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deal with the devil: chapter three

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

fic summary: you want to piss off your parents. eddie wants to pass his classes. so you make a deal with each other: he’ll date you, you’ll tutor him, and you’ll both end the year happy. the catch? no falling in love. slow burn romance, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating, don’t fall in love. fic takes place in 1984-85. inspired by 18 by anarbor.

chapter summary: you and eddie get ready for the party. once you get there, you enjoy yourselves -- maybe a little too much -- then come home to break the news to your parents.

warnings: this series in 18+, minors dni! afab reader. reader is 18 with an august birthday, eddie is 19. reader is mean and eddie is mean right back. reader has a controlling father. nsfw. masturbation (m, not explicit but heavily suggestive), grinding, hickeys, some sexually suggestive language. mentions of drug use. reader gets injured trying to do eddie's hair, but no blood. mentions of a twisted ankle and vomit. mentions of eddie being poor.

a/n: finally! enjoy <3

taglist: @boo22sstuff@stevieharringtonswife@feminist-mina-harker@josephquinnlover0@stydia-4-ever@babeyglo@sidthedollface2@dont-get-upset@daleyeahson@munsonswrld@faggotinie@mysticalavenuecheesecake@junggoku@yeehawbitchs @mopeymopeymouse @ashh22 @katie-tibo @aysheashea@peachteastudiess@meadow20@disaster-in-waiting@marymunsonloves@dont-bother-me-please@all-will-be-well-love @imtryingahh @n0x-m0rtis@siriusly-rem-writes@foodpills@likeficsinthewnd @nadixm@spookycreepycookie @hiscrimsonangel @anabitchskywalker @adequate-superstar @kissylovie @@kaitebugg03 @@tlclick73 @munsonsuccubus @neobanguniverse @vintagehellfire @mysticalcookieslimecrossant @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @eddiesprincess86 @hallison67 @anxietymonstress @metalhead-succubus @cherry-333 @siriuslysmoking @lolalanaie @soanxiousimcalm @baileythebaddy @javsan @@glossiepjm @gracieluvthemoon @@kellzlib @blue-eyed-lion @starrch1ld @zoeymunson @tayfs-blog1 @unnoticeableparadox @alexa4040 @hargrovesswifee @that-gay-snail @psychicfanpoetry @ebonybloom

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chapter three: the party

You'd never seen so many mugs in your life. Or walls so yellow from the nicotine air, a car so old and rusted on the lawn, or such a heinous amount of ballcaps. Ever.

As if reading your mind -- or maybe your twisted expression -- Eddie tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and turned to you with a shrug.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to come here."

"Yeah, but I was expecting a house. You know, with a foundation instead of wheels?"

Eddie shucked his vest and jacket, then hung them over a kitchen chair. "You have no idea how expensive a house is, do you?"

It was your turn to shrug. You tossed your bag onto the couch and crossed your arms.

"Okay, show me your closet."

Eddie gestured for you to follow him down a short hall. You tried not to frown when you entered his bedroom. A hand-painted canvas poster for Corroded Coffin overwhelmed the room, second to the unmade bed at the centre. Clothes, cassette tapes, and soda cans were strewn across all surfaces -- including the floor. You had to tiptoe over and around them.

"This is where the magic happens," Eddie told you with a chuckle. Despite the terrible joke, he had a cocky grin on his face.

You wrinkled your nose and picked up a tiny figurine -- a little knight. "I'm sure you show your hand a very good time."

Eddie scowled and folded his arms over his chest. "Just pick some clothes so we can get going."

You set the figurine down and picked your way to his dresser. The top drawer contained shirts.

"Do you own anything that doesn't have a band name on it?" you asked after a moment rummaging through his collection.

"Plain black or plain white, with stains. Down at the bottom."

The black one had a hole in the collar, and he hadn't lied about the stains on the white one; some kind of tomato sauce, by the colour of it. You held them up.

"Why don't you throw these out, if you can't wear them in public?"

"First, if I wear my vest, I can hide the stains on the white one. Second, that black one is fine. Third, I can't afford to just toss my clothes and buy new ones, Princess."

He spat the last word. Right. No more comments about money. You stuffed the shirts back into the depths and finally picked out a Black Sabbath shirt -- not the one with the devil baby on it, like Eddie asked, but the one with the grim reaper staring over a pentacle with candles. You threw it over to him. Eddie caught it, then reached over his head to pull his Hellfire shirt off.

"Whoa!" you squeaked, covering your eyes. "Wait until I leave."

"Aw, she's shy." Eddie smirked and whipped the shirt off. He was pale, less gangly than you'd expected. There were bits of black ink over his heart, but you tore your eyes away too soon to make out what it was.

"Glad to see you're so comfortable around me," you muttered. You shut the first drawer and moved onto the second, searching for a decent pair of jeans.

"You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and you're laying it on very thick. Where did that kiss come from?"

"What kiss?"

You fought not to frown. He'd forgotten already? "This morning, when you came in. Late."

"I said I was sorry, and I bought you candy. And now I'm even stripping for you." He put the shirt on then undid his belt, swaying his hips in a terrible attempt at being seductive. Even he knew how awful it was; he was snickering as he whipped the belt from its loops and threw it onto the bed.

"Oh, wonderful, I get to see your pasty nipples and two chest hairs."

"Um, there's three, actually."

"Please don't take off your pants until I find you another pair. I don't want to see your hairy man thighs."

Eddie snorted. "Man thighs," he mumbled, grinning. "And anyway, as for the kiss, I figured it'd really seal the deal. Y'know, make it believable? And judging by all the jealous looks I got from basically every guy I encountered today, I'd say it worked."

You smiled as you fished out a pair of dark, flared jeans that looked like they'd hug his ass just right. You let him keep his little skull hanky, as a reward for waiting until you turned around to finish changing.

"Please tell me you have boots or something. Docs? Chucks?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, put them on. What about a hairbrush?"

Eddie met your gaze with wide, almost fearful eyes.

"Why?"

"Because there's no way I'm going to that party with someone with knots in their hair. You look like a five-year-old girl who refuses to let her mom brush her hair."

"If you brush it, you'll break the brush."

"Is that so?"

It was. You and Eddie crowded into the little bathroom, Eddie with a brush in one hand and a comb in the other, you with bobby pins in your mouth, one hand wrangling his hair -- why was there so much of it? How? -- and the other spreading an elastic, the last one having snapped under pressure.

