undead-supernova

[undead-supernova]

I’m okay it’s okay it’s going to be okay but it’s NOT I’m NOT OKAY and it WILL NEVER BE OKAY

Cruel Summer - Part One

- Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history...

word count: 5k

warnings: ANGST (the most dramatic babies you've ever seen) mentions of death/dying, swearing, breaking up (so sorry if I forgot anything!)

A.N.: First part of the Babysitter!reader series! I just broke up with someone so you're getting angsty sorry not sorry byyyyyyeee

Your breakup with Eddie was bad. As bad as any teenage horror story of doomed summer romances you’d heard talk of over the course of your adolescence. Bad because you’d always laughed at those couples who went from mooning hopelessly over one another, unequivocally mad for the enduring nature of their love, only to stand in fits of wailing despair when it ended as quickly and passionately as it began. Bad because that was never going to be you, and then suddenly it was. It left you standing hideously exposed, the rosy haze of the life you’d lived enveloped in his everything suddenly lifted to leave you blinking stupidly under a spotlight, fumbling to explain yourself to the crowd. 

You try to fool yourself into thinking it wasn’t that bad – it’s only the end of your first real relationship, your first real love, you’re first real anything – hoping that somehow saying it will make it true. You rub yourself raw trying to cocoon yourself in the lie. 

It was that bad, worse, even, because you didn’t see it coming. Movies had told you that your first love was meant to be an enduring thing, forever if you were careful with it, and that true love was the most powerful force in the universe. You could move mountains and heaven and earth with true love, you could bring back the dead with but a gentle word and a kiss. With true love? You could do anything.

You couldn’t do shit with what was left of Eddie’s love. 

A spectacle such as the fallout of a high school relationship is something to behold akin to a volcanic eruption. Toxic to the point of choking anyone within a twelve-foot radius of the poisonous ex-lovers, leaving radioactive trails in their wake. You swore you’d never be foolish enough to lose your mind over someone like that, open yourself up to the kind of hurt that could push you to madness when it was over too soon. Star-crossed lovers turned mortal enemies as the people in their lives take petty sides and do their utmost to tarnish the reputations of the one they once revered. 

Real Romeo and Juliet shit, only the really real version, where they don’t get the opportunity to martyr themselves for love, and one day they realize in spite of everything they are still Capulets and Montagues, and the rivalry lives on, made all the more putrid by a love that has overstayed its welcome. 

You always told yourself you were too smart for that kind of nonsense, and yet you’d loved Eddie Munson completely, madly and unequivocally, with every inch of every particle in your body, and you’d foolishly thought he felt the same. 

You should have seen it coming.

Some tiny, rational part of you had told you not to go see him. You knew you had to babysit tonight, but you’d been too caught up in the fires of your righteous indignation to heed your rational mind.

It’s not every day your boyfriend skips your graduation ceremony and proceeds to avoid you for the better part of the following month. All you’d wanted was a sign of life, an explanation, any kind of answer as to what the hell was going on, and by God had you gotten one.   

You do your best not to fall apart as you make your way across town, though if you cared enough to take a look at yourself in any passing reflective surface you would see that you’re doing a piss poor job at that. Your face is pinched tight and streaked with tears, and every odd breath comes in a ragged sob. Your chest aches with a sharp, lancing pain that hurts so terribly you would not be surprised to look down and find that you were bleeding. You imagine the dark, crimson trail you must be leaving, like gorey breadcrumbs one could follow all the way through town back to the Forest Hills trailer park. 

You wish you’d thought to drive, then at least you could have broken down in the relative privacy of your car, but you’d wanted the walk to gather your thoughts, to prepare yourself for whatever it was that had kept Eddie so distant from you. Now, subjected to a different kind of walk of shame, your mind is buzzing with the concept of insult to injury. 

You imagine you must be quite the sight to behold. 

It’s dark by the time you reach your neighborhood, and well past the agreed-upon time when you knock at the Henderson’s front door. 

A cursory glance at your watch sends a violent spasm of alarm lancing through your midsection.

You’re late. You’ve never been late before. 

It's just another piece of Eddie you’re going to have a very hard time extracting, like a shard of glass from the bottom of your foot.  

You try to make yourself presentable in the brief interval between your knocking and Mrs. Henderson’s answering, scrubbing at your eyes and taking deep breath after deep breath. All it accomplishes is to streak your already running eye makeup and push you towards hyperventilating. You are noticeably out of breath when the door finally swings inward, bathing you in golden light. 

You imagine you are not the picture of an angel she'd expected, standing there, white-knuckling the strap of your bag, sweating in the August heat, and doing your utmost to look somewhere halfway to normal.

