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𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ // 𝓓𝓝𝓘 : joe quinn shifters , under 13 , basic dni (carrd w/ listed dni. read before interacting) , anti - shifters , rcta , problematic opinions , debbie downers (deadass, just be nice) , incest shifters , etc.
description: a cutie lil fic where eddie is just completely obsessed with you. who knew all he needed to bring you two together was jason carver beating his ass?
pairing: yearning!eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: yearning!eddie, protective!reader, eddie x reader, no y/n, reader insert, slow (ish) burn, first kiss, happy ending, fluff the house down boots, high school romance, so much fucking yearning, eddie's head over heels
WC: 4.5k
TW: bullying, violence, some smoochies
A/N: requested by @midgardian-rogue hope you enjoy!! sorry for the wait! life is kicking my behind. i haven't forgotten about you all.
reblogs are always appreciated my loves<33
hope you all enjoy an ounce of some innocent fluff before final girl pt.2 bc......
People talked about love like it happened all at once. Like it was lightning. Like one look across a crowded room, and suddenly the rest of your life made sense.
Eddie Munson thought that was complete and utter bullshit.
Love wasn't lightning; it was erosion. The kind that wore you down one unnoticed glance at a time until one day you looked up and realized you'd built an entire religion around someone who didn't even know your favorite color.
Everyone knew you.
Not in the way they knew Jason Carver, Jason demanded attention. You never asked for it…it simply just followed you.
Teachers smiled a little wider when you answered questions. Freshmen gravitated toward you on the first day of school like frightened birds, somehow knowing you were safe.
It was infuriating. Not because Eddie disliked you. God, that would've made things so much easier, no. You were kind.
Genuinely, painfully, kind.
The kind of person who remembered birthdays without writing them down. The kind of beauty that had nothing to do with your face. Though...that certainly wasn't hurting anything.
You smiled with your whole body. Your shoulders, your eyes, even your laugh looked warm. Sometimes Eddie wondered if the sun waited for your permission before coming up. Which—
Jesus Christ.
See? This was exactly the problem. He couldn't even think about you without sounding like he'd swallowed a Hallmark card. He'd never even spoken to you. Well, not really.
Sure, there'd been little moments. A borrowed pencil sophomore year. A quiet "thank you" when he'd held a door open. Passing each other in the hallway enough times that nodding became an unspoken ritual.
But conversations? Actual conversations? Those belonged to people who lived on the same planet. You lived somewhere else entirely.
Some place made of honor roll certificates, volunteer hours, and Sunday mornings that probably smelled of pancakes instead of cigarette smoke.
Eddie had long since accepted that there were invisible lines running through Hawkins High. Athletes. Nerds. Burnouts. Band kids. Freaks. You somehow belonged to all of them, while he belonged to exactly one.
Hellfire. The trailer park. The people adults warned their children about.
Wayne always said Eddie had expensive taste. Not in clothes or cars, but people.
"You always go lookin' at things that ain't yours to carry," Wayne had muttered once while Eddie admired an old cherry-red Gibson through a pawn shop window.
At the time, Eddie thought he meant guitars. Now he wasn't so sure. Because every morning, without meaning to, he'd find himself searching the parking lot before first bell. Just to see if your car was there.
And every afternoon, he'd linger exactly thirty seconds too long outside English because he knew your classroom was across the hall. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to catch one glimpse.
Then he'd spend the rest of the day pretending that was somehow enough, though it never was.
The thing about memories was that they lied. Or maybe they just... polished themselves over time.
Eddie couldn't remember what he'd eaten yesterday. Couldn't remember what movie he'd watched with Wayne the week before. But he remembered that afternoon, every stupid, humiliating second of it.
It had been almost exactly a year ago.
The last bell had rung, sending Hawkins High spilling into the hallways in a tidal wave of backpacks and locker doors slamming shut. Eddie had lingered by his locker, stuffing loose campaign notes into a folder while Gareth argued with Jeff about whether dragons were technically reptiles.
He never heard Jason coming. The locker door slammed shut before Eddie could grab it, the metal rattling loud enough to make nearby students jump.
"Well, if it isn't the freak."
Eddie sighed. "Christ, Carver. Don't you ever get tired?"
Jason leaned against the neighboring locker with that smug grin Eddie had grown to hate. Andy and Chance flanked him like loyal guard dogs, each wearing the same self-satisfied expression.
"Nah."
Jason reached out, flicking Eddie's shoulder with unnecessary force.
"I actually look forward to these little chats."
"I don't."
"Funny."
Another shove. Not enough to knock him down, but just enough to remind him who had thirty pounds and varsity sports behind him.
"You know," Jason continued loudly, making sure the people walking by could hear, "I heard you recruited another freshman into your little Satan club."
Eddie rolled his eyes. "You guys are really obsessed with us."
"Just looking out for the town."
Same script, different day. Eddie had learned years ago that fighting back only made it worse.
So he leaned against the lockers and waited for them to get bored. He almost missed the footsteps approaching.
"What are you doing?" Your voice wasn't loud.
Jason turned first. "So, this doesn't concern—"
"It concerns me now."
You stepped between passing students without the slightest hesitation, your backpack still hanging off one shoulder.
"Move."
Jason laughed. "Excuse me?"
"I said move."
Andy scoffed. "You serious?"
