Me And The Girlies Saying Hi To Each Other

me and the girlies saying hi to each other

dreams cum true

virgin!eddie x experienced!fem reader

18+ explicit content | minors dni

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includes: smut, fluff, angst, not necessarily in that order, eddie crushing hard on reader who is a fellow student (reader and eddie are both over 18; don’t be gross, yo) dry humping, oral sex (f receiving) squirting, p in v, cum-eating

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if you enjoyed the story, likes and reblogs are appreciated. thanks for reading! ♥️

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You wouldn’t exactly describe it as creeping you out…but whatever Eddie Munson was doing, it was weird. And while weird was exactly what most people expected from Eddie, the kind of attention he was giving you was…unique.

It started with the obvious: catching him staring at you whenever you were around. He’d hang out in the hallway near your locker between classes in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. When you first noticed, it irritated you a little, but nothing else.

Eddie had always struck you as a bit of a contradiction. He was loud, arrogant, and couldn’t seem to shut up when with his nerdy little group of friends. But to anyone who witnessed Eddie attempting to interact with a girl, it was obvious that he was painfully shy around them.

When you’d make eye contact with Eddie, his huge brown eyes would get even bigger for a second, before dropping to the ground. It struck you as funny, that this guy who appeared to live a dual life as both a rockstar and a nerd was, in fact, just a nerd.

So when he started hanging around by your locker, it didn’t really bother you. But waiting for you outside the girl’s restroom? That was definitely bizarre. And you knew it was you Eddie was waiting for, because not only would he watch for you, he’d also follow you down the hall as you walked away.

And just when you were planning on confronting him, to tell him to fuck off, a new thought struck you. Maybe…maybe if Eddie actually got laid for once, he’d leave you alone? You wondered if any of your friends would be willing to do it, but were too embarrassed to ask. They’d somehow managed not to notice Eddie’s obvious crush on you, and you felt a little silly bringing it up. And there was no guarantee that any of your friends would even consider taking Eddie off your hands. Eventually, you decided it would be easiest just to fuck him yourself. Besides, despite his glaring lack of experience, Eddie Munson was a good-looking guy. You’d often thought that if he’d been a little less awkward, you could have had a thing for him…

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Getting Eddie’s attention was easy, since you already had it. He was characteristically flustered when you approached him, asking what he was doing that evening. Eddie’s brain seemed like it was about to short circuit from processing the fact that his crush was speaking to him at all, let alone comprehend what you were saying. You tried to help by repeating yourself.

“Tonight?” Eddie swallowed, licked his lips. “Uh, just…music.” He glanced to the floor, cheeks going pink.

“I like music,” you offered. “You’re in a band, right?”

Eddie nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Yeah, um, Corroded-.” He cleared his throat nervously. “-Corroded Coffin.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Sounds intense. Can you play something for me tonight?”

Eddie looked confused. “We don’t have a show tonight,” he said, to which you explained “no no, I mean, can you play something for me?” You pressed your finger to Eddie’s chest, and he visibly flinched in surprise.

“Uh…of course.” He smiled, and you realized it was the first time you’d ever seen him do that. “I could take you to me and my uncle’s place, after school? Play whatever you like.”

You gave Eddie a little wink, and his smile grew even deeper when you told him “It’s a date.”

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Eddie looked positively elated when you met him behind the gym after school ended a few hours later. He walked you through the lot to where his van was parked. When Eddie opened your door and ushered you inside, awkwardly announcing “your chariot awaits, m’lady,” it was so cringy, you were more convinced than ever that this man desperately needed some pussy…

The first minute or so of the drive was pretty uneventful, until you reached over from the passenger seat to rest your hand on Eddie’s knee. His eyes were on the road, but you could see them going wider from beside him. “Eddie,” you began. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t want to go to your place and listen to music.” He glanced over at you, visibly confused. “You…don’t?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “I want to do something else.”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie laughed nervously. He was worried you didn’t want to spend any time with him after all.

“I want you to find a place to park, somewhere hidden where we won’t be seen,” you continued. “I’m sure you know of a place like that.”

Eddie’s heart sank a little; he should have seen this coming. Obviously, you were wanting the same thing from him that everyone else did. He was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. “You want to buy some weed?” he asked, his tone only the smallest bit irritated. “I mean, I don’t have any with me right now. I don’t just keep it on me all the time, y’know-.”