You try not to notice the way Mrs. Henderson’s round, cherubic face falls a little when she claps eyes on you.

Her voice is laced with saccharine concern as she says your name in a way that has you teetering on the edge of breaking down again. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you start, choking on the lump swelling in your throat. “I was— I just—“ In a panic, you bite the excuse off before it can cross the threshold of your lips. 

What had you even planned to say? I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. Henderson, but you see, my stupid boyfriend just got finished curb-stomping my heart into a pulpy mess and I’m just a bit upset? 

Ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself with a sobering start. He doesn’t love you anymore. 

You feel like you could cry again. 

“Time got away from me,” you mumble, tugging sheepishly at the sleeves of your ill-advised cardigan.

In spite of the state of you, Mrs. Henderson brightens and dismisses the notion with a flippant wave. 

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re here now, that’s what matters – come in!” 

You follow her over the threshold and into the living room in a haze, depending entirely upon familiarity and muscle memory to get you on track, going through the motions of setting down your bag on the kitchen island as you have hundreds of times before.

Still, you can feel yourself slipping and begin groping for familiarity in the dark, anything to anchor you to this moment: warm wood paneling tinted orange by incandescent light bulbs, dated shag carpet half worn down to threads in the grooves of routine living, frigid air conditioning blasting down on you, flash drying the sweat beading across your neck and shoulders. You blink and watch colors run into each other like crayons in the sun, and breathe deep the strong tang of air freshener covering the faintest hint of a cat somewhere in the house.

You lie to yourself that you're going to be fine as you pluck at a loose string hanging from the fraying hem of your cutoff shorts. 

You are vaguely aware of Mrs. Henderson speaking somewhere very far off in the distance.  

“Dusty, look who’s here!”

You don’t really hear her, you’re still standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Munson trailer, watching the door ease open after you’d pounded on it. 

Eddie had blanched and physically recoiled upon seeing you, confirming your suspicions that he was hiding from you. 

“What the fuck, dude.” had been the only thing you’d been able to get out, hurt feelings mixing with anger in a potent combination that had you brimming with angry tears. 

You’d watched Eddie hesitate at the door, very clearly considering going right back inside and shutting you out again before he heaved a sigh that carried the weight of the world. The anger that welled in you was poisonous.  

Two years of your life washed down the drain in less than twenty minutes. Time wasted. It makes you want to scream.

The next four words you’d spoken ring out, though not in your own voice. 

“Where have you been?” Dustin asks, bringing you back to where you stand in the Henderson’s living room. “We were worried sick!” 

He’s got his hands on his hips as he stares at you, his tie-dye shirt undulating beneath the warm lights and making you feel like you’re swaying. 

His mother is quick to scold him for the audacity of his outburst. 

“Dusty.” She warns, tut-tutting him with a slow shake of her head. 

Mrs. Henderson had never been much of a disciplinarian. 

Dustin makes an incredulous sound and throws up his hands in a way that paints the picture of a mother who has been sitting up, waiting for a wayward child out well past curfew. It would be halfway funny if you had the capacity to laugh.

He slumps moodily into the couch cushions as his mother brightens again and turns to regard you as you slip further out of your body. 

“We’ve gotta stop kidding ourselves.” Eddie says somewhere very far away, “This thing has pretty much run its course…” 

Mrs. Henderson clasps her hands together and breathes out like she’s preparing to dive into an overlong speech. 

“Okay, you know all the emergency contacts, the house rules, I should be back by 11:30...” She says, trotting back and forth across the living room to collect her purse and keys, all the while chattering away, giving the same babysitting spiel she went through every time you stopped over to make sure Dustin didn’t burn the house down.

You nod absently and bid her farewell as she slips out the door, and you feel the bite of pins and studs from Eddie’s battle-vest in the palms of your hands as you shove him. 

“Why are you doing this?” You cry, your voice is tight and quavers, threatening to fail before you can even put up any kind of a fight. You’re half blind from the tears collecting at your lashes, “You can’t just—” You choke on the sob welling in your throat. “What happened— Eddie—Baby, just talk to me. Please. We can move past it, whatever it is we can fix it if you just let me—”

He rubs at the back of his neck and rocks back on his heels, like he’s desperate to get away from the situation and it’s taking every fiber of his being to make himself stay. 

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” He huffs, his voice trembling.