Without another word, you planted a hand square against Andy's chest and shoved him back just enough to force him away from Eddie. Not hard, but just enough to make it clear whose space he'd invaded.
Jason stared at you, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is your problem?"
"My problem?" you echoed. "Three against one seems pretty pathetic to me."
"We're talking."
"No." You folded your arms. "You were cornering him."
Jason took one step closer. "I'd be careful if I were you."
Eddie's stomach dropped.
But you didn't move. Hell, you didn't even blink.
Instead, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"
Your voice stayed infuriatingly calm. "You gonna hit a girl?"
Jason's expression hardened. "I didn't say—"
"No?" You tilted your head. "I mean... you've already got one thing in common with your father."
You paused, eyeing him up and down.
"It'd be a shame if you decided to copy the rest of his behavior too."
Jason's face went red. Not from embarrassment, but pure fury. The kind of fury that made his nostrils flare.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" You shrugged. "Then prove me wrong."
For a moment...Eddie genuinely thought Jason might do it. Might shove you. Might yell. Might finally snap.
Instead, Jason looked around. He couldn't touch you, not here. Not with everyone looking.
Jason just clicked his tongue. "Whatever."
He shot Eddie one last glare. "You're not worth it."
Then to you, "Careful who you stick up for."
You smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Jason scoffed before turning on his heel. "C'mon."
Andy and Chance followed without another word.
Eddie realized he'd been holding his breath. "...Thanks."
You turned toward him. For a second, he thought you might say something profound. Something unforgettable.
Instead, you smiled; that warm, easy smile he'd only ever seen from across classrooms.
"Don't mention it." You adjusted your backpack. "See you around, Eddie."
Eddie? Not ‘Munson’? He thought.
Then you just…walked away. Like standing up to Jason Carver was no bigger a deal than holding the door open for someone. Eddie watched until you disappeared around the corner.
He didn't realize Gareth had come back until someone elbowed his ribs. "Dude."
"Hm?"
"You okay?"
Eddie kept staring at the empty hallway. "...yeah."
A year later...Eddie could still tell you exactly where you'd been standing. Exactly what you were wearing. Exactly how your hand had looked when you shoved Andy away from him.
He'd spent three hundred and sixty-five days trying to convince himself it hadn't meant anything. That you would've done it for anybody. It was probably true. But God knows that didn’t help slow his crush on you down in the slightest.
There was a reason Eddie loved the Hawkins Fall Flea Market. Sure, half the vendors were selling ceramic geese in tiny bonnets or dusty kitchenware that should've been thrown out sometime during the Nixon administration.
But every now and then...Someone's grandfather died, and suddenly there'd be a box full of first-edition fantasy novels.
Or vintage dice. Or a stack of Dragon magazines someone didn't realize were worth something. Treasure hunting. That's what Wayne always called it.
"You never know what you're gonna find."
Eddie had been elbow-deep in a cardboard box labeled COMIC BOOKS - 25¢ for nearly twenty minutes before giving up his search for anything remotely Dungeons & Dragons related.
No dice…literally.
With a dramatic sigh, he wandered farther down the rows of tents, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he smiled to himself. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it was comfortable.
He almost walked right past the record stand.
It was tucked between a vendor selling antique fishing lures and another covered in old comic strips and movie posters. Milk crates overflowed with vinyl records while wire racks displayed cassettes in crooked little rows.
Naturally...Eddie wandered over. His fingers skimmed over faded album covers. Thin Lizzy. Rush. Van Halen. Not bad. Then—
"...No way."
He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there you were. Standing on the opposite side of the rack, your brows pinched together in concentration as you thumbed through a crate marked HEAVY METAL.
You wore an oversized forest-green sweater with the sleeves pushed over your hands, faded jeans, and beat-up Converse he'd never seen you wear to school. Your hair was tucked behind one ear as you carefully flipped through albums like you actually knew what you were looking at.
There was no universe in which this made sense. You belonged in the classical section. Or maybe folk, something acoustic. Not Iron Maiden. Motörhead. Judas Priest.
He blinked hard, almost thinking he was staring at a mirage. Nope, still there.
You looked up and caught him staring again. A smile spread across your face almost instantly.
You smiled victoriously before turning back to the rack. After another moment of searching, your face brightened. "There it is."
You pulled out your own cassette. The Cure: Disintegration.
"See?" You held it up proudly. "I have range."
Eddie laughed. "I'll allow it."
"I appreciate your approval."
The older vendor wandered over. "You kids find everything?"
You nodded. "I think so."
As the man rang up your cassette, Eddie was still standing there holding the Mercyful Fate tape in both hands like you'd just gifted him the Holy Grail.
You paid, tucked the cassette into your canvas tote bag, and looked back at him. "I'll see you Monday?"
He swallowed. "...Yeah."
"Don't wait too long to listen to that." You pointed toward the cassette still in his hands. "I'd like to know what you think."
Before he could ask exactly how you planned to do that...you were already walking away.
You lifted a hand over your shoulder. "Bye, Eddie."
He watched until the crowd swallowed you whole. Only then did he glance back down at the cassette.
"You gonna buy it?"
The vendor's voice startled him. "Huh?"
"You've been holding it for five minutes."
"Oh."
Eddie looked down at the cracked plastic case, then toward the direction you'd disappeared. "...Yeah."
