Remember When You Were 10 And You Would Hang Out With Your Friends In Order To Look At The Computer Together

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy #1

Hey! I'm fully committing to the Eddie Munson sin bin. Read chapter 1 right here or on Ao3!!

Chapter One: Killer Queen

Summary:

Eddie just wants some new damn strings for his Fender.

You just want a relaxing shift at Greene's Bookstore.

Looks like no one is getting what they want today.

Eddie was having a shit day. First, he had used up the last of his stash without even realising (and his next drop wasn’t until next Wednesday), then he’d managed to snap his D string while practicing some fucking solo for Corroded Coffin, and then the damn guitar shop had been shut when he’d got there. At 2pm. On a Saturday.

What the fuck kind of guitar shop is shut on a Saturday??

Sure, usually he isn’t even awake at 2pm on a Saturday – and if he is, he sure as shit isn’t functional. But he’d promised the Hellfire kids that he’d have tonight’s session planned and ready to go and – though he knew exactly where he wanted to get them to – he sure as shit didn’t have any of it written down. Not to mention needing to plan backup plans B through Z just in case the little shits decided to go off on a frolic of their own instead of the very neatly laid out and obvious plot in front of them. There was really no telling how any given session would go.

What was he doing again?

Right. Music shop shut. What now? His feet just seemed to keep going, despite having no real destination. The chains on his denim jacket clink aesthetically as he saunters down the busy high-street. It’s really too hot to be wearing the jacket, but he’d be damned if he gave it up. Fuck it. Cold six pack from the corner shop and he’d go back home and knuckle down on planning this damn session. He had big plans for this campaign. His last quest before graduating (or getting kicked out).

His swaggered walk is interrupted rather abruptly when a young woman in a light chequered dress suddenly hops from a doorway in front of him. She stops and blushes profusely, a small stack of dime novels clutched to her chest. She manages to eek out an apology while he sweeps his arm out in an exaggerated motion to let her past. He catches the names Linda Howard and Jude Deveraux on the spine of the books she carries as she scurries away.

Curiosity piqued, he leans forward to see into the mystery doorway. The door is painted an emerald green, peeling at the edges, and is held open by a stack of ancient-looking hardback books. The equally ancient-looking wooden shelves that line the walls of the store are nearly bowing under the weight of stacks upon stacks of books. What wall space is not covered by the truly obscene number of books this store contains is plastered with framed pictures – portraits, landscapes, a taxidermied butterfly or two. There’s a heavy-looking, round table in the middle of the room, stacked high with dozens of paperbacks and hardcovers alike. The windows at the front of the store are partially covered by heavy swathes of a dark fabric. The store is cool, but warmly lit, and smells strongly of incense.  A few thick carpets cushion his trademark white sneakers as he walks in. There’s a beanbag in the corner.

Behind an almost comically large and antiquated cash register sits a woman. She sits with her legs crossed on a bar stool, her floating foot bouncing rhythmically to a Queen song playing on a turntable in the corner. Killer queen, he thinks.

Eventually she looks up at him with a polite smile, “Can I help you, sir?”

You eye the guy who’s walked into your quaint little store. He looks thoroughly out of place. The dude is probably wearing more chains than fabric. He doesn’t say anything – yet – just stands and looks around with wide eyes. You collect the small stack of dime novels the young lady (Tanya, her name was. Lovely girl.) hadn’t bought from the front desk, and busy yourself with slipping them onto one of the higher shelves – away from any young kids’ prying eyes.

He eventually tilts his head towards you from where he’s scanning one of your bookshelves, scruffy long hair following his movement like a paid actor, “Yeah. You sell any real books or is it just the uh… smut?” Oh, you already don’t like him. He looks far too pleased with himself. Stupid smug look pulling his lips into a lopsided grin. It’s almost familiar – that smile, and those eyes.

“We cater to all tastes and interests here at Greene’s, sir,” you respond dryly, slotting the last of the paperbacks into the, frankly, stuffed shelf and turn to face your new customer with your best customer service grin, “Are you looking for something more romantic, perhaps? Or will the smut do?”

Your goading only serves to broaden that boyish grin, it meets his round eyes and—

Oh.

You totally knew this guy. This royal pain in your ass. This motherfucker. With his stupid brown eyes and, honestly, ridiculous band shirts.

“Eddie.”

It’s not a question – it doesn’t need to be. You definitely know him. This dick would beg you for answers in English and science, then – then!! – have the sheer audacity to commandeer whatever classroom, drama studio or back office you had booked for your writing club just to move his god damn Dungeons and Dragons game in.

He-

He’s even wearing the dumb fucking shirt.

He… looks puzzled.

“Have we… met?”

