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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #ficlet #oneshot #college au #best friends to lovers #fluff #eddie has a terrible crush #steve is oblivious #platonic stobin #a little angst #misunderstanding #they're all besties #eddie writes songs about steve #secret crush #and they were roommates

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trashmouth-richie · 1 month

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I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display.

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.

And then you hear it.

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.

“We need to talk.”

part two

steve tied up

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie blurb #eddie munson smut blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

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choke-me-joey · 1 year

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Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Eddie knew who you were.

Of course he did, how could he not?! You were the only member of the cheerleading squad who didn't look like a clone of Chrissy Cunningham, for one. And second of all, you wore a leather jacket. Over your cheerleading uniform. It was practically unheard of.

Plus, you were the only member of the cheerleading squad who didn't look at him like he was lower than dirt, except maybe Chrissy herself. God knows why she was with that meathead prick Jason Carver.

Eddie's fatuation with you began when you waltzed in to Ms O'Donnell's class that one September morning, leather jacket draped over your shoulders. It was oversized, with a few band patches pinned to the back - Metallica, Def Leppard, Slayer and Black Sabbath to name a few - and took your usual seat next to him.

It wasn't just the jacket, mind. The jacket was the spark to the powder keg. Eddie had been drawn to you for months. Your pretty little face, your captivating smile, your laugh that made his heart thump in his chest, and your eyes....God, your fucking eyes. They were the most stunning eyes he'd ever seen.

And then there was your body. Toned and lean from your years of athletics, but still curvy in all the right places. One time he'd seen your uniform skirt rise up in the cafeteria, exposing little black booty shorts hugging your shapely ass and he'd damn near choked on the pretzels he was scoffing down. So he'd already had a raging physical and emotional boner for you for a while now.

But now, the jacket.

You'd never worn that before, and judging by the size of it, the way you were wearing it and how worn it looked, he guessed your boyfriend must have lent it to you to protect your uniform from the rain that morning.

But, there weren't very many metalheads that went to Hawkins High, so maybe your boyfriend went to a different school? Or college, even?

Eddie felt himself grow miserable at the thought of you having a boyfriend. Of course you had a boyfriend. You were way too hot not to have been snapped up by now. He'd seen how some of the other guys at school had looked at you in the hallways, heard what they'd said in low whispers when they thought nobody else was listening in to their conversations.

"Tell me she doesnt have perfect blow job lips, dude."

"I saw her at the pool last weekend, she's got the perfect rack, biggest tits on the squad for sure."

"Yo, Anderson told me he fucked her at Murray's 4th of July party last year, apparently she's an absolute freak-"

"Shit, I've got to hit that."

But Eddie saw you as more than a sexual object. To him, you were an angel. You were a goddess roaming these halls.

So, what would you ever want with the likes of the town freak?

While Ms O'Donnell had her back turned, you had leaned over and tapped Eddie on the shoulder, almost making him jump out of his seat. He definitely hadn't been staring out of the window thinking about tonight's Hellfire session, or that new guitar solo he was trying to nail down, or your pretty fucking eyes again-

"Hey, Eddie?" You whisper, a soft smile gracing your plump lips.

Fuck. You knew his name?! And his actual name, not 'Munson' or 'freak'. He turns his head to look at you like a deer in the headlights. It actually concerns you how startled he looks. "Uh, sorry, never mind-"

"No, uh, sorry, just...you know my name?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking amused.

"I've been sitting next to you in this class for over a month now, duh. Of course I know your name!" You giggle softly. "Just like you know mine, right?"

Of course Eddie fucking knew your name. Tonight he'd definitely groan it out as he jerked his cock to the thought of you in nothing but that damn jacket, Christ he was no better than those dickwads in the halls-

"Eddie?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry, yeah of course I do. It's Y/N, right? Or should I call you by your Hell's Angels name now?" He gestures towards the jacket. You giggle again, trying to keep your voice down.

"Y/N is fine, I don't have my motorcycle licence yet." You tease and Eddie swallows, hard. "Can I...can I talk to you later? You have a free period after your next class, right?"

Good lord, you knew his timetable. He swore he was having an out of body experience, you wanted to talk to him outside of-

Oh.

Of course.

Eddie realised what you were after, and felt like kicking himself for thinking you could have possibly meant anything else.

"Uh, yeah, sure, sure, you wanna meet in the parking lot or in the woods. ..?"

"Parking lot is fine, 71 Chevy, right?"

"That's me." Eddie nods and you shoot him a winning smile and God, he can die happy now.

Ms O'Donnell shoots you both a warning glare and you immediately shut up, concentrating on your note taking. Eddie was the master of pretending to look busy, so he pretended long enough until the old bat's back was turned again, and he returned to his thoughts, flicking his eyes to the clock approximately every 5 seconds for the next thirty minutes.

***

Eddie's leant against his van, cupping his hand over the end of his cigarette as his stupid fucking lighter spits out pathetic sparks when you come bouncing over, now wearing that damn jacket properly with your cheerleading uniform almost completely hidden underneath.

"Need a light?" You produce a lighter from the jacket pocket, and Eddie eyes it (and you) suspiciously. "It's new, picked it up this morning."

"Thanks," Eddie says with the cigarette dangling between his lips. He lights it and hands the lighter back to you, only to be even more surprised when you pull out a pack of smokes from your other jacket pocket and light one, taking a drag. "Wouldn't have pegged you as a smoker."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Eddie Munson." You smile coyly as you exhale the smoke away from him. He scoffs.

"I don't doubt it. Not many leather wearing, smoke puffing cheerleaders wandering the halls of Hawkins High."

"Even less of them than have an interest in DnD." You say, mirroring Eddie in the way he was leaning against his van. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I've been doing some research and I'm really quite interested in playing. Do you think I could come by Hellfire tonight and maybe put my name down to join?"

Eddie blinks at you.

"Wait...you don't wanna buy?"

"Buy?" You ask slowly, then the penny drops and you burst out laughing, shoving his arm playfully. "Oh god, sorry! Shit, I completely forgot you do that! No, I'm just asking if I can come crash your campaign later."

"You, Y/N, a cheerleader who rubs shoulders with Chrissy Cunningham, are interested in playing Dungeons and Dragons?!" Eddie's tone makes you frown. It's almost like he's mocking you.

"Yes?" You say, unable to see the point he's making. You puff on your cigarette again. "Look, I get it, I'm a girl, so if you don't want me in your club, that's fine, I totally get it, but don't just assume that because I'm on the squad that means that I'm exactly like the rest of them. I mean, the looks I've gotten from them today just for wearing my fucking jacket, you wouldn't believe it. It's just a jacket! We don't all listen to fucking New Kids on The Block and drool over Tom Cruise."

"You don't?" Eddie smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. He's perked up a little since you said it was 'your' jacket and not 'your boyfriend's'.

"No, I don't! I like good music-" you gesture to some of the patches on your jacket, "-and James Hetfield is way, way hotter. " You take a final drag on your cigarette and throw it on the ground, stubbing it out with your worn Converse. You hike your bag up on your shoulder. "So? Am I welcome or not?"

Eddie stubbed out his own cigarette under his dirty Reebok before shooting you a smirk.

"See you at 4, m'lady."

Your face lit up and you curtsied, actually fucking curtsied at him, pulling your skirt out to the side and everything.

"I look forward to it, kind sir."

And then with a swish of skirt, leather jacket and high ponytail, you were heading back towards the school building, leaving Eddie to almost collapse against his beloved vehicle of choice, dramatically clutching his chest.

Oh yeah, Eddie definitely knew who you were.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #stranger things eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

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How about some slow sweet, early mornin' loving for our Eddie boy? Or on the other side, dirty rough bathroom stall at a concert smut?

The bathroom stall at a concert got me 🥵 Let’s be real, Eddie would totally be into that

Warning: pure smut, public sex

Eddie didn't peg you for the type of girls who had sex in public places, but the idea of getting railed at a concert had been haunting your head for weeks. The thrill of sneaking to a cramped bathroom stall and getting railed while one of your favorite bands played made you ten times horny-er.

''I gotta pee.''

Eddie nodded, then guided you out of the crowd. He was bummed to have to leave his really great spot in the pit, but you needed to pee and he wasn't going to let his girl go alone to the bathroom. Not at a concert out of town where horrible things he didn't want to think about could happen to you. Not when you were wearing a short dress and looking like a metalhead's wet dream.

You followed the bathroom signs and Eddie stood by the door to wait there for you to pee, but you pulled him in with you.

He followed with a frown on his face. ''What are you-''

You cut him off with a kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips and pulling his body flush with yours. ''I don't need to pee. I need you to fuck me.'' Your hands slipped down to his ass and you gave it a squeeze, making Eddie groan.