He smiled to himself. "I think I have to."
The cassette wasn't rare. He'd seen three copies of the same album over the last month. It wasn't even his favorite Mercyful Fate record. But this one? This one had your fingerprints on it.
By Wednesday, Eddie had listened to the Mercyful Fate cassette four times. Not because it had suddenly become his favorite album, it hadn't.
But every time King Diamond's voice crackled through the speakers of the van's cassette player, Eddie could picture your smile across that flea market record stand.
"I think you'd like this."
Wayne noticed by Tuesday night. "Ain't this the same tape you played yesterday?"
"...Maybe."
"You finally wear out your Sabbath tapes?"
"...No."
Wayne glanced over the rim of his newspaper. "...Girl?"
Eddie nearly combusted on the spot from how red his face was.
The cafeteria buzzed louder than usual as homecoming week had officially taken hold at Hawkins High. Construction paper streamers hung lopsided from the ceiling.
The student council had somehow convinced the administration to decorate every available surface in orange and green, making the cafeteria look like it had exploded.
Eddie hated it. He hated pep rallies, football, and he especially hated homecoming. And he especially especially hated listening to Jason Carver talk about the "spirit of Hawkins."
"So," Gareth said through a mouthful of fries, "we skipping the pep rally?"
"We're legally obligated to."
Jeff nodded solemnly. "It's in the Hellfire constitution."
Mike frowned. "We have a constitution?"
"We do now."
Laughter bounced around the table. Then Dustin elbowed Eddie. "Dude."
"What?"
"Twelve o'clock."
Eddie looked up. You moved from table to table carrying a thick envelope and a clipboard tucked against your chest. Homecoming tickets, of course.
You stopped at the basketball table first. Jason smiled, and you smiled back politely. Professional and nothing more. Then the band kids. Then the theater kids. Then—
Hellfire...and Eddie's heart immediately forgot how to function.
"Hi, guys."
You smiled at the whole table before your eyes landed on him.
"Hi, Eddie."
God. You always said his name like it belonged in your mouth.
"Uh... hey."
"So," you said, setting the envelope on the table. "I'm making my rounds."
You held up two small orange tickets. "Homecoming tickets. Five dollars."
Jeff snorted, Mike looked horrified, while Gareth dramatically searched his empty pockets.
"We're allergic."
"I figured."
Then you looked back at Eddie. "Oh."
Your smile softened. "Did you ever listen to the cassette?"
His brain completely abandoned him. "...Yeah."
"And?"
"It was..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Really good."
"'Really good?'" You looked mock offended. "I thought it'd at least earn a 'life-changing.'"
"I was trying not to sound insane."
"So you liked it?"
"I—" He smiled before he could stop himself. "...Yeah. A lot, actually."
"I knew you would."
Something warm settled in his chest. You knew. Not hoped, not guessed, knew.
Which is why, when he said, without thinking, "I'll take two."
Silence, which even made Eddie freeze. What?
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "...Two?"
He stared at the tickets. Abort mission. Abort mission. FUCK! Too late.
"Uh..." His hand was already digging into his pocket. "Yeah."
He slapped a crumpled ten-dollar bill onto the table before his brain had the chance to intervene. "I'll take two."
You looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then the smallest smile tugged at your lips. Then, you handed him the two orange tickets.
"Our music committee isn't nearly as good as Mercyful Fate."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'll see you around?"
"...Yeah."
You gave the table one last smile. "Have a good lunch, guys."
Then, you disappeared toward the next group of students, and the second you were out of earshot...
Five heads slowly turned toward Eddie.
"...What the hell was that?" Dustin snaps.
"What?"
"You hate homecoming."
"I don't hate—"
"You called it," Gareth interrupted, "'capitalist propaganda with crepe paper.'"
"I stand by that."
Jeff leaned across the table. "So why," he asked carefully, "did you just buy..."
He held up two fingers. "...two tickets?"
Eddie blinked. "...Did I?"
"You were there." Mike snorted. "I'm pretty sure you even paid for them."
Eddie looked down at the tickets in his hand as though they'd magically appeared there.
"...Huh."
Gareth burst into laughter. "'Huh?'"
"'Huh?!'"
"You bought two!"
"I know!"
"Do you?!"
Dustin reached across the table and plucked one from Eddie's fingers.
"'Homecoming Admission.'"
He looked around dramatically. "Guys. I think Eddie the Banished has suffered a traumatic brain injury."
Jeff nodded. "Only explanation."
"You've spent three years talking about how dances are government mind control."
"They are."
"So, who are you taking?"
Eddie opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because...he hadn't thought that far. He hadn't thought at all. He'd just wanted another excuse or another thirty seconds of hearing your voice.
"...Nobody."
Five skeptical expressions. "Nnnoooobody?" Gareth echoed.
"Nope."
"So you just bought two tickets..."
"Yep."
"...For fun?"
"...Sure."
Mike deadpanned, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."
Dustin slowly smiled. "Oh."
"Oh no," Eddie muttered.
"Oh, no."
Dustin pointed across the cafeteria, where you were still making your rounds. "You bought two tickets because you're gonna ask her."
Eddie nearly choked on his Coke. "I am absolutely not."
"You absolutely are."
"I absolutely am not."
Jeff grinned. "Dude."
"You've been listening to that cassette all week."