Lord help you not commit murder in this bookstore today.

You stare at him blankly, half expecting this to be some joke. Nope? Great. Fine. You turn back to your shelves and pretend to be busy organising the mess of paperbacks, “Something like that.”

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans (how he has the space to even fit them in there with the way the denim clings to his legs like a second skin – you have no idea) and takes a few slow, meandering steps towards you, “So I don’t even get a name? A hint maybe?”

“A… hint.” You try not to sound slightly pissed. You fail. You blame it on this book that simply refuses to go in its place.

“Sure. You clearly know who I am - yet I have no idea who you are. A tragedy if I may say so. One that I would very much like to rectify.” He leans one shoulder against the shelf to your right, hands still wedged into his pockets, all charm and wit. When had he gotten so confident?

And is… is he trying to flirt with you? Hell no. Hell. No. Absolutely not – not Eddie fucking Munson. The guy who once nearly choked on a fucking plectrum after carrying it around in the corner of his mouth all day to try and seem all cool and metal in eighth grade. You spent near a goddamn hour with him at the damn nurse’s office and missed a whole class on tectonic plates.

“Clearly not tragic enough for you to remember my damn name the first time around, Munson,” you snip back, “Shouldn’t you be playing knights and monsters somewhere?”

He almost rises to the bait. Almost. It was always a sure-fire way to derail him – misquote some lore or spout some nonsense about his fantasy game and he’d sit and prattle away at you, spilling facts and anecdotes like a broken faucet. Instead, he watches you walk stiffly back to your high stool behind the cash register and leans his elbows on some books stacked precariously high on the centre table. He leans his chin on one hand, continuing to watch you in that infuriating way.

“No. No I’d definitely remember you, so how…” he squints, deep in thought for a second, then something seems to click:

“You been stalking me, pretty girl?”

This time it’s your turn to choke.

You splutter at his jab – you’re not sure which you’re more offended by, the stalking accusation, his use of ‘pretty girl’, or the fact he still can’t remember your damn name. He’s got that glint in his eye. That one where he’s pulled off some clown act just for laughs – you saw it often in middle school.

“I- Of course not, Munson,” you glare back at him. God, you hope you aren’t red right now. Your face sure feels hot enough for it, “If you aren’t going to buy something, then leave.”

“Hey now, hey. I’m sorry, was that too far?” He backtracks softly, hands raised in front of him placatingly. The asshole even seems sincere about it. Weirdo.

Then, something clicks again – you can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind – and he cuts you off before you even get a chance to respond.

“Oh! Oh, shit, it’s you! The uh- the um… the book club girl!”

Great.

He has one hand pressed to his forehead, the other outstretched, alternating between frantic clicking and pointing as he desperately tries to remember your damn name. It’s almost painful to watch. He struggles for another few seconds, even starting to bounce on his heels amidst all the hmm’s and uh’s. You decide to put him out of his misery, biting your own name out from behind clenched teeth and crossed arms.

He throws both hands up dramatically, “Of course! God! How could I forget. Y’know, I think you single-handedly got me through ninth grade by letting me copy off you in all of Ms Davis’ quizzes.”

You arch a brow at him, “No shit Eddie. I don’t think I ever saw you write anything down. Ever.”

He laughs boisterously, “Yeah! I still don’t.” His laugh simmers down to that ever-present grin, “So hey, what are you doing here? I thought you’d have gone out of state for college the second you graduated.”

You fight off a wince, “Well. Plans change.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

“Very cryptic! I like it!” He carries on grinning, unperturbed by your loaded response, “So hey, got any recommendations? I’m thinking fantasy, but nothing too heavy or, y’know, smutty, can’t be blushing like a fair maiden in chemistry.”

Damn. Damn. Your one weakness. You love giving book recommendations – and he even seems sincere about wanting your opinion – even if he is making a joke out of it.

Fuck it. “Wasn’t aware that you could even read, Munson.”

He looks giddy as you get to your feet – despite your jab at his ability.

“Well, I thought you could teach me Beauty-and-the-Beast-style sometime. Until then at least I can look at the pictures.” He quips back, undeterred. He even throws in a wink at you (which you steadfastly roll your eyes at) when you make eye contact with him.

“Didn’t know you’d become a wit either.” You snipe dryly – though there’s no real venom behind it anymore. You’re tracing the shelves, looking for a familiar spine.

“You know me, pretty girl. Always full of surprises.”

You shoot him another withering stare before you crouch down to check the lower shelves – you swear that book was around here somewhere - “Use my damn name, Munson.”

“Only when you use mine, pretty girl.” You can see him rocking from his heels to his toes out of the corner of your eye. Oh he’s enjoying himself far too much.

