. CLICK. "Fuck!" You rake your nails through Eddie's curls, tugging them in frustration; causing him to moan. "You said you'd be quiet," you huff, lightly; glaring down at him.

He chuckles playfully, an adorable grin plastered on his kiss-swollen lips. "I said I wouldn't make a sound. I didn't say anything about you, Chriss."

"You're impossible, Eds," you sough, reaching down and running your thumb over his plump bottom lip.

"Sorry 'bout your tights," he sighs; not sorry in the slightest as his calloused finger greets your inner thigh, right along the tear. He leans in slowly kissing your skin; eyes, locked on yours.

"You're not..."

"Fuck. You're right," he chuckles, breathily; quickly burying his face between your thighs.

You moan as he begins to pick up speed. The forceful thrusts of his hand are audible as his palm smacks against your pussy, his fingers slamming deep inside over and over again.

Your sounds crescendo, praise; pouring from your lips as your cunt clenches around his ringed fingers. Eddie knows you're close, adding his thumb as well, rubbing side to side; making your thighs quake.

"Fuck, Eddie!"

"Don't cum until I say," he orders.

"But I-"

"God, you're so wet," he cuts in; watching in adoration as his fingers pound into you. "The Queen of Hawkins screaming my name. Begging me to let her cum. And, I've gotten to hear it twice. " he chuckles, laboriously. "Fuck, Chriss. It's a dream come true."

Your back begins to arch suddenly, causing you to stumble backward; hitting the wall. Eddie doesn't stop; fingers working at an insane pace making you squeal.

"I'm so close... Eddie. I can't..." You mumble, drunkenly; feeling a pleasure you've never felt before. He's so rough; but, so tender at the same time; his hands, like magic as he hits all the right spots, driving you wild.

"Has Jason ever made you cum, sweetheart?" He matches your gaze with his dark, hooded eyes; a look on his face telling you he already knows the answer. He raises an eyebrow, slowing his pace slightly; threatening to stop.

"No..." You answer, feebly.

He lets out a gravelly laugh, rolling his eyes. "Thought so."

"Please let me cum, baby," you cry as your eyes struggle to remain open.

"Baby? Well, fuck me..." He moans. "I could get used to that."

"Shit," you hiss.

"Look at me." Your gaze locks on his; Eddie's brown eyes blown with lust. "So Jason's never made you feel this good?" Eddie taunts.

"Eddie..." You breathe.

"Has he?" In a twisted way, his words push you even closer to your breaking point. "Tell me who makes you feel good, sweetheart," he hums, lustfully. You glance down, keeping your eyes set on his as you fight against your orgasm, your body nearly betraying you with every rut.

"You do, Eddie. You do," you moan.

"That's right, sweetheart... Mmm... Cum for me, Princess," he drawls; watching as you fall apart. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, spasming again and again as your mouth falls slack.

"Eddie," his name flows, languidly from your lips as your head falls back. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck into you as you ride the waves of your orgasm. "Oh, s-shit..." You look between your thighs, watching as you soak his hand.

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl," Eddie grunts; his lips parted, taking pleasure in your own.

He slowly removes his digits, making you gasp; drawing his middle and pointer fingers to his rosy lips, tasting you slowly. "So fuckin' sweet," he whispers; looming over you before kissing your forehead.

His lips move from your cheek onto your neck, brushing gently along your skin as your breathing slows.

"Eddie, kiss me." The urgency in your breathy tone is undeniable. "We're running out of time."

You can feel him smile against your neck before his soft lips meet your skin again. Eddie's kisses are gentle and warm, dismissing your requests yet again as he maintains his cadence, moving along your jaw, finally landing on your lips.

"I said 'I wanted to take my time', Chriss."

His lips capture yours in a passionate kiss. You cling to the tattered material of his costume, gripping the fabric; pulling him closer as your tongues roll together. The two of you pant into your kiss as Eddie pins you against the cool wooden wall.

"I want you, Eds. Please," you mumble against his lips as your hand wanders down, groping his clothed cock, groaning desperately as you feel his size. "Let me make you feel good. Please."

Eddie pulls away, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

"Not now. Tonight. I'm coming over."

"B-But we have time," you whisper, needily; as you stroke him through his slacks, pulling a deep moan from Eddie. "Jason said the line was super long and-" He reaches out, gripping your jaw in his hand, demanding your attention.

"I'm in charge, Chrissy."

You suck in a breath; surprised by his tone, making it that much harder to wait.

"Fuck, Eddie. You're in charge."

A smile spreads across his lips, as his eyes look down at yours.

"Tonight?" You whisper Eddie's captivating eyes flick up to yours, drawing you in deeper.

"Tonight, sweetheart."

Chapter II - The Last Laugh

Chrissy Cunningham's POV:

"Nothin' like waiting an hour in line," Jason scoffs. "This better be good."

"Stop being such a bitch, Carver," Carol sighs as she takes Tommy's hand, stepping into the wagon.

"Should we go in the back?" Jason asks.

"Mhmm," you smile. "It's the best place to sit."

The tractor fires up, rattling the buggy as your excitement starts to build. Jason wraps his arm around your waist, towing you closer. He buries himself in your neck, kissing you softly before drawing back.

"New perfume?"

You give him a little smile and a nod, trying your best to remain calm. Jason, so clearly picking up hints of Eddie's cologne. You grab the fabric, giving it a smell yourself, taking him in. I didn't think I missed him this much.

"Love Spell," you smile.

"Welcome to Jones Family Farm. You are about to embark on the Cursed Grounds Hayride and Haunted House. Please make sure you remain in the wagon and keep your arms and legs inside at all times. Please do not touch our Scare Actors and Actresses," the tractor driver shouts over his motor before stepping on the gas.

You're pulled forward as the ride begins, conversation and excitement brewing around you. "Oh, and the hayride is fifteen minutes in length. If there is a medical emergency, please tell me, and we'll get you some assistance. We will end at the Cursed Grounds Haunted House. Once you go through the haunted house, you will exit at the Jones Family Farm Gift Shop. Thank you for coming out and spending your evening with us. And enjoy the ride."

Jason turns toward you, the warmth of his whisper hitting your chilled skin. "Are you comin' over tonight?"

"I don't think I can, Jase... I have to be at the airport by 4 a.m."

"Well, shit," he huffs. "Maybe I can sneak in." His hand glides between your thighs, dangerously close to the tear.

"Yeah. Can we talk about it later?"

Jason furrows his brows, looking back at you confusedly. "Are we okay? Why don't you wanna hang out with me," he asks, defensively.

"I do," you assure. "It's already 10. And, I can't really do anything... Or, at least you wouldn't want to," you lie.

His eyes widen, as he puts the pieces together, wincing slightly in disgust. "Yeah, Chriss. Get some sleep," he chuckles.

Unbelievable. You can't help but roll your eyes. The simple mention of period sex and he's off my ass... What a man. Eddie wouldn't care. We'd probably take a shower together... A little smirk plays on your lips as you daydream about the thought of it; Eddie's tight body and deep brown curls glistening with water. He'd show me his tattoos... BUZZ.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, instantly giving you the butterflies. Pulling it out you eye the message, sneaking a peek.

Feedback crackles through the speakers; a low, ominous voice setting the scene as the wagon crawls slowly toward the woods.

"If you've made it this far, welcome. You surely won't return," the voice laughs, viciously. You smile even brighter hearing the spiel you've heard more than a dozen times. Carol looks over at you, reciting the words. "These woods were once a beautiful place. A place of gathering and new life. Now, for most, the end of the line. A dark curse was placed on these grounds. Every October, evil runs free; ghosts, ghouls, and horrific creatures of all kinds take refuge in these woods. If you pass these trees, you are venturing onto cursed grounds. Run while you can." The audio cuts away.

You pass the threshold between the field and the woods. The dull music playing from afar now surrounds you on all sides, competing with the roar of the tractor. Little lights strung from the trees carve out a path in the woods, giving you just enough light to see the route in front of you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you wait for the first scare. Sure, there are little stops along; a different dreadful theme each time; but, there are always people hiding, lurking about, trying their best to make you scream.

"Fuck!" You squeak; falling into Jason slightly as the first monster appears; a werewolf with piercing yellow eyes, in a threadbare flannel shirt. He snarls, his mask allowing him to move his jaw and bear teeth as he swipes his large paw before falling back into the woods.

You giggle nervously, situating yourself on the hay-padded seat again; peering out into the timber to see if there's anyone else waiting for a fright. It's extremely dark, the dense forest blending together making it impossible to see anything else.

Your attention shifts to the tune swelling ahead, building as you move closer; the Halloween theme, simple and haunting. The tractor wads to a stop, cutting off the engine.

There's a white façade of a home, all the lights lit brightly. The wind billows the yellow cotton curtains; peaceful for a moment. Your stomach sinks as you hear a blood-curdling scream coming from inside. All eyes turn to the top floor, watching as Michael stabs his victim again and again.

Moments later he kicks open the door; standing in the frame as smoke pours out from behind him. The tractor starts again, dragging the wagon down the path as he descends the stairs slowly, stalking your party.

"Shit," you hiss; hiding behind your hands, caught off-guard by the shrieking of a nun. Her red bloody eyes stare deeply into yours. She draws out a large crucifix, sharpened at the end; driving it into a hay bale, close enough to a guest to make her cry before fleeing back into the woods.

The next melody plays ahead; a haunted circus. Eddie... You fluff your hair and move yourself a little further away from Jason as the tractor hauls you closer. You pass under the sign Last Laugh Circus lit colorfully overhead; a few bulbs flickering out.

There's a rickety carousel with four horses, creaking as it turns slowly. The four clowns' heads shift gradually, following your cart as you drive by. One slides the blade of her bloody knife along the handlebar, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

A haunted ringmaster runs out of the tattered circus tent, face painted in fury. "Don't let them get away!" She bellows; her voice, echoing through the night. The clowns leap from the ride, scaling the wooden sides; pulling on guests.

You feel two strong hands wrap around your throat, making you draw a breath; feeling the familiar chill against your skin, just enough pressure to let you know who has you in their clutches. "Hi, Sweetheart," he whispers, setting all your nerves ablaze.

"Fuck off, man!" Jason plows him off. Eddie doesn't miss a beat; stepping down from the cart lazily as he slips his hand into his pocket; phone glowing brightly, quickly shoving it back in his pocket.

Buzz.

You feel your phone vibrate yet again.

"Prick," Jason grumbles. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "What the fuck was that?" He scoffs. "Do they always get to touch you like that? We should say something?"

"Jase, stop," you grumble. "They always do that stuff." He rolls his eyes away, looking dead ahead.

"Pretty sure that was Munson. Jackass... He always wears those stupid fuckin' rings. Who the fuck does he think he is anyway?" He pouts.

"I don't think it was him... Will you stop? Why are you ruining this, Jase?"

"Sorry, Chriss," he draws breath; weaving his fingers into yours, giving your hand a tight squeeze. "I'm not jealous at all... Just want to make that crystal fuckin' clear."

Sure. "Mhmm," you smile; giving him a little nod. Jason looks away, staring into the wood; playing guard dog in case Eddie tries anything else. Not jealous at all...

You sneak a peek at your phone.

Jesus Christ...

Dreamlike music blares over the speakers; a thick fog rolling all around. "Maybe I can still come over tonight. Cuddle or something?" Jason asks.

"What?" You reply; evading his question. "I can't hear," you mouth; quickly swerving his further advances.

There's a teen girl with golden blonde hair and a white silk nightgown, tucked into her flouncy pink bedding. The lights around her shift from white to red, the music changing along with it as she drifts into a nightmare.

You see a gloved hand reaching up from behind the wooden headboard; five razors at the tip of each finger. Freddy Krueger.

His hands wrap around the frame, peering over maniacally. Freddy slashes across the comforter, making the girl scream in terror.

Monsters of all kinds come out from underneath the bed, sprinting toward the cart. Ghosts and ghouls, demons and zombies. A chainsaw buzzes; thundering in your chest. He thrusts his saw forward, making you fall back in your seat. Carol hugs you tight, tucking her face into your chest as she screams.

"Uh oh," Tommy laughs.

You look over at Jason; watching as an actor draws his blade; grabbing a fist full of Jason's hair before running the knife along his neck. The three of you scream and laugh; looking around for the rest of the monsters.

"Chr-" Jason lets out a gurgly noise. You glance back at him, matching his wide eyes; stomach twisting as you see the horror on his face. A set of hands take a grip on the shoulders of his letter jacket, ripping him from the cart, and onto the ground.

"Jason!" You yelp; diving over to the edge, looking down into the thick pool of smoke. The fog is too dense to make out anything on the floor.

There's no fucking way he would be playing along with any of this.

"Stop!" You scream. The rest of the wagon looks back at you, returning their attention to the terror around them as you look down into the mass of vapor. "Jason? Jason!"

"Jason, come on. This isn't funny anymore." Tommy shouts, standing up in the cart; looking over your shoulder onto the ground; aiming to get a better view.

"Ugh... Fucking Carver. Always gotta be the center of attention," Carol snips, glancing down at her perfectly polished nails.

The ghoul surfaces from the fog, drawing the knife above his head. He stabs into the earth again and again. Blood flicks from his blade, splattering his white-faced mask.

"Hey fucktard, let him up!" Tommy booms at the actor, causing his head to whip around; white mask, glowing. A set of eyes glare at you; pupils too dilated to make out a hue.

You watch carefully as he stands up, wielding the knife in his fist. Blood drips as he dangles it by his side.

You start to feel your panic set in.

"It's just part of the act. Tommy's right. Jason is just trying to add a little extra flair... Right? RIGHT!"

"Show's over, come on man." Tommy grunts. The ghoul stands staring at Tommy for a moment before turning in your direction, the silver knife glinting under the moon.

He drives it into the person next to you, the tip of that same blade; peeking out of the chest of the old man's flannel shirt. Blood drips thick, the knife pulling back slowly.

His wife is frozen in fear; the rest of the guests screaming in horror, fleeing the wagon in every direction.

A single word flies from Tommy's lips, booming into the night.

" Run !"

Your eyes cut to Tommy then back to the killer, watching as he twirls the knife in his fingers.

"Jason!" You scream one more time, your mind refusing to accept the reality of the situation as Carol pulls you back. "We can't just leave him. He can't be dead. We can't see him, Tommy! We can't just-"

"Chrissy, c'mon," Tommy begs; grabbing Carol's arm, jerking her away. The two of them flee; leaving you behind.

"Wait!" You tear through the woods, following close behind; feeling the mud squish beneath your Uggs as you race towards the exit. Sticks fracture beneath you; branches whipping you as you run as fast as your feet will go.