“No,” you interrupted. “I’m not interested in drugs. I want you to pull over somewhere secluded so I can fuck you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “You-wait-what?” he stammered, his eyes leaving the road just long enough to give you a look of are you fucking serious? You nodded, and directed his eyes back to the road. “I said what I said. Watch where you’re driving, Eddie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, focusing again on the road in front of him. “I’m just…are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure,” you affirmed. “Are you okay with that?”

You’d never seen anyone nod their head so fast in your life. “I’m-yeah, of course,” Eddie replied, swallowing hard. “Absolutely. I mean…this might sound kind of crazy, but…” He was smiling now, his face practically glowing. “…I’ve always sort of had a…crush on you.” He glanced over to check your reaction to what he imagined must be a revelation, and you pretended along. “Wow, that’s wild,” you said. “I had no idea…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, a cocky smile appearing on his lips. “I was afraid you’d notice me checking you out eventually. Guess I’m stealthier than I thought.” You turned your face to look out the window, grimacing at his obliviousness. My god, he was clueless.

“So find a place to park,” you told him. “And let’s do this.”

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Eddie wasted no time getting the two of you off the road and behind a thick group of trees. As soon as he put the van in park, you climbed into his lap, having already unbuckled your seatbelt. Eddie was making noises as soon as you spread your legs over him, grunting and panting like he was already halfway through getting fucked. You thought it was just the right balance of both sweet and pathetic, and found yourself really enjoying the way he was crumbling underneath you.

To your surprise, Eddie was actually pretty decent at kissing. He’d obviously made out with someone before (his hand? didn’t matter) because he was good at using his tongue just enough without cramming it down your throat. It was fun, grinding on his lap, feeling how hard he got for you so quickly, like a switch being flipped.

His hands were everywhere, rubbing your ass, your tits, roaming over your body like he was trying to grab all of you at once. In his mind, Eddie was terrified that the dream he must surely be having would end at any second, that he’d wake up in bed with cum in his boxers again just like after all the other wet dreams he’d had about you. But the longer you spent dry-humping his erection through his jeans, the more convinced he was that this dream was real.

You broke your kiss away from his lips and moved to his neck, swiping your tongue upward and latching onto his earlobe, sucking it lightly. Eddie’s whole body seemed to react when you did, his hips in particular, bucking as he moaned/whimpered into your shoulder. It was only when you felt something wetting your inner thigh that you realized he’d just come in his pants.

Eddie was breathing heavily, his eyes closed, lips parted. He looked between your bodies and cursed at himself, apologizing. “Shit…shit, I’m sorry, I-.”

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you assured him. “Don’t worry about it. It happens.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, definitely. All the time.” You felt a little sorry for him, but weren’t sure what to say. You started to climb off Eddie’s lap, ready to return to your seat, when he asked “hey, where’re you going?”

“Well it was nice,” you said. “But now that we’re finished-.” You plopped down in your seat with a little sigh. There was a few seconds’ pause.

“…Well,” Eddie said, leaning into the space between you. “Just because I came already-.” He sat back and patted his lap. “-Doesn’t mean you don’t get to.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his newfound confidence. “Okay, Munson,” you teased, climbing back over him. “Let’s see what you’ve got…”

Eddie told you to climb up his chest, and wrap one of your legs over his shoulder. He was surprisingly strong, holding you up with his hands cupping your ass and hips while simultaneously lifting your skirt and sliding your panties to the side.

When Eddie’s tongue washed over your exposed cunt, it sent a little shiver through you. The thought ran through your mind that if he was as good with his tongue between your legs as he was when he kissed, you were in for a treat. And fuck, you were right.

Eddie’s tongue seemed to be made for eating pussy. He curled his tongue between your lips like he was scooping every last sweet morsel from from a dessert, and to Eddie, that’s exactly what you were. Your legs were shaking within a couple of minutes, one knee braced against Eddie’s chest, the other curved around his shoulder.

Your fingers gripped his seat’s headrest as you leaned your chest against it, grinding your pussy into Eddie’s open mouth. When he let his tongue drape over his bottom lip so you could hump it, you lost control and came all over him. He fucking loved it, relishing every drop of you that splashed over his tongue and chin, the way your warm slick dripped down his neck and soaked the collar of his t-shirt. The sounds he made sucking your juices down his throat was absolutely filthy and beautiful. The man was literally starving for pussy, and you were feeding him well.