“Ha! Found it,” you spring back to your feet, dusting your knees off and wielding a small but thick paperback in Eddie’s direction, “The first instalment of one Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series: The Colour of Magic.”

“Terry… Pratchett?” He takes the book from your hands gently, turning it over after inspecting the front cover.

“Yep. Wrote Strata? Dark Side of the Sun? God, Munson, you been living under a rock? Fantastic Sci-fi books, if that’s your thing. This one is more fantasy-comic. I think you’ll enjoy it.” He nods slowly while you talk at him, appraising the blurb on the back.

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

If you’re being totally honest, you expected him to put up at least some kind of complaint. Maybe a jab or two at your expense. But no, he’s already rifling through his pockets for his beat-up leather wallet.

“… Really?”

“Yeah. You sold me,” He slaps a crumpled note into your hand, “You read a lot of fantasy, pretty girl?”

You’re still reeling as you round the cash register again, enough to not comment on the ‘pretty girl’ thing, “Yeah- yes, I do. I loved the Silmarillion – really, all of Tolkien’s work.”

You’re so busy with the rusty old register that you miss the way his eyes practically glow. He sidles up to the other side of the front desk, smoothly sliding his hands onto the weathered wood.

“You know…” you pause, midway through digging his change from the register. That was a very dangerous tone he just picked up. He continues, a sly drawl to his delivery; “D&D is like a fantasy book that you get to be in—"

“I’m not joining your damn goon squad, Munson.”

“Come on, you’d love it! It’s totally fantasy, you can be whoever- whatever you want, there’s romance, and action – and magic!” He’s leaning towards you now, hands still planted on the worktop, voice equal parts enthusiastic and whining.

You regard him dubiously.

He begins to try and sweeten the deal, “I’ll buy the beer?”

You arch your eyebrow.

“Donuts?”

Your lips begin to quirk.

“Fine. I’ll throw a joint in too. You’re really taking me for all I’m worth here.”

You continue your silence. You tell yourself you just want to see how far he’ll go just to get you to join his little game.

He tilts his head down, looking up at you with warm, doey eyes and dark lashes, “C’mon, pretty girl. I’m begging here.”

Oh no. You really don’t like the way that look made your stomach drop, like someone pulled that gaudy, patterned rug from the shop floor from right under your feet.

You consider it hard, “Just one session? And you’ll stop being weird about it?”

He breaks out into the most dazzling smile, “Fuck yeah. You busy tonight?”

...Shit.

our little secret ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x fem!reader.

summary: tardy slips were becoming a regular occurrence and you couldn’t handle another day of boring detention, but eddie couldn’t resist the chance to worship you in every way possible. just be quick, no one had to know.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, oral (fem receiving), fem!reader, in public (sort of, it’s not obvious in the slightest), again v dirty, readers be warned.

word count: 1.7k. short but i wrote this in the span of a couple hours, pls forgive me.

request are always open!

alternate ao3 link

Eddie was the king of worship, that you knew for sure. He admired every point of your body, from your head to your toes, the curve of your breasts as they peeked out of your low cut tops, and how soft your legs felt wrapped around his hips when he was exploring your body—not that he didn’t already know it like the back of his hand. 

But sometimes, it proved to be a bit of an obstacle—a small one, but still. That tardy slips, the mandatory detentions, the stern talking to from none other than the principal of Hawkins High—they were starting to cause an issue. Eddie didn’t have much to worry about, no one expected any high marks or miracles from the freak of the senior class, but you—you had a reputation to uphold. Grades mattered, attendance was important, your friends would disintegrate at the very thought of you shaking up with Eddie Munson—not that you were, you totally weren’t—

“Any louder and someone’s gonna catch us, baby.” Eddie murmurs, mouthing deep, bruising kisses into the apex of your thigh. Higher, higher, you’d told him. The girls on the cheer squad were entirely too nosy and the last thing you needed was them pestering you about why you had so many ‘bruises’ in such an inconspicuous place. They could put two and two together—maybe, you weren’t too sure with some of them.

“Gotta hurry, Eddie.” You couldn’t stand the idea of being so fucked out that you could hear it in your voice, but here you were. “I can’t be late for my morning classes again.”

It was the third week, several consecutive days in a row, that you’d found yourself in the back of Eddie’s van in the corner of the school parking lot. Laid up, Eddie’s head nested perfectly between your legs, half of it disappearing under the cheer skirt you dawned on certain days, like today. Big game, super big game—you jump at the touch of Eddie’s tongue delving between your folds—what were you thinking about again?

“I’ll be quick. Promise.” That was the biggest lie you’d ever heard. Eddie liked taking his time with you and prided himself on it.