People and actors sprint by, some still in their costumes; making it that much harder to determine who's who.

The only way out is through the woods or the haunted house. The woods lead to the parking lot. The haunted house leads to the gift shop; police, people... The nature of it posing risks all of its own.

The woods... There's not even a gate. We can run right to the Jeep. Your lungs burn as you run harder and faster than you ever have, trying your best to keep up with Tommy and Carol.

"Wait... No!" You scream as they head toward the haunted house. "Shouldn't we go through the woods?"

"No!" Tommy spits. "Are you serious? There's no one over there, Chrissy. Look at all those fucking people." He points to the clearing in the cornfield. The haunted house shone brightly in the distance, littered with people. He grabs Carol's hand, tugging her again as she looks back at you; tears glossing her cheeks.

"I love you, Chriss. I'm sorry," she blubbers.

People are still running through the woods to the parking lot, not enough... Only a few people actually know what happened. Your body trembles, lip quivering as you try your best to think of the right choice. They're right... Look at all those people. I don't want to be alone.

You hear an ominous laugh coming from behind you making your stomach sink; turning quickly you look out into the woods.

Emptiness... Darkness...

"Carol!" You call out. She stops in her tracks, fighting against Tommy as he continues to pull her to safety. "Wait! Please."

"Keep going!" Tommy grunts.

"Stop, Tommy. Fuck!" Carol hisses; the two waiting just until you are in arm's reach before taking off again.

The world around you lightens as you run closer and closer to security.

The three of you press into the crowd. Screams echo around you, bodies pushing and shoving a mix of people aware and unaware of the slayings; some enjoying the night, some attempting to escape the nightmare behind them.

Your foot slips out from beneath you, plunging you face-first into the crowd, tasting the dirt in your mouth as you scramble to get back on your feet. You watch helplessly as the two pass through the door without you.

"Carol!" You shriek at the top of your lungs. No. No. No! They're already gone. Tears flood your cheeks as you sprint toward the building; shouldering your way through the crowd, stumbling through the door.

Your usual fright of the haunted house is completely overshadowed by the very real threat following behind you.

"Chrissy..." A chilling voice comes from someplace close. Too fucking close.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you cross the entry into the house. Strobe lights instantly blind you. A thick fog hangs heavy in the air as your eyes dart around the room. You hear creepy music playing as you spin about, frantically searching for someone, anyone.

"Help! Somebody help me!" You wail into the void as you misstep across the wooden floor. A track of high-pitched screams and cries plays along with the music, filling the air as you rush to make it through the smoke-filled room.

Your vision is blurred by the murky fog, impeding your visibility. You run your fingers along the wall, scouring for a way out; feeling your heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you finally reach the doorframe.

Shit. It's a tight squeeze, your claustrophobia at an all-time high as the dim hallway appears to shrink with every step you take.

"Fuck!" you wail as a skeleton drops from the rafters, dangling in front of you. You plow through the bones, shoving them to the side as you take off running once again. "Carol! Tommy!"

You hear laughter ahead along with a few screams; innocent screams. You can tell it's not the soundtrack, they're real. Yes.

You bound toward them, snaking through the maze; dodging ghouls and monsters, as they grab and swipe at you.

"Help! Please help me!" You plead. The tween girls hoot and laugh; scampering in the wrong direction. No. You race ahead, following the glowing arrows to the exit.

"Chrissy..." You hear the voice again, just as your feet land on a softer material.

Shit. Your feet begin to fall into the ground, as the quicksand floor pulls you in, usually one of your favorite parts now slowing you down; practically hand-feeding you to the killer.

"Carol! Tommy... Please," you weep as you work against the odds; your feet sludging on, calling out for your friend.

"Poor thing..."

Your body freezes completely as you feel the hot breath against your neck. Your throat constricts, robbing your lungs of oxygen.

You feel him behind you, the cool plastic of the mask nudged against your cheek; chest, butted up against your back.

"P-Please don't hurt me," you stammer.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna play a game," the masked man taunts in a mechanical voice.

"What? What game?" you sob; your breathing coming out in small spurts as your lungs reach for air.

"Ever heard of cat and mouse, Chrissy?" He proceeds in a sinister tone. You feel the tip of his blade press into your lower back, nicking your skin; hissing out a cry.

"Yes," you whimper as you feel a warm trail of blood run down your skin.

"Run little mouse," he growls; shoving you across the last few feet of the floor, your hands hit solid ground allowing you to stand up.

A new room opens in front of you. A body lies in an old casket in the corner of the room, swaddled in a ragged cloth; a few dolls, positioned on a shelf on the wall, motorized devices making their heads turn, following your every move.

You scramble to the opposite side, lying low, ducking behind a tall hooded figure, attempting to keep your breathing silent as your chest heaves violently. You hear his footsteps enter the space, stomping across the floor, heading in the direction of the exit. He looks back in your direction, making time stand still.

The killer lowers his knife, disappearing around the corner.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Shit... My phone. You shove your hand in your pocket, struggling with the device; watching in horror as it topples to the ground. Calling: Eddie Munson BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. It trembles wildly against the hardwood floor; glowing like a beacon. Fuck. You snatch it from the ground, accepting the call.

"Eddie?" You whisper.

"Chrissy! Where are you?" He panics. "Are you okay?"

You watch in terror as he walks back into the doorframe; the strobe lights flashing wildly behind him. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Chrissy?"

CLICK.

The wood creaks beneath the weight of his boots as he steps closer and closer. You clasp your hands over your lips, holding back your sobs; tears, rolling over the back of your hands.

Please go away. Please just go away...

The footsteps come to a halt.

You force yourself to open your sights, instantly seeing two soulless, black eyes staring down at you. A gloved hand reaches out, wrapping tightly around your throat; lifting you effortlessly.

"Caught ya." Your mouth falls open with a blood-curdling scream and you feel a searing pain; his knife, stabbing into your stomach.

You inhale sharply, looking down as he yanks the blade out; taking your breath with it.

Bright red blood spews out onto the floor before gradually flaring onto the fabric of your jacket. You watch in a daze as the hot crimson spreads like ink. Your vision blurs as you reach down; fingers, drifting across your stomach; coating your hand easily.

Tears slip down your cheeks as everything starts to get a little duller; a little darker than before. Your knees buckle beneath you; body, crashing to the floor. You attempt to scream but nothing comes out; gurgling as blood pools in your mouth.

I'm going to die.

The masked man kneels over you, staring down at you; head tilting slightly as he watches you choke on your blood. You inhale, clamping your eyes shut as he lifts the knife, driving it into your chest again and again.

Your eyes fall shut, opening once more when you feel a harsh grip on your ankles. The monster drags you across the uneven floor. Your frail hands claw at the splintered wood with the little strength you have left. Slivers of the old lumber pierce into the skin beneath your nails, as your body scrapes across the ground, doing nothing to stop the inevitable.

He grabs a doll, throwing it down on the floor next to you; shattering the porcelain head. The killer lifts you into his arms, holding you before laying you down again. You feel a plush pillow under your head; raised wooden sides, boxing you in. The coffin.

Your lips refuse to move as you try to scream one last time. The heavy top slams shut leaving you in darkness; no pain, complete numbness as you take your final breath.

Taglist

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corrodedcoffincumslut · 1 year

Text

Be My Druidess - Eddie Munson X Fem-reader

AU 90’s Eddie & Fem- Reader (mostly referred to affectionately as Kitten, no use of Y/N). Eddie takes girlfriend (reader) go to watch your favourite band, Type O Negative in concert. You get too excited and do something impulsive, it drives Eddie crazy with jealousy causing him to get very possessive, needing to show everyone you're his girl.

Warnings- SMUT - Over 18’s ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! M-F (P in V) unprotected, cream pie, fingering, Squirting, Dom! Eddie & Sub! Reader, Mean! Eddie, Possessive! Eddie, Jealous! Eddie, (slight) Degrading, (slight) Humiliation, Orgasm Denial, Public Exposure, Public sex, Choking, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Mentions of reader being Bratty, Drug & Alcohol use Eddie & Reader (Weed & Beer). Reader has nipple piercings. Eddie has a PA piercing.

Word count- 3.8K

Authors Note-Sorry this took so long to write and post after I hinted it all those months ago. Life got crazy like it does sometimes so apologies. Also I met our man JQ and it spurred me on to finish it at 2:30am the day after I met him.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION 😈

However please REBLOG , COMMENT & LIKE my posts if you enjoyed them. I love feedback so I can grow as a writer. I have a tag-list going so please inbox me if you wish to get added to my tag-list when I post new content.

❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

Eddie had got you tickets to your favourite band tour for your birthday, Type O Negative. The dark grunge, gothic, sexual undertones igniting a fire in you as soon as you heard the sultry tones of Peter Steele's deep, gravely voice. Only encouraged by how attracted you were to him. Hugely tall stature, gloomy outlook, long black silken hair, muscular frame and known openly for his eagerness to please the women he chose to pleasure, to serve. Topped off with the rumours of his huge cock, you were completely sold. You begged Eddie to get you both tickets for months, and he’d surprised you, a week before the gig. Stubs now in his hands, after driving to the city after a long shift at the garage on the release date to queue in the rain, all to surprise you. To see your pretty ruby lips fall open in awe, he could see the hearts appear in your eyes already.

Excited, you dressed to impress. Numerous guys keep staring at you in your skimpy outfit. Eddie is more than proud to show you off as his girl. At the end of the day you’re a hot goth/alt chick and it made the guys drool. You wore your best band shirt, cut up to show more cleavage than should be legally allowed in public, a pvc skater skirt and your new demonic platforms, torn fishnet stockings held up by a black suspender belt.

Eddie knows you’re crushing hard on the lead singer and can tell you're getting horny and turned on, fidgeting as they’re run onto the stage. Eddie lifts you into his broad, strong shoulders for a better view when they play the intro to your favourite song, “Be my Druidess”. As the drum beat kicks in, Eddie starts to bounce up and down causing a criminally delicious friction across the crotch of your thong. The back of Eddie’s neck bumping your clit on every bounce to the beat.

Your thighs start to clench and Eddie notices, your pussy throbbing, he can probably feel your pounding heartbeat through your core down his spine. His hands grip your shins as you feel your sweetness seep through the thin fabric of your panties onto his neck. Hands tight, fingers clasping his hair, his skull to keep you grounded.

Peter Steele notices you and points you out in the crowd, the eye contact alone causing you to fall over the edge into euphoric bliss. Feeling high, impulsive and incredibly horny, all amplified by sharing a few joints with Eddie on the ride to the venue. You flash your bare chest to the stage (after deciding on going braless earlier, something Eddie loved). Showing everyone your perfect supple tits, shiney metal bars catching the stage lights, glistening in the darkness like stars. The erotic image of your bare chest and nipple piercings projected on the massive screens on either the side of the stage for all to see. The band loves it. Peter loves it more. The crowd loves it even more, a hurricane of cheers roars up from the audience. Eddie hates it.

Your cheeks flush red with a blush, caught up in the scandal, all eyes in the room falling on you. The man beneath you is furious. Jealous twists in his stomach, ripping through him uncontrollably sweeping his mind into frenzy. He squeezes your shins in a claw-like grip, fuelled by the envy of everyone’s eyes on you. Admiring the curves of your womanly shape, his Venus incarnate. Aphrodite in the flesh. To him you were his goddess. Your exquisite body was his to worship only! The soft slopes of your breast, the ample curves of your hips that were now on show to the world, or what felt like the world crammed into the tiny venue. What started out as a playful tease quickly became his own personal hell. Hazy headed and caught up in the moment with your inhibitions low, but the repercussions of your actions had become a harrowing punishment you were going to find out. He ripped you down from his shoulders and back on your feet, landing to look him square in the face. His usually soft chocolate brown eyes, swallowed by huge ebony irises, full of anger. The green-eyed monster inside shining through the deep black.

“They can look, but they can’t touch Baby… I’m only yours” you muttered with a kiss to his chapped bitten lips, trying to save yourself from the consequences of your earlier actions. No softness was returned, the same stare locked on your eyes. A sick deprived thought pops into his mind.

“Princess” he growled in your face. Your eyes locked in fear. “You’re right, you are MINE. And you belong to ME. And I think I need to remind you of this. So you’re gonna watch this shitty band you love so much and you’re gonna cum on my fingers while they watch… While they ALL watch” Eddie whispers in your ear, lips and teeth biting the shell. You stand there frozen, unable to move. Slack jawed, eyes wide with fear, your core getting slicker with every word Eddie huffs out. You’d never seen this side of Eddie before, sure he’d gotten moody at a bar if some guy got a little too close for comfort. But a few choice words, mostly consisting ending with a “fuck off” and a swift middle finger in their direction. Then once they’d left he was golden, but this was different. A possessive darkness had overcome him and you couldn’t help but love how it made you feel. Wanted. Owned. HIS.

Eddie’s deft hands turn you back to face the stage, your back pushed flush to his lean chest. Eddie’s left hand holds your chin, forcing your face forward in shame, directly at the object of your desire. His right hand snakes down your chest over your soft stomach, drawing linguine patterns across your goose pimpled skin, before dripping down over your barely clothed soaked cunt. “Actually, bad girls get punished. Maybe I won’t let you cum at all, maybe I’ll edge you till you beg. Beg for MY cock to put you out of your pathetic misery. All whiny…needy. ‘Till you cry those big crocodile tears cause your little cunt aches, ‘cause you know I’m the ONLY one who can make you CUM. Make YOU feel that GOOD. Fucked out and cockdrunk. ALL. FOR. ME. YOUR Daddy”. Heat pools in your sopping cunt, thighs sticky from your sweet nectar, leaking through your tiny thong.

Calloused fingers run agonising circles over your swollen bud through the thin fabric of your thong for what feels like an eternity. Before pushing the flimsy material aside to meet your drenched pussy. Sliding his fingers through your folds a few times spreading your slick from your entrance up to your pulsing clit. Dipping his middle finger in your dripping entrance, he groaned in pleasure at just how wet you were, Your soft gummy walls sucking him in. Stretching your hole he pushed a second finger in and began thrusting them in and out, caressing that special spot only he could reach.

Gasps fell from your open mouth, lost in the crowd of screams and bass filling the venue. Your eyes screwed shut with every pass of Eddie’s nimble fingers surging you towards your ultimate high. Feeling your pussy walls starting to clench and contract as you approached nirvana. Moments from release, Eddie’s touch left you completely. Edging you just he promised.

Your eyes shoot open as you lose your euphoria, eyes landing back on the stage. “Please, Eddie.I wanna cum so bad” you whine.

