I’m so in the mood for soft husky eddie like I need to be smothered by him and his scent 🙃
UGHHH ugh ugh... u n me both anon... i need him so bad it's NOT funny... | husky!Eddie mlist
i'm thinking about a lazy summer evening when he's been working up a sweat outdoors doing odd jobs and fixing up his neighbor's car for just the cost of parts because he is a Very Good Man. and he comes home wearing the sluttiest blank tanktop you've ever seen plus jean shorts with frayed edges and he's just spilling out with his thighs and tummy and broad shoulders deliciously everywhere....
and it's too hot for the oven to be on but you've got the a/c on max and his favorite meal cooking and Eddie breathes a long sigh when he steps in the door, like the smell alone takes the strain off. and he strips off his boots while he greets you sweetly and he's got all these new freckles against his throat and across his cheekbones from working out in the sun. and he starts to go down the hallway saying Be right back after I shower off, honey, but you're whining and begging and tugging with your full weight on his thick arm (he barely moves) asking him to come lay with you on the couch, just for a bit :(( you've missed him soooo much all day and just wanna be with him.
and he can't say no to you. just can't. it's too warm to cuddle but under the cool breeze of the window air con Eddie wraps you up in his big arms and tangles his legs in yours and talks in low tones about his day until he gets sick of it and burrows his face into your neck, begging you to recount yours.
he's got multiple layers of sweat that've dried down and it should be kinda gross but it just is not. he smells like faded cologne from this morning and pheromones that are making your eyes flutter closed while you speak. you wind a hand around the back of his neck to feel the heat rising from his dark forest of hair, the sweep of his scalp that still smells like green apple shampoo and fresh laundry. dinner bakes away and when the timer goes off Eddie kisses you soft, sweet, slow, paying the buzzing no mind.
Summary: an ongoing cycle that you and Eddie have to break out of, eating at both of you alive. When jealousy and hurt crash, who is there to pick up the pieces?
"Eddie, stop", you laughed as he grabbed at your side, water slightly slapping against your lips, small waves rippling from his movements, the moon spilling silver light over lovers' lake.
“Stop? You’re laughing, sweetheart. That’s not stopping,” Eddie teased, curls plastered to his forehead, grin wide and mischievous. A glint of light reaching his eyes.
''Oh, you love me sweetheart'' he said, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you close. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, your arms snaking over his shoulders, his hair a mess of wet curls.
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though your lips found his anyway. Eddie groaned into the kiss, pulling you impossibly close, as if he could fuse you together.
Your hands are threading through his hair, and Eddie’s sliding lower on your waist. Both of you tangled in each other’s arms, intoxicating one another with the chaos that made you you.
Eddie pulled away first, his forehead leaning onto yours.
“We should skinny dip next time,” he grinned, eyes sparkling like it was the best idea he’d ever had.
You snorted, smacking his shoulder lightly, sending water splashing across his face. “You’re such a perv, Munson.”
He laughed, shaking his head, water dripping from his curls. “Perv? Please. I didn’t know it was a crime to want to be close to my royal highness.” He bowed his head dramatically, voice dripping with mock theatrics.
“Being nude in Lovers Lake at midnight would definitely make the town happy,” you shot back, a smile spreading onto your lips. “I bet the sheriff would love catching us out past curfew.”
Eddie’s grin widened, eyes glinting. “Then let him. I’ll tell him it was all my fault. Freak’s honor.”
The kiss that followed was rough and soft all at once. Yet the grin spread across Eddie's face, unmistakably bringing out a smile of your own.
--------------------
The strong smell of sweat over the weak, cheap cologne that hung on to the players. Eddie Munson hung around the entrance of the gym, back flushed against the door he saw you sitting on the bleachers while the game went on. His gaze locked on you, unrelenting, holding you in a trance. You tried not to show the way your insides were putty and how you secretly adored being under his gaze.
You hated how you knew that Eddie strived to be seen by you. The way he would worship you behind closed doors, how you loved every moment with him, no matter how secret it had to be. the glances, the glares, the smirks, the eye rolls. All part of a constructed game of pride, both of you clawing and fighting to stay on top.
Eddie hated the “social hierarchy” of Hawkins High. He hated how you played into it, hated how you sought approval even when you swore you didn’t.