“God,” He breathes, the smoldering heat hitting your cunt in a way that has you clenching on nothing air, “haven’t touched yourself since we started this little arrangement, huh?” His voice is so fucking teasing, pompous—you can’t stand it.

“Don’t need to,” You admit, hand curling against the back of his head to push his face further against where you wanted him, “you do such a good job for me.”

He laughs at that, softly, licking teasingly at your clit. You were already soaked, Eddie just had that effect on you—which, to be fair, you’d never felt before. Sure, you’ve found other people that you’ve been attracted to but Eddie—he could simply exist and you’d fall privy to the idea of him. You were obsessed.

He’s feasting on you like he’s skipped morning breakfast and you were his first meal of the day—you definitely were, which reminded you that you needed to make sure he ate in the mornings, it wasn’t good to skip the most important meal of the day. His hands were gripping onto the inside of your thighs, rings leaving impressions that you would trace in the glorious aftermath of all of this. His fingers were turning white from the tightness of his grip, afraid that if he let go he’d lose you.

You gasped inwardly, flying up from where you had been laying on the floor of his van, one hand still wrapped in his mess of curls and the other planted firmly behind you. He’s suckling at your clit, alternating between using his tongue to prod inside you, before finally deciding to use his fingers. And fuck was that a feeling to experience. The slow drag of his tongue is a complete contrast of the way his fingers are curling inside of you, hitting all the right places.

“Eddie, please,” You gasp out, tightening the grasp you had on his head. He grunts at the feeling, quickening his pace and causing you to practically curl into yourself at the tension that’s building deep in the pit of your abdomen, “—your mouth feels so fucking good.”

“So fucking hard, baby.” He tells you, pulling back for air. “You have no idea how much I wanna fuck you right now.”

No time, you tell yourself. Keep it together.

“Fuck, maybe later—just, make me come, please.” You beg, moaning loud enough that if anyone was close enough, you’re sure they’d come knocking.

Was it a dying animal? A helpless person in need? No, it was just you—being eaten out by Eddie Munson in the back of his rundown van.

“Wouldn’t wanna make you late again, right?” Eddie teases, switching between sucking so gloriously on your clit and finding a way to still hold a coherent conversation with you. “Can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.” You try to tell him firmly, but only manage to sound downright pathetic.

Eddie does seem to understand some urgency, knowing just how much trouble he’s gotten you into lately, so he’s relentless in the way he’s fingering your cunt, curling and scissors with just the right amount of pressure—he never forgets how loud you get, loves to pull the sounds right out of your chest.

You wanna scream, yell, but that would catch you up in a whirlwind of problems and Eddie realizes that too. He reaches for the black handkerchief stuffed in his back pocket, blindly stuffing it into your mouth, you assist him eagerly.

And thank god for it, the scream that leaves you the second he’s pulling you to a bright, powerful orgasm has you gripping the back of his head, watching as he dutifully licks away the sopping juices that had dripped down his chin, daring to dive back into your sensitive cunt to clean up the rest.

“Absolutely not.” You warn him, hand resting on his shoulder. Your chest was flushed a bright red, heaving with the deep breaths you were trying to take. “I’ve got class in ten minutes and I can’t handle another orgasm right now.”

You could, you really could.

“You’re right.” Eddie grunts, pushing himself up from where he’s settled in between your legs.

“Want me to help you out?” You offer sweetly, flashing your trademark smile his way. “I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah…about that,” Eddie begins, crotch finally coming into full view. Well, that was one way to cut your time down.

“Eddie!” You shout softly, amusement and disbelief crossing your features.

Eddie Munson came in his pants, untouched, worshiping you on the floor of his van. That was definitely something that happened.

“I swear I’m not like this.” He jokes, you believed him. “That was just—-a lot. You’re something else.”

Eddie doesn’t need to elaborate. You get it—there was no way you could explain him either, he was just too good to be true.

“I’ve got a change of clothes, at least.” He assures, pointing to a pile of suspicious looking laundry in the corner of the van. “It’s clean, I swear! Hey, don’t give me that look—“

You’re pulling him down in a bruising kiss, something you two didn’t do much of, but it wasn’t entirely foreign. Eddie’s lips were soft and plush, begging to be kissed. He yelps in response, but recovers quickly. He’s pushing back with gentle pressure, careful in how quickly he wants to ramp things up again, but then you’re pulling away.

“What was that for?” He asks softly, hand caressing the side of your face, the smallest hint of his fingertip tracing the curve behind your ear.

“The orgasm.” You say simply, reaching in for another quick peck. “And because I felt like it.”

He huffs gently, trying to hold in the small chuckle that wanted to escape. He’s staring at you, right at you—his eyes were a dark, dark abyss that you wanted to lose yourself in.