“I told you, Kitten. Only good girls get to cum. And you’ve been far from good.” Eddie smirked in your ear. Sliding his finger back into your soaked folds, back up to your tingling bundle of nerves. Again feverish chills ran through your body, as Eddie mercilessly rubbed tight circles over your throbbing clit with his thumb and his thick fingers fucked up into your tight hole.

Tears welled in your glassy eyes as the bolts of lightning pleasure shot through you,whimpering trying your hardest to obey. Your hearing started to faze out as your only focus was to hold back your orgasm from overtaking you. Your body started to twitch as the feeling became too much. Your abused cunt spasming around Eddie’s cruel rapid thrusts. Gasping for air, your vision started to white out. Unable to hold back any longer you flung your head back into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder as cum gushed out your pulsating cunt. Incoherent apologies fell from your mouth as your cum ran down your thighs. “Mmmmm… Sssorry, I’m…Mmmm…Sorry, Daddy… Mmmm…couldn’t hold it any longer. It’s too gggooooddd” your moans gasped out. Breathless you panted, fucked out in the middle of the crowd. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, standing shamefully in a puddle of your own nectar. Eddie cruelly laughed into your ear.

“Told you weren’t allowed to cum, Kitten. You’ve made such a mess on yourself and Daddy’s fingers'' Eddie teased, the prominent hard bulge digging into your ass and he curled himself around your slight frame. Removing his hand from your mound, he brought them up to your mouth. “SUCK”. It was a simple instruction and you immediately obeyed, not wanting to annoy Eddie further. Eddie pushed his fingers far into your wet mouth, your tongue wrapping around the thick probes. “Mmmm.. thank you Daddy” you whimpered. “Tastes so sweet”. “Yeah, you do Kitten, give Daddy a taste” Your hand instantly slipped downward and into the front of your drenched panties.

Swirling your nibble fingers around your wet folds collecting your slick. Once sufficiently soaked in your juices, you drew them to Eddie's waiting lips. Pushing them through the threshold onto his pierced tongue. Feeling the metal bar under your fingertips, reminding you of the sinful memories of it pressed on your core, causing another shudder down your spine. “Mmmmm Princess, you are especially sweet tonight. Is this ‘cause Daddy’s being mean to his Kitten?” Eddie cooed, licking and sucking the cum from your fingers. You nodded in response, mouth agape with lust, eyes lost in Eddie’s blown out obsidian pupils.

Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled towards the back of the venue, fighting against the waves of people surging towards the stage. Hand gripped tight in his, interlocking fingers forcing you along. Landing at the back corner of the venue, Eddie forcefully pushed you against the wall. “Need you Kitten. NEED you NOW” Eddie growled through gritted teeth. Hiking you up and onto his thighs, your legs naturally wrapped around his waist, ankles locking, your pressed back supported against the rough of the stone wall.

Impatiently he unbuckled his belt, the metal clanking being drowned out by the bass reverting off the walls. Popping the button of his dark jeans and pulling his zipper down, exposing the very angry tent in the front of his charcoal grey boxers. A wet stain of pre-cum teasing what was waiting inside. Looking down where your bodies met, you bit your lip in anticipation as Eddie freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. “Sooo pretty Eddie” your open mouth moaned, biting your lip, almost drooling at the sight. Eddie was BIG. And THICK. At least eight inches of a beautiful pale porcelain pink, ridged with a prominent vein running on the side, the head a deliciously mauve colour. The slit dribbling with precum adorned with a ring through the end. Your favourite piercing of his for sure, his PA. Licking your lips, you reach down between your bodies to grip Eddie’s cock. A harsh slap handed on your hand batting you away from the object of your desires. “No. You don’t get to play. To decide. This is for me, cause you’re MINE. And you need putting in your fucking place. Silly Kitten forgetting who she BELONGS too.”

Pushing your thong to the side Eddie rutted ruthlessly into your tight wet cunt. Giving you no time to adjust. The action stole the breath from your chest. Stunned you took what Eddie gave you. Hard thrusts from his sharp hips into the plush fat of your thighs setting a relentless pace. Every stab with his cock, took more air from your lungs. Your head started to drown in pleasure. Overwhelmed senses, your skin felt on fire, ears ringing from the deep bass, vision blacking out with every pass of Eddie’s hard cock against the spongy spot inside. The metal ring gliding furiously against your g-spot. Quivering in Eddie’s arms, your thoughts consumed by him. Only him. He was the sun to your moon, heaven to your hell, devil to your angel. And you were HIS. Your love is an engulfing black hole. He’d sucked you inside with no escape. And you were perfectly okay with your fate.

Dragging you back into reality, Eddie’s calloused fingers wrapped around your throat, light pressure squeezed at the sides. Your breath hitched in your throat as the blood restricted under Eddie’s fingers. Your eyes closed as you succumbed to the ethereal bliss. Dizzy and lightheaded the fire inside your cunt burned even hotter. White hot sparks fizzing inside. Pushing you ever close to the edge.

Incoherent words between throaty gasps and moans poured from your lips, Eddie’s eyes fixed down where you met as you fell apart above. You buried your head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Swallowing his the smell- tobacco, leather and spice cologne, an underlying hint of weed mixed with his apple shampoo that lingered in his hair and the most enthralling of all, Eddie’s natural musk, his sweat. You licked a stripe up the column of Eddie’s neck, lost in the subspace you’d fallen into. Eddie groaned in satisfaction. “Yours Eddie. I’m YOURS Eddie” you mumbled back into his solid, thick neck.

“Yeah, that’s right Kitten. You’re mine and you make me feel so good. Do you feel good? Is Daddy making you feel good?” Eddie breathlessly panted back. “Mmmm yes Daddy, feels so good. Daddy always makes me feel so good, always takes care of me.” you moaned back between breaths.

“Always Kitten” Eddie’s gaze softened slightly, his usual loving self crawling back through the darkness that had clouded his mind. That award winning smile creeping back onto his lips. The curtain of Eddie’s hair that shut out the world fell forward as your lips locked in passion. Messy and chaotic, teeth bashing, misjudged lip alignment, tongues battling for dominance. Burying each other's groans and breaths. Your hands clawed at Eddie’s sturdy shoulders and thick neck, begging for contact, gripping tight with a need to be even closer.

The coil in your stomach, still tightening evermore. Fanning the flames that licked your insides, burning hot lighting the fuses of the fireworks held in your core. All the time Eddie’s thrusts never faulted, determined on hunting both of your pleasure. Engulfing passion overcoming your bodies, as the only things that existed in this moment were you two. Ignoring the noise of the crowd, the heat of the venue, and the very compromising position you were in. Gasping for air, Eddie broke your intense kiss. “I’m close Kitten, need you to cum again for me. Need you to soak my cock. Claim what’s YOURS. Show everyone here I’M YOURS and YOU'RE MINE.” Eddie’s words whipped you back to this realm. Your toes curled in your boots, as Eddie’s fingers found your swollen bud once again. “Hmmm Eddie, make me cum, wanna cum again for you Daddy, wanna soak your pretty cock” you nodded back, glassy eyes like pearls. Eddie’s finger worked tirelessly rubbing hard figures of eight on your clit, using your own release to slicken the friction.

Edging you closer and closer to the edge, your heart pounded in your chest, your hearing dulled from the sound thumping inside, as the squelch between you two intensified. “Mmmmm…Gonna…cum Ed’s” you hummed, which was all the warning you could give as you began to plummet into the depths of your orgasm. The flames licked higher inside your stomach, consuming your body and soul. As you cried hot tears spilling out your eyes, down your damp cheeks, knocking your head back onto the wall behind in ecstasy. If it wasn’t for the blinding pleasure consuming you, you would have been concerned of how hard your head hit the wall behind, fearing a concussion. But in this moment only one thing mattered, Eddie Munson.

Cum gushed from your abused cunt, squirting down, soaking Eddie’s strong hairy thighs. The intensity of your orgasm wetting Eddie’s boxers and jeans impatiently sitting on his mid-thigh, ruched up under your ass. Your back arched against the roughness of the wall behind you, scratching the smooth skin, snagging the threads of your shirt. Your hands shot to Eddie’s messy curls, tugging at the root, grounding you once again, as you felt yourself float away in ultimate pleasure.

“Yes, that’s it Kitten” Eddie ecstatically cooed. “Look at you…so precious, making a mess of me. So sloppy, claiming my cock as yours”.

“Mmm…Eddie, All for you. Love you Daddy” you whimpered. Tears still falling from your wet doe eyes.

Eddie’s punching hips started to waver, as he started creeping closer to his own release. Chasing the feeling, his thrust began erratic and harder, sinking deeper into your slippy, warm, wet cunt. After a few more earth shattering thrusts Eddie groaned, “Gonna cum inside Kitten, Breed this pretty pussy. Gonna ruin you for every other man. Fuck your were made for me. Leave you with my cum dripping out this perfect pussy. Fuck a baby in you. Make you mine forever. Would you like that Kitten, make your belly all swollen with my baby. You’ll look so beautiful carrying our baby. My beautiful baby momma, wanna make you my wifey. Start raising the next generation of mini Munson’s. Fuck baby, I love you so much.”

Lost in his own pleasure his inner secret desires flooding out. And with that image cemented in his brain, Eddie came hard. His hot creamy white seed, coating your podgy warm walls. Eddie kept fucking your quivering pussy, with each thrust contracting, milking his cock until it became too sensitive for Eddie to stand. Pulling his softening cock out of your abused hole, his cum dribbling out as he’d described.

Eddie lowered you to your feet, pushing your panties back over your dipping pussy, trapping his cum inside, pooling in the small cotton gusset. “Gonna keep that inside for me Kitten, if you’re good maybe I’ll fuck another load inside you when we get home.” Standing you on shaking legs, he supported you until you could confidently stand yourself. Stuffing himself back inside his drench boxers and fastening his uncomfortably damp jeans. “Jesus Christ Kitten, what was that flood? Like a fucking tsunami on my jeans” he chuckled, eyes meeting yours. Your cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry Ed’s” you squeaked face heated with humiliation. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I don’t know what… how… it happened”. Your timid voice squeaked, embarrassed for the soaked wet mess staining Eddie’s dark jean clad thighs.

“T’is okay Kitten, it’s more than okay! That was fucking hot!.. You’re so fucking hot sweetheart!.. I love you so much, Kitten” Eddie gushed,punctuated with hasty kisses. You both still pressed to the safe haven of the wall. “I love you too Eddie, sorry I made you angry” your voice dropping quieter on every word, shame filling your flushed face, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of Eddie’s anger earlier directed at you. As much as it excited you, it also terrified you.

“Hey, hey Kitten” Eddie’s hands grasped your cheeks. Large palms swallowing the sides of your face. “No, I’m sorry. I should of never done that to you. I just got so consumed by the thoughts of all these people seeing you, but I know it’s your body and your choice what you do with it. I’m just so glad it’s me you decide to share it with. I guess this shit music, kinda made me feral too. I think get why you’re always trying to blast it out in the van!” A wicked smile creeping over Eddie’s lips. “How about I grab us some beers and we finish watching the gig. They’ve still gotta play “Love you to death” and I know you know the subtext behind that song, then after I guess we can act that out back home…that is if you can stand?” A quirked eyebrow and another giggle rippled through his chest, a soft kiss landing in your lips.

“Make it two beers each and you’ve got yourself a deal, Munson” you counted. “But remember, they can look but they can’t touch, baby. That’s only for you Daddy, I’m yours and your mine. Don’t ever forget it”. Your finger bopped his nose playfully, lips meeting again.

Spinning on his heels, Eddie practically ran to the bar, wallet in hand, leaving you smiling to yourself. The memory of your beautiful goofball boyfriend, his devilishly handsome face, he was your everything. Him making his pussy drunk confession of his inner desires to make you his forever. This was definitely a gig you’d never forget, and for all the right reasons.

Eddie returned to you moments later, beers in hand as promised. “Come on Kitten, let’s get you back to the front, before I fuck you raw against that wall again. ‘Cause I don’t know if these jeans or your panties can take another soaking like that. God you’re so beautiful, I never want to be apart from you. My Druidess, you’ve definitely cast me under your wicked spell… not that I’m complaining. I’ll serve you for as long as you'll have me, Sweetheart”. Eddie's eyes boring into yours full of want and adoration, a love in which you thrived in.

“You better be joking Kitten, I told you I wanted you to keep my cum inside, that’s gonna be pretty hard to do then when it’s dripping down your legs. And I don’t think you want to disobey me again…so I’d say if those panties are being thrown anywhere tonight, it better be over my rear view mirror with the last pair, from when you bratted out and tried to defy me… I may be under your spell, Princess, but I’m still your Daddy. And what Daddy says goes, or have you forgotten that and need reminding again?” Eddie’s warning whispered in your ear, his hot breath pricking up the tiny hairs on your neck, his hand now clamped back between your legs over your barely clothed, soaked, raw cunt. Your spine jolted you back upright, shook.

“No Daddy” was your only response.

“Good girl”

🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

@bexreadstoomuch @thecomfortgoth @emotionaldreamer @broccolisoupy @elvendria @capricornrisingsstuff @foxxymunson

#Spotify #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader smut #fuck me daddy #stranger things #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson is daddy #monster dong munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x oc #type o negative #peter steele #dom eddie munson

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ghostingtheinternet · 11 months

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Some LONG overdue fanart for (seriously) one of my favorite fanfics of all time, @pinkrelish ‘s “The Yes Policy”! Had to draw the absolutely darling cuddling scene from the DND game, and the readers’ iconic first introduction to our sweet Adrie♥️ Maybe one of these days I’ll get the courage to draw Eddie’s face😂

I’ve read a lot of fanfic in my day, some would say an unhealthy astounding amount, but this story really takes the cake for plot, pacing, and just overall execution. You would not believe how hard it gets to find writing this high quality sometimes, reading this fic is always like a breath of fresh air. It’s a personal favorite forever, something I always look forward to reading! As always, thank you to @pinkrelish for sharing this work with us!!♥️♥️

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x original character #the yes policy #pinkrelish #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fandom #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things Eddie munson

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imagines-all-day-everyday · 2 years

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bat outta hell

chapter one: eddie munson always knew he was metal. or at least that's what he thought until he ends up in an alternate dimension fighting satanic bats and a certain hawkins sweetheart comes to his rescue.

warnings: swearing, s 4 spoilers, fluffffff <3

Notes: as if this is my first eddie fic omg.

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson was metal.

He was the leader of the Hellfire Club, he played in a hardcore band, he had some sweet tatties. Yeah, he thought he was pretty darn metal if he said so himself.

