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Pairings: Eddie Munson x shy!ditzy!fem!reader
Summary: Going to the resident freak of the town for drugs is something you'd never do, but sometimes it's the only way to get close to the boy you've been pining over all year.
Warnings: reader is said to be quite innocent in this. No use of Y/N. mention of a knife. mention of drugs (weed, special k)
Based on this! blurb.
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You were used to seeing him from afar, sneaking glances behind your locker door to catch a glimpse of him through students.
Looking over your shoulder during class to see him at the back, scribbling on his desk with a knife.
Watching him from across the cafeteria as he made a speech or chatted with his club.
You never meant to stare, staring was rude, but there was something about him that fascinated you.
The way his hair was wild and untamed yet looked perfect upon his shoulders.
The way the curve of his smile was teasing yet gentle.
The way his eyes held a sense of mystery that drove you crazy and made your hurt flutter at the same time.
He held a sense of danger and edge that excited you in ways you couldn't explain.
He was wild. Wild in the ways you were not.
You usually kept to yourself most of the time, not as reckless or unapologetic as he was.
You have been at this all year, somewhere between first week of senior year to now, the start of March.
8 months into this obsession you've dug yourself into with the freak of Hawkins High.
No words uttered, no glances shared, not even a bump of the shoulder.
The thought of even going closer than your regular 5-meter radius you've set as your boundary to him terrified you.
If you could just pack up the courage to talk to him like you imagine in your head in class, he would give you the time of day.
You just knew under that scary demeanour of his, he'd be a sweetheart, he had to be.
But a part of you hoped he wouldn't be, wanting him to be like how people say he is. The thought rushed through you with electricity.
You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was the wildfire to your timid wings.
You had to know what he was like in person or it would drive you mad.
So, you find yourself sat at a picnic table right off of the edge of the forest outside of the school.
Bouncing your leg under the table, you realise this was a bad idea.
You had heard of the tales of what he does, what he sells.
Yet you never fully understood what it really meant.
You knew what drugs were, of course. But the terminology and names are what baffled you.
You were watching the trees when you heard a crunch of leaves behind you.
Every hair on your body stood up as you felt him approaching.
This was it.
You were going to talk to him, be face to face.
He's going to be looking at you.
Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic You repeated in your head as you looked behind your shoulder.
There he was, in all of his glory.
He offered you a nod as he circled the table.
"How long have you been out here?" He asked.
Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched.
You had heard his voice before. When mumbling an apology for being late to a teacher. When making a speech at lunch. in passing in the halls.
But this totally, and utterly different.
His voice was clear, louder than you've ever heard, you even noticed the slight rasp as he spoke.
Your brain-short circuited as he sat down opposite you on the table, dropping a metal lunch box on the top as he stripped off his leather jacket.
You hadn't ever seen him without that tight leather jacket.
The one that hugged his stature that was now all yours to view.
He wore a tank top with cut off sleeves. one of those loud aggressive bands he listens to depicted on the front.
His arms were displayed for you to take in, revealing the rough tattoo art on his pale skin that looked so soft you wanted to reach out and-
"-You alright?" He wondered aloud, finally sitting down as he placed his jacket beside the box.
You nodded vigorously as he snapped you out of your daze.
You forgot how to speak.
This was a bad idea. Going to him for drugs? are you kidding? You would never do that.
He tilted his head "You don't need to be nervous. No one comes out here"
You took the time when he opened the box to look at him. Analyse, memorise.
Your mind was blank as you soaked him in.
You could see every line on his skin, every dent and crease.
You noticed his dimples that peeked out on his defined cheeks when he spoke. The slight alone sending a shiver that for some reason followed down to your core.
You counted the freckles on his face and neck, connecting them with invisible lines that created constellations.
You followed the waves of his hair, every curl and fuzz that stuck out.
And when your gaze fell to his plump lips that were parted, you looked away, down at your lap.
"10 minutes..." You muttered.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at you with curiosity.
"What?"
You fiddled with your fingers, finding the hem of your skirt as you forced yourself to speak up to him.