The silence in the living room is punctuated by the muffled sound of Mrs. Henderson’s receding footsteps, followed by the clunk of a car door slamming shut and the rumble of the engine starting. Headlights paint the walls through the front window in a burst of white, and just like that she’s gone. You’re stuck staring out across the street at your house, sitting dark and empty. Your parents aren't home... they're never home, that's why Eddie always comes over... Suddenly, you have to fight the urge to run out the door and retreat to the sanctity of your bedroom, like maybe you'll find him there, and you'll discover you imagined the whole thing.

All you want is to crawl under the covers and disappear from the world entirely, but there are too many artifacts of your relationship scattered across the expanse of your bedroom. Polaroids, mix tapes, band-tees, memories. You wonder with stark despair whether you’re ever going to be able to set foot in your bedroom again. It feels perhaps a tad overdramatic, but there’s so much of Eddie in you now, so much of his personality blended with yours, that it feels like an appropriate response. "Drama" may as well have been Eddie's middle name – his middle name is Joseph, you think absently, and suddenly you don’t know what you’re going to do with that kind of intimate information. 

You aren’t exactly sure if you’re failing to grasp the situation or just plain rejecting it, but you refuse to accept that Eddie is trying to end your relationship over what essentially equates to nothing, and the fight it has kicked up is arguably the worst thing either of you has ever been through. 

Despair turns him mean. He’s pacing and carding his hands through his hair like he can’t stand it, like he’s about to fly apart at the seams, and somehow it’s your fault.  

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie snaps, face wet with tears, “What— you want me to tell you I don’t love you anymore? Is that what you want?" When you fail to answer he takes a step toward you and suddenly he's shouting, "Tell me what I can say to make you understand that this is over!” 

You shake your head in defiance and openly sob, hands crossed over one another, pressed flat to the left side of your chest where you feel the pain of a phantom wound, gaping, bloody, and raw. Your strident refusal to answer the terrible question speaks for itself, and it wrenches a sob from somewhere deep inside Eddie. For the briefest of moments, he crumples, crushing the heels of his palms into his eyes in a way that is so heartbreakingly boyish you have to stop yourself from trying to hug him.

For a long moment, it’s all either of you can do but stand there, watching the other fall apart and hating each other for it. 

Finally, Eddie breathes out hard like he’s trying to calm down. It doesn’t work. 

“Okay,” He sniffs, voice trembling as he swipes the back of his hand across his nose, “Fine, I can do that– be the bad guy? If that’s what it takes...” 

You shake your head and can’t help but take a tentative step toward him. Then another, and another, until suddenly you’re toe to toe with him.

“Don’t…” you plead, your voice is small and very nearly doesn’t make it through the vice that has your throat. “Please don’t…”  His hands are shaking as you reach for them, his brows knit together and the corners of his mouth turn down in a mask of devastation. 

“I don’t love you anymore.” He says softly, forcing the words out like it physically hurts to say them. 

They embed themselves in you like little shards of glass and suddenly you've taken to bleeding, but you don’t believe him. You think you wouldn't be able to make yourself believe him if your life depended on it, even if it was true, because you loved him so much it hurt. So much you felt like this could very possibly kill you if he didn't stop. How could he not feel the same? How could this not be killing him the way it was killing you?

You knit your fingers desperately in the front of his shirt. 

“You don’t mean it — please don’t say that.”

You try to meet his gaze, like maybe if you can make him see you, really see you, it might stop this, but he won’t look at you. You have to bite back the violent urge to damn him for his cowardice.

Eddie shakes his head, dark curls dancing around his face as he gets caught on a sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t fucking love you anymore.” His voice breaks.

“Yes you do!” you shout, shoving him hard enough to send him staggering back a pace. “Why are you doing this, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

Eddie hangs his head as new tears roll down his face to collect at the point of his chin and suddenly you can’t decide if you’re more angry or heartbroken as you reach for him again. You know you're babbling, but you're desperate to say anything that might somehow get through to him to make him abandon this terrible crusade. 

Eddie won't hear you. He shrugs out of your touch and shakes his head again, crossing his arms over his chest to hug his biceps like it’s the only sense of security he has. All the fight has gone out of him.

It's over...

“Are you okay?” Dustin asks from where he’s sat on the couch. 

You turn slowly and blink at him, feeling suddenly like you’ve been submerged in water, swaying on your feet with the tide. You’d almost completely forgotten he was there.

He’s staring at you with the most intense mask of concern you’ve ever seen on him. It’s a strangely sober look for Dustin, somehow too world-weary for the little boy you’d thought you knew so well. 

You realize a bit too late that he’d asked you a question. You know you need to respond if only to keep up appearances, but you feel wrong, like you’ve been pulled out of your body and had something else stuffed back in that is trying very hard – and failing – to emulate a human being. It makes you feel like you’re going to be sick.  