That was until he watched two ladies jump headfirst into a freezing lake after Steve "the hair" Harrington without hesitation. Until he found himself surrounded by what he could only describe as bat-like creatures that seemed hellbent on eating the four teenagers alive.

"God damn it shit." He shrieked as he swung the oar clumsily at one of the creatures, the wood snapping clean in half as it made contact.

"Come on you son of a bitch!" He shouted as he held the broken oar up, his eyes glued to the sky as the bats continued to circle.

"Eddie watch out!"

Eddie turned just in time to see a flap of wings and sharp teeth gnashing and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut as he prepared for the inevitable pain he was about to endure.

But it never came. Instead, an anguished squeal reached his ears followed by a slick thud as something hit the ground in front of him. He peaked an eye open to see the creature that was about to cause his demise lying dead at his feet, an arrow protruding from its chest.

Eddie stumbled back, his eyes wide as he watched arrows sail through the air, the red lightning illuminating them as they each found their targets with deadly precision.

Eddie's eyes darted from the sky in time to see another bat aiming for Steve, who was completely defenceless as he tried to get up onto his feet.

"Duck!" An unfamiliar voice called out.

Steve ducked instantly, just in time as an arrow wizzed over his head and lodged into the left wing of the bat, pinning it to the ground.

Eddie whirled around in time to see a figure run past him towards Steve. A baseball bat rose up into the air, metal encased fingers glinted back at him as they brought the bat down with full force. A squelching noise intermingled with the whining of the creature rung out.

Then, silence.

"Steve! Are you ok?" Nancy was at Steve's side in a second as the stranger extended a hand to help him up. Steve barely even registered Nancy's voice as he stared up at his saviour, his eyes wide as her soft hand enveloped his and tugged him up.

"Jesus H Christ!" Eddie shrieked, his chest heaving as he threw down the broken oar, his eyes scanning the sky. The sound of a soft chuckle made Eddie turn around once more to see that the anonymous stranger had finally turned around to face him.

His lips parted in surprise at the sight of a girl about their age, staring back at him. Her hair matted and down to her shoulders, dirt and grime smeared all over her face and body, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a bow over the other.

They locked eyes as she slung the bat up to rest on the back of her shoulder blades, the end of it glistening in the blood of the bat creature. Ringed fingers curled around the handle tightly as an amused smirk remained on her features.

A spark of recognition coursed through him as he studied her face. She looked so achingly familiar but he just couldn't place it, he knew her, somehow.

All eyes were on her, wide and in shock, Steve, Robin, Eddie and Nancy's chests heaving up and down at an uneven rate as they combed every inch of her body. They all mentally reached the same conclusion. They'd been saved by a badass.

"*yn*?"

Their saviour turned to face Nancy at the sound of the name.

Then it clicked for Eddie. *yn*, as in *yn* *yln*. The editor of the school newspaper, captain of the volleyball team, on track for class valedictorian, all round Hawkins sweetheart.

He'd heard her name mentioned a few times in the hallways of Hawkins High but never bothered to really put a name to a face. He'd had more important things to do, like run Hellfire Club.

But now as he stared at her in awe, Eddie wondered why the hell he had never taken the time to notice her before.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing Wheeler." *yn* answered, brows raised in surprise.

"How did you-"

"Listen, while I would love to have a little catch up, there are a lot more of our little friends on their way so I strongly suggest we find cover."

"I'm sure we can take them." Steve answered her.

Nancy opened her mouth to also protest when a screech in the distance made all five teenagers jerk their heads around. Eddie froze when a black swarm of bats rose up through the red clouds, rising over the top of them and approaching fast. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands.

"I recommend the woods, personally." *yn* breathed out as her grip on the bat tightened.

"I endorse that recommendation, yep." Robin nodded her head frantically.

"Woods sound like a sweeeet idea to me." Eddie murmured.

"Good." *yn* nodded calmly. "Then let's go."

Eddie watched as she took off in the direction of the woods without as much as a second glance behind her. It was as if they didn't have demonic bat creatures hot on their heels, like she was just off for a morning jog before heading to school.

Yeah outside D&D, Eddie Munson was not metal.

*yn* *yln* though? Yeah. She was fucking metal.

-------------------

*yn* tried to catch her breath as she watched the bats fly overhead, having thrown them off their scent in the thick undergrowth. Her body was aching and her lungs were screaming as she pressed her back against the cool rock surface. She could feel Eddie Munson's hair brushing against her shoulder every so often as the five huddled together under Skull Rock.

The eternal senior, the leader of the Hellfire Club, band member of Corroded Coffin, part time drug dealer and full time social outcast. The self titled freak. Eddie "the freak" Munson's reputation proceeded him. Even if you lived under a rock like this one, you knew the name Eddie Munson.

However, *yn* had never paid much attention to him, she was far too busy to worry about some drop kick, too focused on getting into her dream college. She definitely never thought that she'd save his life and then be squeezed in next to him while they hid from alter-dimensional bats.

"Ok, I think we're good." Robin breathed out after a few moments as she slowly crept out from their hiding spot.

"We should be ok for a while now, it takes a lot to get their attention." *yn* explained as they all rose to their feet.

"Steve?" Everyone turned to see Steve slumped against the side of the cave, gripping his abdomen tightly.

"I'm fine." He squeaked out, wincing as he slid down to the ground.

"No, no, no. No you're not, you're losing blood." Nancy panicked as she crouched down in front of him, examining his wounds.

"Here, I've got bandages and antiseptic." *yn* spoke as she dumped her backpack on the ground.

Eddie peered over her shoulder to see the bag was full of supplies: arrows, bandages, water, food.

"Woah. You are fully stocked." He observed as she pulled out a roll of bandages and ointment.

"I have more back at my camp, not sure how much good it will do us though." She sighed as she handed the supplies to Nancy who quickly thanked her before beginning to dress Steve's wounds.

"Do you guys think these bats have rabies?" Robin murmured as she studied Steve's injuries.

"Cause like getting rabies is my number one fear and I really don't think I could handle it if Steve got rabies and went feral and all that stuff." Robin continued as *yn* took a seat and pulled out more bandages.

"I think we are in the clear for rabies, unless I've been foaming at the mouth and you guys haven't informed me." *yn* joked lightly as she patted her leg just underneath where her denim shorts ended, drawing everyones attention to the blood stained bandage wrapped around her thigh.

"Shitheads took a good sized chunk of me when I first got here."

"How long have you been here exactly?" Nancy queried.

"Well, I went to go check out the sight of Fred's murder the day after it happened and that was..." *yn* trailed off, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece together how long it had been. That was when she realised that she didn't have an answer. There was no day or night wherever they were, she had no way of telling how much time had passed.

"Three days ago." Robin interjected causing *yn*'s brow to raise.

"I've been in this shithole for three days?" *yn* let out a low whistle. "Thank god my parents are away or I would have been so grounded."

"You are scarily calm for someone who has been trapped in another dimension for three whole days." Robin observed as *yn* peeled off the blood soaked bandage.

"I'm good at compartmentalising." *yn* shrugged, "I'm sure once we get out of here I'll be in intensive therapy for the rest of my life but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Eddie studied her in disbelief, both simultaneously confused and incredibly impressed at just how calm she was being. It made him feel rather stupid about his several tantrums and freak outs since they'd gotten here.

"How the hell did you get here anyway?" Steve asked, wincing as Nancy applied some antiseptic to his wounds.

"Well after Fred got murdered I went to check out the site, see what I could find out. I thought the whole thing was strange, especially when my best reporter who'd been with Fred the day he died didn't show up for work, y'know?" *yn* explained, nodding her head towards Nancy.

"And that was when I saw this weird hole that was moving, like it was alive almost. Anyway, obviously I had to see what was on the other side and then-" *yn* gestured around. "Here I was. And I thought not only had I found the best front page story that Hawkins has ever seen but my god would this be a great story for my college application letters. I thought I couldn't be more lucky." She chuckled humourously, shaking her head at just how wrong she had been.

"But then you got stuck..." Robin murmured to which *yn* nodded as she gritted her teeth and pulled the fresh gauze tightly around her thigh.

"Yep, those little vermin guard that gate like their lives depend on it. But hey," She shrugged as she finished securing the bandage, "now you're all here maybe we've actually got a shot at getting out of here."

With that she rose to her feet and dusted herself off, surveying her surroundings with a determined glint in her eye. Eddie took this opportunity to scale a rock, his mind racing as he took in the dreary environment.

Robin wondered back over to Steve and Nancy, her eyes wide as she studied *yn*.

"Who'd have thought *yn* *yln* would be such a badass?" Robin whispered to them.

"Yeah..." Steve trailed off, his eyes glued to *yn*'s imposing stance in awe as he replied. "You'd think we'd be used to the unexpected by now, huh?" Steve continued before grimacing as Nancy unexpectedly pulled the cloth tighter, grating against his open wound.

"So uh, this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?" Eddie asked, glancing down at the others.

"Pretty much, yeah." Nancy nodded, getting up once Steve's wound was dressed. "Watch out for the vines." She warned as Eddie went to step down from the boulder. "It's all a hive mind."

"A what?"

"All the creepy crawlies around here dude." Steve chimed in. "They're all like one or something, you step on a vine you're stepping on a bat, you're stepping on Vecna."

"Who or what is a Vecna?" *yn* butted in, her brow creased as she glanced around the group.

"Oh boy." Eddie let out a low whistle. "Do you have a lot to catch up on sweetheart."

"What am I missing? Did you guys know about this place before?" *yn* asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied Nancy's face. "Have you been holding out on me Wheeler? This could be the story of the century!"

"Ok look I promise I'll tell you everything, but right now we've got to figure out how to get out of here." Nancy responded.

*yn* bit her tongue, forcing down the onslaught of interrogative questions she had waiting in her arsenal. "Fine." She nodded, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she racked her brains for a solution.

"Well I haven't dared to venture far from the woods while I've been here, just a few houses on the outskirts to get supplies." *yn* explained. "But if everything is the same in this version of Hawkins, theoretically we can go to the police station or something and grab more weapons to take on those bats guarding the way out of here."

"Oooh, grenades!" Robin exclaimed.

"I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades Robin but guns, sure." Steve nodded.

"Well we don't have to go all the way down town for guns. I have guns, in my bedroom." Nancy revealed.

"You." Eddie began as he jumped off the boulder. "Nancy Wheeler, have guns. Plural. In your bedroom?"

"Full of surprises isn't she?" Robin beamed.

"I don't know what's more surprising, that revelation or that the valedictorian can take down monsters with a bow and arrow." Eddie responded, an amused smirk on his lips as he glanced at *yn*.

*yn* quirked a brow up at his words, opening her mouth to retort back when the ground suddenly shook from underneath them, loud bangs echoed all around them.

*yn* stumbled, her back smashing into Eddie's front as they toppled over. Eddie was quick to react, ensnaring her in his arms to shield her from the fall as they fell backwards. He gripped onto her tightly, his ringed fingers digging into her side as he covered her body with his as rocks fell around them.

Almost as quickly as the earthquake began, it ended. As the ground stilled and *yn* and Eddie sat up, the loud bellow of an unseen monster rung out from afar. It was enough to make the hairs on their body stand on end.

Chills ran through *yn*'s body at the sound. She knew they were all thinking the same thing. No one wanted to stick around long enough to find out what made that sound.

"Uh, so guns sound like a good idea to me." Eddie swallowed.

"Yeah, me too." Robin breathed out.

It was then that *yn* realised that one of Eddie's arms was still looped protectively around her waist. His fingers pressed firmly into her skin as he held her against him. She swallowed thickly as she studied him, this was the first time she had been this close to him, to really take time to appreciate his features. Then his big brown eyes were on her too and *yn* felt her composure wobble ever so slightly.

In that moment *yn* wondered why the hell she had never taken the time to notice him before.

"So what are we waiting for?" Steve spoke up, his eyes darting between Eddie and *yn*.

Steve's voice caused *yn* to tear her gaze from Eddie and scramble to her feet. "Lead the way."

-------------------------

"So I'm going to take a wild guess that you didn't actually kill Chrissie Cunningham?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" *yn* continued, mild panic sweeping over her when she saw the look that crossed Eddie's face at the mention of the cheerleader.

"No no it's ok." Eddie waved his hand dismissively as he recouped his emotions. "I was there when it happened, the cops are right about that, but I didn't kill her."

"I'm sorry." *yn* repeated, "that must have been awful."

"Yeah it wasn't the greatest experience of all time. Might have to join you in that lifelong intensive therapy you were talking about." Eddie's words made a wry smile appear on her features as she gripped the strap of her backpack.

"I'm sorry about Fred too, I know he worked on the paper with you." Eddie continued.

"It's ok, we weren't that close." *yn* let out a small sigh at the thought of the shy boy.

The pair fell into silence as they continued to treck through the woods. Eddie swallowed as his eyes darted to *yn*'s face, studying her for a few moments before looking back ahead of him.

"You still play in Corroded Coffin?"

Her question made Eddie come to a sudden stop, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his bands name.

"Hell yeah I do." A disbelieving smile spread across his lips as he stared down at her. "I'm surprised you've heard of us."

"Of course I have." *yn* laughed. "I wrote a review of you guys for the paper... sophomore year I think."

Eddie racked his brain for a few moments, searching through his memories for one involving an article about his band.

"Oh shit yeah!" He exclaimed, his grin widening as it hit him. "About our set at the Spring Carnival. You gave us a rave review."

His words made *yn* tilt her head back and let out a laugh, one that made his heart flutter slightly. "I don't know if I'd call it a rave review" She answered as the pair began to walk again, "I think I said that while you were no Metallica, you were pretty damn good for a Hawkins bread band."

"You know Metallica?" Eddie queried, the backhanded compliment going completely in one ear and out the other as he stared at her.

A confused expression crossed her features as she looked at him, "doesn't everyone?"

Eddie had to withhold a squeak of excitement, calming himself down by inhaling deeply as he walked instep beside her.

"No they definitely do not." Was all he mumbled in reply, his head swimming with thoughts as they followed after the others.

"Listen, I still haven't had the chance to say thank you for saving our asses before." He spoke up after a few minutes of silence had passed.

"I mean that was a real Ozzie move you pulled back there."

It was only when he said it that he realised *yn* probably didn't have a clue what or who he was talking about. He opened his mouth to explain when her soft chuckle cut him off.

"I don't know if I'd go as far as biting a bats head off, but thank you."

She got the reference. This had to be some sort of mistake. A cruel, sick joke that the universe was playing on him.

"Well it was very metal of you, that's all I'm saying. Totally badass." His compliment made a small blush appear on her cheeks.