"You're gonna tear my scalp off," Eddie whined as you wet your hands in the sink to try and tame the frizz.

"Stop being a baby. You're lucky I'm not using hair gel."

"What are you doing, anyway?"

You spat out the bobby pins onto the counter. "Putting it into a low ponytail, so that when we dance I don't end up puking up a hairball."

"You plan on getting that close, huh?"

"Never danced with a girl, Edward?" You grit your teeth, twisting the hair tie around his thick hair. "Yes, I plan on getting that close to you. You want an extra pair of underwear to soak up the jizz or something?"

Eddie hooted. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk like that."

"That's because your hair is making me lose my mind. Aha!"

You stepped back, his hair finally in a decent, low pony. It only lasted for a second before the elastic snapped. Your eyes squeezed shut out of instinct, but it was too late. You felt a harsh stinging just under your left eye, and clapped a hand over it.

"Fuck!" you squealed. "Fucking fuck!"

Hot tears sprang to your eyes, eager to wash out the irritant that wasn't there. Had you cut your eyeball? The thought made your stomach turn.

Eddie's hands were on your waist. He lifted you without effort and placed you on the corner of the counter.

"Okay, you're okay, just take your hand away." His fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled a little. You let him take your hand from your eye, which was still screwed shut. "You gotta open your eyes for me, baby. C'mon, can you do that?"

"I-If I open my eyes, m-my m-mascara's gonna run."

You heard Eddie tear some toilet paper off the roll. A moment later, he touched a folded edge under your injured eye, then handed you another folded piece for the other. You placed it blindly.

"Okay, open."

You blinked, a couple of tears falling. Your injured eye tried to stay shut.

When your vision cleared, you could see Eddie peering down at you. He tenderly wiped your eye, taking care to dab at your lashes. The paper came back smeared with black.

"Well, it didn't hit your eye. It hit right under it and left a little mark."

"A mark?" You turned to look in the mirror. It was less than an inch long, but there it was right on the edge of your cheekbone. It was already fading.

He met your gaze in the reflection. "Maybe this is a sign we should give up and just go to the party. If you still want to go, that is."

You sniffled, forcing your tears back. "Please. Back during freshman year I twisted my ankle in the middle of a cheer routine, but I waited until the routine was finished and I'd gotten back to the locker room to tell anyone I was hurt. I can handle a little sting."

Before Eddie could say anything, you hopped down from the sink. "Go grab your stash and let's go."

\

Eddie had been right: rich kids loved drugs. He didn't have any hard stuff -- no coke, no meth, no heroin. But he had pot, shrooms, ketamine, and plenty of painkillers. Your bank account would feel it, after you made up for his new discount for your friends, but it was worth it. As long as he provided the goods and didn't ogle any of the girls, they'd accept him. They were too high to care.

Which meant they could swallow their snickers and snide comments while he held your hips and pulled your ass up against his crotch, lips on your neck, both of you smothered by the people surrounding you.

"Keep your hands right there," you warned when his slender fingers snuck through the belt loops of your pants. Nobody else could hear you under the thudding base.

"Is that what your boyfriend would do? Hm?" He nudged at the shell of your ear with his nose. "I'm just trying to play the part."

You rolled your eyes but plastered on a smile. "Just keep kissing my neck."

"Oh, is that what feels good?"

You could feel the smirk on his lips. You reached up behind you, sliding your fingers through his hair. Maybe it was a good thing that the hair elastics broke. You tugged, hard, when you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.

"Edward! Don't leave a hickey."

"Daddy wouldn't like that, would he?" He chuckled when your grip loosened. "That's what I thought. Let me mark you up, so he and everyone else'll know who you belong to."

"Easy there," you murmured, out of breath. Maybe you were getting tired.

Eddie sucked a bruise onto your throat. Then another, just a few inches away. You shut your eyes, pretending to enjoy it for onlookers. Letting the moment envelop you. The heat of everyone dancing around you. The stench of smoke and weed and alcohol and perfume. His cologne. His strong hands on your hips. His hard on rubbing against your ass. His mouth, the pinch of his teeth opposed to the gentle heat of his tongue and he soothed the skin he just sucked.

"Should we go upstairs?" he asked, voice low despite the fact that nobody else could hear you.

"We've been dating for one day. I don't want them calling me a slut."

"How are you a slut if you only sleep with me? Unless you've roped other guys into this scheme of yours." He squeezed your hips -- possessively? He really knew how to sell it.

You opened your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I thought you wanted a bad boy, Princess. Bad boys don't date good girls. And if they do, they don't stay good for very long."

You couldn't argue with that. And you weren't loving being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty teens grinding against each other. You took his hand and dragged him upstairs to the primary, which had its own bathroom attached. You locked the door and immediately went to the ensuite, where you checked your makeup. You had marks all up and down your throat. You smirked. Your dad was gonna hate it.

"This room is the size of my whole trailer," you heard him mutter in astonishment.

"It's a waste of space. I hear Sarah's parents don't even sleep together anymore. Her dad's always going on business trips and her mom likes the pool boy, if she's awake and not wasted."

"Yikes."

"Agreed." You reapplied your gloss, plumped your lips, and walked back out. Eddie stood there, looking around, an obvious tent in his pants. "Jesus, can't you think about old ugly ladies or dead puppies or something?"

"'Scuse me?"

You pointed at his crotch. "To get rid of that. If you walk out hard as a rock they'll think we didn't do anything."

"The old ladies and dead puppies trick never worked for me."

"You get off on that kind of stuff?"

"I'm not that much of a freak. No, just... doesn't stop anything."

You pointed over your shoulder to the ensuite. "Go on, then. Take care of it."

Splotches of pink coloured Eddie's cheeks. "You want me to...?"

"Masturbate, Edward, you can say it. I'll stay here and mess up the sheets. I won't listen or peek, I promise."

"Aw, and here I thought I'd put on a show for you." Eddie stepped around you.

"Just be quick," you said as he shut the door. "N-Not too quick, though!"

"Obviously." His voice was muffled by the door.

Quiet settled over the room, despite the thrum of people and music outside. You ruffled up the sheets, tearing the coverlet off, throwing it back on. You moved the pillows around.

"... Fuck..."