By the time you finished, Eddie was hard again. He unzipped his jeans, his dick springing free. When he lowered you down over him, your soaked cunt took him with little resistance. Eddie’s face was saturated with you, strands of black hair matted against his neck with your cum. You bounced on his lap again, but this time, with his cock filling you, the ride was even more fun.

Eddie was able to last longer since he’d already come once before. He fucked you at a fast, frenetic pace, like he was chasing something with his hips, seeking another release for both of you. When you came again, squeezing his dick between your plump, slippery lips, Eddie thought he’d never felt pleasure more exquisite in his entire life.

He joined you seconds later, lifting you off of him just in time, his tip erupting between your bodies, covering his stomach in cum. You dipped your head to the place it had landed and ate the cum off Eddie’s stomach, one sweep of your tongue at a time. The two of you sat holding each other for a few minutes, before you both started laughing uncontrollably, feeling absolutely giddy and satisfied.

“That…was…” Eddie began.

“…Incredible…” you finished. Eddie pulled you in for another kiss, grateful that unlike all the other times, his dream had come true. ♥️

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vitzi9

3 years ago

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vitzi9

1 year ago

That's adorable

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss. requested here. shy fem!reader, 3.2k

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I'm actually going to die here, you think morosely.

This was a very bad idea on your part, and perhaps a worse one on his. What possessed Eddie —ripped jeaned, silver-chained, aspiring heavy metal rockstar Eddie— to ask you on a date? Perhaps you'd appeared more formidable outside of Hawkins library than you usually did.

You were in a particularly bad mood after a chilly fall afternoon spent checking the quality of the returns, and the prospect of walking home in the cold was a dismal one. You'd been glaring at nothing when a big, hulking bucket of a van slowed to a crawl beside you, thumping bass leaking from the closed window. It rolled down, the music quieting with it, and out came a head of inky dark curls.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said, pet name rolling around in his mouth, "you heading home? Do you want a ride? It's a long walk."

Somewhere between the library and your driveway, Eddie asked you on a date. You genuinely can't remember what you talked about or how it happened, your adrenaline high enough you could've used it to climb Everest. You do remember the quiet way he'd asked, as though he was waiting for an impending rejection, and his smile bordering goofy when you breathed out, "Yeah, okay."

You rub at the seam of your cream sweater over and over, the pad of your thumb numb. The wind runs through you, ruffling the skirt of your black dress against your thighs. I'm an idiot, you think. Hypothermia might kill you if your racing heart doesn't.

Eddie holds a similar sentiment, "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

You flinch embarrassingly hard. He wasn't there a moment ago. Eddie cusses and holds his hands out to you before you can slip backward off of the low brick wall you'd been waiting on, his fingers shooting tingles down into the epidermis of your skin like wild golden sparks where they grab you, hoisting you up into a more secure standing position.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Like, really really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, just– it's like, minus ten out here? What are you doing?"

"I–" You give him a more petrified look than you mean to. "You said to meet you here?"

Does he not want you here? Was it a joke?

Eddie laughs out of the side of his mouth like he's holding a cigarette between his lips. "Well, yeah, but I meant inside. I've been waiting for you at the table." His amusement dissipates as he feels the chill emanating from your clothes. "Jesus, I'm sorry. Are you ready to come in?"

Minus ten was dramatic. It's a solid 30 Fahrenheit, but the cold wind makes it feel colder. As soon as you enter the diner you're warm, heat nibbling at your fingers as the blood starts to pump. Eddie takes you to the side of the restaurant away from the noise of the games machines and the bathrooms, slipping into a booth where a worn paperback book is waiting.

"I left that in case someone decided to steal our table."

"What if they stole your book?" you ask, sliding into the booth seat opposite.

"They'd love it," Eddie says. He leans forward with a mischievous air about him. "It's about a bullied teenage girl who loses her shit and gets psychic powers. I think she's gonna kill someone." He blinks. "Not that that's cool."

"It's just a book, right? You're not a murderer."

You wonder why the fuck you'd say something like that, but he nods his agreement breezily. "Exactly."

"Plus," you add, eager to say something he'll like, "it's hard not to root for the underdog."