"Maybe my new nickname can be the Princess of Darkness." She grinned, her words almost making Eddie stop in his tracks again.

Another Ozzy reference. Had he died and gone to heaven?

"You like Black Sabbath?" This was a test. He couldn't get ahead of himself just yet, he had to be sure.

"They're no Led Zepplin or Deep Purple but yeah, they're cool." *yn* nodded.

Eddie thought he might pass out.

*yn* *yln*, the smartest girl in school and was probably, no, definitely was the prettiest girl in school, liked metal music. Liked his band. Was a bow and arrow using, baseball bat wielding, monster slaying badass.

Eddie had never believed in any of that soulmate crap before, but holy shit, maybe he needed to rethink that. Actually, maybe he needed to rethink everything he'd ever squirrelled away in his own personal Munson doctrine. Because right now, he was pretty convinced that he was staring down at someone who had been crafted right out of his own personal fantasies.

She smirked and raised a brow when she noted the stunned look on his features, "people like me can like metal too, y'know."

Her voice made Eddie break out of his thoughts, panic overwhelming him as he scrambled for something to say.

"It's not just reserved for self proclaimed freaks." She continued, enjoying seeing him squirm under her gaze.

"Uh shit yeah no of course I just-" Eddie began to ramble, running a hand through his unruly hair as he tried to think of a way to pull himself out of the grave he'd just dug.

"Hey *yn*! I'm bored, come here so I can catch you up on everything Vecna and Upside Down to pass the time." Robin called out from ahead of them.

Eddie had never been so grateful for Robin Buckley and her inability to stop talking.

"Saved by the bell." *yn* teased him.

"Yeah coming!" *yn* called back to Robin before glancing up at Eddie once more.

"Here." She extended the baseball bat out for him to grab. He studied her momentarily before cautiously taking the bat from her, a quizzical expression on his features.

"To replace your oar." She explained as she let go of the handle.

"Try not to break this one." She smirked, before jogging to catch up with Robin.

"I won't oh great princess of darkness!" He called out to her. The use of the nickname caused her to let out a laugh and turn around just in time to watch him bow dramatically, his mop of curls sweeping against the floor.

"I'll protect it with my life." He shot her a huge grin as he rose up with a sweep of his hands.

"I'll hold you to that Munson." She grinned, sending him a wink before turning around once more.

Eddie let the bat drop to his side, bringing up a clenched fist to his mouth to stifle the low and pining whine he let out as he watched her go.

"Jesus H Christ." He breathed out as he brought his other hand up to clutch over his heart dramatically.

"Marry me, *yn* *yln*."

chapter two

------------------------

I've really been on fire lately I have to say because I fucking love this fic so much. Potentially one of my favourites of all time, big call I know but!!! I just love writing for Eddie he's such a great character!!! Also feel like there could be a part 2 potentially or a stand alone fic so love that. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

one muse masturbates while the other drives. or on the floor, in front of the fireplace to warm up after coming inside from winter storm. with eddie for try a plum, they’re better then sex - send me a nsfw request!

A/N: opted to go with the car one ♡

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 3.5k celebration!

Evidently, your rebellious boyfriend could talk you into just about anything, because one moment you’re just sitting in the passenger seat, drooling over his ring-adorned hands as they gripped the steering wheel, your thighs squeezing so tightly together for even an ounce of relief, to now as the tips of your fingers dreamily danced over the wet spot staining your panties, all because that perceptive motherfucker teasingly asked you to lift up your skirt and show him.

Biting down on your smile as you watched his enthusiasm grow into an uncontrollable beast, his lingering eyes suddenly shifted from your form to wildly darting out the windows as he impulsively turned the car around.

“Edds, what are you doing?” a giggle bubbled out as you instinctively reached for the dashboard for support, your fingers freezing at the surprise, curling slightly under the hem of your underwear.

Wild hair whipping around with every turn of his head, one of his hands left its post to palm himself through his tightening pants, “finding a place to park the van.”

“Why?” your thighs squeezed around your wrist, “I thought you were taking me home.”

The vehicle finally came to a stop on the side of the road, other cars still zooming by in the background, “I am,” he smirked, turning to flash you his hungry eyes, “right after I screw your brains out in the back.”

#3.5k celebration #lea’s writing #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson imagines #perv!eddie #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x original female character

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lavendermunson · 2 months

Text

imagine dating demigod!eddie son of dionysus

special thanks to my babe @keeksandgigz 💗

#꒰ leia's moodboards ⊹ ㅤ꒱#eddie munson moodboard #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson x female reader #leia’s pjo collection ⚡️

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punk-in-docs · 1 year

Text

🕷️ Vanilla Tobacco 🕷️

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.9k words

Summary: Based on one of my favourite Eloise songs- this pure mush but please believe me on the life of my dog, the next piece to follow this with smut is coming in so fast I may get whiplash- watch out- also

Thank-youuuu all of you for being such angels and commenting on my stuff all the time it’s honestly amazing. I know I’m a lazy bum and I need to reply to your astounding comments. But pls know I do see each one and it’s just what makes this all so worthwhile to see how much you all love Eddie X Pencils.

Your morning had been hell on wheels.

You slept through your alarm. Stubbed your toe stumbling out of bed in your rush to get dressed. Burnt your tongue on your too hot coffee. Ended up being late for home room. And now you’ve been lumped with an art essay. Perfect.

Self directed. Six thousand words on a particular art movement of your choice. Which somehow made it even harder to pick-

It’s pokey glass shards stabbing into the already festering wound in your side that was your day.

This would mean you’d be surrendering your lunchtime to this honey of a new project which was due in a week. If you got the books and notes gathered for it now, it would be a great help and a load off further down the line.

You trudge out of class, and back down to the hallway to your locker, with an armful of textbooks and sketchbook. A free period now that you’d spend the entirety of in the library.

In the absence of a certain jingly jacketed, metal head, the music you’ve got blasting through walkman headphones right now, is the only soothing thing that’s helping your scratchy mood stay buoyant.

Well. That and one other salient thing-

You can’t help but draw your thoughts back to yours and Eddie’s movie night. That memory certainly lifts and delights. Wraps up your stomach like being bound in sunny butter-yellow silk.

Being tangled up on Eddie’s terrible scratchy orange couch with wandering hands, seeking more, and so much making out it was like you were kissing each other’s lips raw. Seeing Eddie with those beautiful lips all bitten pink certainly tugged on your guts in the most horny way.

You devoured the pizza together, and he’d tasted like hoppy lite beer and salty pepperoni - licking the greasy cheese mess of it off the corner of your lips. Smiling with oily pizza grease fingers gripping your chin.

You’d laughed so much your ribs hurt. Prodded fun at the gore of his selected horror movies - awed by his taste too. Agreed on the worst and best parts of grainy black and white eerie tones of night of the living dead. The ham acting. The swelling suspense.

He’d grinned with the way you’d squirmed and jiggled and scrunched up your feet in unease at the bit in Nightmare on Elm Street. When Tina grabs Freddy’s face and the whole thing slips into her hand in a bloody rubbery landslide, revealing raw teeth and bulging eyes, scarlet black chasm of a nose.

I love this movie. But I freakin’ hate that bit.

Eddie curls around you tighter. Beaming. Chuckling dryly. Ringed fingers splaying over your hip. Nose nestled in the back of your neck.

Squeamish much, pencils?

Shut up

You both watch as Tina cups at the four claw marks in her stomach as she’s tumbled around the bed and jerked up to the ceiling. Crawling sticky blood up the flowery walls.

You hide again with an ‘Ick.’ Which prompts you to twist around and face him. You don’t do well with blood.

He very kindly lets you shield your eyes behind his hand. Rings warm on your skin.

Freddy’ll have to get through me first. Don’t you worry.

I’ll never let you sleep again, Munson. I will blast the loudest Motörhead in your ears. Okay?

Okay sweets. He winked.

You’d flown into swooning bits at the recollection of how you’d spent a great deal of time on that date, horizontal with Eddie’s warm nose buried deep in your neck. Or his tongue in your mouth. Spit wet lips, hoppy beer breath, and grinding hormones.

Later, much later, after two beers, his teeth and lips were plucking hickie’s at your collarbones and under your jaw. Mainly to distract you from Wes Cravens gore. But, funny how even when the movie ended, neither of you seemed to notice.

Too busy scrunching your hands in his messy hair and kissing him back hungrily. His hands smoothing up your back. Your legs curled open over the cradle of his skinny hips. Grinding into the clutch of yours. His hands were blazing hot on your ass where your skirt was rucked up. Fingertips slipping just-so, under the edge of your panties.

Whenever you hummed or moaned it made him smile. Made his hips jerk to yours. You were grinding on each other like this world would end soon. Entirely composed of rutting feel-good hormones for each other.

He pulled back because he was definitely popping a boner in those skinny jeans and you can’t lie either - you’re wet - you’re both very flimsy underwear barriers away from doing some very x-rated things.

He begs you that he doesn’t wanna be cumming in his pants like a ninth grader. You can’t deny with his hips grinding you like that it wouldn’t take much for your orgasm either. But, you both agreed, that for now, you’d keep it to second base.

All bets are off next time though, Pencils.

Deal. You grin back.

He sighed happily, blushed as a matter of fact, as you nudged a kiss under his ear.

You made out and ate and cracked jokes and chatted for what felt like hours. You tired the moon with your talking - and kissing. So much sparky hot kissing it stunned your lips numb.

You’d never get enough of the taste of Eddie. Smoke and beers on his tongue. Fake snap of chemical apple from his shampoo. Some distant lingering cedar and vanilla cologne that was definitely Wayne’s and had definitely been put on to impress you-

Hewalked you out to your car when time came for you to go. Leaving felt like a ripping pain. Like tearing layers of skin away. You kissed for ten minutes before you even managed to fumble blindly behind you for the door. He kissed you up against the door. Next to the door. All over you with your hands sunk and lost in his hair.

Don’t go I’m not done yet. As he cupped your face and waddled you up against the door - again.

Traffics bad this time of night, Pencils. Give it five if I were you.

I’ve heard a really bad storm is closing in.

Every time you levered apart, he was spinning you back with “Okay but how about one more, y’know, for the road…”

Then proceeded to melt you into another thought-stealing kiss.

Made you laugh into it when he palmed your car keys right out your hand whilst you were distracted by his tongue. And fully launched them over his shoulder.

They landed with a jingly thump over his shoulder on the malt brown carpet. He wrapped his arms around your waist even tighter. Muffled your protests onto the silky bed of his tongue. You moaned and curled your arms around him again.

Thinking of Eddie was definitely one part of your day that didn’t suck. That didn’t scrape rock bottom. It actually lifted you off your dragging heels a bit. Laced a spring in your step that you were careful not to let creep out too much around others.

You lose yourself to that, and into the jagged punk carnality, and let it be known Billy Idol’s sneering roar of a voice was a balm to you.

What didn’t help was that when you came to your locker, Linda was stood against it with the nuclear warhead of a mega-bitch that was Carol P.

They’re gaggled close and smirking about something. There should be a cauldron between them for the amount of shit-stirring and poison slinging they do. You’re thankful you can’t hear it. You turn up Rebel Yell just that tad louder.

Carol was the worst when it came to high school hierarchy. Not only an asshole but determined to drag that festering quality out of everything she touches. Withers the people she considers below her like dead leaves. Thought because she was giving blowjobs under the bleachers, and playing spin the bottle since seventh grade, that it somehow made her the epitome of cool.

You think that much like Linda, its just wearing a mask to cover over the craggy potholes and ultimate shallowness of their personality. They turn into mean, bullying people. Dog eat dog world of high school. Eat or be eaten and these are the pedigree girls with shiny hair, sharp teeth and bitchy smiles.

Really they’re just entirely composed of vanity and rot. Shallowness and arrogance entwined.

Linda barely acknowledges your emergence, as you open your locker and swap out an armful your books for the ones in your hands from an earlier class. You kept your headphones on, muffled the world away to rock music.

A hand shoots over your shoulder and annoyingly jerks on your headphones. Tugging them down the back of your head with a clatter. Making your heart flash fast at the jump of it.

You turn with a glare and see Tommy. H jaunt up to his girlfriend. Giving you a stupid grin. Sneering words back at you. “S’up, Pencil neck.”

Pencil Neck. Mother Mary. Those were some of the ingenious little pet names they had picked out for you.

Because you haven’t had sex and you aim for good grades, apparently this makes you worthy of freakdom in their rabid eyes.

Linda purses her lips a little. Smiles like it’s funny, them calling you that.

Carol barks out her shitty grating laughter. Tilts her head at you and those loose Farah Fawcett auburn curls dance around her snarky face. Popping neon pink gum and looking sly.

Tommy loops his arm around her neck. They stand and eye you like you’re something amusing. Freak show in town. Roll up for tickets.

“Original.” You bite back as you reach for your books.

“Ooh.” Tommy chirps at you. “Not in a friendly mood, are we.”

“My tolerance for vitriolic jackasses is limited.” You narrow your eyes at the pair of them.

You detest the way Carol scans you up and down. Judging your hand me down plaid, jeans and sneakers like you got them from a yard sale. Thinking you’re cheap trash, with a trampy single mom.

Just cause her manicured and caustic mother was the sales rep for a big cosmetic company, and she lives on the gleaming streets of Loch Nora, that it made her perfectly able to peer down her nose at the lower echelons.

She pops her gum with a snap looking at you. Then doesn’t even deign to pay you any attention. Looks towards Linda. A decided bitchy ally.

“You’re coming to the house party at Josh’s tonight, right, Martelli?” She grins as she chews loudly. Wet gummy clicks that get on your nerves. Raking an annoying knife up your spine.

You turn to your locker and ignore the bunch of cognoscenti assholes. You were ashamed to say that included your once fond friend among them.

“Sure I’ll be there.” Linda shrugs like it isn’t a golden gilded invitation handed over, direct from the Queen Bee herself.

“You’re gonna bring Jonny right?” Carol leers. Smile filthy. Like she wants to be the one sucking face with him, as opposed to her own boyfriend currently slung off her shoulder.

“If he can sneak out. His dads being a real dick at the moment.” Linda tells with a glum pouty tone.

“Sneak him out. It’ll be so fun. We got tonnes of beer. There’s bound to be some wet n’ wild fun in the pool.” She grinned all bright and naughty. Sticking her tongue out.

House party on a Tuesday night. These dicks really had nothing better to do than suck face, trash the place, or hump. Make a mess like silver back gorillas parading around in the zoo in their natural habitat.

Tommy decided to drag you back into this razor blade and lemon juice studded conversation. Oh joys.

“Probably not Pencil neck’s kinda evening.” He pouts sticking his lower lip out.

