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goldustwomun · 2 years

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false god (e.m.)

pairing: eddie munson x best friend! fwb! reader

summary: sleeping with your best friend was never a good idea, and though he’s confessed his feelings to you, they were feelings he felt for an entirely different girl.

warnings: some smut-type-spicey stuff! angst!! a whole lotta swearing because i just loved dropping the f-bombs; some l-bombs again because reader is entirely infatuated with our boy eddie; mentions of drugs and smoking and drinking xx err also possibly ooc eddie because it’s my first time writing him (second time writing so be kind)

wc: 3.2k+

note: this wrote itself, i have no regrets :) entirely inspired by the t swizzle song & it’s unedited for now because I just want it out in the world and my brain hurts too much to read it over xx but likes & reblogs are much appreciated <3 love u alllll

read part two - part three

The two of you were never a done deal. There was no handshake, no whispered promise, no exchange of blood under a full moon. It’d only ever been stolen moments that were brushed aside as slip-ups. Blame placed on the drink, the drugs, the look in each other’s eyes.

How was he meant to resist when you walked into his trailer in that tiny skirt, lips pouting and talking a mile a minute? He was a patient man, sure, had to be when just about everyone treated him like some kind of satanic ‘freak’. But you’d talk, and talk, and talk, and as much as he loved to hear you talk, sometimes (most of the time), he’d lean over and shut you up with his mouth instead of hearing just how much you hated whatever misogynistic prick you’d seen on TV that day.

It was the same with you. How were you meant to keep your hands, your lips off of him and his skin when he smiled at you in that crazed way he always did? With his constantly-flourishing hands and his ability to look at you for not even a minute before he’d deciphered what it was that had been bugging you since you’d woken up.

To everyone else, Eddie Munson was the guy who was probably in a cult, listened to the devil’s music, smelled of pot (always), and was exactly the kind of guy mother’s warned their daughters about. He wore leather and chains and had tattoos you loved to trace when you were in bed together.

Eddie Munson was all of these things, and more, to most of Hawkins.

Yet to you – you were certain he’d be the only man you’ll ever love.

Now you know you’re young, somewhat naive to the world, and definitely haven't lived enough of life to make such profoundly passionate claims.

But somewhere deep down in your heart, in your soul, in your very being – you knew it to be true. That it would always be Eddie.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

And the worst part of it all, the real irony of it, was that you’d yet to find the courage to say just that to him, and though he’d said it to you, he’d been talking about someone else.

“It’s Chrissy, babe. I’m telling you – she’s the one!”

He’d been gushing non-stop since he’d fallen into step beside you, arms swinging with such dramatic ease that you had to duck occasionally just to avoid getting hit. “I don’t know why now. It’s not like we’ve ever talked, not since middle school, at least. And yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say– she’d never be into me. But I’m telling you, she is, she has to be – I just know it.”

He stopped, finally, hands landing on your shoulders to turn you towards him. Eddie Munson smiled down at you, waiting, panting, expectantly, to hear just how happy you were that your best friend had found the one.

You could only offer him a tight smile and an encouraging squeeze of his bicep before you shrugged him off of you, stepping past him. The ground looked oddly enchanting, what with all of the dirt, and twigs, and stomped-on bugs. You couldn’t get enough of it, really. Well, you couldn’t get enough of anything that’d distract you from the frown that had replaced Eddie’s previous grin.

He didn’t say anything, only walked beside you, having understood that if he pried, you’d only lash out. And while those fights and arguments usually ended with him inside of you and you screaming his name to oblivion, he had a feeling this time wasn’t like the rest.

It wasn’t until you made it to his Uncle’s trailer that he finally spoke again. Shoving himself between you and his bedroom door so that you couldn’t avoid the conversation – the catastrophic explosion, more like – any longer.

“What’d I do?” he asked, confident it was the right route to take. If it was anyone else you were upset with, it was Eddie you’d go to, to rant and complain and curse out. So he knew, if it wasn’t anyone else, it had to be him who’d fucked up. He just didn’t know where he’d gone wrong.