You stiffened. His voice was hoarse, heavy with desire. You swallowed hard and continued to mess up the bed. But not... so loudly that you couldn't hear him. Your whole body heated up at the very thought. No, you weren't listening to him. Much. But your last boyfriend -- the only one you'd had, and had kept secret from your parents -- had just grunted and groaned when he came. No lead-up, no moans, no --

"Oh... shit..."

No that. You strained to listen to his breath picking up its pace. The bathroom was blessedly empty, which made even the softest sounds echoed. Wait, blessedly? No, this was weird. You weren't supposed to be listening to this.

"Oh, God..." His breath hitched, and you had to squeeze your thighs together the relieve the ache.

The ache that you had ignored ever since you'd felt him brush up against you downstairs. Since he'd squeezed your hips and sucked at your neck.

You heard the rush of water as he ran the sink for about thirty seconds. Then the door opened. You busied yourself finishing up your little creation.

"What do you think?" you asked, immediately turning the topic away from the one in your head.

"The sheets are a little too clean, but it's the best we can do."

"Ew."

You turned in time to see Eddie shrug his shoulders. His cheeks were still a little pink from... exertion. You turned away and grabbed your clutch.

"Okay, are we done here?"

"I mean, it's been ten minutes. I kind of want to make a better impression than that."

"Fine. Fifteen. Then you're taking me home."

Eddie gave a "whatever you say" nod and slumped back onto the bed, ruining it a little more.

You spent the next five minutes re-reapplying your lip gloss. You'd bitten it off without realizing.

\

Eddie had refused to drink more than one beer so he'd be sober enough to drive. By the time he pulled up to your driveway, it was five minutes past midnight. The porch and living room lights were on. You grinned.

"Good, they're up. You wanna walk me to the door?"

"I don't think so." He took out a cigarette and lit it. "I don't meet the parents after the first date."

"But you sleep with the girl."

"Of course. Come on, lean closer, let's get the smell of smoke on you. Then you can break who dropped you home to him."

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" you laughed, leaning closer as he said.

Eddie blew the smoke around you, careful not to get it directly in your face. "I mean, I've dated girls who used me to piss off their parents before. They just neglected to tell me that was their plan."

"What?"

"Yeah, so I'm kind of used to this whole song and dance. At least you're honest with me."

You nodded, but you couldn't help feeling a little bad for Eddie. You'd hate to get into a relationship, maybe even get invested, only for the person to say that they didn't actually like you and were just using you. But the resigned way in which Eddie had told you about it... It was almost as if he was used to it.

Once Eddie was finished smoking, he tossed the butt out the window and rolled it back up.

"Turn a little for me. Into the light." Eddie touched your jaw, pushing you to the right angle so that your cheek was in the lamplight. "Okay, looks like the mark's faded."

"Why do you care so much?"

"I want your dad to think I'm a badass, not someone who beats up women." He let go of your jaw. "See you Monday?"

"Sunday, actually. We're going to start your lessons."

Eddie groaned and let his forehead fall against the steering wheel. "I hate school. Why're you making me do it on Sunday?"

"Because we have a worksheet due on Monday."

"We do?"

Oh, God. This was going to take a lot of work. You undid your seatbelt and opened the door. A chilly breeze wafted in.

"Wait," Eddie said, and shrugged out of his jacket. He handed it over to you. "Here, I got another at home. Might not be fashionable or whatever, but your parents will hate it."

You took it and tossed it over your shoulders. It smelled like smoke and cologne. And he'd been wearing it when he'd -- You shook the thought from your head as you shut the car door and walked up the driveway. Eddie waited until you'd shut the front door behind you before he drove off.

"What time do you call this?" You dad's voice came from the living room, where he and your mother were sitting up in their pajamas.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Twelve oh-eight. Which is pretty good, considering the party is still going on."

Your dad gawped at you, mouth open, ready to tear into you for that attitude. But your mother spoke first.

"Whose jacket is that?"

You pulled it a little closer around you. "Eddie's."

Your dad narrowed his eyes. "Eddie? Eddie who?"

You took a deep breath. This was going to work -- there's no way it couldn't. You were just worried about just how angry they would be. You exhaled.

"Eddie Munson. My boyfriend."

now I’m reading alien fanfiction and I LOVED IT

I enjoyed the change in pov. the feelings being written, I just loved it 🫶

A Hundred Nights More

Characters:  Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW:  Yearning; talk of sexual relations but no graphic smut; 18+ to be safe.

Word Count:  3440

Other Pieces:  This is a sequel to this.

It should be strange, leaving Earth with the Yautja.  You go willingly this time, no baffling falling through the sky after being kidnapped as prey.

The entire time you pack a few bags, your brain keeps asking, this should be strange, right?  Isn’t this strange?  Why doesn’t it feel strange?

Keep reading

This was completely tooth-rottenly sweet!! So cute😭🫶🫶

eddie x shy!r

she asks him to be her partner in front of the entire class not caring who sees

thanks so much for your request, anon! i changed this up a bit (instead of a whole class it's in front of hellfire) but i hope you like it!! (2k)

You don’t think a person’s hands have ever been so sweaty. 

You try wiping them off your jeans, but they just get clammy all over again. 

Your fingers feel like ice, and they tingle with an anxiety-induced numbness. Every time you try to bend them, it hurts. You can’t catch your breath, either. It feels like a big flower has bloomed behind your ribcage, making your stomach feel fluttery and your lungs constricted.

You always knew high school crushes felt bigger than they really were, but since when did they feel like this? 

Were you the first girl to experience heart palpitations over a curly-headed boy, or was Eddie the special one? Which one of you was the problem? You don’t have the answer to either, to anything — just an Eddie Munson shaped hole where your heart’s supposed to be.

The west wing of the high school was totally empty, and many of the lights were shut off accordingly. A few dimly lit auxiliary bulbs illuminate your path to the Hellfire room. Eddie said he’d be waiting for you there. 

When you asked him if he was free to talk after school, you figured he thought it was about club business. It checks out. You’ve spent a year fawning over the boy, but it’s not like you’ve made a single move that would lead him to assume so. 

You weren’t a good talker, but you were a great observer — the best observer of Eddie Munson.

Honestly, you don’t mind talking to him in the club room. Anywhere free from prying eyes is perfect, you figure. It means that — if he ultimately turns you down — you can live in the embarrassment that only Eddie had to see you break down into tears. 

And maybe the few friends he tells when he makes fun of you for it after. 

And all the people those friends tell.