The last thing you wanted to do was waste his time, his precious valuable time.
"I was waiting for 10 minutes..." You replied softly
"Oh- shit," he gaped "If I knew, I would have gotten here sooner"
"it's ok! I like listening to the birds talking!" You beamed, looking up at him again.
He slowly nodded his head as he took a deep breath in, shifting in his seat.
"Right, ok...so what do you want? I got the regular shit, special k if you really wanna feel something. I also just have Marlboros if you don't wanna do all that work" He explained, shuffling around his box.
You blanked, your mind glitching as it struggled to say what he meant.
Here it was. The names and terminology.
You blinked, then blinked again, and again until he cleared his throat.
Puff. You've heard that word somewhat affiliated with whatever he was talking about.
Especially when you're trying to go to the bathroom and there's kids in the stall with paper cylinders in between their fingers, a smelly smoke floating to the vents as they talked amongst themselves.
"This puff is so good" they'd say with a deep growl in their voice.
But you'd never do it, though. You know it's bad and hurtful to your body, But Eddie didn't need to know that.
"I uh-" You stuttered "I just want...puff?"
His eyes narrowed as he pulled out a little bag full of herb-like substances, waving it in his hand.
"Right, puff... so weed?"
You couldn't help but smile giddily, silently swinging your feet back and forth.
"I have weeds in my garden at home!" you exclaimed
You tried to ignore the frown that developed on his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he blinked blankly.
His mouth opened, then closed, stuttering out sounds.
You grew more nervous at his reaction, is what you said wrong?
He closed his eyes, his head moving with something between a nod and a shake, going in a circle.
"Okay...?" he sighs shallowly "Anyway, I do half an ounce for twenty bucks...do you know how to roll it?"
You avoided his gaze as you nodded your head slowly, unsure of yourself.
"Well, I have the rolls. It'd be an extra 10, though"
Your hands trembled as you pretended to find money on your persons.
You never thought that far ahead, to be honest.
You didn't have money, because you weren't going to buy anything.
Your stomach churns as you stare at the baggie in his hands outreached for you.
You feel hot under his gaze, your cheeks warming up until you know they're bright red.
He waits, smacking his lips together, his bottom lip finding his teeth as he bites.
You feel the pressure get to you and your breath shortens.
This really was a huge mistake.
You should have stayed far away from him, stick to your five-meter-away rule.
Maybe if you did. You wouldn't be making a fool of yourself. Embarrassing yourself in front of Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. This was a low for you, considering you usually kept to yourself.
Your eyes always finding him when you felt lonely, wondering what it would be like to be his friend.
You would look back in class to find him when everyone else was talking to their friends around you, and you, having no one to converse with, sought out the comfort of watching the only other silent student in the room.
And when you were sat on the floor, in the corner of the cafeteria, alone, you watched the one person in Hawkins that took care of the 'lost sheep of society'.
There must be a reason he never took you under his wing. You just might be the only 'lost sheep' left, and he never paid you any mind.
You liked to go unnoticed, you wanted to blend in. But sometimes you hated the way you tensed up when people got too close, when they tried talking to you.
You'd word vomit in excitement at first, but then get laughed at calling you things like 'stupid' and 'dumb'
Then you gave up.
"I don't want drugs!" You spoke- more like shouted at him
You were staring at him as he jumped, flinching as you yelled at him.
He looked down and nodded.
You gulped anxiously as he packed up his things, sighing and mumbling to himself, slamming his box shut.
You didn't want him to go, you didn't.
But he was already getting up with a tight smile.
He grabbed his jacket as you struggled to speak. You got up with him and watched as he began walking away.
"I- I wanted to talk to you!" you stuttered, struggling to speak as you felt your limbs stiffen.
He stopped walking.
-
Eddie stopped by his locker 4th period, skipping maths with Mr Langway, he was a shit teacher, and Eddie would rather be out under the bleachers smoking a blunt.
He barely noticed the little piece of paper that fell from his compartment, flowing to the floor with ease.
He contemplated with himself, it was usually notes from the jocks, talking shit and writing insults they can rarely spell correctly.