“I’m good.” You lie. “I’m really really good. In fact, I’m great.” 

He furrows his brows and you know immediately you’d pushed it too much.

You’re bad, you’re so so bad. In fact, you’re terrible.

“O-kay…” He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he seems too preoccupied with something else to care much about it.

Dustin fidgets with his fingers, twisting the digits and picking at the skin of his nail beds like he’s become suddenly nervous in your presence.

“So… listen,” He starts, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

You hear the words, but not in Dustin’s voice. 

Eddie has walked you out to the empty jungle gym standing in the middle of the trailer park. Before the fight, before the violent implosion of your relationship, before he says the words he can never take back, he slumps against the rusted metal structure and stuffs his hands in his pockets, casting his gaze down to the divet in the earth he makes with the toe of his dingy sneaker.

“We need to talk…” He says, and you feel yourself getting pulled swiftly down into the dark... deeper under the water. 

The pressure makes your head swell. 

From the beginning, everyone had warned you Eddie was going to break your heart. Friends, family, even teachers, as inappropriate as that advice had been. It always made you angry, determined to prove them wrong. Maybe it had started as an act of rebellion, leaning hard into a relationship that was evidently no good for you, but none of them knew how Eddie was sweet, and kind, and fun and funny and everything but what everyone warned you he would be. 

You hate that in the end, he was the one who had made them right. Self-fulfilling prophecies and all that bullshit.  

The end… 

Just the notion of it is enough to send you teetering over the edge of hysteria. Something wells up from the aching spot behind your lungs, like a balloon filling with water, blocking your windpipe and threatening to suffocate you. Your ribs crack and you feel yourself begin to bleed again as it swells to the point of pain. You feel like you’re about to burst. 

The words are spilling out over your lips before you have the good sense to realize you should excuse yourself before you have a breakdown in the middle of the Henderson’s living room.

“Hold that thought, Dusty, just for one second,” You gasp, turning and practically sprinting for the bathroom down the hall. 

You shut the door behind you and rip one of the fluffy white towels Mrs. Henderson keeps down from the rack and cram your face into the thick terry cloth. For a moment there is nothing, then a sharp intake of breath before you’re screaming, as loud and as long as you can before your head starts to swim. The sound is mercifully muffled by the fibers. It catapults you into a memory from last spring. 

You’re sitting on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, absolutely fuming over the injustice of something completely trivial – a poor grade on a test, an undeserved reprimand, the specificities of it don’t matter, because Eddie is there, and he still loves you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, doing his best to lift your spirits. 

Your toes are tucked neatly beneath his thighs and he’s got his hands around your calf, tapping out a guitar riff there. As casual a gesture as it may have seemed, it’s suddenly so intimate and you’re struck with a pang of grief as you realize you’re never going to be that close to him again.

“Jesus, I’m so mad I could scream.” You huff, the angry lump in your throat makes you feel like you’d tried to swallow a softball.

Eddie tilts forward and crosses his arms over your knees, hugging you there. 

“Do it.” He says, ghosting his lips over the exposed skin poking through a tear in your jeans, “Let’s see what those pipes can do.”

You cast a dour look his way and wire your jaw shut, beginning a mental count of all the reasons you can’t just start screaming in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. You’re not supposed to have boys over and if you scream your mom will come running and flip her lid, someone might call the cops … it’s going to be too loud?

As if he’d anticipated your excuses, Eddie pushes up and snatches one of the pillows you sit nestled among at the head of your bed, tucking it into the space between your knees and your chest. 

“Scream into the pillow.” He instructs, patting the creases flat in a way that feels gentlemanly. 

When you level him with an unimpressed look he rolls his big dark eyes and takes the pillow back. 

“Like this,” Deep breath, and the muffled smack of his face hitting the pillow before there is the faintest sound of Eddie screaming theatrically into the fabric and goose down. You bite your lip to keep from giggling and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be furious, indignant, incensed even. Hard to keep up that facade when you’re dating someone like Eddie, who would more than likely combust into flames if he tried to go a full day without doing something entirely absurd and unhinged just to make you laugh.

When he’s done screaming, Eddie is red-faced, hair wild and brows furrowed beneath the curly fringe that falls across his forehead. There is a thin line of spit, grossly drawn out from the semi-damp pillowcase to where it is attached to the plump flesh of his bottom lip. He severs the connection with a swipe of his tongue and makes a show of coughing and spluttering, fishing a stay feather from his mouth. You snort with laughter. 

He grins that Cheshire Cat smile of his, cheeks indenting with dimples, and shoves the pillow back towards you. 