He could've come right there and then from how turned on your words got him.

His lips curled into an excited smug grin and he pushed you into a stall and locked it.

Seconds later, Eddie's pants were pulled down right below his ass and your dress was hoisted up, panties pulled to the side and legs hooked around Eddie's waist as he thrusted into you. One of his hands holding onto the stall for grip and the other under your thigh to hold you up, his rhythm erratic and desperate. You were holding onto Eddie's shoulders as loud moans, pants and groans left both your lips, their sound muffled by the loud instruments of the band playing in the amphitheater.

It wasn't the most practical position, but the bathroom stall was very small and narrow and did not allow a lot of maneuvers.

You traveled your hands in his hair, your head tossed back as he slammed himself into you, deep moans alternated with raging, animalistic screams coming from Eddie's lips. The poor bathroom stall wall was shaking at every thrusts, leaving no room for wrong assumptions of your activities to any passerby bathroom users.

You tugged wildly at his hair as your body spasmed, tight, wet walls clamping down on his dick. Recognizing your body language, Eddie knew you were close. With one last cry of your lover's name and an imprint of your fingernails in Eddie's shoulder, you came, legs shaking as your orgasm ran through your body.

With another thrust, Eddie felt himself spill into your body, his hand gripping tightly the stall to keep his footing.

You caught your breaths, then Eddie helped you get down, smiling like a madmen because you just had sex in a bathroom stall at a Metallica concert. He tucked himself back in his pants and pulled them up while you fixed yourself.

‘’I love you and the crazy shit we do.’’

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @grace-loux @iamharrystyleslover @matildavol6 @Original_babababoo @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss @eddiemattress @ghoulishlygrey @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook @truewdw1

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

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I’m so glad you liked the jokes!

(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)

For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️

the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.

warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.

wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)

“Smell this.”

The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed.

“Excuse me?”

You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band.

And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance.

He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time.

Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.”

Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend.

“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?”

His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for.

You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“

“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?”

He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you.

You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.

“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.

“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.”

Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.

Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with.

The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.

He never could say no to you.

“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“

Oh.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly.

But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.

“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“

“It’s working.”

It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it.

God, it was working.

Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve.

All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants.

Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”

He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.”

Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-

“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.”

He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.

He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone.

Get it together, Munson.

“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?”

Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control.

He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way.

Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“

“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.”

Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him.

You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t.

“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”

Anything.

“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?”

“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.”

Oh, God. Where were you going with this?

“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“

“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”

“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong.

“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?”

What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now?

Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of.

“What?” he weakly questions.

If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up.

“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”

Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits.

He should say no. He should really, really say no.

He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no.

“S-Sure.”

Famous last words.

Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking.

It’s such a bad idea.

The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks.

He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine.

His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds.

He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath.

His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.

It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing.

The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper.

No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space.

Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes.

He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord.

His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.

He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control.

But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.

Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions.

Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him.

“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again. Please.”

Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you.

He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close.

That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you.

“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”

He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.”

His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?”

Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”

“It was all just an act?”

“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”

“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?”

“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”

“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”

“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”

“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?”

You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”

“What does Nancy have to do with this?”

“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.”

“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”

When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.”

His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist.

“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”

Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies.

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.”

He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world.

You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you.

His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now.

“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”

“A few?”

“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.”

“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?”

He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.”

Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.”

“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.”

“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.”

Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #i had so much fun with this i'm not even sorry #it had me YEARNING #GIGGLING #KICKING MY FUCKING FEET #god i hate him i wanna show him my new perfumes #shamelessly described my own new perfumes i just got too sorry

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somewherebetweendisorder · 6 months