But he crouched down anyway, picking it up.
He frowned, reading, then couldn't help but laugh.
Drugs?
It read. simple, ease in neat writing. That was it. No time or signature.
He looked around the hall because he's never had that type of request.
Eddie would usually be sought out after. Approached by dickheads looking for their fix.
He's never, ever been given a note, especially in a glitter pen that's now recognised in the lighting of the school corridor.
He shrugged it off.
It was only when he folded it up when he noticed more.
3:20pm written on the back.
Whatever for money. Eddie thought to himself.
-
"I- I wanted to talk to you!"
Eddie stopped dead.
Slowly, he turned back around.
And for the first time since he’d shown up, he didn’t feel intimidating.
He felt… confused.
And weirdly nervous.
Which was not a feeling Eddie Munson was used to at all.
So he didn’t say anything.
He just stood there, jacket half on, lunchbox hanging loose in his hand, staring at you like if he moved too fast he’d scare you off for good.
You stood frozen too, eyes wide, like you hadn’t expected him to actually stop. Like that sentence had taken everything out of you and now there was nothing left.
Okay, he thought. Don’t rush it. Don’t be loud. Don’t be you.
Easier said than done.
Seconds passed. Maybe only two. Maybe ten. Time did weird things when Eddie’s brain started spiralling.
You shifted your weight, fingers twisting together, gaze glued to the ground. Your shoulders were tight, drawn in, like you were bracing for him to laugh.
He didn’t.
He waited.
Because something in his chest.
Something he didn’t have a name for yet; told him this was fragile. That whatever this was, you’d built it up carefully, nervously, probably for longer than he could guess.
He swallowed.
Say something, his brain urged. Do the charming thing. The joke. The grin.
But he didn’t want to bulldoze this. Not when you looked like you might shatter.
Finally, you took a small breath.
"I just…" you started, then stopped, clearly flustered by the sound of your own voice.
"I didn’t really want- I mean, I didn’t come for-" You waved your hand vaguely, like the words refused to line up properly.
Eddie’s heart gave an odd little thump.
Oh.
He relaxed his shoulders, setting the lunchbox down on the table instead of holding it like a shield. He took a step back, giving you space, making himself less… looming.
He stayed quiet, letting you finish.
"I just wanted an excuse," you admitted softly, cheeks flushing. "To talk to you."
There it was.
The confession landed quietly but hit him hard.
Eddie blinked.
Once. Twice.
Me? his brain echoed, deeply unhelpful. You picked me?
A laugh bubbled up in his chest, not because it was funny, but because it was unreal. Of all the reasons people approached him;
Fear, curiosity, desperation, this was not one he’d ever prepared for.
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how warm his face felt.
"Uh- I'm a little...confused?"
The second the words left his mouth, he saw your expression drop.
"Well, I um- I think you're really fascinating!" You beamed, then shook your head "not fascinating as in you're like...a test subject and I'm trying to pick at your weird brain- I mean like, the cool kind!"
That one got him.
Not like an insult. Like a small, unexpected bruise.
Eddie frowned, not angry, just… thoughtful. He looked at you again, really looked this time. The way you stood like you were trying to take up as little space as possible. The way you kept glancing up at him like you were checking if it was still okay that you existed here.
"Never heard that before" he spoke light-heartedly
You looked up at him, mumbling to himself.
"I feel like there was easier ways to talk to me?" He teased, trying to ease your nerves that he can basically feel radiating off of you.
"I didn't think you'd want to.." you shrugged, kicking your feet in the crunchy leaves on the ground.
"Well, I'm all about taking little lost sheep under my wing" Eddie joked- Or attempted to. It seemed to land wrong when he watched you physically deflate.
Your lips twitched, caught between embarrassment and a laugh.
"You never really found me...but it's ok!"
He felt his heart drop. You sounded so weak but so happy at the same time.
He really wonders why he's never seen you before, but he's glad you came to him now.
"I'm sorry..."
"It's ok! I was too scared, you know. because I really like you!"
And Eddie?