His smile twitches with an emotion you can't name. "Exactly," he says again.

A waitress with thick rings of eyeliner comes to take your order. She has a sunny attitude, like Eddie in that way, an exterior some might say was intimidating and a bright smile. You're nervous from the get go and you have a cliche worry, watching Eddie interact with her from the corner of your eye.

"For you?" she asks you.

You stammer. What you'd thought about on the walk here this evening can be pinpointed into two simple lines of inquiry —what should you say to Eddie, and what should you say to the waitress. Shy to the point of aching, you'd rehearsed your order ten times, but all that comes out is hot air.

"Um," you say, wishing you'd paid more attention to what Eddie said rather than how he looked at the waitress, "could I have, uh. Just the same? As he had, please."

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, nothing but patience in his tone. "Do you like pink lemonade?"

You don't want anything carbonated tonight, nauseous enough. "Um, the same but with water instead, please."

The waitress writes a short sentence with a big flourish. "Water," she reads, giving you and Eddie each a glowing smile. "No worries, I'll bring your drinks right out, food in twenty at most."

"Thank you," you and Eddie say together, in starkly different tones.

Eddie waits for her to leave before he shucks off his jacket. He puts his elbows on the table and runs his knuckles up and down the length of the opposite forearm, smudging the whorls of his inky tattoos, the skinny silver chain around his wrist catching the light. "You know, I don't mind doing the talking, if you don't want to."

You can't describe the embarrassment that bites at you, then. "It's– I'm sorry, I just couldn't think of what I wanted–"

"I'm sorry," Eddie interrupts. "I should've told her to come back in a minute, I didn't give you chance to read the menu. I swear that's the only time I'll make a dick move tonight."

You cough. He grimaces, teeth sinking into the pink of his bottom lip as he laughs it off. "Not like that. Or, not not like that. No dick moves," he says, "I just wanted to talk to you over a table rather than that pillar of a desk in the library."

"It's a really tall desk."

"It's so tall! I get that they want us to have somewhere to put the books but they have to go down to you guys anyways when you stamp 'em."

"I don't know what the idea was behind them," you say.

"Maybe they hired a bunch or very small librarians initially," Eddie says. He spies the waitress approaching with your drinks and leans back to accommodate her. He thanks her, but as soon as she leaves he's staring at your tap water with critical eyes. "It looks a little cloudy. You want my lemonade, instead?"

"No, it's okay," you say, though drinking it feels like a bad idea. There's a whirlpool of scum at the top like clouds circling a mountain peak, ice cubes drifting in slow laps beneath.

"I can take it back–"

"Please don't," you say, "I'd be so embarrassed, it's only water."

"I get you. Maybe I can get you something else, then. I'd say we should get hot cocoa but it's weird having hot cocoa with cheesesteaks." Eddie knocks the table. "I'm really sorry I asked you here."

Your heart could be likened to a balloon popped by a sharp pin. You knew he'd regret asking you, knew it was too good to be true–

"We should've gone somewhere nice. Like Enzo's or Bullock's. Hey, we even could've gone into Indianapolis. And I have to say sorry double 'cos I should've asked you if I could give you a ride, I really messed it up."

"It's not messed up," you say. "It's not."

Eddie smiles at you, his most stripped back to date.

Things are awkward and you theorise that it's your fault, but Eddie doesn't let you flounder in it. He asks questions, he says kind things. You have no choice but to relax and laugh at his ill-conceived jokes. You almost choke on your sub and he goes as far as to say, "Hey, you even make choking look good," having leapt up to pat your back. It's too much but it's weirdly nice at the same time. It's almost worth dying if it means Eddie's gonna rub your back with a big, unflinching hand.

He wanders off when he's sure you're alive and you catastrophize: choking is far from attractive. He saw the way your nose wrinkled and your jaw went soft in your coughing and jumped ship. You dab the tears (from choking, though they could change at any moment) away with a napkin, sniffling. Your throat hurts and your sandwich doesn't look as appetising now.

"Here," Eddie says, placing a tall glass in front of you grandly.

"What is it?" you ask, though it could only be one thing.

"Vanilla milkshake. Benny uses full fat cream, it's basically ice cream and nothing else. Is that okay?"

You take a sip through a red and white striped straw without answering, the cold soothing your raw throat. A second straw stabs you in the cheek.