You hated Eddie’s rebellion against it. You knew if he ever tried to fit in, he’d lose what made him Eddie. You would have never gone for Eddie or paid him mind if he played into this stupid game. But you also hated how exhausting it was to defend him, snarling at Jason, telling his friends to back off, watching fights break out, which always led to him losing and being left black and blue. You hated how reckless he was, how little he seemed to care about himself. Whether it was his grades, or risking it all to sell, or even risking it all to not let one of Jason's friends one up him. You knew Eddie went out of his way to take the beatings for his friends, and it all caused more stress on you.
You loved him, Eddie just seemed to be a magnet for trouble. The trouble coming from his simple existence and his lack of self-care.
And then there was Chrissy. Sweet, soft Chrissy Cunningham. She defended him gently, where as you defended him with all guns on the table. She was everything you weren’t: gentle, forgiving, kind. At least when it came to Eddie, the contrast between you two became apparent.
She would defend him so softly in front of everyone, while you were biting at his defense. Chrissy was what you can call the embodiment of gentleness.
Your jaw clenched at the thought. You hadn’t noticed you were still holding Eddie’s gaze until Brianna tugged your arm. Chrissy whispered something about needing to leave mid-game. You frowned. Why would Chrissy leave now?
You looked back just in time to see Eddie push off the door, opening it wide for her. Chrissy shot him a soft smile, and Eddie threw one back. Your stomach twisted, jealousy burning hot. Eddie’s grin dropped slightly when he caught the scowl on your face. You trusted Munson, you really did, but after he and Chrissy struck a deal, they seemed to be getting closer and closer.
You were going to murder Munson.
Or at least you would if you didn't love the stupid freak.
He knew what he was doing. He could sense it. You never spoke of your jealousy, but Eddie wasn’t stupid. He loved rattling you, loved seeing how far you’d bend before snapping. He wanted you to come forward and, for once, see a crack in your composure, not directed at his lack of self-care but at your actual emotions and feelings. He wanted to know if you felt as deeply as he did when he couldn't have you in front of everyone, while the people he hated most stayed around you at all times.
--
You walked out of the gym, the parking lot of Hawkins high long empty now. Outside, the night breeze bit at your legs and arms. The gym bag you held helped to no avail bite off the cold. You scanned the cars, hoping to see the run-down van. The broken rattly van that Eddie refused to get rid of.
A small smile formed as you thought back to the door that he would fight to open on the passenger side, where you would normally occupy. Always a gentleman.
Yet the van was nowhere in sight, and you bit your lip, frustration settling in your gut. You let out a breath and started your way up the road. Walking home, it was.
The walk was quiet, your Walkman forgotten on your bed, the forest pathway stretching endlessly into the night. The woods pressed in around you, shadows heavy, an eerie chill settling in your gut. Each step felt louder than it should, nerves crawling over your skin.
.You heard the sudden rumble of an engine, tearing down the road like a madman. your pulse jummped,excitment rising depite yourself, eddie loved speeding in his stupid van.
The car slowed. You turned, a smile fighting its way onto your face, one you refused to let Munson see. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much joy and relief it brought you, even with jealousy gnawing at your chest.
But as your eyes caught the headlights, the smile faltered, joy draining instantly. It wasn’t Eddie.
It wasn't eddies crazed van, it was Billy Hargroves stupid Camero. Your stomach dropped at the realization. you'd heard about Billy Hargrove from a multitude of people, some good, some bad. You had heard about his temper, his love for drinking and his constant smoking. Locker room whispers about how he was good in bed, girls giggling over his tight jeans.
The thought made your jaw tighten. You turned back around, refusing to linger, and continued walking.
“Where you going this late?” his voice called from the car.
The Camaro caught up with you, continuing forward, matching your pace.
“Do you need a ride or something? It’s a pretty far walk.” Your pace continued constant.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” his voice turned stern.
You swallowed. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m just heading home.”
He smiled, looking you up and down. “And where’s home?” You bit your lip, refusing to respond.
“Come on, I’m feeling extra generous tonight. I promise I don’t bite.”
He moved the car so that it blocked the road ahead. “Get in, sweetheart. I’m not leaving.”
“I promise, I don’t bite. Now get in.”