“It’s nothing, Ed,” you brushed off, trying, failing, to push past him. When he didn’t budge, you sighed, glaring up at him and his stupidly endearing curly head of hair. “I’m serious. It’s nothing, just move out of the way.”

“Why?” Eddie wasn’t usually this pushy, but this time around, he stood defiantly at the door frame.

“Why? Because I want a fucking smoke, Ed. What’s wrong with you?” The anger was building, he could see it buzzing under your skin as your nostrils flared at him in annoyance. That was good, though. Some emotion, even the bad kind, was better than whatever apathetic bullshit you were currently trying to feed him.

“You’re not gonna get a smoke until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“I told you– nothing! For fuck’s sake–”

“It’s obviously not nothing if you’re fucking shouting at me, now is it!”

“Whatever Munson. Keep your drugs.” You shook your head, fists clenched like you were readying yourself to punch him right in his face (the face you hated to adore), but instead you spun your heel, snatched your bag off of the pathetic excuse of a kitchen table, and hauled ass out of the door.

“Hey, hey hey!” He rushed at you from behind, slamming the trailer door shut before you’d even had a chance to think about how irrational you were acting. You think it might be your body’s way of getting you to confess, to just tell him. “God! Stop acting like such a brat. Just tell me, I’m not here to judge you, you know that’s not me!”

You knew you were being unreasonable, you knew he’d know something was wrong, and you knew Eddie was just the person to pry it out of you. You were just afraid of what it’d do to the two of you.

You were glaring holes into the dented metal of the door, knowing the only way out was the truth.

“It’s Chrissy,” you said, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?” he asked, still confused by your outburst.

“Chrissy.”

“Babe, I can’t hear you if you mumble you words like tha–”

“It’s fucking Chrissy, Munson, you fucking moron! Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy!” you shouted, finally, right in his face.

And you laughed at how dumbstruck he looked, because you could tell he knew where this conversation was headed. It was a road you’d both avoided for months now, ever since the lines of friends and more had started to blur.

“Chrissy? I– What? Why Chrissy? What’d she do to you?” You flinched at the concern in his voice, hated that he cared so damn much for you. But you had to remind yourself that care and concern didn’t equate love, and you loved Eddie Munson but he’d never love you back.

“She didn’t do anything. It’s– She’s– Fuck! Eddie, I don’t want to talk about this!” you cried indignantly, hands flying to hide the emotions so blatantly apparent on your face. He could read you like his favourite book and you needed to rip some pages out before he got too far.

“Then what do you want to do?” His voice was raw, rough and achingly soft. Eddie’s hands moved to pull your own away from your face, pinching your chin harshly between his fingers so you looked him in the eye. “What do you want to do, babe?”

Sure, you were looking at him and he was looking at you, but Eddie’s gaze was blatantly trained on your mouth as you gaped up at him, now dumbstruck yourself.

“You,” you breathed into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. “I want to do you.”

It was all he needed to hear before he’d crashed right into you. Eddie wasn’t the most useful member of society. He hadn’t yet graduated high school, didn’t have a job, and spent most of his time with fourteen year olds that could probably pass for twelve. But sex, and even more so, sex with you – he knew how to do that, was really good at doing it, as well.

“That’s it sweetheart, melt right into me,” he urged into your ear, hands shifting from your face, to squeezing your hips, to the heated back of your thighs before he pulled you closer, forcing you to jump into his hold, lock your legs tightly around his waist.

He walked blindly to his room, one of his hands stretched out to steady the both of you because he couldn’t quite convince himself to tear his lips from your neck long enough to see where he was going.

“Fucking– fuck!” he cursed when he bashed his hip into the door handle, only for the same offender to jab into your side. You whined into his mouth, brows furrowing in pain, but his fingers rubbed circles into your skin to soothe the ache.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know– I know, it hurts. But I’m going to make you feel better, yeah?” His voice had dropped into that register that always had your thighs squeezing shut. You could feel his words right down to the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Isn’t this so much better than fighting?” he asked sweetly, lifting your little dress off of your body before running his warm lips across the top of your breasts.