"That ones for me," Eddie jokes.

You swear you're gonna catch fire, putting the milkshake down with a thunk. "Oh," you say.

"I'm kidding," he says.

"No, I mean, if you want to share–"

You're offering in the interest of being polite, but the look on Eddie's face reminds you of the more romantic connotations. "You sure?" he asks.

You could say no. "Yeah. Of course."

Between sips, you talk. Your conversation begins to feel like the unwinding a tight knot, unravelling defences you were unaware of, like a tapestry you never agreed to shaken out. Sure, you're shy, but you're interesting, and you have things to say. Eddie's eager to hear them; he won't stop pulling on the thread.

Your throat tickles intermittently with scratchy pain. Eddie tucks a rather lustrous curl behind his ear, exposing a small stud earring and a hoop behind it.

"I never noticed you have your ears pierced," you say, leaning forward to take another sip.

Eddie pulls his straw from the glass to hit at yours teasingly, the slope of his eyebrows arching steeper. "Then you should look at me more often," he says. He stabs his straw into the glass and meets your eyes. To the outside observer, you're sure you look like partners getting gooey. "Notice anything else new?"

Your pulse tangles in on itself, a snag in the thread. "Um, well…" You glance over his pale cheeks, their gentle caress of freckles. "You have freckles… and," —there, nestled between his lashes like a tiny dotted star— "a beauty mark under your eye."

He doesn't smile, but some sweet softness plays in his eyes, his lashes kissing as they close ever so slightly. "You're prettier up close," he says quietly. "I didn't think you could get much prettier, but I've never been this close before, I guess."

You take another sip to avoid further mortifying yourself with a stammering answer, but Eddie has a similar idea, leaning in. More awkward to pull apart, you share your drink and try not to bump his nose. The drink slurps and crackles as you finish it off together. Sitting back with twin smiles, awkward and flushed and not knowing what else to say, you fluster. There's a lot of stuff you want to ask him, but now he's finished his food and the milkshake is empty, you might not have time.

"Did you, like, wanna catch a movie or something?" Eddie asks, sounding for a second not quite as confident as he appears.

You like metalhead Eddie, but you're starting to love this earnest version of him too.

"Yeah, I'll see a movie with you," you say quickly.

"Yeah? I know that's weird to plan more date in the middle of the date, I'm not trying to pressure you."

"I've never been on a date before, so. This is setting the precedent."

"The precedent," he says. "For future dates?"

Is he hopeful? You open your mouth without thinking. "With you."

His lips purse to one side, tamping down a big smile. Your cheeks hurt from how much you've smiled tonight. Is it always like this? Being with someone, dating, is it always unnervingly pleasant? You're eager to find out, and Eddie's eager to show you.

"Let me go track down our waitress and we can probably get to the Hawk before the seven thirty," he says, clambering sideways out of the booth.

You and Eddie are fifteen minutes late for a slasher movie, but you get there. Dark, two lone seats at the back are your only options, and you cram into them together with a frankly ridiculously huge bucket of popcorn to share. Eddie keeps whispering even when it's quiet and ticking off your rowmates, but he's being so sweet on you that you forget where you are. You forget to worry about what people are thinking.

It's bliss.

"Look at that," Eddie says, a handful of popcorn to his lips. "Ew, that's bloody. Shit, sweetheart, don't look at that."

Sweetheart. "What do you think that is?" you whisper.

"The fake blood? Isn't it pig's blood?"

"Is that legal?"

Eddie almost drops the popcorn as something super gross happens, a silver flash and a spray of sticky orange movie blood coating the protagonist. "Holy fuck," he says, much too loudly as he puts the popcorn in your lap and covers your eyes.

You laugh in surprise, "Woah, wait a second!"

Someone shushes you loudly (and deservedly) from the row in front.

"Sh, we're at the movies!" Eddie whisper-shouts. "Don't be inconsiderate."

You peel his hand from your eyes. It doesn't drop entirely, long fingers slipping slowly down your cheek, turning your face to his. He's close, the nature of the small seats and your low conversation, his skin glowing with a red-pink and dappled white as the movie plays to your left.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

On the walk to Benny's, your mind had drifted to the fantasy of a kiss. Eddie and his hands, the small silver bands of his rings and their heavier signets, how he'd offer to drive you home, walk you to your door, and peck you chastely in goodbye. He'd smell like his cologne that you tend to notice when he returns his borrowed books on Saturday mornings, chamomile and something deeper you've never been able to identify, no matter how long he stood there chatting. His lips would feel solid and cold from the weather, and here's where you stopped yourself from thinking any further, blood rushing to your wind-bitten cheeks.