Text

How To Ruin a Friendship

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: language, slight angst?, fluff

~~~

"Ow."

Eddie's fingers falter over the strings on his guitar as you press on the yellowing bruise exposed by the hole in his jeans, enjoying the way his skin squishes beneath your finger.

Sorry," you giggle and thumb the fading contusion once more, memorizing the way his skin dips down until you can feel the press of bone below. It shouldn't be such an alluring sensation, but to your weed-addled mind, it's consuming. Eddie picks the song back up eyes drifting closed in response to the blunt you two shared half an hour ago. He had more than his fair share, leaving you pleasantly calm but not far gone by any means.

Your eyes settle on Eddie's hands as he plays, following the strong plains and ridges of veins that climb his forearms and taper off at the crook of his elbow. You look away, uncomfortable with the growing fascination resting low in your gut. It had been building for months -hell, years really- every time it threatened to boil over, you disappeared for a day or two, feigning illness or claiming you had a lot going on before rejoining Eddie as the easygoing best friend he expected.

"I wanna play," you murmur, breaking whatever spell the music held over the room.

Eddie's eyes popped open, blurry and unfocused as he struggled to take in your form at the end of his bed. He pulled the guitar strap over his head, passing you his sweetheart with the same caution a new parent might hand off their infant with. You slip the band of fabric over your head, and Eddie reaches out to adjust the strap, tightening it minutely. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed, it's impossible to ignore really, when his warm fingers brush your neck, the metal of his rings smooth against your skin.

Your fingers are clumsy on the strings, strumming a discordant melody, your face scrunching up in distaste and concentration. Eddie reclines back against his headboard, trusting you with his baby, and content to watch the show.

You struggle for a few minutes more, playing a fragile set of chords from a Metallica song Eddie tried teaching you before accepting defeat and shrugging off the guitar. He's so pretty when he plays, dark hair a curtain around his face, hypnotized by the song humming through his body. You prefer to watch him play.

The hours tick by, and you crawl up the bed to lay next to Eddie, no longer able to control the yawns erupting out of you. He smiles as you steal the blankets, wrapping yourself up tight and looking up at him. "Sleep Eds, it's late."

"Ah, whatever, the night is still young," he argues but moves to place Baby in her designated spot, turning off the light as he goes.

He hovers by the door, letting his eyes adjust, and you can feel his gaze on you. "You need anything, Y/N?"

The fact that he asked touches you, warmth curling around your belly, spreading outward. "No thanks," you whisper after a moment. He slides next to you under the covers, the bare skin of his arm brushing yours as he gets comfortable.

Most nights, you find yourself in Eddie's bed, sleeping over yet again, surrounded by the boy, the man next to you. Tonight isn't really different, but somehow it feels like more. Eddie shifts closer, whispering goodnight. Before you can say the words back, his lips are seeking, brushing your skin, turning it feverish.

And that kiss that Eddie plants on your forehead catches you off guard. How often have you both toed the line between friendship and harmless flirtations bordering on something more? You were never fully convinced that Eddie reciprocated your messy feelings, and you were terrified to muck anything up between the two of you. You can think of only one occasion in your long friendship when his lips had graced your skin, and you were half out of your mind with pyrexia. You weren't even sure if he actually had kissed you then, or if it was just wishful thinking. But he had definitely just kissed you now, and the familiarity with which those plump lips ghost across your skin now belies a hint that it's happened more than once. Stolen kisses when you were asleep, a fluttering press against your cheek before he surrendered to sleep or left in the early, watery light.

Now though, no one is leaving, and no one is quite sleeping so, you whisper a breathy goodnight before rolling over and trying to sleep.

Sleep must find you at some point because you're waking up now, blinking slowly against the pale light streaming through his window, growing more aware of the heavy arm around your waist and the face in the crook of your neck.

It's not new. Eddie is a cuddler in every sense of the word; you wake tangled together most mornings, but you're hyperaware of every juncture where his body touches yours. It's all too much, and before you know what you're doing, you're scooting across his small mattress to create as much space as possible between the two of you.

He groans through his sleepy haze, squinting at your retreating form. "Where ya goin', babe?" The pet name elicits a deep flush that crawls up your neck, peeking out of the low neckline of your sleep shirt and staining your cheeks.

"Bathroom," you squeak, refusing to turn around and see his face, softened by sleep, looking younger and boyish, hair mussed from his pillow.

With hurried footsteps, you rush from the room, stumbling over the ratty carpet that's bathed in a soft tangerine glow from the open windows. Once the bathroom door is closed behind you, the lock turned home, you sag against the wall, closing your eyes against the harsh artificial light.

This isn't going to work. Running away every time Eddie does any typical Eddie thing. Either you put up with things as they are, or muster up the nerve to tell him how you feel.

Rather than going back to Eddie's room, you make your way to the kitchen, intent on making breakfast for yourselves and the Munson boys. Reaching for the coffee filters you fumble with the thin paper, frustration mounting when you can't get the stupid things to separate.

"Jesus Christ, please." It's one of those cruel moments when everything begins to landslide at once. How are you supposed to handle these feelings when Eddie is so hard to read? And why won't the goddamn filters just separate. Fingers still fumbling over the thin edges of the paper you don't hear Uncle Wayne approach, don't notice how quickly he zeroes in on your watery eyes, and pinched expression.

"Here, girl. Let me. They can be stubborn little bastards."

He's reaching for them, a sweet smile on his face, and you relent, quickly trying to smooth out your expression. He doesn't let it go though.

"Something on your mind?"

Clearing your throat you open the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs you brought over yesterday, along with some fresh vegetables, intent on making omelettes. "Oh, no. I'm um, no. Just still tired, I guess." You smile over your shoulder, trying to sell the story.

He doesn't buy it, you can see it on his face, but he doesn't pry, instead finishing preparation on the coffee you abandoned while you start on breakfast. Silence settles, the comforting kind that seems to only exist this way with Uncle Wayne.

This has become a bit of a routine with you and Wayne, what with you here so frequently, and Eddie sleeping until someone drags him from bed, you've developed this sort of back and forth in the kitchen. Wayne packs a sad lunch of cold cuts on white bread, grumbling as you pass him carrot sticks and celery before he settles at the small dinette to wait for breakfast, newspaper in hand.

You finish his first, grabbing a plate and quickly topping his omelette with a few garnishes. Wayne Munson deserves nice things in life, even if it's just a good breakfast. You set it in front of him on the table, a fork already on the plate, and he looks at you over his reading glasses.

"Thank you, girl. What's the green stuff."

You smother a laugh, unsurprised that he's caught you sneaking green into his food. "It's cilantro. It's good, just eat. Please."

"Alright, alright."

His food is gone when you turn back around to watch him fold up the newspaper and grab his lunch. "Thank you, it was wonderful as usual. Maybe we don't need the leaves on top next time though?"

"Oh, whatever. You just don't want to admit you like rabbit food."

"It'll be our secret," he winks, heading for the door.

Eddie's food is done, already on a plate on the table, and you really can't put off waking him any longer. You grab the mostly empty water glass off the counter, abandoned by Eddie last night after dinner, and pad down the hall.

He's sprawled across the bed, blankets twisted around his legs, old tee shirt riding up his stomach, revealing a thin stripe of pale skin. You don't let yourself stare, shaking off the thought, stepping up to the edge of the bed until your legs hit the mattress. You don't think before dumping the glass right over his head, cackling when he shoots up in bed.

"What the hell, Y/N!"

"Oh please, there was hardly any water in the cup to begin with."

Setting this glass on his messy nightstand, you're unprepared for him to lurch forward, wrap his arms tight around you, and pull you into the bed right on top of him. The squeak that slips past your lips is loud, deafening even, and Eddie tilts his head to the side, something unfamiliar lingering in his eyes.

"Eddie, let me go right now."

"Aw c'mon, babe, don't be such a bad sport."

Trying to wriggle out of his arms isn't working, and he's not letting you go. You resort to pinching his thigh, trying to shake him off, but his arms are tightening instead.

"Why are you acting so weird? Did I do something?"

"No, no." Those perfect lips of his are pulling down into a sharp frown, brows pinched, and brown eyes pleading. "Eds, you didn't do anything just- Let me go."

He does this time, lets you slide off of him, and perch on the edge of the bed, a much safer distance. He's sitting up now, leaning against the wall, watching you silently.

"Okayyy. If I didn't do anything then what the fuck is the problem?"

Eyes fixed on the carpet you focus on pulling at the frayed hem of your shirt, avoiding the question as long as you can. He's got clothes all over the floor, a messy trail to the laundry basket shoved in the corner.

"There is no problem, I just- Nothing."

"Bullshit. Since when do we not tell each other things?" He's scooting closer as he speaks, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he speaks, knee lodging itself against your hip as he faces you.

For a moment you allow yourself to imagine telling him. Letting three little words tumble into the space between you. But the next scenario you see is his disgust, lips pulling up as he leans back. Years of friendship going down the drain so fast, and the thought has tears welling in your eyes, a sob sticking painfully in your throat. You feel a string snap off around your fingers, further damage to your poor shirt, and you look down at it, the long thread tangled around your fingers, too tight, turning your fingertips an unflattering shade of purple.

Eddie sees it too, and he's focusing on pulling the string away, tossing it carelessly onto the floor, tipping his head closer to yours. "Don't cry. You know you can tell me anything, babe. Please."

"What if you hate me?"

His expression shifts, just a bit, like he's confused. "S'not even possible."