“Eddie, please,” you managed to whimper out between gasps and moans. You couldn’t wait, not this time. You need him now, hard and fast, before the spell breaks.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he hushed, then giggled quietly to himself in the midst of stripping his clothes off. “That’s what you’re going to be saying very soon.”

You tugged at his hair for his cockiness, manoeuvring around him to push him back on the bed. “I want to be on top,” you stated firmly, unhooking your bra and slipping your panties down your legs. They were shaking with anticipation but your movements were practised; confident enough that he didn’t notice.

It was only when you picked his discarded band tee from off of the floor that his smile dropped, watching you with pinpointed fascination. He leaned up on his arms to get a better look at you, standing, naked, in his shirt that barely reached midway of your thighs. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, hand snaking down his own body to palm at his growing prick. “You’re killing me here.”

“That’s the hope, Munson.”

Climbing onto the bed, knees resting on either side of his hips, you gave into the urge. Your fingertips traced the ink, stark against his flushed skin, across his chest, admiring how it puffed out towards you with every deep pant of his. “Sweetheart, please,” he begged, words barely forming at his lips.

You were sat, bare, right on top of where he needed you, and as much as you wanted to get on with it, you relished in the feeling. In the feeling of him needing you, wanting you, for just a few more minutes.

Eddie, of course, wasn’t as patient. Not when you were in his shirt, in his bed, skin on display. You were entirely his, in that moment, and he was going to make you remember it. With an easy back of his hips, he had the two of you flipped as your back collided hard with his mattress. He grinned down at you, teeth flashing that deadly smile that told you, you were in for it.

“I thought I was the one in charge here?” he mocked, caging you in with his arms. Eddie leaned down until his face was barely inches away from your own, hot breath mingling with your own. You leaned up, trying to capture his lips but he moved back in time to avoid the fated collision.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled, staring so deeply into you, you were worried you’d combust right then and there. Spill all your secrets and beg for mercy later, after he’d fucked you. “Do you want me?”

It was the stupidest question you’d ever heard. He knew it. You knew it. But you answered anyway, your words wreaking desperation. “Yes, Eddie, please. I want you, so fucking bad.”

“Why are you upset with Chrissy?”

You didn’t think you’d heard him right. It was like a needle scratching against a record player as the spinning stopped, and suddenly, all you wanted was out of his arms. “Fuck you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered curelly, shoving him off of you as you scrambled across the ground to shove your underwear up your legs, your dress over your arms.

He didn’t stop you this time, only watched you clutch your things in your shaking hands as you sprinted out of his room, out of the trailer, and most worryingly, out of his life.

You avoided the man known as Eddie Munson like a plague you weren’t too eager to catch. You hid in the girl’s bathroom during lunch, took the long way home or begged Nancy for a ride, even skipped out on work for a week, feigning illness.

The problem, of course, was Eddie knew your routine, and your plan B for these exact situations, so it didn’t take long for him to catch-up with you after you slipped-up and returned to your usual walk home.

He stood under a tree, looking entirely calm, cool, and collected. Of course, you could tell he was shitting bricks. That it was a facade he had put up because there were other people on the suburban street you lived on, and he wasn’t looking to draw unwanted attention.

“Can we talk?” he asked, grabbing your elbow as you walked by him so you turned to face him. He pulled the pair of you deeper into the grove of trees when you refused to answer him, instead staring blankly at a spot on his chest.

“I fucked up. I know I did. I shouldn’t have brought Chrissy up and–”

“Don’t say her name,” you insisted, cutting him off. “In front of me, at least, just don’t say her name. It makes me want to rip my skin off my bones every time I hear it come from your mouth. So don’t.” There was venom in your voice he hadn’t ever heard before, and he worried he’d slipped you the vial.