Eddie felt something warm bloom in his chest.
Flattered. Yeah.
More than flattered.
Like him?
Like him?
You like him?
There was no way.
It took a second to register.
When it did, Eddie froze in the most ungraceful way possible, mouth parting just a bit as his brain fully blue-screened.
Wow.
The pace of his heart quickened, spiralling off the charts, if he was going to be honest.
Girls don't like him. That was one thing he knew for sure.
His mouth opened, then closed again. Nothing came out. Great. Fantastic. Real smooth.
You shifted again, suddenly looking like you wished you could crawl into the dirt and live there forever.
"I— I mean, not in a weird way," you rushed out, cheeks flaming. "I just think you’re really nice and funny and you always look like you care about people...and you're- You're really pretty"
That… did not help his composure.
Eddie swallowed hard.
pretty?
That was another word no one ever used for him.
His heart was doing something stupid in his chest now.
Too fast, too loud. He scratched at his jaw, eyes flicking away from you for half a second like he needed to reboot himself somewhere safer.
When he looked back, his grin was gone. Not replaced with anything scary, just honest. A little stunned. A little soft around the edges.
“You… like me,” he repeated slowly, more to himself than to you, like saying it out loud might make it make sense.
You nodded, small and earnest. “Yeah.”
Jesus Christ.
"You think I'm pretty?"
You hummed along with his questions "Yeah..."
Eddie let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head once.
"Okay," he said, voice low and almost disbelieving. !Okay, wow. Uh. That’s-that’s new"
You winced, immediately apologetic. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything-"
"-No," he cut in quickly, instinctively. Too quick. He gentled his tone right after. "No, don’t- don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong."
He shifted closer to the table again, grounding himself with it, like the solid wood might keep him from floating away entirely.
"I’m just… surprised," he admitted. "In a good way."
Very good way, his brain added, unhelpfully.
He glanced at you again, really taking you in now- noticing how open your expression was, how nervous but sincere you sounded. You weren’t playing a joke. You weren’t daring yourself. You weren’t mocking him.
You were just… telling the truth.
And that hit him harder than anything else.
Eddie watched as the blush formed on your cheeks, it was cute, in all honesty.
People were shy with him all of the time, out of fear or uncertainty.
You were so much more.
"So... you wanna talk to me?" he found himself smiling.
"uh-huh!" you giggled. "You really want to?"
Eddie's never wanted to hear something more than your laugh.
Screw drugs, you're messing with his head.
"Of course I do. I gotta figure out what's wrong with you for you to like all this" He gestured to himself with a teasing smile.
You basically jumped in glee as you almost pranced on him.
Throwing your hands around him, you pulled him in an embrace.
Surely this isn't happening Eddie thought to himself as he pinched his arm.
He felt overwhelmed, to say the least. But it felt...good.
Nice.
He could smell your sweet perfume as you wrapped your hands around his torso.
He's never had a stronger sense of smell until now when he leaned closer.
Honey, raspberry and Blossoms, cherry.
So sweet, teeth rotting-ly sweet.
So you, and he barely even knows you.
He has to know you.
Wrapping his hands gently around your frame, he hears your breath hitch, slowly pulling away just enough for you to realise what you've done.
"Sorry" You mumbled, turning even more red than you were before. your ears glowing pink behind your hair.
"For what?" He murmured in question.
He couldn't hear your next words as you reached up and let your fingertips curl around the edges of his hair.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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requested! — post s4/ pre s5 fluff w/ lite angst blurb! — 1.4k words
It had been a month since the quarantine had started, and a very long month at that. The military had just started their operation to overlay the fresh cracks in the earth with giant steel plates. A band-aid right on top of an open wound.
The party was still getting their footing, scared for when Vecna would strike next. Max was still in the hospital, her body on the mend while she remained deep in a coma. You would often join your brother or Steve to visit her, hoping that even her silent presence would fill the hole that Max’s curse had left. Steve had really stepped up to be there for Lucas through the defeat. It was clear that he blamed himself for that night, for Jason finding them in the Creel house.