His voice is soft, earnest, and genuine, and his eyes are swearing it to be true. You look at his floor again, messy. He needs to vacuum. He needs to clean. And as you focus on the discarded socks and shirts, it's a bit easier to speak, the knot in your chest unraveling just enough to let the words slip past as you you spot the cassette peeking out from underneath his Hellfire shirt.

"I- God, okay, well it's like. If you don't feel the same or whatever, it's fine, obviously. I guess I just have to get it off my chest, and we can forget about it afterward but I-"

He stops you here, fingers on your chin tipping your face towards his, so suddenly you're looking right at those earthy eyes that you were trying to avoid.

"Eds, I love-"

This time, he's cutting you off with his lips on yours, sweet, nervous, trembling just a bit, but intentional. Shock worms its way up your spine, stiff and unfamiliar, but it feels so right, and you're melting into him, like sugar over heat. His hands are shaking too, one resting against your jaw, the other searching for your hip, landing a bit high and sliding down.

"I love you." The words are sticky against your lips, his voice lower than usual, heavier. He doesn't give you a chance to respond, tugging you closer, on top of him as he's moving back. You're on top of him again, but it's blurry, lost in a wave of hazy bliss as his tongue finds yours, muffling your moan. It's sloppy, and maybe you shouldn't like it as much as you do, but it's Eddie. It's more perfect than you had imagined.

His hands roam a bit, curious, finally free to explore like he'd fantasized about a thousand times before, from your neck, a slow crawl down your back, dipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin. When his lips finally graze your jaw, trail down to your neck, your fingers are twisted in his hair, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. Softer, cloying, and shaky. Full of adoration and pleasure.

"Eddie, I love you."

He's not kissing you now, face buried in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the flushed skin. "Fuck, I love you, babe."

Silence settles as you lay like that, neither of you in any rush to end the moment. You'd he's fallen asleep again, his chest a slow and steady rise and fall, if it weren't for the slow circles his fingers are tracing against the bare skin of your thighs.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He hums in response, the sound a ticklish vibration against your neck, a smile pulling at your lips. "I made breakfast for you. It's probably cold now."

He pulls back to look at you, brushing your hair out of your face, tracing a finger across your features, down your nose, over your lips, a barely-there path up your jaw to your ear. "That's alright. That's what the microwave is for."

It's clear he's not getting up right now, or anytime soon as his lips settle in the hollow of your throat, blazing a hot path up your neck, a wet constellation of soft kisses, eliciting a gasp that dies off in a choked groan.

"You can be breakfast instead," he whispers, right before he sinks his teeth in.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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ashley-badashley · 2 years

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Wayne teaching Eddie about girls and how to be a gentleman as he grows

#chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #eddissy #hellcheer #stranger things #chrissy deserved better #dungeons and dragons #eddie x chrissy #grace van dien #joseph quinn #justice for eddie #chrissy wake up #metallica #chrissy this is for you #vecna

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loveshotzz · 2 years

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Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Part One of Five? Series Masterlist.

Summary: When you move to Hawkins to start over, your new unexpected friendship with your weed dealer next door is your saving grace. It was never your intention to fall in love with him though.

Word count : 3.3K (strangers to friends - friends to lovers)

Warnings: SLOW BURN. None for right now besides the mention of smoking weed but future chapters will be NSFW. My blog is 18 plus.

Authors Note: If anyone is curious this series was inspired by Meatloaf’s Paradise By The Dashboard Light and the idea of being Eddie’s weed dealing passenger princess. I was also inspired by @boomhauer ‘s interpretation of Wayne when I wrote him in this. If you haven’t read disjointed I highly recommend it. Also thank you to my wife @myobmaya for reading it and convincing me it’s good 💞 comments, likes and reblogs are welcome!

Chapter One: Bat Out Of Hell

Leaving the city and disappearing to a small town seemed like a good idea after you dropped out of high school and got your GED. The excitement of a fresh start and the escape of your problems blinded you from one small obstacle. What happens when you run out of weed? It had only been three short months since you moved to Hawkins, making friends had become a nearly impossible feat. No one ever warns you how hard it is to make friends when you’re not in school anymore.

College was for the rich kids. Selling your soul to the work force at sixteen you were more then prepared to live paycheck to paycheck till your last dying breath. The rainy day fund you had saved dwindling dangerously low, you’ve never been more thankful to start a new job in a few days.

The heavy clank of metal pierces your ears, smashing the top and bottom of your grinder together you hope to salvage enough for just one last bowl. The light green powder from the chamber dusts the top of your black coffee table. After one last hard blow you give up with a huff.

Scraping the keef you’d managed to collect with your ID, it’s a steady hand that prepares the fragile task of getting it into your bowl. Taking your time you slowly edge it to the end of the table doing your best not to spill any precious crumbs. Tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth, you are the definition of laser focused.

“OBEY YOUR MASTER - MASTER”

The sound of James Hertfield’s voice is so loud you’d think Metallica was having a concert outside of your trailer door. The disturbance makes you jump. The plastic edge of your ID bends back before it pops forward sending the remains of your weed flying to the carpet of your living room. A loud honk of a horn sends another unexpected shock through your body, hands flying your grinder hits the floor with a loud thud.

Eddie fucking Munson.

The only reason you knew his name was because you heard the older man he lived with yelling it all the time. You could tell the older man wasn’t his dad, but the simple interactions you’d see definitely told you they were family.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. Self control dwindling dangerously low, it takes everything inside of you not to storm over there and punch him between the eyes.

When the thought of physical violence starts seeming more like a extreme response you decide a cigarette is better then nothing. Pushing yourself up off the floor you rummage through your purse on the kitchen table. Finding the crumpled pack smashed at the bottom, a relived sigh leaves your lips when there’s still one more.

Crisp October air hits your skin like knives when you step out your front door. The thin material of your black hoodie barely fights the chill in the wind. Sunset filling the sky with hues of pink and orange it crests over the tops of the trees. The crunch of the gravel beneath your feet could still be heard over the sound of Eddie’s van. His music now at a respectable volume since his grumpy ‘roommate’ was standing at the top of the porch steps. The older mans arms are crossed over his chest, the kind of stance that told you he was ready to give the metal head an earful.

Plopping down on at the wooden table in the middle of the park, you cup your hand over your mouth lighting the cigarette. Getting ready for the show, it’s Eddie Munson’s Karma for wasting the last of your weed.

“Boy, what’d I tell you about the volume of your damn music?!”

Jumping out of the van with a slam of his door, he’s wearing the same thing you’ve almost always seen him in. A leather jacket clad with a denim vest, a metal head’s battle vest with a giant DIO patch sloppily sewn on the back. Even at the end of summer when you moved here, you never saw him without it. Nose scrunching up you know a boy like that probably doesn’t even wash it. His hair looked even more wild then usual, long dark waves sticking out in every direction. The extra body in his curls probably from speeding down the back roads with his windows down. Blasting Metallica so loud its a miracle he’s not deaf.

“Uncle Wayne, I didn’t know you were gonna be home.” With his arms behind his back you notice a metal black lunch box, his stance making it painfully obvious he was hiding it from who you now know is his Uncle’s view.

“You didn’t know I was home? You think our neighbors magically don’t complain if I’m not here?” His hands get more animated as his arms uncross, temper flaring at his nephew.

“Look, it’s not gonna happen again can you calm down please?” Moving forward slightly you watch him tuck the lunch box on top of his van tire hidden from view.

Eddie Munson was sneaky.

“Calm down? I’ll show you calm boy.” Stomping down the stairs you watch his uncle flick him between the eyes.

The whole ordeal becoming so entertaining you can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of your mouth. The noise catches both men’s attention, heads snapping in your direction Eddie’s eyes narrow at the grin on your face. It’s not like you hadn’t seen each other before, but it was only ever awkward smiles or the occasional neighborly wave.

“Can you chill you’re embarrassing me.” Eddie’s tone is hushed when he scolds his uncle.

Inhaling a deep puff of your cigarette you exhale through your nose arching your brow. This was better karma then you could have ever asked for.

“Embarrass you? You should be embarrassed, I’m sure she heard you fly in here like a bat out of hell!” Wayne looks back up giving a short wave before addressing you directly. “I apologize for my nephews rudeness, I hope he didn’t disturb you too much.”

His Uncle was doubling down on embarrassing him. Realizing how much you liked this old man, you were more then ready to play his game.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again, scared me so bad I had to come out and smoke!” You give raising your cigarette in the air the prove it. The smirk on your face only grows wider when you see the glare Eddie’s sending your way. He knew what you were doing.

“It definitely won’t. Right?!” Wayne gives Eddie a look that’s just begging for him to try it.

“Yeah, sorry, won’t happen again.” Grumbling you catch the small roll of his eyes.

“Thanks so much!” Sweetness oozing from your voice, you know it’s the added cherry on top.

“Get inside, Dinner’s on the table and I better not get any calls about that guitar playing at 3am again tonight.”

Wayne doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the hidden lunch box as he pushes him up the steps. Both men disappearing into the trailer leaving you alone in the quiet of dusk. Inhaling again, you close you eyes enjoying the peace and quiet for a minute.The low hum of crickets in the distance calming your previously tense mood. Nicotine hitting the the top of your head, the familiar light headed feeling you’d been craving finally consumes you.