Billy didn’t seem his usual self, his tone softer than expected, a cigarette hanging from his lips. You noticed a faint bruise on the side of his face.
“I don’t know you,” you said flatly.
“Well, I don’t know you either, sweetheart. Yet here I am, helping. It’s cold outside, and I know that skirt isn’t doing anything to cover you. Get in. I’m not asking again.”
With that, you climbed into the car. Billy sped off, laughing, your fingernails curling into your palms at the speed. You could feel the crescent moons forming on your palms. Eddie never drove this badly, not when you were in the van with him.
“So, what’s got your panties in a twist?” he asked, cigarette balanced between his lips.
“Nothing,” you muttered.
“You always this uptight and bitchy?” he pressed, smoke exhaling from his lungs.
You noticed him pull into a barely lit gas station, a small panic rising in your chest. “Billy, I don’t-”
“Relax, I just need to buy more cigarettes,” he muttered, stepping out and slightly slamming the car door.
You sighed, sitting uncomfortably in the passenger seat, the back of your foot aching where your cheer shoes had begun to bruise from the long walk. You stared out the window, jealousy and frustration settling heavy in your chest. Suddenly, every inch of clothing felt unbearable, the socks creasing against your skin, the fabric of your shirt clinging wrong. You hated it all. And you hated Eddie for not picking you up, even though you’d secretly hoped he would.
He wasn't obligated to, but you hoped.
Then, headlights cut through the dim lot. A van pulled into the rundown gas station. Your breath caught as you recognized it instantly, Eddie’s rattling van.
Wild curls spilled out as he climbed from the driver’s side, laughing in his stupid, shameless way. He made his way theatrically to the passenger side, performing an exaggerated bow. From it, Chrissy Cunningham stepped out, a shy smile on her face.
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The universe had to be fucking with you.
--
eddie had seen the way you stred across the court, a small guilt settling into his stomahc. the truth was, eddie loved you, almost violently obssed with you. he would bend at your will wheneber you wanted, no matter how hard he tried to play it off.
His thoughts snapped out of it when Chrissy Cunningham made her wayover. a faint smile grzed his features, but his eyes immediately flicked back to you. he caught the scowl, the clench of your jaw, and sent you a tight lipped smile before leaving.
He was going to hear about it. Not directly, but in the little ways you always let him know, the microaggressions, the sharp snaps, the cold remarks. Maybe you’d tell him you didn’t care, maybe you’d push him away, but he knew how it would end. He’d kiss you, listen until the anger drained, and you’d both fall back.
Eddie knew you hated this arrangement. Both of you were hard headed, but never enough to truly hate each other, never enough to stay apart. It was always the same: too prideful to let your walls down, too intoxicated with each other to let go.
god he knew what awaited him. he hated how you wouldn't leave the hierarchy that despised him, but Eddie wasn't stupid. He understood why you stayed, he knew how your parents would react, how hard you worked to accomplish your dreams, and how every ounce of effort was poured into making something of yourself.
Eddie also knew you hated the way he wasted his potential, his lack of care for himself. Every fight, every snarl, every shove, every pull, it was all part of the vicious cycle. You both promised to let go, but always ended up back together, whether wrapped in each other’s arms or tangled between the sheets.
He knew he was yours. Always yours. No doubt in his mind. But Eddie couldn’t say the same about you. He knew you wanted him, yearned for him, burned for him, but he couldn’t see why. He couldn’t understand why someone like you would choose someone like him.
Eddie knew he loved you. He knew you did everything to keep him safe. Yet in his own way, he loved his self-sabotage. He believed you were too good, too far above him, and that it was only a matter of time before you ended up with someone above his level.
In a way, Eddie thought you were trying to force him into the perfect person you wanted. But deep down, he knew you cared about him, and only pushed him for his benefit, not yours. It wasn’t selfish, it wasn’t about appearances. Still, Eddie sometimes didn’t want to be better. He felt he couldn’t amount to it, couldn’t fit the idea of “better” that you longed for.
Eddie pulled himself out of his head as he walked with Chrissy toward his van, his flamboyant persona slipping back into place.
“So, what shall your poison be today?” he grinned, opening the door and practically jumping into the driver’s seat, his lunchbox sliding from the back.