To say that the last month had been draining would be putting it politely — but life moved on. The military had created a regulatory schedule including a strict curfew for Hawkins. From sun up to sun down, civilians were free to roam the town, excluding the MAC-Z in the center of downtown. School had even reopened, trying to provide the remaining children of Hawkins with an education and hope that normalcy would return. The people of Hawkins slowly returned to their regular jobs or chose to volunteer for the humanitarian organizations that brought in rations from the outside world. You wondered whether the eyes of the nation were focused on the insanity that had racked your once-small town, or if they had found a new tragedy to focus on.
The knock of the doorway caught your attention, derailing your thoughts. You lifted your gaze from the manual you had been reading to where Steve stood in the entryway of the WSQK green room. He held a soda in both hands and flashed you an easy smile, approaching your side.
This was your new normal. After Robin discovered that her favorite radio DJ had skipped town, leaving the station abandoned, the town committee needed new employees to manage the public airwaves. Steve and Robin were fresh out of a job with Family Video, choosing to shut down the Hawkins store. Plus, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and you would all be graduating high school and still be stuck in Hawkins until the gate was closed.
So it was decided that your ragtag group would run the station and utilize it as a base of operations to locate Vecna. Dustin, your younger brother, led the charge in establishing a comms system, but that meant you needed to learn what every part of that tower did.
“Studying up?” Steve asked as he offered you the cold soda.
“Trying too. You never know what could happen, and at least one of us should know how all this works in case Dustin’s busy,” You rambled off with an explanation.
Steve chuckled, his eyes flicking over your face in admiration, “Well, why don’t you take a break? The manual will still be here later, and you can fry your brain trying to become an engineer then. But I just found another box of records to sort through. New releases that arrived at the station before everything went to shit.”
You smiled as you took a half step closer. Steve took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you against his side.
“Fine, fine. I’ll help you with the music library,” Your tone full of playful mirth, though you were content to spend some time together. It had been hard to just have some quality time as a couple before all the craziness took over.
Both of you stood at the table, sorting through a cardboard box to alphabetize the new singles. Prince, Bowie, Tiffany – new additions to the extensive catalog. Steve picked out one of the records at random, pulling George Michael’s Faith.
“Oh, is that your new fave?” You asked, with a warm smile, at his pleased expression.
His smile morphed into confusion. “Um, no? You love George Michael.”
“No, I love Wham!” You corrected him, moving your attention to the actual task.
While you thumbed through the records, Steve set the single aside. One large hand settled on his hip, perplexed and brow pinched, “Same thing. You like George Michael.”
“Totally not the same thing,” You scoffed at his lack of discernment between the two, “George Michael is great, and I love that single, but I still prefer Wham! I think George is finding his sound outside of what the band was.”
“Jesus, you sound like Eddie when he corrects me on Black Zeppelin,” Steve sighed, dragging a hand over his face in exasperation.
“I think you’re trying to say Black Sabbath,” you cringed a little at his lack of musical knowledge, but at least your boyfriend would agree to listen to anything once. Your eyes danced over his confused expression, “Why do you think George Michael is my favorite artist?”
“Um… Dustin mentioned you and your mom listening to it to cheer up, and you’ve asked Robin to queue it a few times. So I made note that this was your favorite song,” Steve explained, attempting not to sound like the worried boyfriend he was, “Y’know, just in case.”
Neither of you needed to elaborate — you both knew what ‘just in case’ meant. Steve beat himself up every day about Max, and he was determined to keep you and everyone else in the party from the same fate.
You gave him a sympathetic smile, stepping closer to his side, “That’s really sweet, y’know.”
Steve bashfully shook his head, moving his hand to rub soothing circles against your upper back, “Figured you’d do the same for me.”
“Oh, of course. I don’t think your Tears for Fears cassette has seen the light of day since you first put it in your car,” You affectionately teased him, not wanting to burst his bubble just yet.
“Haha, yeah, you’ve got me figured out,” He hummed, taking a moment to simply admire you in the moment. Steve tucked your hair behind your ear. “So what is your favorite song?”