Eddie gives you a quick glance, admiring how disheveled you looked. You laugh softly, adjusting your skirt and pulling it down slightly. He pulls tenderly at the hair that had somehow managed to find its way under the strap of your top, pushing it behind your shoulder before reaching to brush a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear, lingering for far too long.

You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up. The secret, the sneaking around, ignoring the fact that Eddie wasn’t just a random hookup anymore. The lump in your throat was an immediate indication to leave—only Eddie could manage to make you feel pure bliss and agony in the small span of a few minutes.

His thumb drags gingerly against the curve of your lip, you can’t help but reach for his wrist, sucking the digit into your mouth, the warm and wet feeling of your mouth had him cursing at you.

“Shit—such a good girl, yeah?” Your thighs clench at the tone in his voice—deep and yearning. You nod quietly, blush creeping up your cheeks as you reach forward to give him a quick peck on his cheek.

“Yeah and she needs to get to class. Right now.” You remind him, pulling away and peeking the door of his van open.

Coast looked clear, so you stepped out quickly, glancing back to see Eddie peeking out to shoot you a quick wink before disappearing back inside of his van.

“There you are!” Chrissy shouts, startling you so hard that you barely manage to hold back a scream. How the fuck was she so cheerful this early in the morning.

You steal a quick glance back toward Eddie’s van. No sight of him. The guilt of sneaking around with him is enough to eat you alive.

“Here I am!” You say back with too much forced cheerfulness, looping your arm around the arm that Chrissy had offered to you. The bell rings almost a half second after, triggering you both to hurry on to your morning class, leaving Eddie’s van far behind.

And when Eddie smirks at you from across the cafeteria at lunch, the butterflies in your stomach are going wild, causing you to look away, but even he can see the redness creeping up your neck, threatening to reveal just how much of an effect he had on you.

Maybe sneaking around wasn’t all that bad. You were his dirty little secret, no one had to know.

「 best friend & more 」

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: it’s not always easy to tell when eddie is joking or being serious; like when he tells you he’s going to marry you for example.

requested: yes

word count: 0.5k

warnings: tickling, playful pouting/teasing, pet names (princess, honey), mention of marriage, love confession

a/n: okay, ik this one is pretty short, but i think its cute! as much as i hate being tickled, i couldn’t be too mad if eddie was the offender. especially if he cuddles me afterwards. anyways, i hope you guys like this too! Xx

“Eddie! Stop! Pl-ease.” 

“Oh my god, I can’t breathe!” You nearly screech as your best friend tickles your sides, drawing a string of laughter from your body while you wiggle around on the bed.

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The More You Give (Part I)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, fingering, nothing much else this chapter. Reader is 18+ and has been since before Eddie was interested. Reader is a virgin who has bad previous sexual experiences (not assault). Mentions of bullying and anxiety around this. Under 21s drinking alcohol. Eddie makes a little joke about getting reader high and taking advantage. Expect coming of age vibes the whole way through and as a result there is a fair amount of exposition this chapter. I’m trying to capture the particular way girls hurt each other. Non canon-compliant; the gate closed forever in 1985.

Word count | ~6,950

A/N | Some of you hate girly-girl reader, some of you hate not-like-other-girls reader. I am here to unite you against a common enemy; not-like-other-girly-girls reader. I really think I can bridge the gap with this one. I joke, but my point is Eddie Munson is capable of loving literally every person ever put on this planet, who dress all sorts of ways and are interested in all sorts of things. My y/n loves Rilke.

Reposting one more time and if it doesn’t work I’ll just cry.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Please!” May cries again, clasping her hands together like she’s begging. “I just know bringing something tonight will get me my chance with Liam. And the freak…freaks me out!”

"But I don’t get why that means I should be the one that meets him.”

"You know, I thought you kind of liked Eddie.”

Heather’s smile is innocent, her head tilting like she doesn’t know exactly how much you like Eddie. Like you hadn’t sat and told her every detail of your gooey, warm crush on him that one time she’d snuck a bottle of pink gin to your house.

"Wait, you like the freak?” May asks, her face a picture of confusion. You twist your hands in your skirt when she makes a noise of disgust. “Oh my god!” She says your name incredulously. “That is so gross!”

Your mouth opens, then closes with a bite to your lip. You want to defend yourself, defend Eddie, but find yourself toeing the ground with your shoe instead.

“If I’d known you might enjoy a little rendezvous with Eddie Munson in the woods, I’d have begged a little less,” May says, voice all amusement until she catches your hurt look and sighs. “Look, please just get the weed from him for me? You don’t even have to talk to him, but he really does scare me. Heather’s meeting Patrick, otherwise I would totally ask her.”