“We’ve got all these options… or are we seeking our evil grass?”
Chrissy chuckled lightly. “I think I’ll stick to the soft stuff, Eds.”
Eddie sighed dramatically, throwing his head back. “Fine. No adventures of Ms. Cunningham tonight.”
Time slipped away without Eddie noticing. He had driven Chrissy out for a smoke, and she talked about Jason, all about how crappy he was.
“Y/N has been in a bit of a mood lately with all the picking, though,” Chrissy said casually. Eddie’s attention sparked.
“What could have possibly wounded the queen bee?” Eddie asked in his theatrics, taking a drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around his smirk.
“I think it’s a boy… or Jason bugging her. She’s been snapping at the guys a lot, especially over fights or beating on people. I think she might secretly like you.”
She said it so casually that Eddie froze, lips pursed, waiting for her to continue.
“I mean, she gives me hard stares when I do it. I try not to notice, though. Jason got into an argument about how he had to have a short dick and makes up for it by being an ass to people, especially you. She sticks up for you a lot. I don’t think anyone’s noticed but me.”
“I tried talking to her the other day, and she snapped at me.”
“Sounds like her highness herself,” Eddie muttered, masking the flicker of hope with sarcasm.
Chrissy chuckled softly, shaking her head. She liked talking to Eddie; he was a breath of fresh air. He was free.
It became dark before they knew it. Eddie panicked at the realization.
“Shit. What time does your game thing end?”
Chrissy looked down at the delicate watch on her wrist. “It ended maybe half an hour ago.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry... we need to pass by the school really quick, okay?”
Chrissy gave him an odd look but only nodded, smiling faintly. Eddie sped into the school parking lot, seeing everyone gone.
“Shit.”
Chrissy shot him a worried glance, biting her lip softly. Maybe something had gone wrong.
Eddie looked down at the steering wheel and noticed the almost empty line on the gas gauge.
“Shit,” he muttered. He needed to make the most of this, maybe buy you your favourite snack, some chocolate, and head to your house after dropping Chrissy off.
“Our next stop shall be the sacred shop of mystical treats and gas,” he announced theatrically. “If that’s okay?”
Chrissy laughed. “Okay, Eds.”
Chrissy smiled. Eddie had to fix this.
------
Their laughter up to the entrance of the store rang through your ears. God, this was torture. Where the hell was Hargrove?
As Eddie opened the door, he came face to face with Billy. Eddie, ever the performer, stepped aside with a mock bow, his theatrics dripping from every gesture. His eyes, however, followed Billy closely.
Billy tossed his stuff carelessly into the back seat and drove away like a madman. Eddie’s brows furrowed, unease twisting in his gut. For a split second, he thought he saw you in the passenger seat. His stomach tightened, breath catching, but he wasn’t sure.
--
“So, where is this house you were so eager for?” Billy asked, voice sharp.
“I need a break.” You dug through your bag on the floor, pulling out a joint Eddie had given you earlier, for when you felt extra bold and adventurous.
“Hey- not smoking that shit in my car.”
You looked at him. “Then pull over. I’m getting off.”
“Or,” he smirked, “you can wait and share. We’ll hit a little spot, hang out, and you can tell me what’s got your knickers in a twist.”
“No. I think I’m getting off.” The car sped up.
“Billy, I’m serious. This is kidnapping. Stop being an ass and let me out.”
The arguing was useless. He snapped back, and you snapped at him, the tension dangerous. Your eyes caught the road a few blocks from your house, far from any homes, perfect for disappearing.
“Get out.” He killed the engine.
He lit the blunt in your hand, and you took a drag. Billy leaned against his Camaro.
“So, what’s got the royal bitch in a mood?”
“Back off, Hargrove. Not right now, okay?”
“No. I want to know.”
“It’s nothing. Drop it.”
“Come on, it’s the least you could do for the ride."
" I’m sharing my weed," you snapped.
" Just talk, Jesus.”
You sighed, smoke leaving your lungs. Maybe it was the high, maybe desperation, but you told Billy everything. The on-and-off, the sex, the kissing, the “I love yous,” the fights, the pushing, the pulling, all of it.
“Really? Munson?” He took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs.
“Don’t you shove him and shit? All that petty crap you girls do when you’re trying to be a pain?”