Your eyes drifted back over the singles, knowing that you wouldn’t find it there. Because your favorite song wasn’t the latest hit from this summer or even last. Music had a way of sticking with you, even if the rest of the world changed. Your eyes trailed back up to meet Steve’s, giving him a gentle smile before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
“Thank you, but if that’s an avoidant tactic, it’s not gonna work,” Steve hummed, tugging you half an inch closer by your belt loop, “Tell me. I won’t laugh – promise. Mike likes The Butthole Surfers, so I don’t think it gets much worse than that.”
After mulling it over a moment longer, you admitted with an exasperated sigh, “Well… my favorite song is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper.”
Steve blinked, not completely shocked but a little stunned at the information, “That cheesy ballad we danced to at Prom?”
“Cyndi Lauper is not cheesy,” You swiftly corrected him with a glare, “And… yes, it is.”
His signature smirk stretched across his lips, “You are such a sap. I can’t even believe it. Time After Time? Really?”
“Really,” you nodded, exasperated by his need for explanation, “It was just… We had just started kind of dating, and you were there. Not just my rom date, but my boyfriend who went dress shopping with me and bought a matching tie and sneaking a flask of your dad’s liquor — it was the perfect night. And then you won Prom King and refused to dance with Tammy Thompson, even though she rightfully won Prom Queen.”
“Because why dance with Tammy Thompson when I’ve got you,” Steve chuckled, reaching to intertwine your fingers, “I stopped caring about winning Prom King after the demodogs. Was shocked I was still nominated.”
“You’re still Steve Harrington, need I remind you?” You teased him, recalling a version of Steve you hadn’t known in a long time now.
“Sure, sure. I’m Steve Harrington to Hawkins,” His brown eyes held intense focus on your own, “But I’m happy here just being your Steve. Which makes us both saps, I guess.”
“You’ve always been a sap,” Your lips twisted into a loving smile before pressing a kiss to his cheek, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Steve nodded in agreement, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
@cha0ticstranger | like, roblog & comment if you enjoyed 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
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I wanna talk about Steve's soft tummy about the fuzzy hairs there and how soothing and calming it would be to kiss at it, at the moles and bite it, take the little layer of fat between your teeth and leave cute little marks on it ☹️
sighs. yeah. i’m so weak.
you’re in bed, head on his chest, peaking up at him as he sleeps:) he’s so peaceful and pretty like this, hair a mess, hands still gripping onto you, face relaxed. and you feel him start to stir, feel his breathing stutter then gradually grow deeper. and a small smile comes over your face at the prospect of seeing his pretty, sleepy eyes:) and his arms grip you a little tighter and a deep groan bubbles in the back of his throat, and before he has the chance to open his eyes at you, you shimmy a little further down, over his navel, rubbing the pads of your fingers under the hem of his ratty, old t-shirt, just above the waistband of his boxers. you just brush your fingers there at first, to acclimate him to your touch, and then you’re gently pushing up his shirt to get a look at his tummy and his happy trail and the little moles on his hips where they peak out above his boxers:) and you rub your nose there for a second, waiting for him to feel it:) and he does almost immediately, mewling a little and pushing a hand into your hair:) you can feel his eyes on you now:) and then you press your lips over the little hairs there:) one kiss, then two, then a tentative brush of your tongue, then you peak up at him. and he’s looking down at you like…. like he can’t believe you’re in his bed right now. and then he smiles so soft and gives you a little “hi:)” and you can’t stand how adorable he is when he’s all groggy in the morning:) you hum, taking his skin between your teeth just a little, enough to make him feel it but not enough where it hurts, and you bite just a little, just enough to see the indents of your teeth. you’re still making eye contact, and he gives you a teasing little “hey! what was that for?” before pulling you up to meet his lips. your thumb still runs over the little indents you left as you smile into his kiss:) and he rubs his nose against yours— it’s a little, wordless ‘hey pretty’ and once you pull back for air and nuzzle into his neck, you mumble a soft “g’morning” into the hot skin there, and he holds you just a bit tighter<3