"You don't know that."
"Wayne told my mom."
Eddie's head whipped toward him. "...Wayne, what?"
"My mom was at the trailer dropping off your uncle's casserole dish."
Jeff shrugged innocently. "He said—and I quote—'Boy's been playing the same damn tape for three days. Must be love.'"
The entire table erupted while Dustin pointed triumphantly. "Called it."
Eddie dropped his forehead onto the cafeteria table with a groan.
By the time Hellfire finished packing up their campaign books in the theater room, basketball practice had just let out. Which meant letterman jackets, inflated egos, and Jason Carver. Perfect.
Eddie spotted them before they spotted him, or so he thought.
"You boys have another séance today?"
Gareth groaned.
"Just keep walking."
That had been the plan. Until Tommy H stuck his foot out, and Gareth caught it too late.
His books were scattered across the pavement, dice bouncing in every direction. One tiny d20 rolled nearly twenty feet before coming to rest beneath a parked truck.
"Oh, my bad," Tommy said without sounding sorry in the slightest.
Gareth muttered a curse beneath his breath as he knelt to gather his things.
Eddie was already moving. "The hell's your problem?"
Jason shrugged. "Gravity."
"You tripped him," Eddie says, pointing between Jason and Tommy.
"I don't know, Munson." Tommy grinned. "Looked pretty clumsy to me."
Jeff and Dustin immediately stepped toward Gareth, helping gather his books. Eddie stood between them and Jason.
"C’mon, man. At least pick on someone with a fighting chance."
Jason smiled as he chimed in. "I am."
The shove came so fast that Eddie barely had time to react, his shoulder slamming into the side of a parked car. The metal echoed.
"Jesus, fuck—" Eddie shoved him back, causing Jason's smile to disappear.
"Oh. There he is."
The first punch caught Eddie across the jaw, causing white to explode across his vision. He stumbled back, so Andy grabbed his jacket from behind. Then, Tommy landed one on his ribs. Someone else kicked the back of his knee.
Three against one, again. He heard Dustin yelling, Jeff trying to pull somebody off, and Gareth shouting Eddie's name.
"...Enough!"
Everything stopped as a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Eddie blinked through blurry vision and saw you.
You were marching across the parking lot faster than he'd ever seen anyone move as your backpack swung wildly against your side.
Jason scoffed. "Stay out of it."
"No."
You shoved Andy away from Eddie so hard that he stumbled backward. "I said that’s enough."
Tommy laughed. "Oh, here comes Wonder Woman."
You ignored him completely. Instead, you crouched beside Eddie. "Are you okay?"
He tried to answer, but instead, blood dripped onto his shirt. Your face tightened as you looked back up to analyze the scene: three basketball players, one bleeding boy, and his friend's reactions somewhere between horror and panic.
"You should be proud of yourselves."
Jason rolled his eyes. "He was acting insane. He pushed me for Christ's sake."
"That's bullshit."
Jason took a step closer. "What do you care?"
"I care because you three are acting like a bunch of fucking neanderthals. And for what? What the hell did he ever do to you?"
He laughed. "You really gonna defend this freak?"
You stood slowly until you were eye level with him. "I'm defending someone who can't fight three people at once."
Jason clicked his tongue. "You're wasting your time."
"No." You shook your head.
"You know..." You looked Jason up and down. "For someone who talks so much about honor..."
Your eyes drifted toward the gym. "...you sure need a lot of teammates when you throw a punch."
Jason's jaw clenched. "You should go."
"You first."
You kept your gaze fixed on Jason, putting on the best ‘don’t fuck with me today’ face you could muster.
His eyes dart between you and Eddie, a small and almost sinister grin forming. Then, he scoffed.
"C'mon. This freak show isn’t worth our spots in Friday's game.”
The last of the basketball team disappeared across the parking lot. Jason threw one final glare over his shoulder before climbing into Tommy's truck.
"...Jesus Christ." Your voice was barely above a whisper. Eddie looked up just in time to see you drop to your knees again beside him.
Your eyes darted over his face: the split lip, the scrape across his cheek, the beginnings of a bruise blooming beneath his eye.
"Dustin!" you called over your shoulder. "Go to the nurse's office!"
Dustin looked between you and Eddie before immediately taking off toward the school. "I'll get an ice pack!"
You nodded once before turning your attention back to Eddie. "Can you sit up?"
He managed a small nod even though every rib protested. You slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helping him lean back against the brick wall of the school.
"So much for keeping your pretty face."
Eddie let out a weak laugh. "...Didn't know I had one."
You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."
Your backpack slid into your lap, frowning as you rifled through its contents. "No..." You dug deeper. "No..."
"Ah! There."
You pulled out an old black T-shirt, faded nearly gray with age. Eddie recognized the logo immediately: Iron Maiden, The Number of the Beast tour.
He blinked. "You just carry band shirts around for fun?"
"My dad leaves them in my car." You shrugged, "Guess they make good makeshift paper towels."
You hesitated. "Can I?"
He nodded before he even knew what you were asking. You folded the shirt into a small square before gently dabbing at the blood on the corner of his mouth; your touch was impossibly careful.
With your face inches from his, he’s embarrassed about how many times he imagined being this close more times than he cares to admit.
"You know..." You sighed, "...That was really stupid."
"Hm?"