The front door opens again half way expecting Eddie, you’re surprised when it’s just Wayne. His bald head is covered by a baseball cap, paper sack lunch in hand. His heavy work boots stomp down their wooden stairs echoing through the quiet of the park. Kind eyes on you again he smiles before he talks.

“I’m Wayne by the way, I noticed you moved in a few months ago. I’m sorry I haven’t come over to say hi, I work nights so I’m asleep for most of the day.” His voice is gruff but warm when he speaks to you, different then the intensity he spoke with his nephew. You can’t help but feel comfortable in his presence.

Light flashes out of an opening from blinds of the front window catching your attention, big brown eyes meet yours and you realize Eddie’s watching the two of you. The sight makes your lips twitch up.

“Hey, don’t even worry about it. I’m y/n, I moved here from Indianapolis.” Smiling with your teeth you try your best to be friendly with your new neighbor.

“Are you parents living with you? You don’t look much older then my nephew.” Racking your brain you decide to give him the least complicated answered you could muster, forgetting how nosy small town people were.

“Uhhh no, it’s just me. Got my GED and just moved somewhere more affordable. I start at Family Video Friday actually.” Biting your bottom lip, you hope this will be enough information for him to stop pressing and go to work.

“You can’t be older then 20.” He seems just shocked enough not to come off rude.

“I’m 21 actually.” Snuffing the cigarette out all you can think about is how much you want another one.

“Well Eddie’s 20, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind showing you around.” Having noticed your eyes darting to the window he turns around and waves. Eddie’s eyes go wide before the blinds shut quickly. Wayne turns around with a pleased smile on his face, their dynamic slowly becoming your new favorite thing.

“Don’t be a stranger, if you need anything at all just come on over and knock, I’m handy around the house. Don’t let one anyone in town over charge you, they like taking advantage of young women such as yourself.”

The kindness in his gesture stuns you for a minute, so used to doing things yourself there’s something about it that makes you feel less alone. Your new neighbors making this feel more like home.

“Thanks, I appreciate that!” You smile brightly at the older man “Have a good night at work Wayne, I’ll make sure Eddie doesn’t burn the place down.” Winking you relish in the deep chuckle you earn from the joke.

“Glad to have another set of eyes on em’. Have a good night darlin’.” With a wave of his calloused hand he makes his way to his car.

Watching Wayne’s headlights disappear as he turns on the main road, you start a silent count down waiting to see how long it takes Eddie to come collect his mysterious lunch box. When you hit six the front door flies open so loudly you think it might rip off the hinges. Graceful was absolutely not in his vocabulary. Leaning forward on his tippy toes you see him check the road for any sign of his Uncle.

“He’s gone, you can come get your secret little box.” Swinging your leg back over the bench you get ready to head back home.

“You thought that was real funny huh?” Dirty white Reeboks pad down the steps, a playful smile on his lips despite the sassy tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fraying innocence, the smirk that seemed to be becoming a permanent part of your face around him tugs up corners of your mouth again.

Shaking his head, his own smile grows wider as he makes his way to his van. Rings shimmering from the hand on the hood of his car he leans down grabbing the metal box. Pulling it out he shakes it at you letting the contents shuffle around inside.

“Wanna burn one?” Lifting his brows he bites his bottom lip into a smile. Eddie Munson wasn’t just sneaky, Eddie Munson was cute.

“Depends on what we’re burning.” You tease doing your best not to seem too eager. Silently praying to the gods that the man who single handedly wasted your last bowl might now be your new weed supply.

Walking across the unpaved road his fluffy hair bounces with the long strides of his lanky legs, a goofy grin never leaving his face as he approaches you.

The sun having nestled behind the trees leaves you and Eddie in the early darkness of the night. The loud buzz of the street light kicking on drowns out the crickets hidden in the long grass.

“Well sweetheart that depends on what your smoking.” Plopping down across from you, swinging your leg back over you position yourself to face him.

Up close he was even cuter then from the distance you were accustomed to seeing him at. It’s almost enough to make your confidence falter. The plan was to focus on yourself when you moved here, not to get distracted by a boy. Eddie Munson had the potential to be very distracting, especially with the way he licked his lips as he took in your features too.

“Well you do owe me.” Leaning forward you rest your elbows on the table. Chin tucked between your knuckles you look up at him through your lashes.

Noticing the way his breath catches when your eyes meet, your bravado's much easier to keep up with now. Shaking his head with a small smirk he averts his attention back down to his lunch box, flipping the top open to reveal exactly what you’d hoped was inside.

“Why exactly do I owe you?” Mimicking your position he leans forward invading your personal space. His chocolate eyes are deep and all consuming, a flirty playfulness hidden behind his pupils

Despite the redness in your cheeks and your sudden need to remember how to breathe, you refuse to break. He was going to give you free weed.

“Your little stunt earlier made me drop the last of my weed all over my livingroom carpet. Your uncle was right when he called you a bat out of hell.” Smirking, your proud of the fact that you get him to roll his eyes before he leans back to dig a rolled joint out of the tin.

“Just because I’m feeling generous, not because you’ve convinced yourself that I owe you for being clumsy. Consider it a belated welcome to Hell, I mean Hawkins.”

“Clumsy? It sounded like Metallica was outside my front door.” Scoffing, your eyes catch how fat the joint between his fingers is, the sight is almost enough to make your mouth water. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you can’t help but admire how much better it looks when it’s sitting in Eddie Munson’s very kissable mouth.

“You know Metallica?” He asks holding the joint between his teeth, he cups a hand over it to block the wind from snuffing out the flame of his zippo lighter. It’s big, silver, and gaudy just like the rings that littered his fingers. With a devil etched into the metal of it, even just knowing him for a few minutes you could tell it was very on brand for the man in front of you.

“I’m more of a Meatloaf girl but I dabbled in Ride the Lightning.” Eyes trained on the way the smoke exhales from his nostrils, he raises his eyebrows impressed with your answer.

His big hand reaches out passing the joint, the remainder of his hit leaving his mouth as he speaks.

“That album does fucking rock, but have you heard their new one yet?”

Eddie’s eyes can’t stop looking at the way your lips wrap around the joint. It was hard for him to get over just how pretty you were up close. A beautiful girl who smokes weed and has good taste in music? Give him a few more minutes of conversation and he just might fall in love.

Inhaling deeply the smoke hits your lungs in a comforting tightness, closing your eyes you savor the feeling for a second.

“I did about thirty minutes ago.” Exhaling you you can’t help but smile around the white cloud that leaves your mouth.

Rolling his eyes again, he sighs dramatically. “Look -“ Snapping his fingers he points at you realizing he never actually got your name.

“Y/N” Taking another hit you pass it back to him, finger tips brushing together like an electric current.

“Look, Y/N if we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to let that go. I will not feel bad about blessing your ears with my impeccable taste in music.” Eddie’s grin makes his dimples peak out from the middle of his cheeks.

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to be friends.”

“We’ll be inseparable just watch, I can spot a creep from a mile away.” Handing you the half smoked joint back his smile falters when headlights turn into the entrance of the trailer park.

Turning to meet his line of sight you see a pick up truck with four boys, all of them dawning green letterman jackets. Rowdy and rude, two of them sit in the bed of the truck beer cans in hand. Another with a Hawkins baseball cap dangles out of the passenger window, letting out a loud whistle when he sees you and Eddie.

“Hey! There’s the freak!” One of them yells with a point of his finger as the truck comes to a stop next to his van.

“What the fuck?” Confused you turn around and see all the playfulness drain from Eddie’s handsome features. His face growing cold, eyes narrowing at the nickname.

“Come on Munson, leave the girl alone. I’m sure she’s not interested in joining your little satanic cult.” A blonde haired boy with a face you wanted to sucker punch emerges from the driver side door. His blue eyes piercing in a way that felt almost evil.

“We’ve got 50 bucks and a game to get to, can we hurry this up?” The one from passenger window calls before throwing a wink in your direction.

Gagging dramatically you flip him off. Your anger quickly turning to shock when you see him closing up his lunch box. He was listening to them.

“Are you seriously going to sell to them?” The disbelief is more then evident in your voice as you watch him get to his feet.

“Bills gotta get paid sweetheart.” Its simple when it comes out of his mouth. Knowing better then most the struggles of making ends meet, you feel stupid for even getting mad at him.

A plastic bag with about an eighth of weed slaps down on the table in front of you, the smile you had quickly grown fond of returning to his face.

“This is for flipping that asshole off.” He says in a low voice before giving you wink. With out giving you time to respond he’s gone, jogging over to the impatient group of boys. Turning back around mid way his smile grows even bigger before adding “Definitely not for the loud music though!”

Rolling your eyes you can’t stop the shit eating grin that takes over your face, snuffing out the joint you pocket the gift from your new friend.

Making your way back to your trailer you can’t help but feel a smidgin of hope for the first time in a long time, maybe moving here was a good idea. Or maybe it was just Eddie Munson’s really good weed. Either way you want to bask in this feeling for as long as you can. Something telling you a friendship with the clumsy, sweet, pot dealing metal head next door is exactly what you need right now.

Chapter Two.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #wayne munson #steve harrington #robin buckley

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fanaticsnail · 27 days

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Two Truths and a Lie: Tag Game

Thank you for the tag, @xisum! Of your answers:

They all seem so believable, I simply can't decide. I'm going to go with the medical school within the next year - simply because I think you're already enrolled 😏

Snail's Two Truths and a Lie:

I have been impaled by the stem of a wine glass, resulting in meat-glue and a trip to the ER to suture the wound back together again. The wound looks like a candy cane, and I think it's rather pretty.