“She’s gotta be back in her convent by 9. Wimple on. Back home with her trampy mom like a good little girl.” Carol mocks in laughing. It’s shrill. Brings to mind a hyena.

Somewhere along the line, the fact your mom was mostly absent and single had become the butt of a joke to these people. Because you don’t live on Maple Street or dress like a Pat Benatar wannabe. You defend your ground in your paint spattered clothes, tatty jeans, and oversized hand-me-down plaid from Charlie, and tees from the goodwill.

It stung like acid each time they swiped and spit nasty words aimed at your mom. Needles pushed under your skin when they sniped their mockery.

You rose above it and grit your teeth. Even though it made you want to start swinging clenched fists. Real tempting to shove the wrong end of your paintbrush in carols stupid eye some days. Splat paint on her expensive jacket or jeans. Knock the books out her hands for once. The dream.

Tommy chuckles along. Carol loves pushing your buttons. It’s her defining character trait. Slamming down on them til they crack into spiderwebs like broken porcelain. It’s all she does best.

“I’m amazed you manage to walk like that what with your head being all the way up your ass.” You slam your locker and turn to talk to a very silent Linda.

“See you after third.” You offer blithely. She barely meets your eyes. Doesn’t answer. She shrinks down. Dumbly clings to her own silent cowardice. Shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at a scuff on her shiny white cavalier boots.

“Got bible studies?” Tommy jumps in quick to say.

You roll your eyes over, let his comment go unmatched. You didn’t have the energy for these two.

You heft your books into your arms and walk away. You hear their laughter and more snideness rips it’s razors at your back as you leave. More insults you don’t care to listen too.

You blast more Billy to blot them out. Forget about their stupidity as you head to the library. You hate the way they slide under your skin like it’s nothing.

You push through the doors and pad through the winding warren of the shelves. Thick carpet tiles muffled your steps. The overly harsh lighting almost buzzed above you. Students hunched hushed over tables, or scanning the stacks. A low thrum of noise and activity compared to the teaming hallways.

It’s a soothe for you. A harbour for you to switch your brain into a slow gear, push it into focusing on something else.

You find a table and set out your books and sketchbooks. Loop your bag on the back of the chair and get scouring through the arts section. You find a stack and pile it against your chest. Take them to your table and hunch over a legal pad. Madly brainstorming ideas for what you wanted to pick.

You settle and let the onslaught of your morning grow quiet. Meld as one into pages and passages. Art Nouveau with its goddesses, natural flowing forms and it’s mimicry of flowers under arched curves. The limpid neon minimalism of Dan Flavin and his light installations. Hockney and his searing blue pool paintings.

There’s so many influences crashing through your head. You skip from book to book. Unable to decide. Tapping the end of your pen against your chin. Raking hands through your lose hair.

You’re curled over a punk art book, looking at the ripped Jamie Reid images, jagged text and rude political satire sprayed and bastardised with paint drips, when something soft hits you on the side of your head, grazing by, and skittering down to your desk. Bouncing off your hand.

You twist back in your seat. Bewildered. Scanning the stacks and there’s nothing save for the usual soft footed librarians drifting around, with their glasses chains, sensible skirts, and hushed voices. The same few quiet kids sat at their tables, dotted around. Unmoved.

You frown and turn back around to the crumpled paper. You smooth it out and make out the chicken scratched words etched there. It was a note.

A love note. Etched in Violet sharpie. It sets a blaze in your chest.

Hey sweet cheeks. You look hot hitting the books. Making me jealous that they’ve got your undivided attention.

Signed it with an E with little sprouting devil horns coming off the top - as if he really needed to identify himself.

You smile when you suddenly feel the tickle of long dry hair feathering it’s tips at the back of your neck. Ringed hands drape for your shoulders. Cold rings even through your worn flannel. Smoke comes with him. Fresh too. He’d just had a cig break you’d guess. Reds curled new on cold leather and carried along with apple.

How was it the worlds nosiest metal-head with his jangly wallet chain and apparently limitless racket, could sneak up on you in absolute silence.

Materialising out of nowhere, like a suddenly gathering storm. Subtle as an earthquake. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Inhaled deep like he was trying to drag you in via his mouth alone.

“There’s my little bookworm.” He hushes. Voice all trying-to-be-low and hissing. Rumbling down on your skull. Nuzzling his nose to your hair. Coconut. That Amber and Lavender perfume of yours. Clean luminosity of honeyed notes, and the plain spice of hearty lavender that drifts off you.

It’s dizzying. Consuming. He’s missed it the way a man could miss food and water.

“You threw paper at my head.” You faked mild insult.

Eddie leans up on his sneaker tip toes to peer over your head and catch onto the book that has you so engrossed.

“You looked very invested. How else was I supposed to get your attention.” Comes a clever curl of a grin.

It makes little flecks of gold stars shine and shimmer in those inky eyes.

His hand that landed heavy with a whump on your shoulder, curled up a knuckle and played with an idle curl of your hair. Cool fingers leaving sparks where he touched the nape of your neck.

“What are you doing in here, anyway? You know this is a library don’t you.” You tease him. Rotating in your seat. Gazing up at him. “Books. Studying.”

“Mistook it for something else. Won’t make that error twice.” He tells with that signature clever grin.

“Although it does have you in here, so I automatically like it very much, indeed.” He preens.

Your smile makes his spine slope into fuzziness and tingle all warm. Where his hand is on your shoulder, you edge and curl your fingers over his own. Lacing them through.

He wasn’t gonna be a complete letch and admire the way the twist of your body gaped the buttons of that oversized green and navy plaid you wore. Teased him with the silky valley of skin running downwards from your collarbones. Sternum. Bra. Tits. Your tits.

Okay he wasn’t gonna look, but he’s certainly thinking about it.

Those sweet slips of collarbones he’d been sucking and mouthing for eons long just the other night and was that-

That’s a hickie on your neck. From him.

His stomach trips and crashes into feral frenzy knowing he’s the one to have placed it there, in a rabid fit of horny hormones. Horizontal on his couch with hands all stuffed in tops or jeans, roaming in places that felt so so good.

Tongues fat with kissing and mouths smashing together, raw. Charred bodies grinding. Your fingers edging his stiff jeans zipper. His squeezing your tits through your top. Delightful touches that burned bliss through you like biting electric bolts. The muggy heat of breath on lips.

“That big beautiful brain of yours at capacity yet?” He asks. Swaying into the back of your creaking hard chair.

“I’ve yet to hear a pinging noise indicating it’s full.” You decided. Tapping your pencil down on your book.

“Can my bookworm take a break?” Eddie asks with a conspiratorial looking grin. You tip your head back and meet his gaze.

That ‘my’ warms your belly right though like bad cheap whiskey.

“Why would that be?” You ask cheekily. All lowering your lashes and peering all coquettish.

“Cause if you’re not at capacity yet. I think there’s a little more to learn.” He teases and his smile is all dirty dimples and schoolboy cheek.

He whirls back from your chair and pauses at the walkway between two bookcases. It hooks a smile right out of you when you watch him jerk his head in that particular, enclosed, direction.

Your smile grows, crawls across your lips and you keep your butt planted in your seat. “Gee. I don’t think I know what you’re getting at.”

“Need me to spell it out for you?” He asks with narrowed eyes and a wide wide grin.

You lean in said chair and cast your eyes towards the librarians. Who coincidentally have their backs turned to you. One at the desk, the other helping a freshman locate a physics book.

“I don’t know. Maybe if you could find it in book form and read it to me.” You rile. Poking him with a stick.

“Sure. Where’s that Biology section at.” He leans in and bites his lower lip and grips your sleeve. He doesn’t grip your skin with his rings. Worried they’d dig. Even when riled he’s still gentle.

Scrunching up his nose all silly as he’s yanking you out the chair. You laugh softly as you swing off the thing and slink after him.

You both pad silently down the row of bookcases. Eddie tugs you along to the end. Nestled into the crook with paper spines and a shelf digging in your back. The touch on your sleeve travels up your arm, he’s holding your forearm and then impressively smooth, he’s cupping your hip. Slings a finger in your jean belt loop - keeping you tethered to him.

“You going to reinforce a lesson for me. Munson?” You ask.

You rest your hands on his t-shirt. The almost threadbare black sabbath one that you could barely read the scratchy logo on it anymore. It’s almost flaked away. All that’s left is this beaten old black tee that hangs softly in creases off him.

“Yup.” And he pops the P. Staring at your lips. Thumb rubbing soothing circles on your worn plaid stomach. Soft aged flannel. “Gonna reinforce my brains out.” He decides.

“They say repetition is the best way to learn.” He adds. Flirty brow raised. Body flush to yours. Wrapping you in leather smoke and apples.

“And please don’t go hurting yourself on my account. I won’t allow it.” You say as you smooth a hand over the crazy hair beside his jaw. Stroking your fingers under that handsome cut of a jawbone.

You feel his nearness like a gut punch. Every damn time. Has you squirming in every single good way you can muster. This crush blazes so fiery strong. It’s swallowed you whole whilst you weren’t looking. You were too busy watching him smile.

You tip to him. Tilt to him. Up on your toes. Arms going for his neck. Circling around as his hands smooth across your belt loops and cup your hips. He rolls your bottom lip between his. Sucks you into this sloppy kiss as his hands cup you sacredly.

The moment you’ve both been longing for.

You’d never grow tired of kisses like these ones. It left a chasm when you pulled away from his lips on your date. And now again, finally, it’s like a cool clear sip of spring blue water after years of thirst.

Eddie nibbles your lower lip and it draws an unexpected squeak out of you. Plush and tongue and molten. He pulls back and his spit shiny smile liquifies your insides. Warm air puffs over your lips. “Careful pencils. Gotta keep it on the down low in here.”

You half heartedly whack at his chest with an open hand.

He sways with it. Sways into you. Barely noticed your nudge. He catches it with his own fingers, twining into yours. Through yours. Knuckles slot together. Fused. Your hand in his. He brings it up and rests your hand on his neck.

Drunk hazy eyes cast all whiskey puddle brown in yours. Soft as butter and he melts into you again. Nose brushing alongside yours. You taste like the fruity sour bite of chapstick and he’ll definitely chase some more of that fake nectar sweetness, thank you very much.

“How can I be expected to keep quiet when you kiss me like that?” You ask. Tilting in again, legs knocking into his as you press your lips to his in a slow smooch. Long, languid. Taking the kiss off his slanted mouth, honey smooth.

Your hand follows his lead. You cup his soft neck. Thumb brushing the join of his jaw. His hands rearrange themselves. Wandering to settle neatly. One bunching an arm around your waist. The other cups your head. Tilts your mouth to him so he can take and take and unleash on you more of these amazing, demanding kisses.

You should be caring how loud your making out is. Sloppy mouth sounds and little grunts he makes mixed with the thrill of your moans. It rises just a little above the din of the buzzing lights and the swipe of book pages being leafed over.

When you part again you gasp for breath and your knees are stunned into weakness. Your bodies are so close it’s pretty damn evident that soon you’ll be making noises you cannot hide in the whisper quiet library.

It didn’t help that the swelling hunger for more is prodding between your legs. As urgently as his own must be in those tight jeans. Every kiss is laced with a hunger that could proceed sex if you let it.

You really want to let it. You’re so ready to let it.

You exhale onto each other lips when you next part and take a huge pull of breath. Warm whispers sealed to mouths. Bodies tangled. Sure a book was jamming your spine, and the shelf behind you was not exactly sturdy. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered that wasn’t Eddie’s kiss bruised mouth aligned on yours.

“We should probably have another one of those date things soon. Don’t you think?” You ask. Fingers sneaking to his cheek to just touch his skin. A little stubbled.

“You reckon?” He smiles all slanted. Eyes twin honeycomb suns. You stare, stuck into them.

You’ve never seen such warmth leak out those expressively deep carob-eyes. You look at the entirely too long flick of his lashes: the raw pinkness of his cushiony lips. Entirely unfair how he was so pretty. It should be outlawed for a boy to look this pretty when kissed.

Really it was a danger to your health. Your school work would certainly suffer. Your essay sat screeching to be started from your desk.

“I really reckon.” You nod. Eddie swoops in and smooched a boyish charming peck onto your mouth almost in thanks. Pulls back from you with a wet smack.

“If you didn’t say it, I was gonna have to insist.” He teases. Stretches out the last word to almost a hiss so you know he means business.

You bite your lip. “Ok Mr. forceful. What did you have in mind?” You smile. Leaving your arms around his neck. To not touch him would be a stinging agony.

“Anything. So long as we can do this for a good 95 - 98% of the evening. I’m willing to negotiate on the exact percentage.” He asks. “But I would ask you wear that chapstick again.” He requests, no holds barred on the flirt, nudges his lips sweetly to yours.

The flick of his tongue on your lower lip makes your brain twirl and cloud. So naughty.

You kiss him quick. Yank his jacket. Pull back to speak which he pouts at you a little for.

“We could go see a Movie. Go to the arcade. Get ice cream. Go to the old quarry and 420 blaze it, and stargaze. The options are endless.” You say as your fingers find his and twist through. Knuckles stroking those worn metal rings.

“Arcade sounds good. Ice cream is a must.” He says, a little reticent. No one has ever asked him on a date. Much less delved into what he actually wanted to do on said date.

“Arcade and Ice cream it is.” You fix with a grin. “You’re easy to please.”

“Yeah but when it comes to ice cream toppings I’m very picky.” He sneaks forwards and kisses under your jaw.

You have to bite your lip cause he knows how it weakens you. Your gasp from the other night when he slipped his lips all over your jaw is etched interminably in his brain. His tongue traces a hickie he knows only all too well how it got there.

The tip of his nose brushes into anther hickie he’s just given to you. Devil boy. He knows very well what effect it has.

“Whipped cream, Cherries. Lots of cherries, sprinkles. The works.” He whispers all muggy hot into your neck.

“Gotta have cherries. Pencils.” He rasps inbetween heavy plucked kisses on your skin.

You shiver all over with the innuendo. He feels it ripple through you. The way your skin pimples with pleasure that pops, stringing along your veins.

You dig your nails into his hands cause holy shit. Every time you kiss you creep closer and closer to the idea of just slipping your hand inside those ripped jeans and going to town- that barrier of your willpower is being worn paper thin with every caress.

“All the cherries you want, pretty boy. Maybe afterwards we could take a, uh, scenic route up to skull rock and be fools, fooling around.” You smile.

It’s dizzying to him. That idea. Better than Colombia gold spreading all vibrant verdant green and dozy through his lungs.

“I’ll bring the jester hat, Mi’lady.” He flat out grins. It’s borderline Munson manic.