"What were you thinking?" You wiped another streak of blood from his cheek. "There were three of them."
"They were picking on Gareth."
"I know."
"So..."
"So you decided to get yourself killed?"
"I wasn't gonna let them jump him."
"I know." You say with an exaggerated sigh.
You make another careful swipe of the shirt across his lip, "You don't always have to be the one who saves everybody."
He watched you instead of answering. Your brows were pulled together, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in concentration.
"Eddie?"
He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "What?"
"You okay? You keep looking at me and, like, zoning out. Do you feel dizzy?"
"Oh." His voice came out embarrassingly quiet, "Uh, no. Sorry."
"Oh." You reply, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.
“Huh?” He swallowed.
His brain screamed at him to say literally anything else. Comment on the weather. Ask about homework.
"I think I really like you."
You froze mid-wipe of his cheek, eyes quickly meeting his.
Eddie groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck—Forget I said that."
"Oh."
Fantastic. She sounds uncomfortable. Wonderful.
"I didn't mean—"
"No." Your hand gently caught his wrist before he could keep spiraling, "I just..."
He opened his eyes, and to his delight, you were smiling.
"I've been wondering how long that was going to take."
His eyebrows knit together. "...What?"
"I was starting to think you were never going to say it."
"...Say what?"
"That."
You laughed quietly. "I've liked you for over a year, Eddie."
His brain stopped. "No, you don't."
"I do."
"You can't."
"I can."
"You..." He searched your face for the joke, "You've liked me?"
"Since you helped that freshman find the theater room on the first day of school last year."
"...That's why?"
"You spent fifteen minutes walking him around the building."
"He looked lost."
"I know." You smiled, "That's kind of my point."
He stared, then laughed, a disbelieving and breathless laugh.
"I've spent an entire year convincing myself you were completely out of my league."
"I've spent an entire year waiting for you to realize I wasn't.”
His heart nearly flew out of his chest just then.
"But then..." You shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "You bought the second homecoming ticket, so I just assumed you found someone else to ask."
"...WHAT?"
The word exploded out of him so loudly that a flock of birds scattered from the nearby trees.
You blinked. "What?"
"No!" He sat up a little too fast before immediately grabbing his ribs. "Ow—Jesus Christ."
"Eddie! Jesus, would you calm d—"
"No, no, listen." He pointed emphatically toward the school. "I bought the second ticket because you were standing there."
"...I know."
"No, I mean—" He groaned. "I wasn't thinking."
"I've noticed."
"I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you."
You stared.
"So my brain went..." He mimed throwing something across the parking lot. "'Buy two tickets.' But uh, I didn't have a plan after that."
A laugh bubbled out of you. "So..."
He continued, growing increasingly animated. "...then Gareth asks, 'Who're you taking?'"
"And?"
"And I realized..." He buried his face in his hands. "...I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."
Your shoulders started shaking. "Oh my God..."
"I panicked."
"I can tell."
"I said I bought them for fun."
"You told them..." you managed between laughs, "'for fun?'"
"I know!"
"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."
"I KNOW."
"They believed you?"
"They absolutely did not."
You laughed even harder, and he found himself laughing, too.
"I have spent," he said through a grin, "the last four days wondering who the hell I was supposed to ask because apparently I'd already committed."
Your laughter slowly faded into something softer.
"So..." You looked at him carefully. "...Who were you planning on asking?"
He gave you the most incredulous look. "You."
"Really?"
"You literally just admitted you thought I found somebody else."
"I know, but..." You smiled. "I wanted to hear you say it."
Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "You're evil."
"A little."
"You've been letting me suffer this whole time?"
"I thought it was kind of cute."
"Oh, that's cruel."
"It was a little cruel." You say, shrugging.
He smiles the biggest smile he can muster, considering the pain shooting through what feels like every inch of his body, and releases a deep sigh.
"So..."
"So?"
He reached into the pocket of his denim vest, wincing as his bruised ribs protested.
After a second of fumbling, he pulled out the slightly crumpled orange homecoming ticket, holding it out between two fingers.
"I know this isn't exactly the most romantic timing."
You looked down at the ticket, then back up at him.
"But..." His smile turned nervous, "...would you maybe wanna go to homecoming with me?"
You could’ve just verbally said yes, but fuck that.
You broke the final inches of distance between you, your lips meeting his. He kissed you back instinctively, one hand finding your waist, smiling into the kiss. You smiled too.
"Hss—" Eddie jerked back with a sharp wince, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth.
"Oh, my God!" Your eyes went wide. "Shit! I'm so sorry!"
"No, no—" He laughed despite himself, carefully pressing two fingers against his split lip. "I just forgot I got punched."
"You idiot."
"Yeah..." A grin spread across his face, "...Worth it."
You rolled your eyes, but he caught the smile tugging at your lips.
"This time," you murmured, leaning closer again, "try not to throw yourself into it like you're storming a castle."
"I make no promises."
"I know." You cupped his cheek, much gentler now. "So let me."
This kiss was much slower; you barely brushed your lips against his at first. He practically pulled you into his airspace, completely ignoring any stinging sensation because, hell, he’d thought about this at least a thousand times.
Afterward, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
"I've wanted to do that," he admitted softly, "for... probably an embarrassing amount of time."
You laughed. "Me too."
He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face. "So..."
"So?"