I went to circus school and used my background as an acrobatic gymnast to excell in performing on ropes and silks suspended from the ceiling. My uniform was a unitard from my neck to my ankles coloured in navy blue, ruby red and jet black.

In my youth, I would go busking out the front of my local supermarket with my favourite violin. My repitoore was mainly concertos and minuettes, but I also would play Metallica, Muse, Three Days Grace and Eluveitie.

I dare you to take a guess at which one isn't true, reblog with your answer and play along with two truths and a lie of your own!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @cinnbar-bun @vespidphoenix @sexc-snail @gingernut1314 @lostfirefly @httpwintersoldier @tiredemomama @i-am-vita @indydonuts @discordantwritings

I would tag @since-im-already-here, but Smol-Sister-Snail already knows the answer 💀

#tag game #moots mooting #two truths and a lie #play along #ask snail #snail answers

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hazza-bear-care · 3 months

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Happy Birthday

It's your birthday, but everyone seems to be too busy to care.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x FemAvenger!Reader (Established relationship), Age gap if you squint, pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart), allusions to smut but still 18+

A/N: My birthday was on the 18 and I didn't really feel like celebrating, so this was inspired by how i felt. Let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~

As you woke the morning of your birthday, a heavy, hollow feeling settled in your chest. After you turned 21, celebrating your birthdays began to feel trivial, like a chore. You always seemed to get a little depressed as your birthday drew nearer, never quite being able to pin the reason down. For the third year in a row, you had to plaster a sickeningly sweet smile to your face and deal with the near constant chorus of "Happy Birthday's" spilling from your friends as you passed them in the halls of the compound. You didn't doubt that Tony would bug you about throwing a lavish gala in your honor, something you'd decline relentlessly in exchange for a quiet night in with your friends.

However, when you'd made your way to the kitchen to join the others for breakfast, no one looked up from their plates. Brushing aside the feeling burying deeper into your chest, you sat in your spot across from Bucky, the handsome super-soldier hunched over a steaming bowl of oatmeal. The conversation flowing between Natasha and Thor continued, other members of the team chiming in with their own opinions, but no one seemed to notice that you had sat at the table. You silently poured yourself a cup of coffee, Bucky sending you a quick smile as he caught your movement, almost like he was happy to see that you had graced him with your presence. You returned his smile, gently placing the coffee pot back on the table. Just as you were reaching for the cream, a hand came out from behind you, snatching it up before you could grab it. Looking up, you saw Bruce Banner pouring an obscene amount of cream into his already full mug, nearly draining the carton before he put it back on the table.

You grabbed the remainder, barely having enough to cool your coffee before you stirred in your sugar, mentally swearing at Banner for being so inconsiderate. Finally turning your attention to the food laid out on the table, you notice that there's not a lot left for you to eat. That wasn't unusual for the Avenger's compound, the general consensus being "you snooze, you lose" when it comes to meals, yet you couldn't help but feel as if this was deliberate. As if he read your mind, Bucky cleared his throat, sliding his bowl of oatmeal across the table to you. The aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, and maple syrup caused your mouth to water, mumbling a quick thank you to Bucky as you took a bite.

"Okay, well, nothing really going on today! Feel free to go about your day as you see fit, leave dinner ideas with FRIDAY." Tony said, sending your heart straight to your feet. You heard sighs of relief as the team mumbled about how awesome it was to not have any missions for once, which you were also relieved about, but as everyone shuffled out of the dining room, some waving their goodbyes as they noticed you, a wave of loneliness washed over you. The oatmeal in your mouth tasted like cinnamon glue, but you forced it down before also leaving the table, wandering aimlessly around the compound.

Your feet seemed to move on their own, leading you towards the lab to bug Tony. He was like the fun uncle you never had, so bothering him while he was trying to work was sure to lift your spirits.

The doors slid open and you immediately heard Metallica blasting through the speakers, Tony subtly nodding his head to the beat as he fluttered between multiple screens. You shook your head, walking up to his work bench and sitting down, your fingers itching to play with the hologram in Tony's hands in order to get his attention.

"What's up, Squirt?" Tony called over the music, the song now changed to Guns N Roses. You gnawed on your lip anxiously, popping your fingers as you focused on whatever he was fiddling with.

"Just wanted to see if there was anything planned for today. Anything you might have forgotten to mention to the group or to me." You responded, praying you sounded casual about it. Apparently, you didn't as Tony flicked away his hologram and turned down his music, planting both of his hands on his hips as he stared you down.

"The holidays are over, I didn't forget Valentine's Day, which reminds me I have to buy something for Pepper. Hey, FRIDAY, remind me to buy Ms. Potts a Valentine's gift." Tony rambled, the AI taking the note. "I'm fairly certain there's nothing to celebrate today. Why do you ask?"

You sucked in a breath and blinked away the tears building up, as you shook your head. "No reason. Sometimes you're forgetful. Sorry for bothering you."

"No problem. See you later, kiddo." Tony answered, turning his music back up as you made your way back upstairs to the living room. You stumbled through blurry vision and into an argument going on between Natasha and Sam. They were sitting with Clint, Thor, Peter, Wanda and Vision, everyone gathered to watch a movie, but they couldn't decide which one to start with.

"I think Back to the Future is an AWESOME choice, Nat!" Sam yelled from his horizontal position on one of the couches.

"Half the people in this room won't understand the references, Sam! Let's watch Indiana Jones instead!" Natasha yelled back, sending a pillow straight into Sam's face. You thankfully slipped past them without being pulled in as a tiebreaker, flitting up to your room to change into some workout gear. Maybe punching something would shrivel the dark feeling still threatening to swallow you whole.

You quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a sport's bra, tying your hair up with a black scrunchie and shoving a pair of headphones into your ears, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge as you once again avoided the movie argument that had now escalated to a pillow fight.

Stepping into the cool air of the basement gym, you were alone to do cardio while Steve and Bucky sparred on mats across the way. You blasted your favorite playlist as you settled into a decent pace on the treadmill, a sheen of sweat building across your chest and face. After your run, you did some lunges before cooling down with some water, someone tapping your shoulder during your break.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I was just wondering if you'd like to spar for a bit?" Steve had been down in the basement for at least an hour, yet it looked as if he'd just begun, a light layer of sweat dusting his cheekbones.

"Oh, sure." You responded, removing your headphones and walking over to where Bucky was still panting. You chuckled slightly at Bucky as you placed your belongings on a bench nearby before stepping in to face Steve on the mat.

"Bring it on, honey." Steve taunted, a small smirk on his face. You steeled yourself before throwing a punch which Steve caught, giving you enough time to sweep his legs out from under him, a thud echoing around the room as the super soldier fell to the floor. While he was down, he threw out his legs to trip you sending you sprawling on your back, the wind being sucked out of your lungs instantly. Steve kept his legs tangled with yours as he rolled you over and pinned your arms to your back all while you struggled to catch your breath.

"Okay, I give!" You cried from under Steve, the pressure on your shoulders beginning to get uncomfortable. Steve let go of you in a flash, standing up before offering you a hand and steadying you on your feet. You felt you didn't do as well as you should have, and as you caught your breath you pondered ways to try taking Steve down with the next time you sparred. The look on your face said enough because Bucky was suddenly snapping in your face to get your attention.

"Are you alright? You've been weird since breakfast." Bucky asked, commenting on when he'd seen you last. Anger poured through your veins like thick, hot lava as you glared at Bucky.

"I'M FINE!" You scream at the top of your lungs, running out of the gym and taking the elevator to your floor of the compound. You sprinted to your room, demanding that FRIDAY lock your door as you buried your face into your pillow, screaming once again as anger, frustration, and heartbreak burned you from inside out. You withdrew your face from your pillow and instead chose to punch it, picking it up and pounding it against your headboard, trying anything that would help transfer the emotions you were feeling away from your body.

After one more particularly intense scream, you wiped your eyes and decided to take a shower in hopes to try and refresh your day. You turned the water up as high as it could go and scrubbed every inch of your skin until you were bright red, leaving the scalding sanctuary in two plush towels. You then proceeded with your skin care routine, combing through your wet hair before putting it up in a bun, donning your most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You shoved your feet into some fuzzy yet sturdy slippers and grabbed a book and a hoodie before making your way back to the elevator.

Instead of going downstairs for dinner, something someone else picked out on your birthday, you went upstairs to the roof. Over the years the roof had become a quiet place to read and get away from the business of your life. Saving the world doesn't have a schedule, yet somehow there's always time for you to sneak up to the roof. There was a little sitting area next to a rooftop garden filled with roses, and the sunset so beautifully over the city that it held your attention more than the book you brought.

As the sky grew darker and it got harder to read, you chose to watch the sun sink lower in the distance, the constellations coming out to dance above your head. The wind picked up a bit, but as you went to move you heard someone walk up behind you.

"It's me, don't be afraid." Bucky announced gruffly as he came to sit beside you,

"What do you want?" You asked quietly, turning your attention back to the glittering skyline of the city.