“He talks shit, too, okay? He yells it to the world, calls me names in front of everyone. It’s mutual, Hargrove, not one-sided.”
“So you guys just fuck it out? Is it like foreplay for you?”
You grimaced but couldn’t help laughing.
“No. I actually care about him. Sadly. Like, really care. We always promise it’s the last time, but we go back to each other. Some deranged cycle. He’s with Cunningham right now, though.” Your nose scrunched at the thought.
Billy passed the blunt.
“Well, I’m pretty sure Munson saw you in my car, if that helps.”
You sighed. It didn’t help. You knew Eddie and his antics; you could already feel the fight brewing.
“You better not tell anyone we fuck, Hargrove. I mean it.”
“You’re too caught up in the freak to even let me kiss you. Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a cunt. A vicious bitch at that.”
------------
Eddie waited. It had been nearly an hour since he dropped Chrissy off. He parked his van a block down and climbed through your window, snacks and apologies ready. He sat on your bed, looking around the room. He rehearsed his apology anxiety spiking within him.
Worry started gnawing at him. Were you walking? Was it really you with Hargrove? His thoughts spiraled, impatience and agitation creeping in. He hadn’t meant for him and Chrissy to be out long, it was just supposed to be unwinding and a sale.
It had only been a week or two since you both had called it quits again, but you’d already kissed and made out in his van a week ago, fixing things in your own messy way.
Anxiety prickled at his spine. The jabbing roar of an engine cut through the silence. Eddie peeked out the window and froze, you were stepping out of Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.
His jaw locked, tongue running over his teeth, insecurity spiking hard. He saw you flip Billy off as the car sped away, saw the sigh leave your chest as you made your way in, gym bag slung at your side.
The anger, the anxiety, the guilt, the apology, all of it bubbled inside him. He could feel how it would snap, how it would turn ugly if he didn’t get control.
---
The house was dark, your feet ached, everything felt heavy and lighter all at once. Your chest sank, shoulders rounding under exhaustion, the thought of Eddie not showing up pressing harder than the walk itself.
You made your way up the stairs.
Your door was closed, but when you stepped inside, a figure sat waiting. A startled sound almost escaped your chest, until you saw the wild curls.
He was on your bed, the lamp flickering on. Eddie stared at you long and hard.
He took in your appearance, the tired eyes, the bitter look, the faint scent of marijuana clinging to you. His scowl deepened. You sighed when you saw him.
You sat on the bed, pulling off your shoes, blisters forming at the back. Eddie’s eyes softened at the sight, but you refused to break the silence.
“So… Hargrove now?” His voice was bitter, accusatory.
“Don’t start, Eddie. I’m not in the mood.” You peeled off your socks.
“I was over here rehearsing apologies for my screw-up, but there you were with Hargrove.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t leave to be with my dream girl, the princess of Hawkins- did I, Eddie?” You let out a humorless chuckle.
“Yeah, that’s rich. Switch it up on me.”
He shook his head, dragging a hand down his face.
“Eddie, you left with Cunningham. You left me stranded knowing my parents weren’t home. You do understand how far my house is from school, right?”
“I didn’t mean for that, okay? I went to get your favorite snacks, spent the whole time thinking of how to make it up to you.”
“Okay, Eddie.” Your eyes felt tired, your heart heavy.
“Okay? That’s it?” His hands moved as he spoke, frustration spilling. He stood, pacing.
“Fine. Did you get in her pants, since you apparently want me to know every detail about you and Cunningham?” you snapped.
“Real rich coming from you. You were with Hargrove.”
“Eddie, I didn’t do it on purpose. If you weren’t so busy snuggling up to Chrissy, maybe I would’ve gotten home to be with you like I planned. But no, no, you insist on shoving things in my face.”
“I’m not sleeping with Chrissy. I don’t even like her that way.”
“Okay, Eddie.”
“Okay? Really, okay again?”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m jealous, that I’m hurt, that I just want us to be okay without arguing?”
“What do you want me to say, Eddie? I defend you, I fight for you, and you’re over here taking and taking. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Eddie stared. “I want us to be together. But every time we’re okay, you always find something better in some way. In school, in clubs, in people”
“Eddie, I love you. And if you can’t see that, you’ve got bigger issues.”