“You’re up, Babycakes.” He says.

You recoil with playful disgust, “Gross, no way!” 

“Why not?” He asks, furrowing his brows in a way that conflicts with the wide stretch of his mouth.

“You just slobbered all over it!”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you, and suddenly there is the faintest hint of mischief glinting there. You meet his gaze, tentatively waiting for whatever appalling thing he is about to say. 

“Like that’s ever bothered you before.” He says. 

It’s relatively tame in the grand scheme of things, but the way his eyebrows jump with innuendo has you blushing. 

“Eddie!”

“Ed-die!”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp as he mimics you, pitching his voice up to mock you, absolutely scandalized.  

His pretty doe eyes sparkle with delight and you take the opportunity to snatch the pillow from him, only to whip it around and whack him upside the head. The pillow explodes in a snowy cloud of feathers, and the next thing you know he’s surged forward, and you’re screaming with laughter, bracing your hands against his chest and shoulders to try and hold him at bay as he licks a fat wet stripe up the side of your face.       

The towel in the Henderson’s bathroom is perhaps as effective a buffer as a pillow, it certainly does a better job at mopping up your tears as you release yourself from the cotton prison, red-faced and breathless. You’ve left dark smudges on the white fabric where your tears have made your eyeliner run, more than it already has. You only manage to feel slightly bad about that, suppressing a pitiful whimper as you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You’re hoping the shift in temperature might force you into some kind of hard reset, bring you back to your senses, but you’re not so certain it’s going to work this time. 

Eddie taught you to do that. 

“Helps with panic attacks,” he’d said at the time, rubbing your back and speaking soft, gentle words to you as you stood with your head in the bathroom sink.  

The foolish tragedy of breaking up is that everything reminds you of Eddie. Every inch of this town, your house, your bedroom, your own goddamn body is laced with him. You feel raw, and despite this being your first real heartbreak, somehow you know even after you get over him, if you ever get over him, you’re never gonna be the same again.  

You hate how you suddenly understand all those sappy love songs, all those foolish people standing in not so private corners of very public spaces, wailing about how they thought someone had loved them while everyone looks on in varying degrees of concern. Therein lies the problem of giving yourself over to someone so completely, loving them entirely. 

I thought he loved me. 

You slump to the cold tile floor and hug your knees to your chest. 

You tell yourself you could leave, should leave, pick up and start over somewhere new, somewhere quiet and untainted by the echoes of him. Your memories are loud and pervasive and every one of them revolves around him, foolishly, as if he is all you’ve ever known. 

You could just leave… It’s sorely tempting, you’ve graduated, no immediate plans on the horizon… newly single? There’s nothing holding you here –you quietly wonder if that was Eddie’s aim, but you’re still too upset to give him that much credit– you even allow yourself to begin a flight of fancy, entertaining an escape from Hawkins, from Indiana entirely. Then you remember the way he had cradled your face in his hands as he extracted himself from your life. 

“There’s nothing for you here. This goddamn town is gonna suck the life out of you if you don’t get out.” 

If you leave Hawkins now, that means Eddie wins, despite the fact that you’d been so painfully unaware it was even a competition. You suppose that this is how it starts, the taking sides, the tearing down one’s reputation. You can just imagine yourself, maybe a year from now, in a new town with new friends, going on and telling stories about how your ex was such a fuck up, a total man-child, couldn’t even graduate high school… He was a guitarist in this really shitty metal band and played this stupid fantasy game every weekend with a bunch of kids, that’s weird right? What a freak. You could knock the teeth out of that version of you for being so cruel. 

He’s not a freak, you insist to no one in particular, He’s wonderful and generous and … and and and? …And he doesn’t love you anymore. 

You thump your head against the bathroom cabinet and heave a sigh as you remember that you’re here in the house for a reason. 

Dustin is waiting on you. 

With a heavy sigh, you push up from the floor on shaky legs and turn back to regard yourself in the mirror. 

It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine…

And you are. There’s no gaping wound in your chest, no bloodstains streaking down your front. You breathe deep and tell yourself that you really are fine, a little red and puffy in the face, and feeling very much like you’ve been hollowed out, like carving a pumpkin, but fine enough to sit and watch movies with Dustin for a few hours at least. It’s just a breakup. People break up every day. All you have to do is hold your shit together until midnight – you glance at your watch – just four hours and then you can fall apart, rant and rail, and rave and tear down the walls if that’s what it takes.

You take a deep, steadying breath, count backward from three, and whip the door open, doing your best to plaster what you hope is a genuine smile across your face.