Oh, god… Maybe this was a terrible idea—

No. Nope. You can’t start thinking like that. You’ve already come too far. If you start second-guessing, the entire thing collapses.

You wipe your hands again. They’re sweaty by the time you knock on the door.

You think you hear muffled voices from inside the room, far more than just one, but it opens before you have too much time to dwell on it.

Eddie swings open the door. Of course. He’d be the one expecting you, after all. 

He’s still in the same clothes he was wearing earlier that day, baggy jeans and a Hellfire tee. He’s forgone the leather jacket, though. Maybe because he’s all but radiating the heat of being trapped in a small room with a bunch of teenage boys. The warm air wafts into the hallway — cologne, potato chips, and boyhood.

His hair has gotten more wild with the progression of the day. His curls are frizzier, sitting in an untamed chestnut halo on his head. If you had to guess, you think he must’ve been swinging his head back and forth like he was at a metal concert just moments before. It would explain the blousy hair and reddened cheeks.

Eddie leans against the doorway, one ringed hand clutching the doorknob. “Hey,” he greets coolly, grinning at you sweeter than anyone deserves to be looked at.

“Hi,” you sigh, already breathless at the sight of him. You attempt your own smile, but it’s barely there and wavers with your lack of courage.

“I, uh— I know I said I’d be done with Hellfire by now, but these shitheads are crazy greedy—”

“Rude!” you hear a voice shout from the back of the room. Dustin’s, maybe.

“—And they are keeping me against my will, so...”

Eddie tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles at you. It borders on sarcasm and sincerity, like the club really did keep him longer than he intended but that he doesn’t mind as much as he says he does.

“Oh…” you murmur, trying to smile back.

Your eyes flit over his shoulder and further into the room. It’s lit up by the same orange string lights you saw on clearance at Melvald’s the other day, threaded haphazardly across the expanse of the ceiling. It lights the room in a daunting amber hue, perhaps made more intimidating by the five faces you find staring back at you.

Your racing heart plummets to your stomach.

You’d been looking for a reason not to do this all day, and now that you’ve got one, you’re wildly disappointed by it.

Eddie, seemingly able to gauge your crestfallen disposition, perks up to comfort you. He drops his boyish grin and goes wide-eyed. His shoes squeak as he takes a stumbled step toward you. “But, um, if you still wanna talk, we can talk. Or, you know, if you wanna sit in until we’re done, then—”

“Yeah, maybe you can sub in for Jeff,” one of them laughs. You think it might be Gareth.

“Asshole!” the boy in question curses.

“I’m just saying, it’s not your night. I think you could use the extra help.”

You hear a muffled slap followed by a burst of laughter.

Eddie looks over his shoulder. “Can you assholes shut up for two seconds?”

The laughter doesn’t cease, but it does go muffled as the boys try to fight their chuckles back.

“Sorry about them…” the wild-haired boy mutters when he turns back to you, head low and almost shy. “They can be real idiots sometimes, but they’re harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know how to play,” you confess with a faint laugh, shifting your weight on your feet as your blanched knuckled hands twist into each other. 

You want to be brave enough to look at him, but you can only find the fearlessness every couple of seconds. It leaves your sheepish eyes constantly flitting up to his and then back down to the linoleum tile again.

Eddie watches you, brown eyes swimming in a vague sort of confusion. He isn’t sure why you wanted to come by if you didn’t even know how to play. He’s happy you did, though. Not because you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen or anything (you are), but because he hasn’t taught someone how to play D&D since middle school.

“That’s okay,” the boy shrugs, beaming at you again. His brown curls sway against his jaw as he shakes his head. “You can sit at the head of the table next to me. I can teach you if you want.”

A breathless, only half-sincere chuckle spills from your lips. “I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“I’ll the best honest with you…” Eddie mutters, leaning in close to you as his arms cross over his chest. His nose scrunches and the corner of his lip quirks up. You don’t mean to stare at him but you can’t stop. “These guys aren’t any better. I mean, seriously, it’s like playing with a bunch of toddlers sometimes.”

He doesn’t really mean it. Some of the boys are better at the game than he is sometimes, but that doesn’t lessen their obscenely high levels of sheer dumbassery. 

It makes you giggle, a high and airy sound that feels more genuine.

Eddie smiles at the sound.

“But if you’d rather wait until tomorrow, I wouldn’t blame you. If I had the chance not to hang out with these idiots, I’d take it, too.”

You laugh again, more quietly this time — a sharp exhale through your nose more than anything else. You weigh your options silently to yourself and think maybe it might be better to wait. Maybe you just need another night to sleep on it. And maybe, if it turns out Eddie’s busy again tomorrow, it’ll be a sign that you should just move on.

You wipe your sweaty hands on your sides and nod. “Okay. Yeah. We can— Tomorrow. Tomorrow’s good.”

Eddie’s features flicker in disappointment. Or maybe you’re just crazy. Despite the sudden sorrow painting his deep brown eyes, he nods and tries his best to smile. “Okay. I’m, uh, I’m usually out by the picnic table in the mornings. Outside the football field. That’s… That’s where I usually deal if that’s what you’re looking for…”

Through a closing throat, you nod. 

You don’t have the words to tell him that that’s not what you want. Or the breath to, really. Your body switches into fight or flight mode, and suddenly the walls are closing in on you. You’re scared if you don’t leave now, you’ll break down into an irrecoverable puddle at his feet.

“Okay,” you nod, the words stiff in your mouth. “Football field.”

Eddie sends you a tightlipped smile in return, still looking a little let down in his way. “Yep. See you then.”

You walk away, and the door clicks shut behind you. You can’t help but feel a little like a tethered string has been cut — like you had the rest of your life in front of you, and now it’s gone because you were too chickenshit to reach for it.

Your feelings are too big for your body, too loud for your quietness. The shy that you are has ruined so much for you already, why can’t it make you brave? Why shouldn’t it? 

Why should your softness be kept inward and not burst from your fingertips like so many rays of sunshine? Why shouldn’t you turn back around and let Eddie in on your tenderness? 

What’s stopping you other than the fear of the unknown — the unknown, which could be a rejection and an infinite void of despair or a lifetime of happiness with the boy you’ve dreamt about for so long?

You stop at the edge of the hallway, hands pressed against the door to the parking lot. You’re already turning back around before you realize what you’re doing.

You don’t think twice about your clammy hands when you swing open the door to the Hellfire room, bursting inside and feeling like a totally different person than the mousy girl who was standing outside of it moments ago.