“You don’t want to date, don’t switch it up on me.”
“Eddie, I would date you in a heartbeat. You just hate yourself too much to realize when people care about you.”
“Oh, okay. Real rich coming from you, talking about self-hatred. You hang out with people you hate just to make yourself feel better.”
“I’m trying to move forward, Eddie. That’s not fair. Just because you refuse to grow, refuse to do something for yourself that doesn’t involve sabotaging everything, doesn’t mean you should hold me to your standard.” Your voice wavered, tears threatening to drop from your eyes.
it had turned to screaming, voices colliding, accusations flying across the room. Back and fourth, a game both played too well.
It always found its way, the cycle, the chaos, the venom wrapped in love. Because both of you loved each other, that much you knew.
And maybe, just maybe, loving each other wasn’t always enough.
Because love isn’t always enough.
“Eddie…” He kept going on about how he didn’t mean to, how it all blew up for no reason.
“Eddie.” Your voice was quiet.
He sighed, frustrated, but his features softened when he saw the fight leaving your face.
“Can we just not right now? I wanted to spend today with you. I’m not ashamed of you the way you think I am. I don’t want you to change, I just want you to care about yourself. And whether you want Chrissy or me, I can’t decide that for you. But I’m tired, Eddie. I’m sad, and I’m hurt.”
You swallowed as tears fell, your lip quivering, emotions breaking through against your will.
“Please leave. I really can’t right now. I want to shower and sleep. My feet are blistering, and I just want my bed.”
Eddie saw how tired you were, guilt crawling up his gut. His instincts screamed at him to hug you, to comfort you in every way he could. He wished he could cure it all with kisses and stupid words that once made you smile. He wanted to make it better, to see that grin you gave when he said something ridiculous.
Eddie wanted to hold you close, kiss the crown of your head, and promise you’d get through this together, because you always did. He knew you more intimately than he knew himself sometimes, and you knew him better than anyone else. It felt like he was losing you with every passing second.
He realized now what you felt was exhaustion. His jealousy had flared at the worst time. He knew you didn’t want Hargrove, the only reason you were with him was because Eddie wasn't there, not because you wanted to shove it in his face. He realized it wasn't a petty fight.
Eddie’s stomach twisted. He just wanted it to be better. He wanted you to feel better. His own eyes began to water.
“Sweetheart, I’m-” He stepped toward you, but you stepped away, shaking your head as tears fell.
“Go home. Please.” Your voice sounded broken. Eddie knew this wasn’t just about the ride or Chrissy. He knew it was one too many screw-ups, piling up until you couldn’t carry them anymore. He knew you tried. He knew you’d be with him in a heartbeat if only he could see what you saw.
Eddie swallowed, nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll drive by… or call.”
You didn’t answer, only sniffled, standing in the middle of the room. Eddie left, shutting the door behind him.
Walking down the stairs felt heavy. With each step, he realized more, his wrongs, your wrongs. The issue always being that he cared too little, and you cared too much for him.
He was going to fix it. No one could take your place. and the thought of even trying or being with anyone else hurt.
It had been two months. Graduation loomed just a month away.
You’d seen Eddie around school. He looked tired. Sometimes he waved, sometimes he just stared while talking with his friends. You’d drift your eyes away… or hold his gaze for a few beats longer than usual.
He hadn’t called the next day.
Eddie thought the whole drive home after the fight, replaying it until his head spun. He collapsed into bed without even taking his clothes off. He was left with his thoughts, the image of you with someone else ate at him. He told himself maybe you’d both run your course. And that it was for the better.
But then, he wanted to change his mind. Because it didn’t feel right. He wanted to see you smile, he wanted to see it even if it meant leaving. He decided you deserved happiness, maybe for good this time. You deserved that, and so much more.
You tried to talk to him once, and only once, in that stretch of silence. It was during one of his campaigns, his friends crowded around the table. After practice, you stepped inside the auditorium. Eddie saw you and winced. He stood awkwardly and said maybe you two shouldn’t drag it out any longer, that, despite the wonderful moments, it wasn’t worth hurting you.
And that’s how it ended.
You grew quieter around Jason and his friends. The cheer team no longer felt like comfort or cover. Eddie had been right, you hung around people you hated just to build yourself up.