Another version of you, one that knew how to get into conflict and come out on top, would tell her that’s not true. Would list every time, at least every time you remember, that you’d done something like this for your friends. Risking trouble, going out of your way.

You take the $20 she has ready and tuck it into your purse.

“Hey,” May says, tone all innocent mocking. “Maybe you should try flirting with Munson. You might be able to get me a discount.”

Keep reading

one of the most important things, perhaps the most important thing I have learned in my life is that nice people can fuck each other up in monstrous ways. people can be bone deep kind and loving and self reflective and still lash out under pressure. people can be earnestly neighbourly and charitable and hospitable and generous and still find themselves in situations where they become selfish. people can be well meaning and easygoing and gregarious and hold deep seated opinions that turn them into vicious little bullies under the right conditions. nobody is just one thing, and nobody stays one way. every person is a kaleidoscope and they will surprise you. you will surprise yourself. it's not a warning and it's not a judgement and it's not an excuse, and it's certainly not a reason to stop trying or to stop trusting. it is just a fact.

A room is a still a room Even when there’s nothin’ there but gloom But a room is not a house And a house is not a home When the two of us are far apart And one of us has a broken heart.

-A House is Not a Home: Dionne Warwick (1964) / Luther Vandross (1981)

can’t believe im going to meet priscilla what is life

Take You Home | Part Two

Eddie x Fem reader.

Summary: After an argument, you’re determined to prove Eddie is wrong about you. You decided you’re going to Jason Carver’s party alone. Eddie is set on finding you, worried what kind of situation you might find yourself in. He quickly realizes how right he was to worry and convinces you to leave with him. (Mentions of drinking and potentially violent situations.)

Shit! Shit! Shit! Eddie forcefully smacked his hand against the steering wheel. How the fuck am I supposed to find her? Roll down the windows and call her name like goddamn Lassy? Eddie’s van tore down the pavement, Dio at top volume as he wracked his brain on where you might be. She wouldn’t really be at Jason’s would she? The two of you made fun of Jason all the time. In fact, Eddie loved to climb onto tables, giving his best impression and interpretations of Jason’s speeches. Your favorite being his ‘where is the clitoris?’ speech. He’d mimic the hand gestures and all, his shaggy hair shaking wildly. ‘WE CAN FIND IT! If it exists. EITHER WAY WE’RE NOT GIVING UP!’ He literally had you laughing so hard you were in tears. That was a proud moment for Eddie. No way she’d go….but if she wanted to get back at me she would.

Given all the popular hangout spots were closed for the night, Jason’s house was the best lead. Problem was, Eddie had no idea where Jason lived. He was perfectly happy with that guy taking up as little space in his brain as possible. He wasn’t sure if it was his disdain for him and his basketball buddies or Holy Diver rattling the interior of the van, but he was now a man on a mission. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and laid on the gas. He’d drive all over Hawkins if he had to. Has she even drank before? Ugh, she’s probably a light weight too. He was certain if he didn’t find you soon enough, you’d be throwing your guts up in a bush somewhere. Which to Eddie, seemed like more fun than studying for biology. But it wasn’t something he wanted for you.

He found himself somewhere he wasn’t too familiar with. White two story houses with paved driveways and well maintained lawns. It’s gotta be around here. He cut the music and began scanning the area. It didn’t take too long to find. He came upon a modestly immaculate home. Through the trees he could see plastic cups littering the yard and teens smoking in the driveway. The thump of music could be heard coming from inside the house. Yep, this is definitely it. Eddie switched off the engine and began making his way to the house. He assumed there would be a few people there less than happy to see him. He just prayed you weren’t one of them.

The closer he got to the house, the more familiar the faces in the driveway became. Clients. One was a regular, Tate. Tate was a stand-up guy. Very punctual and genuinely pleasant during their transactions. Eddie was a little shocked to see him there. As he looked around, he noticed the crowd wasn’t entirely what he expected. He imagined testosterone filled, wannabe frat-boys everywhere. This seemed way less hostile. Band geeks, science nerds. And now, Eddie the Freak.

“EDDIE? NO WAY! You’re here?! NOW it’s a party!” Tate exclaimed, the light from the house driving the shadows away from Eddie’s clean, shaven face. His brown eyes darted from one group to another. He could feel their heads turning in his direction. It was so nice of Tate to alert everyone of his arrival, but he would’ve much preferred to be in and out without notice.

Eddie took a slight bow. “Don’t get too excited. I’m off the clock. No goody bags.”

“…Well that sucks. BUT it’s still gooda see you, man.” Tate swayed as he slurred. Sweet kid. Eddie was glad he was having a good time.

“Hey, you know y/n, right? Is she uh- is she here?” He questioned Tate hopefully.