"Does this mean you'll go to homecoming with me?"
You pretended to think about it. "Hmm..."
"Don't do this to me."
"I suppose."
He let out the most dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank God."
Before you could tease him for it, he was kissing you again. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw as he smiled into it, and you smiled back.
Then you felt the subtle tension in his hand. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin. The sharp inhale he tried, and failed, to hide.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. "You're hurting."
"I'm surviving."
"Eddie."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He grinned, lopsided because of his split lip. "I've imagined kissing you about a thousand times."
You laughed softly.
"And not once did Jason Carver punch me beforehand."
You rolled your eyes, your thumb carefully brushing beneath the bruise blooming under his eye.
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have."
His forehead rested against yours, his smile refusing to leave. "I don't think anything could ruin today."
"...Ahem."
The two of you froze and slowly turned your heads.
Dustin stood a few yards away, an ice pack dangling from one hand. He looked from Eddie to you, then to the fact that you were still sitting impossibly close together, practically entangled.
A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
"...I guess you don't need that ice pack then?"
missed u guys sm:,) more coming soon, pinky promise <3
can I just request giggly fluff of husband! George Harrison x wife! reader where it’s 1966 era so George is super slim while she’s chubby (like the same weight as John around the time) :33
I'm Happy Just To Dance With You
pairing: 1966!george harrison x chubby!reader
contains: mentions of alcohol consumption (george's drunk), brief mention of bodyshaming (from the press, not george), tooth rotting fluff, probably spelling/grammatical mistakes 💔
summary: george comes home drunk and reader discovers his more affectionate side!
author's note: thank you anon!! im so sorry this took so long 😭 i got stuck figuring out how to make it include all of your request 💔 i hope this covered it all though!!
george has never been an openly affectionate person.
of course, he’s gentle and loving– he always has been in your guys' marriage– but hes always been the subtle type. longing looks, soft words, little actions that remind you hes always by your side. it's a quiet kind of love and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
it was quiet tonight. the record player spinning out a soft song, the warm glow from a lamp lighting the room, and a book in your lap as you wait up for george tonight.
you didn't hear his shoes on the hardwood floor or him shrugging off his coat but you did feel the sudden shift on the couch.
arms come around you, pulling you out of your book. "george!" you gasp out a laugh, suddenly smelling the alcohol on his breath. your face shifts as you smell it and he catches it immediately.
"lads want'd a night out," he says as he scoots closer to cling onto you, "macca said it'd be a bondin' of sorts..." his eyes are half open, staring at the ground like it takes ten times as much energy to think.
"should get to bed then," you say softly, rubbing his back as he leans into you, offering your comfort after what you could only assume was a tiring day. he hums before going quiet. in fact, he's so quiet, you thought he fell asleep.
you feel him jerk awake, as if he's just had a brilliant idea. suddenly, he’s up on his feet in front of you, that lopsided grin on his face. he has his hands stretched out towards you. you snicker, your eyebrow raised as you watch him. george being this awake after a night with paul and them? it was unheard of. "one last dance," he says, nodding his head as if it would convince you to get up, "'efore i retire for the night." you watch with a smile before sighing, taking his hands. he pulls you up onto your feet, placing one of his hands on your waist and holding your hand in his other.
he's swaying completely off tempo from the song playing off the record but he doesn't seem to care, a song seemingly playing in his mind. you can hear him humming, in his own world as he dances with you.
you couldn’t help but chuckle when he starts actually singing. it's one of his older songs, his first song he sang lead on, 'i'm happy just to dance with you'. the entire time, his eyes are stuck on your face, watching with admiration.
you two eventually get in step of each other, giggling each time one of you stumbles on the next step. he'd stumble on a lyric, you'd step on his foot and both of you would laugh, forgetting the world around you for a moment.
you’ve always cherish moments like this with george. it's the simplicity of it all. him dancing with you after a long day of whatever he had to deal with in the band. how he finds joy with just shuffling around your shared living room with you, messy and uncoordinated but real.
the press has been cruel to both of you, however they've been targeting you the most recently. tabloids write nonstop to poke at your chubbier appearance as well as your relationship with george, throwing backhanded comments left and right in papers about you. it's been driving you both mad, angry rants slipping into your conversations reserved for life outside of fame. times like this though? it has you two step away from the limelight for once, just having the time to focus on each other.
"i think i'll love you too," his singing slows down eventually and softens as he spins you out one more time, "i’m so happy when you dance with me."
"always got a way with words, don't you, george," you mumbled, shaking your head at his antics. he presses his lips to yours, holding you in his arms. "but 's true. i missed my wife," he admits softly, like words were flowing out of him, "wouldn't say it if it s'not true." you smile at his confession, watching this clingier side of george come out. "alright, you sap. you've had your dance," you nod your head to your shared room, "gotta sleep. you've still got work tomorrow."
he groans, but eventually nods at your words. however, instead of walking towards the bedroom with you, slowly, he starts leaning towards the couch. "hey!" you squeal as he brings you down with him. seems like all that alcohol's finally caught up with him. he's slumping down on the couch, head laid back as he pulls you closer to him. his arms wrap around your soft stomach, your back to his chest.
he moves his head to rest on your shoulder, softly kissing the apple of your cheek absentmindedly. "wish i could stay here forever." you sigh at his clinginess, laying your hands on top of his. "you always could."
there a stillness between you two before you feel another kiss placed on the top of your head. "if there's a way, i'll find it."
first time posting my writing, kinda nervous!! i'm so so sorry if this doesn't fit the prompt that well, i tried pls don't fry me too hard 😓
this was after people saw me wearing socks like this under my outfits 😭😭 trend setter i guess, but it was kind of embarrassing because sometimes it didn’t match my outfit 💔✌️
2. mary jane’s!
i wear these shoes everywhere and i have them in almost every color.. it’s become my staple somehow?! sobbbb
3. funky tights!