You occasionally talked to Hargrove. Not friends, not really, but you both understood you could say things to each other. You still thought of him as a shitty person, but knew there was softness buried deep. He thought of you as a stuck‑up bitch with a hard exterior and soft insides.
Chrissy noticed. She was ever so observant. She saw the shift in you during practices, the unhappiness you carried. She saw Eddie, sad and distracted, and it drove her mad, not understanding what was apparently hurting you both so deeply.
One day at lunch, she made her way toward Eddie. Everyone stared. Jason sneered, commenting on what she was doing, going to the freak, had she lost it? He stood, ready to beat Eddie down.
Chrissy snapped. Her voice rang out, sharp and trembling, cutting through the cafeteria noise.
“Jason, stop! You’re being an asshole.”
Everyone stared. Jason froze, stunned that Chrissy Cunningham, quiet, sweet Chrissy, had raised her voice.
She swallowed hard, her shy nature fighting against the fire in her chest.
“He’s smart, he’s kind, and he’s my friend. You don’t get to treat him like garbage just because you think you can.”
The cafeteria went silent. Jason sneered, but Chrissy stood her ground, cheeks flushed, hands trembling.
Eddie looked startled, almost disbelieving, as Chrissy turned toward him. Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed steady.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
Everyone stared. She swallowed, her shy nature fighting against the fire in her chest. Eddie looked startled. Chrissy turned to him and asked if they could talk.
You didn’t know what was happening. You only saw them walk out of the cafeteria. The bitter thought settled in your mind, maybe that was why it ended.
You looked back at your food, ignoring the gossip swirling around the table.
“So what’s gotten into you, Eddie?” Chrissy asked, worry lacing her voice.
“What do you mean?” Eddie muttered.
“Everything’s changed. I’ve noticed you staring at Y/N. She’s been all over the place lately. No one notices but me. Well… everyone notices her. She drifts, she snaps at people when she isn’t with Hargrove.”
Eddie felt guilt. He knew he’d been the cause.
“I just… I messed up.”
And then it all came out. Eddie told her about you, how you’d been seeing each other for a year, how it started with late‑night talks, the walks, the kissing, the dates, the hangouts. How he let you into every crevice of his life, and how you let him into yours.
Chrissy listened, quiet but steady.
“You’re passing your classes. You’re graduating this year. You’re getting a job. I can help you.”
Eddie looked at her, confused.
“She wants you to care about yourself the way she cares about you. So do it. Then talk to her. Try to get her back. Because clearly both of you are suffering, and it’s killing you both.”
With that, Eddie decided he would get you back. He just needed to better himself first. That’s what the two months of silence had been for. And that’s what the month leading into graduation would be about.
--------
The camera flashed, the light bothering your eyes, a smile painted on your face. Your mother insisted on more pictures despite the hundreds she had taken already.
“Mom, we still have the rest of the day,” you laughed softly.
“You just grew up so fast. Now stand over there for another picture.”
The day blurred after that. You sat in the field, classmates laughing or crying as the speeches continued. You smiled. Everything felt so bittersweet.
You looked to the stands, saw your mom cheering and waving, a smile tugging at your features. Your eyes moving against the crowd. A few rows down, you spotted Wayne. Your brain halted for a moment.
Your brows furrowed as names were called left and right, until one made your heart leap.
“Edward Munson.”
Your head snapped toward the stands. There he was, Eddie Munson, wild curls tucked under his cap, gown draped awkwardly, grinning in all his glory. Your smile widened despite everything. He looked around the crowd until his eyes found yours. His grin stretched further as he lifted his diploma high.
Wayne’s cheering rang out as Eddie turned, showing it off proudly.
Finally, your name was called. Your pulse picked up as you walked across the stage. You saw your family, your mom, and then the crowd. Billy Hargrove clapped but rolled his eyes teasingly. And then there was Eddie, cheering louder than anyone, the biggest grin on his face. Your heart skipped a beat. This was it, this closed high school forever.
Tear‑eyed goodbyes on the field, families meeting graduates. Your mom stayed behind, giving you time with your friends, if only she knew.
“So, graduate,” Hargrove strolled over.
“Yeah, who knew you’d manage? I thought you were too busy showing off your ass to the school,” you teased.