It's not so simply condensed, here.

"I've never kissed anyone before," you whisper.

"I'll have to set a good precedent, then," he says, rubbing the hollow of your under eye tenderly. "Or you can say no. That's okay, too."

You shake your head, "I want you to."

The eagerness that's been simmering behind his eyes all night rears as he ducks in for a kiss. It's not what you're expecting, but it isn't bad; it's lots of things, his hand on your face and your elbow, your hands vying for him in startled delight, the popcorn between your knees tipping dangerously to the side as your lips give under his.

He doesn't smell like chamomile at first, but hairspray. He presses against the seam of your lips and only as they part, forcing you to suck in a breath through your nose, do you smell it on him, close now. The cologne must linger on his shirt.

He pulls away to shush you gently but urgently, Don't get us kicked out, it seems to say.

And he's kissing you again. Nothing heavy, charged all the same, the barest taste of sweet popcorn shared between you. His hand does half the work, the tracing of his fingertips and the soft line they draw as he slots them behind your ear puttyifying you, like jelly in his warm palm. You make an unsure sound and he pulls away a second time, sugary brown eyes widened in concern.

"Bad?" he whispers.

"Am I doing it right?" you ask.

The concern becomes adoring. You feel like you've been injected with manic butterflies, having a guy like Eddie looking at you like that. "You're doing it super right," he says, so quietly you can barely hear him. "I'd tell you practise makes perfect 'cos I'm dying to do it again, but it was already perfect. You lying to me?"

"No, of course I'm–"

"I was kidding," he says, his side pressed heavily to the back of his chair as he drops his hand to your elbow casually.

"Oh. I knew that."

He pats your arm, sympathetic, a tad condescending but he's hot enough to get away with it like this, lips kissed rosy and a glossy black curl falling into his eyes.

You look down at his lips. Eddie doesn't make you beg, but he does gesture you forward, your hand landing atop his thigh as you angle up for another kiss. It's unlike you, but it's such a rush of feeling, you don't give your hokey-pokey brain time to consider the things you'd usually worry about.

That being said, you pause just before your lips connect. You close your eyes too hard, head listing to the side self-consciously.

Eddie must see it, whispering reassurances with a rough scratch, "Hey, it's okay. You can kiss me. You worry a lot for such a pretty girl, you know that?" He takes your hand. "Don't overthink it."

"I can't," you say.

"Take the night off. Let me worry…" His breath fans over your lips. "I'll take the lead," he suggests, closing the short gap between you.

Your hand goes limp in his.

—

The flowers are delivered to your desk sometime in the mid-afternoon. Pearly white lilies with green spots creeping toward the soft edges. Your chest yawns open and your lips curl into a smile like you've been hooked, rubbing a thick petal between your thumb and your forefinger.

There's a long note folded and tied to one of the stems.

Y/N,

I am so, so sorry. So sorry. I am the sorriest boy who has ever lived, and I would love to make it up to you. Please call me when you get the flowers and tell me if they're a sufficient apology, or don't call me and I'll send you more. I know you said it was fine, but still.

Yours, Eddie Munson.

P.S. did the flashlight guy have to be that mean? He pretty much blinded us with that thing. And did he have to make fun of my jacket?

P.P.S I promise I will get you unbanned from the Hawk. Best date ever, yeah?

You'll call him. Getting kicked out was a joint effort, after all, and you really want him to kiss you dizzy again, even if you found it hard to look at him on the drive home.

Maybe if he kisses you enough, you'll forget how it felt to be shepherded out of the movie theatre like a common criminal.

You drop the note between the pages of your current read with a sigh. "Best date ever," you say.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed ♡ if you did, please considering reblogging, it means the world and makes a difference :D

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vitzi9

1 year ago

rereading my own fic and every single line is hitting because i wrote it specifically to cater to my extremely particular interests

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vitzi9

3 years ago

John Doe should be pepper sprayed on sight. (Guess who watching there back log of Love Manlybadasshero videos). Breaks the forth wall not in this house burn John.

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