"You missed dinner. I figured you'd be up here though." He answered, He'd guessed correctly and found you in the one moment you had to be alone. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"What's wrong? You've been weird today, not like yourself, so something's wrong. Tell me." Bucky explained, demanding an answer. He towered over you, instantly making you feel small as his stare pinned you to your seat. His baby blue eyes were full of desperation and care, causing you to tear up again.

"It's my birthday." You whimpered, burying your face in your hands as you tried to hold back your tears. Bucky's heart dropped as he watched you crumble into a bawling mess behind your hands. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug which you immediately returned, burying your face into his neck as you continued to cry.

"Oh honey. Sweetheart, I am so sorry! Why didn't you say something sooner?" Bucky apologized, his voice soft and comforting as you cried.

"I trusted my team to know. I know all of your birthdays." The explanation was a good start, but Bucky knew something else was bothering you.

"But everyone forgot, didn't they?" Bucky asked softly, rubbing your back as you wailed harder. Hearing it out loud was worse than you could have ever imagined, and you never wanted to hear it again. You simply nodded, clutching Bucky's shirt even tighter in your fists as he held you impossibly closer to him, helping you calm down with every breath he took. Once your crying had slowed, Bucky prompted you to look at him, letting him wipe away the stray tears that had fallen.

"I'm so sorry we forgot your birthday. I'm sorry I forgot. You mean so much to me, the least I can do is remember your damn birthday." You giggled a bit in Bucky's grasp.

"I even asked Tony if he was positive there was nothing going on today. He said he was certain there was nothing to celebrate." You commented bitterly, crossing your arms as you pulled yourself from Bucky's lap.

"I'm gonna beat the shit out of him, I promise. But for now, your birthday isn't over yet. What would you like to do?" Bucky asked, distracting you from the anger the was building inside you again. He grabbed your hand and swiped his thumb over your knuckles as you pondered his question.

"I don't know, Buck. I kind of stopped caring about my birthday when I was a teenager. It wasn't until I joined the team that I even got something I could call a birthday party. Hell, Natasha took me to Las Vegas when I turned 21, but now three years later they just stopped trying." Your voice cracked and your chin wobbled, but you were done crying. Bucky rubbed your knuckles again as you chewed on your bottom lip.

"Do you want to go back to Vegas? I'm sure Tony could arrange something in a heartbeat." Bucky offered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"No. I... I don't feel like doing anything, actually." You answered through gritted teeth.

"Oh, a lazy day can be great! You can watch movies or tv shows, listen to music. Does any of that sound good?" Bucky's eyes were full of hope as he offered up suggestions on how to spend the rest of your birthday, but he wasn't understanding what you meant.

"No, like I don't feel like doing anything. I just want the day to be over with and continue on with my life." You explained, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to chew at a rouge cuticle. Bucky seemed to understand as he froze in his seat, and he swore he could feel his heart break.

"Sweetheart, whether you believe it or not, today is special. Today is not just another day to mark off on the calendar. You graced the Earth on this day, and the world was forever changed because of it. If you weren't born today, I never would have fallen in love with you." Your heart melted and your eyes watered once again as Bucky pulled your hand away from your mouth. "I am so, so very sorry I forgot your birthday, honey. I promise I will make it up to you, alright?"

"Okay. I believe you, Bucky. Thank you." You said running your thumb over his as you sat in silence for a brief moment.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to do?" Bucky asked, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yeah. Tell everyone they forgot my birthday and lock myself in my room for the rest of the night to watch them scramble." You replied, causing Bucky to throw his head back and laugh loudly.

"Anything else?" Bucky asked, wiping away a tear of his own.

"A movie and junk food night. Pizza, tacos, burgers and a list of movies you haven't seen yet." Bucky's smile grew wider as he agreed to the plan, escorting you back inside the compound and to your room.

As he went to retrieve his phone and wallet from his room, Bucky ran into Natasha. The red head looked bored with her day, but refreshed from the workout she was doing prior.

"Hey, where are you going?" Natasha called as Bucky passed.

"My girl and I are having a movie night and we're ordering food. No one is allowed to talk to her right now, she's a little upset." Bucky explained, tapping on his phone as he walked back to your room to get your food orders correct.

"Why is she upset?" Natasha asked, following him to your door.

"You forgot her birthday. It was today." Bucky said casually, turning away from Natasha who was busy trying to pick up her jaw from the floor as he entered your room once more. He confirmed the food and ordered whatever you wanted, throwing in as many birthday treats as he could find with every order. As he gathered whatever was in the kitchen for appetizers, Bucky couldn't help but laugh at the flurry of the Avengers as they scrambled to throw together a decent celebration.

"Barnes, why didn't you tell anyone it was her birthday?!" Sam yelled, his hands suddenly full of balloons, cornering Bucky against the kitchen counter.

"You guys were supposed to know." Bucky shrugged, burying his own guilt as he grabbed two cartons of ice cream and spoons before he shoved past Sam. The food he had ordered arrived, so he gathered that as well before he made his way back upstairs.

"Your birthday feast has arrived, my sweet!" He announced, piling the food onto your bed before turning and locking your door.

"You're forgetting something." You answered. Bucky frowned and scanned the bags laid out in front of him. He had your favorite barbacoa tacos and bacon cheeseburger balanced perfectly on top of the New York style pepperoni pizza he'd gotten to share. Along with the entree's, cheesecake and cookies and cinnamon bread doused the room in a sugary smell, your mouth watering in anticipation.

"I did? But I got the tacos, the pizza, and the burgers. I made sure there were extra French fries, and got you extra of everything. Are you sure I forgot something?" Bucky asked, disappointment lacing his voice as he continued to stare at the mountain of food on your bed.

"The movie list." You reminded him, smiling brightly when his face changed from confusion to relief, then to realization.

"Oh! I have it on my phone. Sam taught me how to do that. Apparently there's an app for that." Bucky answered, crawling into bed beside you and handing you his phone. You swiped it open, slightly shocked that he didn't have a password, and found his movie app. You scrolled for a bit, the list of titles expansive and riddled with multiple genres.

"Where do you want to start? A franchise, a romantic comedy, a classic?" You offered, ignoring the perpetual buzzing of your phone as it laid between you and your boyfriend. Bucky picked it up and turned it off, tossing in onto your bedside table as he pondered your question.

"It's your birthday, honey. What do you want to watch?" Bucky answered, unpacking the buffet of junk food and laying it out on the bed.

"Have you already seen Harry Potter?" You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

"Not all of it. I think I've seen the first three?"

"If you don't remember, then we're watching Harry Potter. Fair warning though, I have most of them memorized. They're some of my favorite movies." You grabbed your remote and found where all eight of the wizarding movies were streaming, settling in for a long night of eating and binge-watching Harry Potter.

When you were stuffed with food and halfway through the fourth movie, someone knocked on your door.

"FRIDAY, who's at my door?" You ask, not tearing your eyes away from the tv.

"It's Mister Stark. Should I let him in?"

"No. Tell him and the others that I will not be talking to them." You answer quickly, smiling slightly as you heard Tony swear before he stomped away.

"I'm sorry again, honey." Bucky said, guilt filling his voice as he rubbed your arm, finally breaking your attention away from the movie still playing in the background. His brows were furrowed together as he stared down at you, confusion on his face as your calm gaze steadied on his.

"I forgive you. Thank you for this. It's exactly what I wanted." You commented, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as a soft smile spread over your face.

"You're welcome. Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Bucky cooed, leaning in to capture your lips with his, pouring every ounce of love into you with each languid movement. You lost yourself in his touch, melting at how beautifully your lips fit with Bucky's, like two pieces of the same puzzle finally locking into place. The two of you pulled away breathless and panting, staring deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments more before Bucky cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the tv.

"Are you okay?" You asked, suddenly shy and a little angry. Why would he pull away like that? In the year that you had been dating he'd never pulled away from an intimate moment, so what changed?

"Yeah, I'm good. You're just... a really good kisser. I needed a second to compose myself." Bucky answered, his attention fully on the movie that was almost over yet sending quick glances your way every so often.

"Thank you. You're a good kisser too, Bucky. My birthday wish is to kiss you for the rest of the night." You admitted, turning his head to meet his eyeline. Bucky's eyes darkened and in a flash the food was quickly discarded, his lips meeting yours again. This kiss was heated as he pushed you to lay down against the pillows. You sighed under his touch and settled in for a long night as his tongue swiped through your mouth.

Yes, this is what you wanted, but you still couldn't wait to see what everyone else would pull off to make up for forgetting your birthday. They didn't matter though. All that mattered is that Bucky kept touching you, kissing you, and celebrating the day you chose to grace the planet; the best day of his life. He loved celebrating this day with you, and he couldn't wait for more in the future.

#blurb #birthday #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine

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mediocrewallflow3r · 1 year

Text

To Be Loved and Have Loved - (Nathan Prescott/ AFAB Reader) Pt. 1

Title: To be Loved and Have Loved

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Post-Storm Nathan Prescott/ Female Reader

Rating: Explicit- minors shoo!

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: A continuation to @delopsia 's "To Build A Home", takes place directly after, Sloppy makeouts, Light Dom/sub, Good Nathan Prescott, Life is Strange Comic Lore, post-storm, Nathan ruining his Father's dining room out of spite, plus size! reader, Nathan being soft for only the reader, Aftercare, slight subspace, future Metallica References, Nathan Prescott Needs a Hug, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Fluff and Smut.