“Oh yea, shesin the house. But if you’re looking to spend some quality time with her, you’re prolly gonna have to wait in line. Andy has been barking up that tree aaall night.”

That son of a bitch. Eddie patted Tate on the back as if to thank him for his service before storming towards the door. He just knew that basketball prick was up to something. The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded. Through the door, he encountered a sea of people. Some happily surprised to see him. Others snickering and undoubtedly whispering to their friends about him or cracking jokes. Not that he cared. He was only there for you. He began pushing and weaving through the hoards trying to find you. He tried to call your name but it was instantly lost in the pulsating music and endless chatter.

“Watch where the hell you’re going!” An all too friendly party-goer sounded as he was accidentally nudged. Eddie offered up his hands to show no offense. This was impossible! The house was sizable to say the least and there were too many people. He struggled to think of where to start. If I were a drunk girl at a party…where would I be? Eddie pondered this for a second, someone’s elbow digging into his side as he squeezed through. Kitchen. Always the kitchen. He could see the white glow of light reflecting off tile and into the hall from where he was standing. Not much further.

————

“Let me pour you another.” Andy was way too close to you for Eddie’s comfort. From the doorway he could see the two of you.

“A-another? I feel like I’ve had a lot. Things are getting a little spinny.” An involuntary chuckle escaped your lips. At first you liked the way the alcohol made you feel. Your muscles loosened. Your body felt warm. So warm in fact, Andy took the liberty of helping you out of your jacket. But after about the third or fourth drink, things started feeling too surreal. Almost dreamy. You felt the cold envelope you hands as Andy filled your cup once more. You weren’t entirely sure what you had been drinking, but it was sweet, pink and citrusy.

“Why do I never see you at any of the games?” Andy brushed a piece of hair behind your ear before letting his hand rest on your upper arm. His palm run up to your shoulder and slyly, he slid a finger under the strap of your dress. If you had your wits about you, you probably would’ve slapped him or at least told him off. But you weren’t even sure if what was happening was real. How could it be? Andy coming onto you at Jason’s Carver’s house. That was some alternate reality shit. You shyly tried to pull your shoulder to your ear to break the contact, but lost your balance as your head swiveled. “Whoa, careful.” Andy laughed, moving his hands to your hips to steady you. He kept them there. It didn’t feel right, but your inebriated brain lacked the coherency to understand why or protest it.

You were visibly drunk. Your cheeks flushed pink and head heavy. Eddie knew with one look. Your body language was entirely different than your usual. Even so, he could see your discomfort towards Andy’s advances. His blood boiled under his skin as he watched him put his hands on you. He didn’t look half as drunk as you were. How fucking dare he think he can take advantage. No way that was happening. Eddie unapologetically shoved through the remainder of the crowd to get to you.

“Eddie?” You were so confused. You weren’t sure if it was really him or some girl with a similar haircut. It took a second for your vision to settle. Wait- Nope, definitely Eddie. “Wh-why are you-“

“Get your fucking hands off her, man.” His voice was low and gravely. Quick and biting. In one forceful motion, he grabbed The arm of Andy’s letterman jacket and ripped his hand off your waist. His sweaty palm leaving a wrinkle on your delicate dress.

“You got a problem, Freak?” Andy stiffened his posture. He turned away from you, giving Eddie his full attention. “Is this your girl?”

As quick as the flick of a lighter, Eddie’s eyes shot to you. There was something there, but you couldn’t read him in your state. “N-No, she-“

“Then I suggest you back off, Freak.” He punctuated the sentence with a shove to Eddie’s leather clad shoulder. But Eddie didn’t flinch. He barely budged. His eyes grew wild and dark. You’d never seen him like this. His nostrils flared and jaw clenched. Andy stepped closer and puffed his chest as if trying to instigate a reaction. You looked down and saw Eddie’s ringed hand curling into a tight fist. He was volatile. You felt like he could take him honestly, but one swing and Eddie would be jumped. Andy would definitely have backup nearby. You weakly placed your hand over his fist.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Get your jacket. I’m taking you home.” You didn’t protest. He continued staring daggers into Andy, refusing to break eye contact.

“You really leaving with this guy, y/n?”

You ignored the question, allowing Eddie to drape your jacket over your exposed shoulders, eyes still locked on Andy. You’d never seen him look so intense or intimidating. It was kinda scary. Andy shook his head in disbelief. Munson had swooped in and stole you right out of his hands. “Whatever.” He huffed. Surprisingly, he let it go and skulked away. It was a relief. Things could’ve gotten messy. As you tried to walk away with your friend, you struggled to keep even footing. Why was it suddenly so hard to walk like a normal person? You nearly tripped over your own feet.