I have so many of these LMAO, whenever i feel a hint of coldness outside I immediately whip out my tights
4. stupid t shirts !
I wore one of these on an interview and it became a running joke that my shirts always say the most outlandish shit lolll
5. toy collection!
i film vlogs going out and buying toys just because you’re never too old!! often times i donate them to a children’s charity 🫶🫶. whenever people come over, they always heads straight for the toy shelf LMAO
꒰ ⠀a/n :: hi everyone! i wanted to thank yall for all the love on my last 2 posts :3!! im on vacation so ill try to post as much as i can 🤍 i miss my bf soo much so today i decided to write some niche/uncommon date ideas!! enjoyyy <3 and thank you to my wife @orphicrealities for recommending this. i luv you! also, follow my reblog account @choco-reblog if you want :3 ꒱
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 1 . thrift challenge — i have been soo obsessed with this challenge on tiktok! essentially, you and your partner go to a thrift store, and your partner blindly picks your outfit. 1 shirt, 1 pair of pants, a pair of shoes, and a bag/belt/accessories..or all! then you go home and try to style it!! personally, my closet isn’t fashionable enough to be able to style anything well enough lolll, but imagine following this up with coffee or something omgomgomg!!!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 2. fossil finding — i’m a sucker for fossils and just the prehistoric times in general :3 being able to find small little fossils in a creek sounds sooo fun!!! i imagine getting coffee (guess my fav drink) or breakfast before, dressing up in a cute lil outfit, and going fossil finding and walking along the creek with ryland!! eeee (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 3. case solving game night — this one isn’t really niche but … omg. buying a crime solving game and spending all evening with the evidence spread out on the dining table 😭 “no, no honey..look! they were seen here at 6:00 pm!!” just the look of your s/o acting like a real detective is so endearing. this + your fav fast food place and maybe a comfort show on (i personally can’t multitask, especially during those games)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 4. craft day — plan an entire day where you make things with your partner 🫶 ooh, or you could do that trend where you paint one thing and then swap paintings until you have a full one!!! i love art guys heheheh..i’m thinking you make little keepsakes for each other and keep it in a box or hang it in your room!! thinking about your partner concentrating so hard on their little craft, taking it so seriously like it’s a career!!! 😭 their furrowed eyebrows and tongue sticking out slightly. “one moment baby..just gotta glue this piece on…”
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 5. float trip — this one depends on the area, but in my area we have a thing called a float trip! you rent a tube or a kayak and just float down a river all day. of course you pack food and drinks..and it’s just a fun little way to relax!! imagine your partner laid back on a tube yapping to you about whatever…literally a dream right there. the sounds of the water and the slow movement of just drifting across the river/lake…and vise versa, you yapping to them about whatever and them just nodding and listening along. “mhm…yeah…oh really? wowww sweetie..you’re so smart.”
sometimes i forget that this is MY blog and i can post WHATEVER i want including random text posts like this with NO aesthetic or EFFORT at ALL. what the hell. send tweet.
the munson trailer living room/kitchen, my beloved <3
i KNOW that naps on that couch slap and that heated up canned food made in that kitchen tastes like heaven (the food is made by wayne, eddie cant cook. not even food from a can)
i also can exactly picture eddie sitting at that chair talking on the phone for HOURS, to the point where wayne has to throw a slipper at him from his spot on the couch to get him to hang up
hi guys! this is a scenario for my dr i wrote extremely late at night & it probably has a handful of mistakes. not proofread. it's just how me & george met, and how it went.
675 words. very short. ᰔ
𐙚⋆.˚ October 10, 1964.
George never knew he would meet the love of his life in a tiny venue. But he did. And that was more than the boys could ever imagine.
It was around 8pm, maybe closer to 9. She was sat with two other girls, fawning and smiling at them. He never thought much about girls like that— specifically girls who cried over the sight of him. It was all too much.
But next to those two girls was another, sat in the corner of the booth, watching them with a soft smile, lightly singing and nodding to the beat. Accurate to the tempo, more than anyone else in that crowd.
She had a book open on the table, a hefty one— with papers and a pen idly twirling in her fingers. Her hands were lovely, he thought. Beautiful hair, fluffy and curly. It looked soft. He couldn’t make out many of her features in the dim lighting aside from the glasses sat on her nose. The round rims pressed against her nose, staying secure despite her movement.
The show finished with their bows, gratitude, and swift movement backstage. He was smitten. “George? Y’alright?” Ringo piped up, catching up to him. “You seem distracted,”
George hadn’t realized his newfound liking towards that girl was affecting him THAT intensely. “I just saw a pretty bird out there is all. Nothin’ to fuss.” He shrugged it off, thinking that there wouldn’t be much of a point to it all. She’d just reject him in the end, tired of his ‘rocker lifestyle’.