A/N: Hi there my lovelies! It’s been a long while. I’ve been away improving my art in college, trying to improve at writing, and becoming a part of the Tumblr community. This is a continuation of https://www.tumblr.com/delopsia/672519407059222528/to-build-a-home?source=share and will be posted in parts. Pre-writing and posting I reached out to Del and got permission to continue their lovely fic. I’m honored that I can post my writing in addition to theirs! Feedback is very appreciated and please go check out Del!

"Why do I get the feeling that you're planning something devious?" You chirp as the two of you begin walking to your car.

"How do you feel about joining me for a secret rendezvous in my father's precious dining room?".

"Why most definitely my good sir!" you gallantly respond, curtsying for dramatic effect.

"You're a fucking weirdo, you know that right?" Nathan says, shaking his head incredulously. Though, you can see the blush dusting his pale ears.

The stars above twinkle brightly in the suburban sky while you and Nathan pile into your car, excitement buzzing between the both of you.

After turning the ignition, Nathan's hand gently reaches over and squeezes your thigh. His nimble fingers toy with the tights almost bursting because of your larger thighs.

"What's that for, cowboy?".

You watch as his bright blue eyes meet yours, amusement painting his features.

Nathan adverts his gaze from the stars and meets your eyes. "Nothing in particular, nerd," Nathan smirks under your intense gaze.

Huffing, you pull out of the old church parking lot. You see in the corner of your eye Nathan waves to a few people. A smile graces your lips at the thought he considers some survivors worthy of a wave now.

Driving through the back roads of Arcadia Bay proves interesting, many broken limbs and scrap are still littering the road- hindering the ability of drivers. You try not to think about the families that may have not survived while you drive past crushed homes.

From what you've heard, Max and Chloe have found a place closer to the remnants of downtown Arcadia. According to Victoria, Max is even collaborating with her art gallery in New York. She mentioned something about Chloe working up to being a small-town mechanic. You try not to think about Mark Jefferson's ongoing trial.

"What're you thinkin' so hard about, little doe?" Nathan questions, gently. His thumb tugs and twists at your tights fervently.

"Our friends." You sigh.

"Pfftt- we have friends? Since when?".

"Since you got off your high horse and we started leaving our home more,".

Nathan tugs your tights in retaliation, snapping them back loudly for effect.

"Don't get bratty with me, Y/N, you know better,".

"That's ironic coming from you, Mr. 'The Prescott’s rule this town!'".

Nathan laughs, a real goofy laugh, his canine teeth shining bright in the moonlight.

He rolls down the windows, whooping and hollering, suddenly. Your eyes can't stray away from his strawberry-blonde hair swirling around in the breeze.

"Yeah, I'd fucking suppose so!" He shouts back over the loud wind.

Giggling quietly, your eyes catch a glance of the Prescott Manor gate between the dark trees causing you to pull into the long-winded driveway subsequently. The lights are off, as per usual. You allow yourself to enjoy the cold night air like the person beside you in the vehicle.

Hesitantly, you pull into the garage. The lights automatically turn on brightly, allowing you to see the drywall- that you know must cost more than your entire tuition. The old Nathan would have pretended not to see your shaking hands gripping the steering wheel tight, but this one can't and won't miss that shit.

Surprisingly, Nathan begins to lean over the center console, his hand moving from your thigh to gently squeeze your hand. In the corner of your eye, you see his normally death-worthy stare turn soft.

"You can relax baby, I don't care if you hit the drywall. I've done it before for fucks sake!".

"You noticed?".

"How could I have not? You're shaking like a goddamn leaf.".

You purse your lips, nodding. You know Nathan is right, but the one interaction you experienced with his father sits heavy in your mind. The anxious silence stretches whilst Nathan begins to gather your coats and other belongings from the back seat.

You hear the click of the passenger door opening and then Nathan speaking gently to you, "Let's go, weirdo.". On autopilot, you open the car door and begin walking towards the Manor doorsteps. Nathan, much further ahead of you, shifts through his keys looking for the correct one. After a few moments, you hear a quiet "a ha!" When he finds the right key.

Nathan pushes the door open with you wandering close behind him. He hits the main hallway light switch. Both of you take off your shoes in comfortable silence. You were taking much longer, the converse adorning your feet proving difficult to take off quickly.

Then, Nathan's sharp cupid bow is kissing your ear, and his rough hands gently squeeze your shoulders. "We don't have to do this tonight," he whispers into the dusted pink shell of your ear.

Oh God, but I want to.

Pushing your back firmer onto his chest, you respond bashfully, "I want this, I do, I'm just nervous.".

Nathan's hands wander, slipping under your sweater- caressing your stomach and happy trail. "Why're you nervous? It's just me,".

"I want things to be good for you,", I don't want you to leave me, remains heavy in your mind as you nervously chuckle out into the dusty Manor hallway.

Nathan's hands stop in their tracks. "Are you fucking serious?".

Unspoken words sour inside Nathans's mouth; "Do you know who I am? I've killed people. My hands shouldn't be touching your kind body. I've been with so many people, you shouldn't have second best as your first. I have to take medicine to be sane. I scream and shout at you regularly. You shouldn't trust me.".

Caressing his right-hand causes Nathan's eyes to droop warmly as he lets out a quiet, "humph".

"Ever since I've met you, I haven't wanted anybody else...", you continue, laying everything out on the table- literally.

"Then I s'pose we're on the same fuckin' page, baby. ", Nathan’s voice has got that deep, gravelly tone to it again, the tone that you remember with vivid detail, the tone he used that one Thursday morning before the storm.

Your shoulders fold inwards, warmth blooming inside your chest. Nathan's chest presses into your shoulder blades while freezing hands play with your belly button piercing, and his breath fans out across the baby hairs growing on your neck. He's everywhere but nowhere.

"To the dining room...?".

"Fuck yeah, doe-eyes.".

Efficiently, Nathan hauls you up into his lanky arms and quickly walks down the winding corridor. Abruptly, he turns to the left entering his family's large dining room. He pauses at the door briefly, allowing you to hit the light switch.

Almost immediately, the ridiculously large chandelier gracing the ceiling of the room lit up brightly. Nathan moved less than gracefully, sitting you down in a dining chair. He made quick work of the dusty table settings, quite obviously for decoration, by grasping the end of the tablecloth and yanking it off the table.

Before you could even register the loud noises of shattered glass, Nathan's soft lips were on yours. Nathan gently cradled your head, his other arm lifting you onto the wooden dining table. Soft groans settled in the back of his throat after hearing a small whimper from you.

Taking a breath, Nathan leaned forward on yours, his nose brushing gently on yours. “Easy, easy, baby,” he whispered, “It’s just me,”. Please don’t be scared of me , remains on the tip of his tongue. “I know,” you whispered back, understanding. A pause settled in the dining room, heavy gasps coming in and out of both of your lungs.

Nathan settles onto his forearms, lips brushing against yours but not entirely closing the gap, bony hips circling gently into yours. “I think I’m getting major Deja-vu right now, Nate,” you chuckled, brushing your fingers through his fiery hair.

“I don’t think this time’ll be the same,” Nathan chuckled, chin resting on the top of your sternum.

"Can I touch you?", you ask gently, hands itching to reach out and touch.

Nathan's eyes flick away from your face, his teeth beginning to chew on his lip anxiously. You feel a tremor run through his spine.

"Uh- yeah, you can touch me, just- um- tell me where before you do," Nathan stutters out, his eyes not meeting your hopeful ones.

"Okay," you whisper, smiling up at him.

Nathan's lips tug into a soft smile and his dimples show slightly despite his avoidance of eye contact.

"Can I touch uh- down there? " You nervously ask, peering up at Nathan's sharp features.

Way to fucking go Shakespeare.

Airy chuckles erupt from Nathan's lungs, his laughter shaking the both of you.

"Yes, babe, you can touch my dick, that's why we're fuckin’ here, to begin with,", he says in amusement, a smirk gracing his rose pout.

Your smile quickly shifts into a pathetic pout, and Nathan's face softens upon seeing the change in emotion. "Don't be upset baby, you're doing just what I asked," he coos at you, his fingers slightly pinching your cheek. That once faint, woodsy musk cologne invades your senses, his praise settling deep into your lower abdomen. Nathan's lips brush against yours and his tongue cheekily licks over your lips to the tip of your nose. An amused breath releases from Nathan’s lungs as you continue attempting to lock lips with him. Silently, your hand clenches up and hits Nathan’s shoulder in respite.

“Stop teasing me, you motherfucker,” you whimper out in frustration, your legs flailing underneath the weight of Nathan’s lithe body.

If he doesn’t fuck you six ways to Sunday soon, you’re going to be so pissed at him.

Nathan’s slick tongue trails over your collarbone up to the ridges of your neck slowly. His hands glide over the plush skin adorning your hips, and deep short breaths release from his nose loudly.

“I’ll tease you when I wanna’ tease you,” Nathan teases, his voice being muffled by the spot of your skin he’s worrying to death with his teeth.

In retaliation of some sort, your right hand begins drifting down towards the stiff bulge prominent in Nathan’s designer jeans. Your fingers sneak under the waistline quietly and begin brushing your hand over the curls adorning his happy trail. Nathan ever distracted with the large hickies that he’s painting your chest with, groans in surprise.

Your fingers brush over the tip of his cock gently, the girth taking you by surprise.

“When were you gonna’ tell me you were packing?”, you tease Nathan, loosely gripping his cock.

A soft, “Fuck,” comes out in a deep breath from Nathan while his fingers travel from your hips up to your plump tits.

“I didn’t plan on telling you, I planned on showing you,” he chuckles.

“Then fucking show me you tease!” you shout at him, almost playfully. Deep down you want him to snap, to let go.

Quickly Nathan’s hand gently slaps your thigh, re-establishing his commanding demeanor. He leans his face right in front of yours as his intense gaze bears down on you; “You’ll get what you want, you know that, so behave,” he hisses out.

#nathan prescott #life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #victoria chase #mark jefferson #fanfic #wallflower writes (✿◠‿◠#nathan prescott/reader #nathan prescott x reader

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