Your heart still pounds so hard against your ribcage that it almost hurts. It feels less like fear and more like excitement.

“Eddie?” you call to him, breathless, and with clenched fists at your side. Your gaze flits to the other boys and you say more quietly, “Sorry…”

His button eyes widen at your presence, then further when you say his name. His heart pumps with a similar adrenaline. He wants to think you’ve changed your mind about the offer to sit beside him, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes too high. 

He blinks at you from the head of the table. “…Yeah?”

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” he nods without thinking. 

“Okay… How about the diner? Seven o'clock?”

Eddie shakes his head, then nods, then grins. “The diner at seven o'clock sounds perfect.”

The rest of the boy’s gaping faces flit between you and him — at their president who can’t get a girl to save his life and this pretty one they’ve only seen a handful of times in the very corner of classrooms.

“Cool,” you smile, still wavering but beaming despite it all. “Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” Eddie echoes with a grin of his own.

You breathe out a shaking sigh of relief, then nod again before flitting out of the room as quickly as you came inside of it. 

Still utterly confused, the boys turn back to the boy at the head of the table. Eddie's cheeks are speckled pink. His sparkling eyes are cast down at his manual. His rosy lips pursed to the side of his mouth to hide the beam tugging there. He props an elbow on the table and puts his hand over his chin to cover it.

“…What the hell just happened?” Dustin wonders aloud.

Eddie is too full of boyish whimsy to answer — lest he explodes from the amount of pure sunshine bursting within him. He only shakes his head in response.

Still grinning wider than anyone’s ever seen him, he moves on. “Sorry, uh… Where were we again?”

I would've read your love letters every single night - S.H

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Steve falls for a girl he's only ever written to 

A/n: pen pals, friends to lovers, Steve calls reader ‘angel’

Warnings: 18+, strong language, kissing 

Word count: 2.9k

October, 1988

It started in the summer, with a misplaced letter that Steve had to respond to. It was on his doorstep, with no phone number, neatly written for someone else, someone who was not him. So he wrote back, nicely informing the person that they had the wrong address and then she wrote back thanking him for being so kind and then his pen was suddenly in his hand again, writing. 

Over two months later it was normal for him to get letters from her, they were meant for him now, they weren’t delivered wrong, they were always in the right place, right on his door stop. Soft white envelopes with the prettiest handwriting he had ever seen, that smelt like pink flowers he couldn't recall the name of but he would know if he smelt them. 

Steve had made one or three jokes about her, the girl he was writing to because of some little mistake, being an angel, because half the time he was unsure if she really existed, just like angels. 

He was desperate to get home, to recount his day on pen and paper, to write down all the jokes Robin told or how there was one customer who spent hours behind the red curtains and how Steve had seen a little white kitten on his drive home that she would've just adored. So he did just that, he wrote down everything he thought she would like to hear, in much messier handwriting, with a few spelling mistakes, not that she ever minded. 

And a letter came back because it always did. 

Dear Steve, 

I think timing someone when they're hiding out behind the curtain is completely reasonable, especially if behind it is exactly what you would find behind a red curtain in a video store, then yes, I think you should time them next time. Just as your letter came I was coming back from a walk through town and I saw a kitten and it reminded me of you, i thought that was silly but seeing you did the same definitely saved me from feeling stupid, it reminded me of that story you told me about your neighbours cat attacking you, though I doubt a cat would attack without its own reasons, you may only be telling one side of the story with that one. I’m sure it was very cute though, the one you saw, it may have been a sign of luck, or peace or something good coming your way. (Don’t make fun of me I know you don’t bother with that stuff but still.) 

I wanted to tell you that I got the job at the florist so your help with the application must have been what did it, I’m starting to think you’re good luck, or you’re just far too sweet to me, either way, thank you.

She always ended her letter with a heart, drawn quickly at the end of her words, it was a little thing he hoped she only did for him. It wasn’t fair but Steve wanted to be the only one she wrote to, he didn't know many twenty one year olds who kept pen pals so with luck, he was starting to sound like her, he was the only one. 

He kept all her letters in the top drawer of his desk. If it took a while for her to write he liked to read over them, first thing in the morning or right before bed, occasionally a little drunk around three in the morning too. He had favourites, this one would be one because she had called him sweet and that was a direct hit on his heart. 

He brushed his fingertips over the word, over the paper, hating and loving at the same time that she had touched it too. He didn't know her, well he did but he wouldn’t know her if he saw her walking through Hawkins, however it didn’t matter, he was sure she was pretty, he was sure she was perfect. Whatever she looked like, Steve had a lingering crush on her, that gave no signs of going away. 

He had his pen ticking back and forth in his hand, like he used to do when he put off doing his homework in school. There was something that caught his eyes on his desk, a picture, from the spring, of him, Robin and then Nancy and Jonathan home from college, in Mrs Byers garden. He liked that picture but he still found himself ripping it straight down the middle and cutting himself off. 

Dear angel, 

I’ll bring a stopwatch tomorrow. And for your information I have been nothing but nice to that cat. I've even petted it a few times when it’s been sitting on my car, I think I even called it a pretty boy once so whatever issues it has with me are one-sided. I can see you taking that side though, it's a grey fluffy thing, like a big mothball, that would adore you much more then me if you ever met it and I’m sorry sweet girl but I don’t think white kittens are signs for anything, but I would never make fun of you, if I ever did I think I would die on the spot, you can’t be creul to an angel without paying the price I’m sure I read that somewhere. 

I’m glad you got the job but I know I had nothing to do with it, you could’ve gotten it on sweetness alone, you belong in a flower shop, (I’m not even going to try and spell whatever it’s really called) that’s why they gave you the job.

P.s I’ve put a picture of me in the envelope, I’m not expecting one back or anything I just wanted you to have a picture of me, like soldiers did in the war, they did that right? 

She hated that her shoes were on her bed but she was so desperate to read Steve’s letter, taking the time to untie her laces was completely out of the question, and how else was a girl supposed to read a letter from a boy she liked then laying on bed with her feet kicked up.

The picture he had given her fell from the envelope, it was clearly ripped and Steve was clearly sunkissed in it, the weather must've started warming up where he was just like it did where she was and he had caught the sun. He had pretty freckles dotted everywhere, the sweetest of smiles, pretty blonde highlights in his hair and-

In all her dizziness, in reading his words twice over, she always did that, in her daydream of having him call her angel again and again she hadn't even placed him. Steve wasn't just sweet, kind Steve who never left her letters unread, who helped her with whatever she needed, who called her names that made her stomach flip, he was Steve Harrington. 