"Okay kiddo, you wanna watch a movie or something?" You call as you head down the wall.

You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.     

#absolutely obsessed #eddie munson x reader

[undead-supernova]

I think the reason why husky!neighbor!eddie appeals to me so much is… living across the hall from one’s lover/partner means you have two places 🤩🤩🤩

like booo we’re fighting? I’m going to MY place and making MY dinner and I hope the smells make you jealous. wait actually I’m sad come over 😔 oops good morning we fell asleep at your place bc we had sex on your (arguably better) mattress but my place has the freshest milk for bfast… brb

like lots of room for casual intimacy too 👥 something something sharing a space with someone is the height of love etc

[undead-supernova]

Eddie Munson is a munch.

He can’t help himself. Always aching for a taste of your sweet pussy. In the bathroom at the movie theater he’s on his knees, your skirt pushed up over your hips moaning into your cunt. In the back of his van, his hands on your knees spreading them open for him as he devours you. In the woods after one of his deals, he’s got you bent over the picnic table eating you from behind as his ringed fingers dig into your plush skin. But his favorite is when you’re sitting on his face, grinding your pussy all over him. He can’t get enough of you, craving you all the time. You’re his favorite taste.

#Eddie munson x reader #yeah I’ve lost my mind!!!!!

[undead-supernova]

Wow your anon sure was crazy for that one! I wonder who that was!!!!

I AM DEFINITELY ANONYMOUS AND MY NAME DOES NOOOT RHYME WITH MAUGUST BUT I THINK STEVE BEING HANDCUFFED WHILE WE EDGE HIM WOULD BE REALLY FUN AND COOL AND SEXY

AUGUST— I MEAN ANON IM SCREAMING

18+ only here i will fight you

god just like… slowly sitting on his cock, and he’s just so whiny and trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

“being such a good boy, stevie,” you’d coo, raking your nails through his chest hair, his cheeks beautifully flushed as you finally seat yourself fully onto his cock.

his hands begin tugging against the cuffs, desperate to reach out and grab your hips. knowing all he wants to do is flip you both over and pound you into the mattress.

but not tonight— you’re in control.

so you shake your head before slowly guiding your hips back up, until he slips out of you completely. hovering over his shaft as he whimpers a soft, “honey, please.”

“nuh uh, where’d my good boy go?”

#also I’m foaming at the mouth I want that so bad #so so bad

[undead-supernova]

Sorry to be hot a second day in a row but—

#August pic #I can’t help it!!!! #peep my Hannibal phone case

[undead-supernova]

Not to pop off with how pretty I look tonight but—

#August pic #so happy to get all dressed up honestly #do not ask me how many bucee’s billboards I passed on my four hour drive today

[undead-supernova]

feeling super sentimental today after all of the incredibly supportive feedback off of the Boring series I've started. I've wanted to change this idea of what a "reader" can look like for a while, especially in the fandom. High Tolerance and IPTPYW have started that, but the Boring series is taking it a step further.

I see less of myself in a lot of fics because of the shy!reader and readers who are less confident in themselves. personally, I've gone on a journey this past year to start loving myself and it's translated into confidence about my intelligence, my self-worth, and my body (a big one that I never thought could happen).

while this is OKAY and not everyone is at the same point I am, I still want to instill that feeling for people who either need to see it or feel the same way. give us some fucking girl power because !!!! I think reminding you as a reader that you're awesome and deserve respect is amazing. especially when we know that Eddie would be absolutely into it and would go for that reader as much as a shy reader. I believe Eddie would be motivated by it and super drawn to it. He would go after that person, even if it makes him a little intimidated.

I've grown tired of seeing a reader being a placeholder for the male gaze and used as an object rather than a person. we've grown accustomed to a "mean" character who is confident but can't be kind and multi-faceted. I'm proud to say I can take those elements and expand upon them with this series and all the work I want to continue.

this on top of printing my novel and seeing it all laid out in front of me has me all blubbery and soft. so thank you to everyone. I will be replying to comments when I can but alas I'm gonna be gone this weekend! thank you again!

#august talks #sorry it's so long but I have a soapbox about all of it #:') #very happy and honored today

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist / 18+

Part 1 - Boring

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks. 

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.” 

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized t-shirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet. 

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements. 

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could. 

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got." 

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away. 

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended. 

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them. 

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked. 

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors. 

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special. 

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of. 

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative. 

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him. 

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked. 

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom. 

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe. 

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start. 

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with. 

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.  

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans. 

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.” 

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel. 

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans. 

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes. 

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman. 

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun. 

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully. 

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.  