“Baby, please, I need you to tell me. I’m worried about you, about us.” He was entirely earnest when he spoke. Eddie had a knack of being the most genuine person you’d met.

“There’s no ‘us’, Eddie. There never was, and there sure as hell isn’t one now.”

“What are you talking about? Things were fine! They were good! I thought you were enjoying yourself because I sure was!”

“I wasn’t just enjoying it, Eddie. I loved it!” you fired back. “I loved you! Fuck– I love you.” The admission hurt even more as your voice cracked. Eddie’s lips moved around words that weren’t quite making it out of his mouth as he stared at you, slack jawed. You relished in the satisfaction of doing the unexpected, leaving people so completely shocked and surprised by your every move.

But in that moment – a moment you had dreamed tirelessly of, when you’d admit your feelings to one Eddie Munson and the two of you would be forever – the confusion on Eddie’s face wasn’t something you took pride in then.

“I didn’t know,” he confessed himself, reaching out for your hand that lay limp at your side. You pulled back immediately, not trusting yourself.

“I know you didn’t. You’re too kind of a person to go on and on about another girl you think is the one, in front of the girl who actually loves you.” You hated saying it, but it was true. Eddie, despite the town’s best efforts to disprove, didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was annoyingly good, even when he was being an oblivious prick.

“It doesn’t matter, Eddie. Not anymore. I’m tired, really fucking tired, actually. And I know you don’t love and trust easily, so I know, as your friend, best friend, fuck buddy – whatever we were, that she’s good for you.” The tears were falling freely now and you were sure the place in your chest reserved for your heart was nothing but a decaying pit of black. It hurt, but you knew he was too selfless to let you go himself.

Wiping aggressively at your tears, you continued, having rehearsed the speech in your head, over and over again, the past week.

“If Chrissy is what you want– who you want, I mean. I’m not going to stop you. I can’t. Not when I’ll be second to her on your list when you’ve always been the whole damn universe to me. It’ll be hard, because I know you need help with Spanish and fixing the lightbulb in your room – but I can find you another tutor and write down the instructions, so don’t worry about it, yeah?

It’ll be hard for me, too, but I have Nancy, and Steve, and Robin, and I know they’re your friends as well but we’ll make it work– schedule times to see them separately, or whatever and–”

“Stop talking,” he interrupted abruptly, hands flying to fist his hair as he paced in front of you. “Fuck! Why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me? You’re acting like we’ll never see each other!”

“I don’t think you heard me right, Ed. I love you. Like fucking fireworks and cupcakes and ‘I do’s’. I can’t just be friends with you anymore.”

“Why not? We’ll make it work, like you said, but I can’t not see you, I mean you’re my best friend and what if I lose the instructions for the lightbulb or something, then what? I’m not the smartest, you know that, I’d definitely write my grocery list on that same paper and toss it in the trash or something–”

“Because it hurts, Eddie, it fucking hurts,” you breathed out. You grabbed his hand, resting it against your chest, right above where your heart was currently pounding, threatening to burst free from the confines of your body. “It hurts when I look at you because I know you don’t love me like that. Not now, not ever. We fooled around with each other, and maybe it was a mistake, but we did it anyway, and now I’m in too deep, Ed.”

For the first time in your friendship, Eddie Munson looked afraid. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, fingertips gripping the soft material of your shirt. He was afraid because he didn’t know how to fix the mess laid out before him, and his usual methods were moot. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” he repeated again, finally, letting go of you as he stumbled back.

“I know you didn’t, Ed, I know it. You did your best– you were the best friend a person could ever ask for, and I don’t regret a thing.”

It was all you could say before you left him in the clearing, surrounded by dirt, twigs, crushed-up bugs and the pieces of your breaking heart.

You weren’t one to pray, never having believed in a God of any kind, but even if it was some false God with minimal powers and few believers – you prayed he took care of your Eddie Munson. You prayed Eddie Munson made it out.

Likes & Reblogs are much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed x

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