King Steve, Hawkins it boy, Steve who she sometimes saw buying handfuls of popcorn and candy with his friends on a friday night. Which made Robin, Robin Buckley, Eddie was Eddie Munson, Nancy was- her head was a mess. Too caught up on falling she hadn't realised who he was. 

She didn't answer the letter, she couldn't. 

Sometimes he just didn't hear from her for a little while. He guessed sometimes she didn't hear from him for a while too, but he wondered if she waited so anxiously at the window like he did. He wondered if she felt this tightness he felt in his chest when he didn't get to read her words. 

He walked to work just to get his mind off of her, and the horrible feeling that sending the picture had pushed her away, they had a nice first name basis thing going that felt delicate to him and now he feared he had dropped them and watched them shatter into a rug he couldn’t pick them up from. He felt this uncomfortable tightness in his chest, like his body was telling him he had done something wrong. Because, fuck, did he miss her. 

A sweetness filled the air on his way home, the florist's doors wide open, open to catch people as they passed on the street. Considering Hawkins only had one flower store they didn't need to bother. And for the first time since Steve was seven years old and obsessed with daisies he wanted to go in. 

Flowers were her thing. And he would take any little part of her he could get, he decided two steps from walking in that if on the rest of his walk home, he saw that kitten again, he would write to her first. 

Everything around him was red and orange, he felt like he was drowning in cinnamon and cold fall mornings but he guessed that was just because of the time of year, he wondered what spring would be like. 

There wasn’t really anyone inside, just an older man, no doubt buying some roses for his wife, standing as the young girl behind the counter tied them prettily and smiled at him, making light conversations in ways that would make how Steve was with costumes look awful. 

Pink hyacinths. That was what the letters were coaxed in, he glanced but couldn’t find any, even though he was sure that was what was softening the air now, pretty stem cut hyacinths. He would’ve brought them if he could only find them.  

“And some lavender for luck.”

Steve’s heart thumped in his throat, he had heard that before, lavender being lucky, not that he agreed but she had made it sound right so he supposed- the hyacinths weren't in the florists, it wasn’t in season for them to be, but they were in the perfume she wore. The girl behind the counter and the girl from his letters. 

He walked out with a headache unknowing if it was the overwhelming flowers or just because he had seen the girl-, no, his girl. 

Dear Steve, 

I’m so sorry for taking so long to write back, but you’re right, they did send letters and pictures, normally they would take a picture of the people they loved with them, I’m sure lots of young men took pictures of there girl and then left them one of them, it’s all terribly sad if you think about it too much but its romantic too. Your picture was very sweet, I put it on my bedside table, beside your letters, it just made sense to put it there. I hope you don't mind me not sending one back, I think I'm still just too nervous, especially now I've seen just how handsome you are, I don't want to make you overconfident so i'll leave it at that. I don’t think you could ever be cruel Steve, not in my eyes.

Dear angel, 

Don’t be sorry, I was just worried about you that's all, I think I worry about you a lot when the post is late or you’re just busy, I hope that’s okay, that I worry about you. I’m glad you kept the picture, it was one of my favourites, I kind of hated tearing it but I wanted you to have it more, please don’t call me handsome again, I don’t think my heart could take it, the back of my neck started burning up when I read your words. I take it back, please call me handsome over and over again. I have an update on the person behind the red curtain, they came back three times since you last wrote, I also had a run in with the neighbour's cat, it hissed at me the other morning for walking past it. I might buy treats to win it over, let me know what you think it might like. 

You’re right too, I would never be cruel to you, (thank you for not saying anything about the spelling mistake), I would never be anything be kind to you, good to you, fuck, sorry, my hands moving faster then my head is, I hope works going okay, I’m sure you fit right in. 

She had read Steve’s latest letter a number of times, more times then she could count, his handwriting seemed to deteriorate as he wrote, it was much messier then she was used to but she liked that. She liked how he wrote what came to his head the second it did because it made her feel special to know that when he wrote to her it was with some kind of need. No matter how small, the scribbled writing made her feel dizzy and lightheaded. 

It kept her warm somehow, to picture his words, even in the pouring rain. Even in the middle of Hawkin’s where all the pavements had holes that made dirty water splash against her legs every time a car passed. 

A truck went past, over the speed limit too and that did catch her attention. It pulled her from her daydreaming and back to the path she was walking, to her soaked jeans and her muddy shoes. To Steve, standing what could only have been six or seven steps away, his jeans just as damp and his hair soaked through. 

She looked at him because she thought she could get away with it but he knew. Somehow he knew it was her and all she could was turn her back on him and hope he forgot the entire thing but even through the bad weather she could hear him coming after her. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Steve reached out for her arm, a careful touch as he caught the sleeve of her sweater, pulling at the wool in the rain would only stretch it but that wasn’t too important right now. 

His eyes were softer then she imagined, she had seen the boy she wrote to as soft and sweet but Steve Harrington couldn’t be soft, his reputation was enough for her to know that. But then he was looking at her, down at her really, and she felt she couldn't walk away even if she wanted to. 

“I’m sorry-” “I’m sorry-” She didn’t know what he was apologising for but she didn't know what she was for either. 

Steve hadn’t let go yet, he didn’t think he could, his thumb pressed the white wool of her sweater, it was wet and cold but nothing had ever felt so sweet to touch before. She smiled at the ground, a bashfulness in her eyes that made the lines of his smile burn like a papercut. 

He didn’t take his eyes off her, he had seen her twice now and he knew he didn’t ever want to take his eyes off her. He had been so right to call her an angel, the thought that the night after he first saw her, pretty pictures of her behind the counter playing through his mind as his lost sleep over how perfect she was to him. 

He swallowed nothing, his throat moving and her eyes following along his neck, his tongue moved before he had the chance to think, just like his hand would. Because if he thought about the soft little way her lips parted he would’ve fainted right there on the sidewalk. 

“Sorry about the letters, being so-, illegible.” He laughed to himself, eyes casting to the floor for a second, waiting for the teasing to come. Not knowing her in person protected him a little, his bad spelling and his messy handwriting, his incorrect use of words, it didn't matter when it wasn't face to face but now he was praying the girl in front of him didn't think he was an idiot. 