“I got you.” His voice was almost a whisper. He leaned down to drape your arm over his shoulder, his other arm around your waist. Maybe it was because he was familiar or maybe you could feel the difference of intentions, but his touch felt way more comfortable than Andy’s. You could smell his cologne mixed with the smoke of his last cigarette. Weirdly pleasant. “Let’s get you the hell out of here.” You leaned into your friend, the leather of his jacked sticking to your cheek. With closed eyes, you let him guide you back to the van.

————

For a while you drove in silence. You thought maybe he was pissed at you. Every so often you could feel him look at you, but you were too embarrassed to meet his eyes. You imagined the looks he gave you would either rack you with guilt or tear through you like paper. Such an idiot. The alcohol in your system felt amplified in the dark of the van. The road ahead you felt winding and barely recognizable.

“…You okay?” He finally spoke.

“Myeah, I’m fine. Woozy is’all.” You spoke quietly to conserve what energy you felt you had left. The silence overtook the two of you again. You could feel there was something else he wanted to ask, but he almost seemed afraid to.

“…..he didn't….he didn’t like-“ Eddie bit at his thumb and nervously shifted his focus between the road and you.

“No…no, that was as far as it went.” You looked down at the wrinkle on your dress. You wondered what might’ve happened if Eddie hadn’t have shown up when he did. “But I’m glad you were there.”

The air felt heavy with a tension you may have even struggled to grasp while sober. “You were that mad at me?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinched together as he spoke.

“I just wanted to prove you wrong. But I guess I fucked up. Probably ruined your night.”

”Ruined my night? Are you kidding? I got to crash Jason Carver’s house party and leave with the hottest girl there.” His toned lifted to it’s natural state, clearing away some of the edge you felt. He couldn’t have meant that. You smirked and rolled your eyes. “….you do look nice though.” His face softened as he eyed you up and down in your party dress. He had never seen you in something like that. His gaze lingered momentarily on the hem of the skirt, slightly raised, resting against your skin. It wasn’t a hungry look. Still, he quickly pulled his eyes back up to the road as if he was committing sin. “So is this a new look for you?”

“No. After tonight it returns to the back of the closet.” You preferred your jeans and T-shirts. “So…where are we going exactly?”

“Um, I’m taking you back home?”

“Nononono. I can’t do that. I told my parents I was staying with a friend. My dad has a nose like a bloodhound, okay. If-If he catches me sneaking back in, he’ll know right away. I-I can’t.” You we’re in full protest of the idea.

“Well is there somewhere else you can go?”

You thought about his question for a second. The first thing that came to your mind was Maddy. You always thought you’d be attending your first big party together. The two of you crashing at her place afterward. “No.” You admitted, voice sullen and small.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Eddie may not have know the nature of it, but he knew the word was laden. “Tell you what, I gotta stop of for gas. It was a bit of an adventure finding your ass tonight.” He grinned, begrudgingly. “I’ll run in, grab you something to sober you up a little then you can come stay with me. You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor. And as soon as you wake up, I’ll run you back home. ‘Kay?” He’d really do all that? It seemed like such a grand gesture, but he was so casual about it. He was probably still feeling guilty about what happened in the woods.

All at once the heat radiating from the vents changed from pleasant to smothering and sickening.

“Eh-Eddie I don’t feel-“ A slight tremble at the end. His head snapped to you so quick he could’ve got whiplash. The color completely drained from your face. He looked at you in horror. He knew what was coming.

“JESUS CHRIST! Don’t you do it, y/n! DON’T!” He frantically bounced in his seat. The van bounced with him adding to the queasy, fun-house effect stationed on your insides. “D-D-D UHHHH” he stammered. “ROLL THE WINDOW DOWN OR SOMETHING! I am NOT cleaning up after you!”

You clumsily grabbed the window crank on the side of the door. Just as quickly as you let the window done, you shoved your head out. The chilly fall air filled your noise and eased you back from the verge of sweat. The feeling in your stomach slowly began to subside. You breathed in the relief. It smelled like wet leaves and asphalt. You took a moment to appreciate it. Beyond the sound of wind fluttering past your ears, you could hear music. Eye’s Without A Face by Billy Idol played with Eddie inside the van. A bubbly smile found it’s way to you. Maybe it was the alcohol, but life seemed to lose all its heaviness in that moment. You were carefree. Is this what Eddie was trying to get through to you? He watched you from the corner of his eye, smiling to yourself. Hair blowing in the breeze, singing into the wind. He sang along with you.

‘I’m thinking of you. You’re out there, so say your prayers’

Porter Wagoner amuses/terrifies everyone at his birthday party:

Lord, you should’ve seen their frantic faces They screamed and cried, please put away that knife