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked. 

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose. 

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson smut

[undead-supernova]

blondes do have more fun - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

warnings: robin and reader get so drunk, reader is too clumsy for her own good

opposites attract masterlist

a/n: another edit and repost of this y2k series. this was the second blurb i ever wrote for them and it was heavily inspired by that one scene in 10 things i hate about you, iykyk. enjoy babes 💕

word count: 1.2k

It was an impulse decision.

So of course he would be surprised.

If you were being honest, you were a little scared to see Eddie’s reaction. Which was why you asked Nancy to tag along with you to the hair salon. Knowing she would give you her honest opinion either way.

It took over two hours to get your locks to the bleach blonde perfection you desired. Keeping your eyes off of the mirror during the entire process due to your nerves. So when the stylist finally spun your chair around, you were genuinely shocked as you fell in love upon meeting your reflection.

You had never done much with your hair over the years, besides the occasional haircut. But you were itching to try out something new. Finding yourself inspired by your latest obsession, Legally Blonde.

You had dragged Eddie to see it with you in theaters more times than you cared to admit— but he never once complained.

He had actually enjoyed it, even making a comment or two about how he thought Reese Witherspoon was pretty. Which got the wheels in your head turning, leading you into a salon chair with bleach covering your head.

“It looks amazing, hun,” Nancy gushed as you left the salon, arms linked together as you ventured deeper into the Starcourt Mall.

There was a new air of confidence about you as you walked, sipping on Orange Julius’ smoothies. You all but dragged her into Wet Seal to help you find the perfect outfit for later. Steve was hosting yet another rager, which had become a recurring weekend event amongst your friend group.

After many trips to the fitting room (and an impromptu fashion show), you eventually walked out of the mall with a mini black dress and matching pair of platform sandals.

You decided to keep this new look under wraps for the rest of the day, waiting until Steve’s party to reveal it to everyone.

As you walked into the male’s home you kept your head high, pushing through the crowd of tipsy college kids to find your friends. Eddie was going to meet you here after band practice had wrapped up. But you couldn’t help but feel your nerves stirring in your stomach.

What if he hated it?

Logically you knew it didn’t matter, it was your hair after all. But you still wanted him to like it nonetheless.

You spotted Robin and Steve in the living room, bounding over to them with a smile. They were clearly in the middle of a squabble of some sort, but Robin’s face lights up once she sees you.

It was quite obvious she was already wasted, her cheeks thoroughly flushed as she stumbled towards you. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, attempting to reign her back in but she easily shrugs him off.

“Oh my god, Nance told me it looked good. But it’s way better than I could’ve imagined!” She squealed, pulling you into a hug as you just laughed.

She leans closer to your ear, hanging onto your arm for support, “Dude… Eddie is gonna lose it. It’s giving Pam Anderson and Elle Woods— you look hot.”

You felt your cheeks warm from her words, as Steve is finally able to tug her off of you with an annoyed expression. You hadn’t even thought about that, taking a glance down at your attire. It was very reminiscent of an outfit you’d seen Ms. Anderson sporting on the cover of one of those trashy tabloid magazines recently.

Robin was right, per usual but it only makes you more anxious for your boyfriend to arrive.

You make your way over to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink, nearly chugging it in an attempt to make your nerves disappear. But one drink quickly turns into four and having not eaten much before you arrived— you became very drunk, very fast.

So drunk that you didn’t even notice when Eddie finally did arrive, after a very concerned phone call from Steve.

The brunette was already having to babysit Robin, but now he was struggling to keep you both in check. Chasing the two of you around his house, your chorus of giggles barely being heard above the bubbly pop music. Eddie arrives soon after that phone call, searching frantically through the crowd of people to find you.

However it didn’t take him very long to do so.

A crowd had begun to form in Steve’s dining room, as you pulled Robin up onto his table with you. Both of you dancing drunkenly on the top of it, letting the heavy bass pump through you. The both of you ignore the whistles and shouts from the crowd, raising your hands above your head.

Eddie had finally pushed his way to the front of the crowd, watching in amusement as you got a little too into the gyration of your hips. Not a care in the world as you tossed your head back. Seemingly forgetting about the large chandelier that hung behind you. That amusement turns to slight horror as the back of your head smacks right against the light fixture.

A combination of the impact and the alcohol has you feeling lightheaded, your knees start to wobble. Robin gasps in shock, attempting to grab on to your wrist but fails miserably as you lose your balance. Letting you fall back into the crowd and right into a pair of strong arms.