“Perfect evening.” You summarise. Shaking your head and eyeing his lips again.

“Perfect date.” He adds on. Biting his lower lip.

“My god. We’re corny. Even meatloaf would refuse to write a mushy ballad about us right now.” You joke. Hands still looped around his neck. Like hell would you wanna let go.

“Need some help with that essay?” He offers. Closing in for your mouth again.

“Mmhmm need all the help I can get.” You whisper. Barely a brush away from his gorgeous lips.

He kisses you again and it’s stunning. Births a wild jungle of fiery mush and kicked butterflies to rioting life in your belly.

“I promise to be such a huge help. You may not even need those books babe. Don’t you know I’m so brainy it’s unreal.” He wheedles at you.

“I never doubted your big beautiful mind even for a second.” You admit. Holding his chin as you lean in and kiss him solidly once more. Coaxing a lovely sounding whine from the back of his mouth when your tongue swipes his lip.

You drag him back out into the open. He goes - somewhat willingly.

Slips himself into the chair beside yours. Hands splayed over your books as he twirls a pen in his hand as asks you probing and philosophical musings about art.

Cubism. I’m sorry. C’mon? Those guys must’ve been on seriously good pills, man.

How about Constructivism then? You ask.

Gesundheit, pencils.

He scrawls some more devils and live hearts with your name, and leafs through another thick old book. The yellowed pages crack with age.

I got a new twisted sister tape. You should hear it.

I like watching you study. It’s freakin hot. You’re so brainy.

Hey, this chicks kinda neat. She looks like a character from Lord of the Rings or somethin’. He decided as he pawed over an Alphonse Mucha picture.

My favourite too. I love the way he uses colour. It’s dreamy.

You’re dreamy.

He laughs when you bite your lip and look bashful.

He will not stop shooting you a flirty smile as he doodles idly on your legal pad. Swirls big loopy letters of ‘I Love Eddie.’ And ‘Hellfire rulez’ and lots of demon faces, and skulls with horns. Lightning bolts and leathery bats.

His restless hands cannot be stilled. He steals a scrunchie from your bag, and it sits looped on his wrist next to his chain bracelet. Lilac borders leather. He makes no intention of giving it back. Magpie manners.

You make a face at him, asking how you’re supposed to tie your hair up for still life class after school.

“I like it loose and wild.” He says as he skims his eyes over your hair. Thumbs a piece back by your ear so sweetly.

You crook a brow. Smile tips lopsided.

He seems to realise that what he said can be taken an alternative way. “Well, no I uh, didn’t mean it like that.”

Your laugh spins his head into adoring craziness.

“Alright. Alright.” He consoles you by picking a W.A.S.P pin out his denim vest and leaning over to stud it into the collar of your plaid. Tongue bitten between his teeth as he concentrates. Fingers brushing your neck. Skin on skin contact leaving kicks and flutters that shoot stars in his wake.

You look down at it. The shiny metal gleaming in the buzzing light. “Okay, that is a worthy consolation.” You offer.

He makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you spend more time leaning into him and trying not to laugh too loud over discussing movies, favourite arcade games and music, than you do actually choosing your essay topic.

When the bell rings for next period you actually detest the thought of scurrying away to your Math class. Yet, Equations and trig beckoned.

Eddie walks you out the library. Opens the door all charming, waves a hand to gesture you on through first, like a true gentleman. You thank him and glide past with your books clutched to your chest.

The hallways are bustling but emptying fast. You twist back and tell him you’ll catch him later. Maybe at lunch.

He smiles that wide trouble-stroked grin. Clutched your hand and leaned down all showy to kiss the back of it and shoot you a dirty flirty wink, before he too whirled away.

You smile and it lingers on your lips even as you part. The press of it makes your whole arm come alive. You watch him for a scant moment before walking off down the corridor the opposite way.

You both look back over your shoulders after about five meagre steps away. Eddie gives you a melting grin, you return it. All eyelashes and beaming.

That grin said a lot. Dead giveaway. The hand kiss. The lingering and swirly body movements, not ever wanting to pull apart. Spoke volumes to those who bothered enough to really look and see it.

The feminine flash of a lilac scrunchie on Munson’s wrist. The telltale purple splotches of hickies hiding just below your collar. The heavy metal pin punched through your collar all shiny. Winking like a far off star.

Far enough down the hall that neither of you paid any notice, Jonny Lopez shut his cloud-grey locker door and leaned against it. Lake blue eyes swam cold. Watching the Freak practically skip away.

He saw him kiss your hand. Saw him pull you close by the corner of your plaid, reeling you in, and all warm smiles backed in flirting familiarity. Watched you beam back, and linger to chat a moment. Your hand laid on leather lapel, brushing at his chest.

It didn’t add up. It’s coming out odd to him. You and the Freak? Close? Since when?

He frowned and tugged his backpack on his shoulder.

Strange sight, that.

“Okay. Please please please for the love of god and on all things holy, don’t get weird.” You call out to your mom as you trudge down the stairs.

Not yet coming to the bottom but you could hear her rifling around in the fridge. Billy Joel’s Anthony’s song clunking out it’s piano notes from the stereo in the kitchen that she always has on when she makes dinner

Which is a strong term for when she just scrounges and grazes stuff out of there like a jackal. When she’s so dragged by jet-lag, she only has the energy to slam some pop-tarts in the toaster and throw back a beer for an evening meal.

She was most definitely not a baked ziti or a casserole mom. She overcooks tater tots, or survived on boxed mashed potatoes and a can of limp greens with some breaded frozen chicken.

More than once she’s resorted to a bag of chips for her dinner. Now you know how she stays so trim. And it’s true what she says about your older sister Charlie being the cook in the family, cause that trait had seemed to have skipped you and her, altogether.

After long haul flights like these, she’s usually all set to scarf a meal down in dribs and drabs and grab a beer, to fall asleep with, as her TV soaps blare on. More than once you’ve had to rush in and stub a Newport gold out her dead asleep hand. More than once she’s burned holes in the couch. Covered them up with a crocheted blanket.

Right now, she’s humming and tapping her toes as she eats cool whip out the tub with a spoon. Stood there in her indigo bootcut jeans and oversized cable knit sweater that slid off one shoulder. White and fluffy.

“Alright.” She calls back slowly. Digesting your words. “Colour me intrigued…” She turns the music right down for this. For whatever this was-

You round the kitchen doorway. And it becomes obvious.

Your wearing a dress, and the oversized box-back leather jacket that once upon a time, belonged to her. With rhinestones on the back that spelled out ‘rock n roll’ with a flaming skull underneath. You’d paired it with a red dress that clung and a nipping big white leather hoop belt stretched around your middle. Sneakers and white socks on your feet. Silver wet n wild on your eyelids. Liner and mascara. Your hair all fluffed and kinked

“You’ve joined a rock band? I want front row tickets. I like the jacket. Very Joan Jett.” She grins wide. The flash of that pearly perfect smile. No whiff of how it was hers that you’d poached for the evening.

“No.” You explain.

Her eyes pin you down. Widening under her shiny bangs.

“Intrigue.” As she lopsidedly and untidily stuffs more groceries into the fridge.

“Linda is dragging you to a… club? Or another trashy house party?” She asks.

“Wrong, again.”

“Ok, connect some dots for me cause I’m lost here.” She waves her hand at you as she unloaded tubs of ice cream into the freezer. Peanut butter chocolate chip.

“Don’t get weird.” You point a finger at her. She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Well, weird is my wheehouse kid. My basic operating system.”

“Mom.”

“So intense tonight.” She grumbles all chirpy.

“I actually have a date.“ You lay out.

She looks right at you as she lets the fridge door slam shut. Mouth gaping.

“A date?” She checks.

“Are you a parrot now, or what.” You tease.

“Look at you. Hiding your light under a bushel.” She beams. Hands on her hips.

“Boy or girl?” She asks, blinking.

“A boy. Mom.” You offer up. “But thank you for that.” You wave your hand at her.

“Hey. No judgement here babe. A date. My god.” She looks floored. Hand laying on her chest floored.

“Yes.” You respond. “Well. Actually to be honest, It’s kind of our second date. We had a movie night at his place last week.”

“Second date huh.” She waggles her brows at you like a dirty minded frat boy.

“Well, tell me how it goes. You can leave out all the gross- y’know.” Bringing her hand up to her face and making obscene wet kissing, slurping smacking noises. Cooing at you across the kitchen.

“You are four years old.” You narrow your eyes at her. She grins.

“Do you need me to feed you and put you to bed before I go?” You jest tiredly as you walk to the hall. Check your hair yet again in the mirror.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just be sticking my fingers in the electrical sockets and running with scissors here, totally unsupervised.” She jokes. Picking a rogue hair off the back of your jacket.

“Guess I’ll just have to sit on the couch and watch reruns of Golden Girls on my own. Eat sad Beefaroni and be a tragic spinster mom.”

“Do so quietly.” You wave off.

When you move to get your shoes: she follows. You have a shadow, apparently.

“So this booooyyy- honey tell me about the boy.“ She grins all giddy. Leaning against the door and swaying her body like a preeny high school girl.

Like she should be twiddling pigtails with a lollipop in her mouth. Candy saccharine sweet.

“Is he on the team?” She seeks. And then gasps. “Is he gonna give you his letterman jacket if you get cold?” She clasps her hands and her voice teeters all high and romantic-like.

“Yeah. Then he’s taking me and Rizzo to the sock hop in his Studebaker and then onto some racing for pinks.” You joke with her archly.

“My god. You got your penchant for dragging sarcasm from me.” She pointed out. Unhelpfully. Shoving you half heartedly in the shoulder for being smartly rude. Beer now in her other hand as she drapes herself against the kitchen doorway.

“Not a letterman then?” She scrunches up her nose. She knew well of your distastes.

“If he was I wouldn’t be touching him even with gloves on, and ten f oot pole.” You insist as you make sure you’ve got everything in your purse.

“Less Steff McKee, more Duckie. I got it.”

You smile at the way she’s phrased it. Whatever Eddie was he was definitely way more Duckie territory.

“So he’s not a jock, alright. That narrows it down. Is Duckie atleast cute? Or am I gonna have ugly grandchildren.” She asks.

“Mom.” You hiss with skated laughter as you fluff your hair in the mirror. She winced suddenly.

“It’s not Keith from the Arcade is it? Cause he’s always been sweet on you. You went in last time and I swear he was drooling over you in your Talking Heads tee.”

“It’s not Keith.” You answer nicely. You liked Keith, but he could be sleazy, and a catty kind of mean, and had a bigger chip on his shoulder than you when it came to the preps and jocks.

Plus he would literally date any girl with a pulse that breathed his way. Besides, he was way way deep into crushing on Nancy Wheeler territory.

You exhale into the mirror. Wondering if the sweet sheen of lipgloss was too much. If you should rethink these earrings. You’re a mess. It’s all whirling around a stubborn coil of packed nervousness in your stomach. A fever twist.

“What you kiddos getting up too? Something salacious? Gonna knock off a liquor store? Go to Wild biker parties with lots of vomiting and sex?”

“We’re going to the arcade and grabbing some junk food. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have time to work a teen pregnancy or a vomit sex party into the mix.”

“Now see here, Mama didn’t raise no quitters.” She salutes towards you with her beer before she swigs back a sip. You know she can’t resist delving a little more into the nitty gritty details.

“What’s he like. Your Duckie. Blonde, tall, short, fat, thin, dark, athletic. Is he in the chess club? Is he trouble? Does he have a motorcycle or a criminal record?” She’s tapping your arm with the back of her hand as she keeps thinking of more things to ask you.

“All good if relentless questions.” You temper her rambles. “You may need to cool it with the Pretty in Pink references.” You chuckle.

“Spill spill.” She encourages.

“Less chess club, more DND club.” You tell her. Fiddling with the earrings. Definitely deciding to take them out. Untangling them from your hair.

She’s gets very excitable about that prospect. “Is he nerdy hot…” She gets close and rasps at you all low.

“Yes. The orthodontic headgear from his braces, combined with his pressed slacks, Mmmm, really gets me going.” You lie.

She smiles wider. You’re all snippy sarcasm and fluffing hair and you keep peering past her at the banana yellow cat clock with the wagging tail and rolling eyes in the kitchen.

“You’re nervous.” She hits the nail right on the head. Rubs your arm up and down. Cups your shoulder.

You let out a deep breath. “Correct.” You tell her.

You can’t lie to your mother. She’s a human lie detector when it comes to you. She’ll sniff it out of you like those bomb dogs at the airport. One whiff and she’s all over it.

“You must really like this mystery nerd Huh?” Shecomes over and strokes the hair spilling down the back of your neck.

You meet her gaze. You scrunch your nose with a kinda giddy smile you can’t hide bursts across your face. “I really do.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about him you sneaky thing… you been holding out on me? I mean, I know my being out the country isn’t conducive to mother-daughter late night talk over a tub of ice cream… but-” She wonders. Idly playing with the bangs framing around your forehead. The soft yellow light from the cheap yellow flicks off the fine French manicure sleekly and pretty pink on her nails.

“Recent development. I haven’t been holding anything back from you. Promise. You’d root it out even if I did. Not to mention the guy turning up on the doorstep would be a big tip off.” You suppose.

“There is that.” She nods. Standing her beer down on the hallway table. Coming up behind you and idly rearranging your hair where you’d mussed it.

“Any pearls of wisdom I need to give you? Do you need the talk again of where babies come from.” She plays around.

Give her ten ways to say something serious and she’d still be clowning around.

That actually makes you laugh. You meet her solid gaze in the mirror. It’s so warm. It’s like sun skating on emeralds. The crinkled corners of the eyes that are entirely more hazel than yours.

You’d always thought she was the pretty exception. Pearly smile. Dazzling eyes. It didn’t help that Charlie got her stunning silky hair and piercing eye colour too. You got the frizz and the freckles and the big hips. The hair that more belonged on a wiry messy dog. That never laid nicely or did as it was told.

“Is my hair bad? I used too much product. It’s too frizzy. ” You wince as you ask her. Faffing with it still around your ears.

“No. Baby. It isn’t.” She tells you softly with a grin that’s circling somewhere proud and awed. She puts her hands on your shoulders.

Growing up she taught you that women didn’t need to be only pretty to get by. She’d remind you how you were stunning in your unique way and it was entirely up to you what way you made it.

When toxic high school mixed with the uncertain churning of puberty, she was there to reinforce the idea that you could be brainy, and take up space, and spit and shout, bare your teeth, and throw punches and be gritty, all that- be a fierce Amazonian of a woman. Be wonder woman. Be a sultry sizzling Marilyn. Be whomever you wanted-

“You gonna let me meet Duckie when he gets here?” She asks.