“They were fine, more than fine.” She spoke softer than he imagined, a little more nervous then how he read her letters but it was okay because he was nervous too. 

Fine had never sounded so sweet before. A word had never meant so much to him and he couldn’t help but relax his shoulders, the strain in the back of his neck now gone as let her sleeve go. 

“Yours were much prettier to read.” He liked the look on her face a little too much. He liked how fucking pretty she looked when she was praised, Steve would’ve confessed how much he adored even just the scent of her letters or the way she wrote her s, just to see that look. 

“I like your handwriting.” She pinched her brows together, like she was wondering how someone couldn’t.

And she was because his handwriting made her feel special, it made her bite her lip and kick her feet, it made her cheeks burn when he cursed or called her angel, it made her know which letters were from him just from seeing the envelope sitting on the dining room table- she couldn’t think, Steve Harrington was kissing her.

His hand was on her waist, his fingers too close to her hip, digging in her flesh through her clothes and he was kissing her and she was kissing him because nothing had felt so right before. He was soft and sweet but full of need too as her lungs began to ache and his lips moved against hers. 

He muttered something, something that had him grinning and her smiling shyly, “You can’t put that in an envelope.”

This story had me blushing and kicking my feet and also feeling the secondhand embarrassment 🫶🫶 absolute loved it!!

hi! i don’t know if you take requests/fic suggestions (if not feel free to ignore), but i love your writing (where the heart is ruined me in the best way!!) and thought you would write this idea super well. basically i saw this instagram reel (and watched it on repeat like 10 times) where a dad tells a waiter that his daughter thinks he’s cute and i thought it could be a cute meet-cute-scenario for eddie (or steve if you write for him)! that’s pretty much it lol, i hope you’re having a good day!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CmXJ1_zL9F7/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

This may just be the cutest request I've ever gotten. I enjoyed writing this so so so much. I have to thank @munson-blurbs for suggesting I make the reader Hopper's daughter and adding another layer of hilarity to it for me. Fun fact, this scenario happened to my brother once. Only he was like, 11, so nothing was going to come from it and it was just purely my dad trying to embarrass him lol. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this!

Words 2.2k

“Hey, welcome to Breadstix. My name is Eddie and I’ll be your waiter.”

You look up from your menu and do a double take at the beautiful man standing there. He’s tall and thin, his black t-shirt showing off his tiny waist and the light jeans showcasing the length of his legs. He has brown curly hair tucked in a bun at the nape of his neck, with a few loose frizzy pieces framing his face. The tattoos that are scattered along his arms catch your attention; your eyes being particularly drawn to the colony of bats taking flight on his forearm. But it’s when you look into his eyes that you get lightheaded and forget your own name, let alone what you were going to order for dinner. 

Going out for a family dinner with your dad and sister was never something that was particularly exciting, but it just got a hell of a whole lot better. 

“The special today is the brown sugar pork chops with a sweet potato on the side.”

“Huh,” your dad hums, eyes scanning over the menu once more. “That sounds good. I’ll take the special and a coke.”

Eddie takes down the pen that’s tucked behind his ear and scribbles down on the pad in his hand. He looks at your sister next and she gives him a sweet smile.

“For you?” Eddie asks.

“I’ll have the mushroom and Swiss burger, please,” El says. “And a water.” 

He jots that down as well then turns to you. When his eyes land on you, your mouth goes dry. Eddie shoots you a smile and you swear your stomach is too full of butterflies to eat any food. 

“And what can I get for you?” Eddie asks.

A cold shower? A date? An orgasm? 

“Um, I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs. A-And a Diet Coke,” you manage to get out.

“Ah, my favorite,” Eddie says with a wink that nearly kills you as he writes your order down. “I’ll put those right in for you.”

He walks away from the table, and you feel your body deflate, letting out a breath and finally relaxing. You drop your head down on the table to hide the smile spread across your lips.

“What’s with you?” your dad asks.

“Hmm?” You lift your head up and look at him. El is giggling in her seat next to you, clearly knowing why you’re acting strange and bubbly.

“What’s with this sudden…mood change?” Your dad waves his hand around in front of your face, gesturing to your dopey expression. 

“I know,” El snickers and you reach over to playfully shove her. Your dad leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you. He raises his eyebrows at you girls as you nudge one another back and forth with your elbows.

“Well shit, someone slipped something into your Wheaties this morning,” he says.

But your dad isn’t dumb. As chief of police, things rarely escaped his notice. He’s just waiting to see if you’ll cop to it or not.

“No, it’s just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It’s what?” 

A red flush comes to your face and El covers her mouth as she lets out another giggle.

“He’s so cute.”

“Who?” Hopper asks, just flat out playing dumb now. 

“The waiter!” you say in exasperation.

“Eddie.” El says his name, leaning in towards you and wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ah,” your dad says with a laugh. “That’s your type, huh?”

“Dad!” you admonish, face becoming even redder. 

He lifts his hands in surrender as El dissolves into laughter. Before, you wouldn’t have described yourself as having a “type” but after seeing Eddie, you can’t imagine having a type that didn’t look like him. It was hard to pick out one thing that turned you on about him the most. The package of Eddie as a whole was so overwhelming that you could practically feel the sharp stab of Cupid’s arrow jammed in your back.

You spot Eddie approaching with the drinks, so you swat at El to get her to behave. She bites her lip and stares down at the scuffed wooden table in front of her, so she doesn’t lose it again.

“Here we go. Water, coke, and a Diet Coke. Your dinner should be coming out soon,” Eddie says. “Everything okay here?”

You’re praying your dad keeps his mouth shut as you smile and nod your head at Eddie. When he gives you a smile in return, El covers a laugh by pretending to cough into her hand. You’d throttle her when you got home. Hopper seems to pay Eddie no more mind than he would any other waitstaff that his oldest daughter didn’t find absolutely beautiful.

After Eddie leaves again, conversation thankfully steers away from your romantic inclinations and into the topic of ridiculous calls that came in at the station today. El also tells you about a school project that’s coming up and tells your dad she needs to get a book for her next book report at the library. It’d be easy to think that your father forgot all about your attraction to your waiter, but when Eddie comes to deliver your meals, it’s obvious he didn’t. Sometimes the universe just liked to pull the rug out from underneath you.

“Alright,” Eddie says. He’s balancing the large tray carrying your plates on one hand, muscles rippling under the skin of his arm as he holds it up. The only thing that tears your eyes away from his bicep is when he places your dish down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you guys?”