Your vision is blurred and your head starts to spin as the person quickly carries you out of the room, cradling you against their chest. In your inebriated and dizzy state you don’t realize it’s the metalhead you’ve been waiting to see all night.

You squirm in his arms, attempting to get him to put you down, “Excuse me— I have a boyfriend.” You huff, pushing against their denim clad shoulder, “Put me down!”

The pout adorning your lips causes him to chuckle, immediately recognizing the sound. You blink your lashes rapidly as your boyfriend’s face finally comes into focus. That pout is quickly replaced with a toothy grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him.

Eddie kisses you back gently, kicking the door shut behind him. He sits you both down on the bed, now in the comfort of Steve’s guest room. You snuggle up into his chest immediately, playing with his dark curls.

“Glad you’ve finally come back down to earth, love,” he hums, "Is your head feeling okay?”

You sigh happily, nodding as Eddie begins to feel the back of your head. Carefully inspecting it to make sure you haven’t done any significant damage. You wince as he finds a tender spot, the male pressing a light kiss to it.

“So you dye your hair and go completely off the rails,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m just glad I got here when I did.”

His concerned tone makes you giggle nonetheless, leaning up to press a sloppy kiss against his jaw. The room had finally stopped spinning, and you felt ready to get back to the party.

“You know what they say, Eds, blondes have more fun.”

Eddie just rolls his eyes at you fondly, ruffling your freshly dyed locks.

“Uh huh, sure they do, sweetheart.”

#you're killing it today bb #Eddie Munson x reader

[undead-supernova]

Eddie Munson gifs 6/?

Gorgeous blorbo <3

#ME at any sign of inconvenience #eddie munson #he is literally so real for that #he gets it

[undead-supernova]

@stcreators event 7 — humor

THE HELLFIRE CLUB + anonymous asks (in/sp/os) (eddie + erica, jeff + gareth, dustin + the freak, mike + eddie)

#this is everything to me actually #Eddie munson #erica sinclair #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #mike wheeler #dustin henderson

[undead-supernova]

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

#HEY YOU RUINED ME WITH THIS ONE!!!!! #Eddie Munson x reader

[undead-supernova]

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING (2001)

#Liv Tyler you never fail to make my heart skip a beat in this series <3 #you and Legolas did something harrowing to me growing up <3 #the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring

[undead-supernova]

Can you imagine if they opened up a Surfer Boy pizza chain in Hawkins? And Eddie starts working there with Argyle?

Pizza line cook Eddie who is just constantly stoned and making pies with his new best friend, who oddly enough becomes the ultimate matchmaker amongst their friend group.

Now enter you.

A frequent customer who keeps dropping hints that you like Eddie. But he’s too oblivious (and maybe too stoned) to realize what’s happening.

But it’s obvious he likes you too, his heart eyes on full display whenever you stop by to pick a slice. Or the way he grins like an absolute idiot when he’s taking your order over the phone.

(He already has it memorized, but he likes to hear your voice.)

So one day after you’ve called in your 5th pizza delivery that week… Arygle has had enough.

“You need to open your eyes, man.”

Eddie, of course plays it off, dramatically widening his already droopy eyes with a lazy grin. “They are open, dude.”

“Bro,” Argyle starts, following behind the brunette as he starts making your order, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got yourself a lady crush.”

“And you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie tries to deny it, but the male can see right through him.

The two go back and forth like this for a while, until Argyle has somehow convinced the metalhead to write out—

CAN I TAKE YOU OUT?

OR IS THIS TOO CHEESY…

On the inside lid of your pizza box in bold black sharpie.

Normally the two take turns on who is delivering the pizzas during their shift, but this time Argyle doesn’t give him a choice. Tossing him the van keys and sliding the hot bag over the counter with a confident grin.

Later when Eddie pulls up outside the restaurant, the phone rings almost instantaneously. “Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking.”

And when he hears your bright voice on the other end of the line, he knew he was right.

#my best friend is so talented!!!!! #bestie wrote the cutest thing ever :’) #Eddie munson x reader

[undead-supernova]

it's just so special to me when like a character is a massive loser and yet they get someone who falls head over heels for them. like yeah boy pull some bitches with your weak-ass game and cringefail demeanor

#every 2000s Michael Cera movie 😍 #to be fair I would’ve fell for him too

[undead-supernova]

Boring part 2? Boring becoming a series? Interesting idea. Interesting indeed.

#mwuhahahahahahahahah #august never stops #I did not think it would get the response it did! and I got inspired again

[undead-supernova]

JO IT’S REALLY HAPPENING! WE’RE SOOOOOO BACK

Right Here, Right Now

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 (TBC)

Masterlist

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.