“Go to her, George.” Paul spoke up, grinning at the youngest. “You never know, y’know?” He trotted off to John like a lap dog. They were an established pair, so George stayed with Ringo. “I might.” He mumbled, sitting in the back, waiting for the boys to go out to drink. He needed one terribly.
“Well, jus’… ask. Worst thing is that she throws her drink at you or somethin’. Jus’ be respectful, a proper gentleman, y’know.” Paul said, taking a long drink of his beer he was given. George was quiet, as usual, and unsure. He didn’t want to be rejected, and it happened all the time before this fame. It had to be his ears, right?
“Or I’ll do it for you.” Paul grinned, teasing him, interrupting his internal debate.
“What? Can’t do that,” he said, sitting upward and paying attention. “Can’t make me seem meek.”
“You already seem meek.” John spoke up, Cynthia at his side. “You are meek, which is perfectly fine. Every band needs their tropes.”
George sighed, rubbing his face, and getting up to fix his appearance. His chest went out like a peacock, and he turned around to—
“This is Olivia. She’s the girl you were thinkin’ of, right? Have I messed it up?” Ringo said with her at his side. She was smiling quietly, wondering herself if he was thinking about her.
“Hi, George.” She smiled, stepping a little closer. “No hard feelings if I’m the wrong one.”
She was perfect.
“No, you’re it. The right one, I mean.” He was quiet, falling in love right there. The boys smiled and snickered, leaving them be. “You’re… Olivia?”
“Olivia Emerson.” She nodded. Her voice was accented a little. A little foreign, something off. She paused, stepping even closer. “I’m it?”
“…where’re you from, love?” He spoke, enchanted by her entire being. She was different from most. He hadn’t seen her figure. She might be too much for him to handle, but lord if he didn’t try—
“My mum is from Austria. I lived there until I was three, so… I have a tiny accent.” Austria. She sounded a little German, actually, so that made sense. She smiled, looking up at him. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all! No,” he smiled, blinking out of his haze. “Sit down, sit… here. I’ll get you a drink.” He said, grabbing a small bottle of wine. “…do you drink?” She nodded in response. He poured two for them, smiling.
“…tell me about yourself, hm?”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ # i hope that was legible & made sense. please let me know what you guys think & if you'd want more ! tysm, i love you all :))
overview ♡ : you wake up one morning with a nasty fever and your s/o is there to care for you 🫶
⠀ ꒰ ⠀a/n :: this is my first writing post . . . not my best but we all start somewhere! i apologize if this is ooc, as i’m not writing for a specific person!! i hope you all enjoy! happy shifting and your s/o loves you dearly⠀꒱
⠀ 𓈒۫ ׅ ✧ ⠀ tags / warnings : fem reader, talks of nausea (as an emetophobe myself..i understand), talks of sickness, s/o uses pet names like baby and princess, no use of y/n but uses of p/n (partner name), s/o lowkey babies them..i’m pushing my propaganda onto you… ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝ , gender neutral partner, reader is implied to be at least 18+ 🥨🥨
its 5 in the morning when you first wake up. nausea hits you like a freight train, churning your stomach and forcing its way into your throat. you manage to force yourself to your feet in attempts to go get a glass of water and some medicine. however, the world spins and you can barely keep your eyes open.
you sigh, giving up and sitting back down on the soft mattress. of course, it’s just your luck to get sick on a weekday. it’s not like you’re a person with responsibilities. the sudden disappearance of your warmth next to them was enough to jostle your partner. “mm..?” they stir and feel around the vacant space next to them, as if they were expecting you to still be lying there. their eyes blink open and immediately find yours.
“hey princess..you’re up early,” they rasp. as their view becomes more clear and less blurred from sleep, they finally register your disheveled appearance. your flushed face and clammy skin, how your eyes, usually bright and soft, are dulled and red-rimmed; something wasn’t right. “baby, what’s goin’ on? you okay?” immediately, they rise up to a sitting position.
you feel a lump in your throat. not from the nausea, but from the sheer overwhelm of being sick. your eyes water and you sigh in frustration. “i just woke up feeling like shit p/n. and i can’t even stand up to go get medicine,” you whine. your partners face softens with concern and sheer affection, as if then and there, they’ve decided to dedicate their entire tuesday to taking care of you. it was the only reasonable thing to do, in their mind. besides, there’s no other way they’d like to spend the day than taking care of their beautiful girl.
“oh sweetheart..i can get your medicine, okay? just lie down.” their hands find your shoulders as they gently guide you to lay back on the bed. you oblige, resting back against your sheets and pulling the duvet over your body. the sight of p/n getting up without hesitation to take care of you settles something in your nerves. how could you have though otherwise? this is the same partner who didn’t hesitate to tie your shoes at the park last week when you asked. . .
good point.
p/n returns a few moments later with a handful of pills and a glass of water. they clumsily set both on the nightstand and separate each pill with serious concentration. “okay..those are ibuprofen to break your fever, and that is an anti nausea medicine. take both, baby. i want to watch you.” much to their satisfaction, you take the medicine and drink (most) of the water.
happily, your partner helps you lay back down and relax onto the cooled sheets. they pull the duvet up to your chin and kiss your warm forehead. “get some rest, pretty. i’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”