“I think we’re all set,” your dad says. Eddie nods and tucks the tray under his arm. As he goes to turn away from the table, Hopper lifts his hand and swivels towards Eddie. “Oh, one thing.”

Eddie licks his lips as he spins back towards the table, a friendly smile on his face. “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, nothing,” your dad says with a shake of his head. “It’s just that my daughter here thinks you’re very cute.” He reaches over and pats you on the back so there’s no mistaking which one of his children he’s talking about. 

“Dad!” 

El bursts out into laughter as you raise your hands to cover your face, wanting to die on the spot. The heat in your cheeks is enough to make sweat break out along your hairline, only made worse by how fast your heart is pounding. The adrenaline rush flooding your veins is real. Being a high school student, you’ve been embarrassed plenty of times before in your life, but you think this takes the cake. Having the police chief as a father also came with its own moments of teasing and joking, but this seemed extreme even for him. Somewhere deep inside, you find the courage to peek at Eddie from between your fingers. There’s a shy smile on his face as he looks at you, his own cheeks dusted in a light bit of pink. 

“Well, that’s very sweet,” Eddie finally says, resting his hand over his heart. He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out and you realize that not only did your dad put you on the spot, but Eddie as well. “I’m flattered.”

Slowly your hands fall from your face and into your lap. Peering up at Eddie from under your eyelashes, he dips his gaze quickly before meeting yours again. The smile on his pretty mouth makes you feel as if there’s an animal jumping and banging around inside your heart, trying to break free. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you,” Eddie says before walking away.

Part of you feels a bit disheartened. But what did you expect? Eddie to ask you on a date because your father told him you’re attracted to him? Right in the middle of his shift? God, your dad better give him a big tip on the check. 

“You’re the worst,” you mumble as you twirl some spaghetti onto your fork. But there’s a fond smile on your face as you shoot a glare at the chief.

Eddie comes by twice more while you’re eating to see if everything is okay, and both times you can barely meet his gaze. El thinks it’s all hilarious and has a grin on her face for the rest of dinner. 

Once everyone is finished and your and El’s leftovers are boxed up, Eddie comes over with the bill. You expect him to put it down on the table right in front of your father, but he walks around him to come up behind you and reaches over our shoulder to lay the check down right in front of you.

“I figured you’d be taking care of this,” he says. You can’t see him from where he’s standing behind you, but El catches sight of the smirk on his face and her expression lights up in glee. 

It’s hard to concentrate on anything with Eddie standing so close to you that you can smell the trace of cigarettes under a spicy cologne wafting over you. When he speaks, the scent of mint is added into the mix, so you assume he’s chewing a stick of gum and you’ve never been more jealous of a piece of candy in your life. 

When Eddie walks away, you have to fight the urge to reach out and grab onto him and make him stay. El moving the check in front of you snaps your attention back to the task staring you in the face. You give El’s hand a light smack so she drops the slip of paper. You’re able to snatch it up and hold it up to your face so El can’t read it from where she’s sitting. 

I hope your dad is currently unarmed since I’d like to say that I think his older daughter is very beautiful. And inquire if she might like to go on a date with me? 555-0527 xoxo - Eddie

Your wide eyes can’t believe what you’re reading. It takes a minute for it to click in your brain what you’re actually looking at. The smile spreads across your lips next, making your cheeks ache from the intensity of your grin. 

When the paper gets plucked from your fingers you whine and furrow your brow at your father. 

“What, you going to pay?” he asks as he digs for his money in his wallet. 

“No. But I was reading that,” you say.

“Well hang on, I gotta know how much to leave don’t I? You can kiss his phone number once I’m done.”

The blush flares up on your face at his words. You weren’t going to actually kiss the paper. But the fact that said paper could lead to a kiss is what’s got you so wound up. Hopper slaps some bills down on the table and hands you the precious check back. You securely fold it and clutch it in your hands, afraid to let it out of your sight for even a moment. El grabs the takeaway boxes and the three of you head towards the door. As you take one last look over your shoulder into the restaurant, you see Eddie coming out of the kitchen. His eyes lock with yours and he gives you that smile you swear could stop time. 

“Maybe I should embarrass you more often, huh?” Hopper says from behind you. 

“No!” you and El answer in unison. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, glancing back at your family. 

“We’ll be outside,” your dad says.

“Have fun,” El adds with a smirk before she follows your dad out the door. 

Taking a deep breath to relax your system, you start to walk over towards Eddie. 

“Hey,” he says once you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry if you felt embarrassed or put on the spot. He can be a bit much sometimes.”

“No, no,” Eddie assures you with a shake of his head. “First thing I thought when I walked over to your table tonight was how beautiful you are. The Chief kind of did me a favor, actually.” 

“Oh. Well, I’m glad then,” you say, face glowing from his compliment. 

“I take it you got my note?” Eddie asks, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. 

“I did,” you say, still clutching it in your hands. “And I, uh, would like to go on a date with you. So, I’ll definitely call.”

“I get off work at nine,” he tells you. 

“You’ll hear from me soon after that then,” you say with a shy shrug of the shoulders. 

“I’m really looking forward to it, uh…”

He trails off and you realize it’s because he doesn’t know your name. You introduce yourself to him and extend your hand. Instead of shaking it, like you expected, he takes your hand in his and leans in to press his lips against your knuckles. You’re pretty sure you’re going to spontaneously combust. Or have an aneurysm. Or just flat out melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“I’ll talk to you tonight then,” Eddie says.

“Tonight,” you repeat, slowly backing away from him. You don’t want to go, but you know your dad will come in and say something even more embarrassing than he already did if you make him wait too long. 

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

I love me some angst😩😩🫶🫶🫶

how long will we fall

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it.

alternatively, jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

[ soulmate au, painful f2l, unrequited love (at first), a lot of angst, more fluff n wholesome moments, emotional constipation, yearning, jealousy, swearing, reverse cards that make u cheer, redemption arc, i swear to u that this does not hurt as much as heartburn did ]

notes: i’m back with a big fic!!! :D this was originally supposed to be named something else but i realized that the title was Too Serious and u know what,,, ten listens later as i write this, i realized that i’m obsessed with this song that i received from this ask and wow thank u so much anon <33 although the rec isn’t originally for this fic, it fits perfectly and i can’t thank u enough <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

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