“Well, actually, I was gonna lock you in the attic.”

Her mouth gapes. Offended. “What, like I’m suddenly a Kennedy.”

“Tough choice when you’re a Kennedy. How do you even chose which one in the family to hide in the attic.” You ask dead serious.

She closes her eyes and exasperatedly makes a fist with one hand.

“Ok, kid, we’re veering off topic here. Can I meet him, please? C’mon I will only say two embarrassing things tops.” She grins. Holding her fingers up to signal the two things.

“Don’t explode all over him with questions. He’s nice.” You promise.

“Baby, he’s dating you. Of course he’s gonna be nice. I like to think I raised you with standards.”

“You did think I was dating a jock up until two minutes ago.” You level at her.

“Touché my sweet.” She holds a finger up and gives you an invisible tally mark.

“No interrogations either.” You add.

“I’ll put my interrogation lamp away. And no explosions. Promise. Internal implosions only.”

“Try not to be- y’know? Your usual level of insane?”

“Why. He’s not here to date me. I shouldn’t have to hide my eccentricity in the comfort of my own home.” She mocks, looking evil.

“Good grief.” You sigh as you double triple safety sure check you’ve got everything in your purse. Candies. Lip smacker. Money. Coin change for the arcade machines. She leans over and peers into your purse

“Condoms are in the bathroom cabinet by the way.” She winks before tipping back more beer.

“Right. No to that.” You snap. “Go get in the attic. Now.” You tell her with no evident humour. Snapping your fingers and pointing up the stairs.

She pokes her tongue out at you in a very mature move.

You twist to the direction of the door when you hear a clunky rumble of something that was definitely a van engine, music all shredding shriek and rock heavy, easing to a stop. And then the thump of a door.

She practically inhaled all the air in the house when Eddie does one of his fumbly music-riff knocks on your front door. Deep Purple, you reckon.

“I think your nerd hath arriveth. Mi’lady.” She beams.

Claps her fingers together in overdone excitement. Trying to gawk through the blurry glass in the front door to make out his general shape.

Fuck. Now this is all so real and your stomach is clenching, doing those gravity defying swoops like it’s trying to take off without you.

You fluff your hair one last time and step to the door across the spongey purple entryway rug. You take a deep breath. Palm clammy and slipping on the doorknob. You twist it open.

Eddie breaks into a sunshine stroked grin the other side when he sees you. It melts you. Makes something inside glow coal hot at the sight of him again.

He’s wearing his jacket with a Van Halen tour tee. Faded wings of an eagle and band name crackled on old wash grey. The usual ensemble of chains and ripped jeans. But you see the new sight of fancy polished combat boots.

Wayne had made him sit his bony butt down for five seconds and polish them before he whirled out the door to come get you.

“A man takes pride in his shoes when taking a young lady out on a date, Edward.” As he gruffly handed him a shoe brush. Gestured with a lit red in the other hand.

Full name. Serious. Scary.

“Listen I need to get going if I’m gonna make it out of the Victorian Era on time.” Eddie sassed. Elbow folded up. Checking his Casio.

Wayne pushed the brush into his hand. Slammed the silver pot down in front of him. The claggy thick smell of polish coming from the well used army tin he had sat on the counter. Face as stoic as an Easter Island head. He wasn’t taking any bull.

“Less cheek. Get buffing.”

“Child labour has been outlawed you know.”

“Not in the Victorian Era it hasn’t.”

Eddie did as his Uncle ordered. Now here he is.

Smelling like cologne, cigarettes and the unmovable sticky tinge of dark boot polish. Hair having had a briefly tangled

liaison with a comb.

He’s chewed gum the whole way here worried about his smoky acrid breath. Piece after piece shoved into his mouth. Sharp spearmint spiking the bed of his tongue. It didn’t settle the squirming worms in his stomach. Nor the tap of his newly polished shoes in fidgeting.

“Hey.” He smiles. Nervously tucking his hands in his back pocket. His jacket jangles. The chain around his hip and his bandana sways with him as he stands on your porch.

“Hey yourself. You look nice.” You beam back. There’s an undeniable allure in your pretty face. Honey gold smile skated in shiny gloss. He equates to something like pure magic.

“Ditto, Pencils.” He smirks. Veiled flirt. Not letting himself get too eager with it. His eyes flick up your dress, down your legs, and back up.

Holy shit. Good doesn’t even begin to cover how you look right now.

You also cannot ignore the lingering looming presence of your mom as she practically leaps into his eye-line behind you. She’s utterly vibrating with excitement. You can sense her just jiggling with it.

She sidles up behind you and shoves herself into the gap you’ve left in opening the door.

Whatever he was expecting of your mom, he certainly didn’t imagine this whirlwind of a woman behind you.

She’s young too. Must’ve had you in her late teens. Not stuffy. No silent husband like a fixture in an easy boy chair in the living room. Silently scathing with disapproval. She’s not sporting a beige cardigan and a constant threat of neighbourhood watch association snobbery. Sneering at Eddie on her porch like he’s a flea infected stray, yowling at her door.

There’s no way in hell anything resembling stuffy could cling to this woman.

Fierce hazel eyes traced with crows feet, shiny dark hair all free-wild and choppy. She’s old movie star kinda striking. That Colgate grin touted about in the 1950’s. One he recognises as the one that closely and genetically mirrored yours.

Boot cut jeans and a pearly smile and a big fluffy sweater and denim jeans. Entirely mad and friendly and she’s only met him two seconds ago. Some punchy shredding ZZ top blasts from the kitchen and something tells him that’s all her taste too. As well as pair of violet rhinestone cowboy boots sat by the doormat. Whacky.

He thinks how wildly accurate it is that this busy bright, kinetic energy ball of a woman, raised an unconventional and awesome girl like you. That’s no leap there.

“It is so nice to meet you. Duckie.” She out and out grins. You give her one of your looks.

Eddie chuckles. A little lost. “Duckie?” He asks.

“Her grip on sanity is loose at best.” You explain.

She elbows you in the the hip as she takes the grin down to a less terrifying notch. “Ok. Ugly grandchildren are struck off the list. He’s adorable. Look at those Bambi eyes.”

You really wish you had locked her in the attic. She’s exploding all over the poor boy.

“She’s loopy when she’s off her meds. And around new people.” You sigh to him. It gets an easy smile. Buffs the nervous look away.

“Mom this is Eddie. Eddie, I’m so sorry, this is my Mom.” You introduce. Skating a hand to the woman chomping at the bit behind her shoulder.

“Don’t you say sorry for me.” She slithers her arm through the gap you’ve left in the door. Fluffy jumper all cable knit bobbled and fuzzy. She’s a wave of zingy energy smelling like smoky Newports and designer Yves Saint Laurent perfume.

He shakes her manicured offered hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. She’s told me only good things.”

“Then she’s totally been lying. Edward. A pleasure. I’m Veronica but please don’t call me that, everyone calls me Ronnie. Awesome awesome shirt by the way.” She beams as she peers around the door. Releasing his hand from hers. “Like your metal huh?” She asks.

She perched her hands on the doorframe and stuck her head into this pick up between the two of you.

“Only with my oxygen, food and water.” He jokes. A little of his truer wide smile comes sneaking out. Now he knows there’s no need to stand on awkward shuffly doormat ceremony with your parent.

Because he knows he isn’t a meet the parents kinda guy.

He’s the guy parents ring Principal Higgins about. With distaste sour, and judgement nastily spewing off their tongues. He’s tatted, he’s a cheap weed seller, he’s crazy and scraggy weird, and he lives in a trailer park. Stamp mark of future-convict hovered heavy and eternal over his head.

He’s a jump out the window, hide in the closet kinda guy. No one would ever bring him home all hair combed and sparkly clean, pressed button down, to mom and pop, for a meatloaf dinner. Cause he’s no one to be proud of.

Yet here? Perhaps in the eyes of the most unconventional mom in all of Hawkins, something has shifted.

Something feels like it’s been spun off its axis and set down wrong, cause this bubbly woman is smiling at him and excitedly prodding her daughter out the door to go on their date. And maybe she is insane. As you said.

Talk about falling down the rabbit hole. Punctured through the splintered looking glass. He’s not high, but he could swear on seeing white rabbits and mad hatters right about now. It’s fucking nice. He’d never have expected this funky curveball in coming to pick you up.

“Edward? Eddie?” She asks.

“Eddie is fine.” He offers. Nodding, as he slips his hands into his pockets. Self conscious move, even though he didn’t need to be.

She widens her smile. “Where abouts you from? I know DND club and the fact you’re a white male in high school. Other than that I’m out. She’s been stingy with details.” She jerks her thumb at you.

His tongue shrivels up. She’s tolerated him so far. Maybe this is the sour turning point that will tip the introduction on its head.

“I live in Forest Hill’s with my Uncle. My folks, uh aren’t around.” He tells with a tone she can tell is used to receiving nasty scratchy criticism. Eyebrows raise and moods change when he’s said that before.

She nods. Her smile doesn’t leave. Doesn’t even drop.

“Honey. I grew up in paradise trails mobile park in Sloan Nevada. Don’t sweat it. Doesn’t make us lepers.” She shrugs.

Like it didn’t just wash a whole wave of unease aside in his chest.

“People in this town seem negatively charged when I tell them that’s where I live.” He admits with a big clown smile. Your heart bleeds at the true reverence in his tone.

“People in this town, are snooty assholes.” She chuckles wisely.

Debbie Harry is throatily singing one way or another from the stereo in the kitchen now.

“You done grilling my date?” You ask her with a sickly smile.

“If you stick around, there will be a follow up round where I fetch your baby pictures. And invite him in for a beer.” She threatens. Eyes widening. Kubrick crazy.

“Bye Mom.” You say as you step out the door to join him on the porch. She catches it where you’ve left it open. Calls out as you stand in the clear night listening to the cicadas hum and the street lights buzz and blink into sleepy orange. You leave her chuckling.

“Wise move. Now scram before I dust off my pipe, And my old ‘what-are-your-intentions-towards-my-daughter’ queue cards.” Your mom winks at you.

“Enjoy your night, crazy lady. Go feed the cats.” You answer, calling back over your shoulder as you sling your hand into Eddie’s lapel and pull him across the lawn.

“Let’s get away from this house of lunacy.” You tell him.

He stumbles after you waving a goodbye to your mother. Almost tripping over his boots.

“Home by midnight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. No 420ing it without me.” She calls out to you.

Eddie chuckles as you bring him down your front lawn. Sneakers brushing the grass alongside the gentle thuds of his foot falls. Your hand migrated to holding his.

“That’s your mom.” He states. Sounding dumbfounded.

“I know. I should’ve warned you. She’s a whole new spin on the word eccentric.” You offer.

“She didn’t bark at me to get off her porch like I’m some stray, Pencils. That’s a hell of an improvement versus the reaction I thought I’d get.” He says as he looks down.

Avoiding stepping on the dandelions that are scattered across your lawn all yellow and happy. Just trying to grow upwards and peep at the sun.

You slope your fingers through his. He looks up and gazes at you as you fall in step.

“As insane and untethered to planet earth as she is, she’s really not like other moms around here. She likes you already, probably on sight of the Van Halen tee.” You tell him with smiling weight to your meaning.

His grin lopes across his face.

“She’s cool y’know. No stuffiness. No essence of church on Sunday is the law and green bean casseroles.” He nods. He likes it. He really does.

“She had my sister Charlie when she was a teenager. Me a couple years later. Possibly too young for the likings of the pissy bible study moms in this town. She dropped out of Berkeley. Parents chucked her out. She worked three crappy jobs whilst raising us and coping with my deadbeat dad, always hoping for a little better and, being, well, as you saw, entirely unhinged.” You gestured to your house.

“And…” You add. “She’s not a green bean casserole person. She stinks at cooking even by her own admission. Thankfully, we have Charlie for that. She’s the domestic one.”

Eddie smirks. His smile is pure warmth. “You guys are close, though. Tight knit. It’s cute.”

“I love that she’s not a run of the mill mom. Growing up, others didn’t tend to be as kind about it. They see a single parent, they immediately go to trashy, trampy, drunk, who doesn’t give a shit.” You roll your eyes.

Genuine hurt backs your voice though. “They set her and me aside cause we’ve always been different. We don’t have tonnes of money or a fancy house.”

And who knows that better than Hawkins own freak?

He squeezes your fingers. Warm rings all marking their usual grooves in your skin. A thorough loving squeeze that makes your heart go pattering all soppy in your chest.

“People are assholes. So I’m reliably told.” He parrots as he brings to you both to the passenger side of his van. Rings clack on the handle as he gets the door for you.

You stand and smile. “People are assholes. Look at the unfair bad rep they give you.” You point out.

He shrugs. Smirking. “What can I say? My handsome face and awesome personality protects me from total infamy.” He grins all

cheesy.

Yanking open the van door with a hand and turning his palm up to you.

“Here now, I was prepared for a little infamy. Munson. Are you telling me I’m gonna be disappointed?” You smirk as you step up close.

Eddie’s poor little rabbit heart flashes fast with the way your dress is kinda, pretty well low cut. And skimming and squeezing every beautiful curve. When you step close he can smell perfume and cherry gloss and all things sexy sweet.

You’re looking at him directly. Eyes smouldering under your eyeliner and wet n’ wild silver glitter. Angling for a kiss that he’s happy to give you til his lips damn well fall off.

He leaves the van door open. Steps you back just a little. Nudged your hips back to the body of it.

“Think I’m flirting with bad company here.” He smiles. Traces his nose along yours.

“Doubtlessly. Wanna back out now?” You ask in a husky whisper against his mouth. Hearts racing. Pulses whipping fast. Lust stirs.

His chest may implode but he’d be fine with that. Atleast he’d die kissing you. What a way to go-

“Yeah. I’m running for the hills here.” He teases. Cupping your neck and gingerly laying his fingers over your hip. You stroke hours through his long black vines of soft tousled hair.

Then he’s leaning all the way in to kiss you properly, so firmly and urgently on the mouth. Languid spearmint tongue tasting sharp and delicious, playing with your lower lip. You tug him in by his leather collar. Loving the way his body leans against yours. You moan softly.

Maybe you should’ve taken the freakin condoms after all?

Beyond the kissing, you barely hear your front door whine as it’s cracked open. Your mom hollers across the lawn with her beer in hand, and makes the dog down the street bark it’s damn head off.

“Gross. Get a room!”

You pull apart and he can’t help bursting into a smile.

“Let’s leave here. Please.” You ask of him. He can’t contain his blushy laughter.

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