“One of my many talents,” he rolled his eyes.
He gave you a quick hug. “Congratulations.” His gaze lingered.
“What?” you asked, brows furrowed.
“I think someone wants to congratulate you.” With that, Billy walked away toward a red‑haired girl.
You stood confused. You didn’t think anyone cared enough to come up to you.
“All these tears, as if we don’t live in the same town and have a whole summer ahead,” Eddie’s voice came casually from beside you, though his fingers fiddled with his rings.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, nothing more emotional than not seeing each other in school but running into each other at the mall. Truly heinous way to go.”
You turned to him, smiling. “You made it. I knew you could.” Your eyes glossed, you were proud of him, truly proud. Maybe you had never been so proud of someone before as in this moment.
“I did it,” he said softly, looking down.
“And look at you. You made it too,” he added, eyes flicking to your cap and gown.
“Yeah, I did.” A smile tugged at your lips.
“Listen, I-”
“Y/N! Oh my baby, you finally graduated!” Your mom’s voice cut through, pulling your eyes away from Eddie’s intense stare.
She hugged you tightly, words spilling out. Over her shoulder, you caught Eddie’s smile, proud, tender, watching someone else love you the way he did.
Eddie felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Wayne, pride written all over his face. Wayne pulled him into a hug, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
Your mom insisted on a picture of both of you. You stood awkwardly side by side.
“Oh, stop it, you two,” she scolded, signaling for you to hug.
And you did, pulling each other into a side embrace, smiling for the camera as the flash went off.
You turned to him, your stomach twisting at the goodbye.
“I’ll see you around, Eddie,” you said as your mom started toward the car.
---------
The Hawkins summer was already beating you down, and it was barely the first day.
The day after graduation, everything felt bittersweet. You secretly fangirled at the fact that Eddie had spoken to you, proud of his achievement. Whether he made it with or without you, you were still proud.
The afternoon sun settled heavy, your shorts doing little to relieve the heat, when a knock came at the door. You made your way down, confusion lacing your featues.
You opened it, greeted by wild curls, a nervous smile, and Eddie Munson waiting.
He held flowers. A small bouquet clutched in ring‑littered hands.
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing.
“Eddie… I didn’t expect you.” Your heart raced in your chest.
“Yeah, yeah. These are for you.” He held the flowers out awkwardly. You furrowed your brows but took them anyway, your fingers brushing his, electricity sparking up your arm, your pulse quickening.
He cleared his throat. “I love you.”
The words tumbled out quickly, unexpected, a spontaneous symphony to your ears.
“What?” Confusion laced your tone.
“I said I love you. I love you so much. I wanted to prove I could be something, that I could care the way you cared. Because I love you. I never want to let go of you. I can’t live without your temper, your sarcasm, the way you roll your eyes at my jokes.” His breath was uneven, every word spilling out raw.
Your face froze. Your rib cage felt on the verge of breaking.
“These past few months have been hell. Every day I thought of you. I’d see you smile, but I wanted it to be for me. If you let me, I won’t screw up anymore. I’ll keep fixing things, keep working toward something. Because I love you. And I’ve never loved anyone like this.” His eyes glossed, his confession consuming him.
He stared at you, eyes burning, yearning.
In a swift movement, you pulled him in, face pressed to his chest as you embraced him tight.
“I love you,” you mumbled into his shirt.
“I love you so much, Munson.”
Eddie pulled you back just enough to grab your face and kiss you.
The kiss was long, sweet, tender, beautiful. Every emotion, the anger, the love, the ache, all encapsulated in a single kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, until laughter broke you apart.
“We can go to the lake and catch up. As my girlfriend this time.”
“Is nudity the catch?” you teased, the joke reminding you of your last time together.
“No catch. Just you and me.”
The drive was spent in laughter. The flowers were left in a vase, the van rumbling to life.
Eddie laughed as you stripped off your shorts and shirt, racing him into the lake. The cold water splashed against your skin, goosebumps rising in the summer heat.
“Shit, that’s cold!” Eddie complained, chasing after you. He grabbed your waist, turning you toward him.
“I got you, sweetheart. And I’m not letting go this time.” He leaned in for a kiss, only to be met with water as you splashed him.
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.” He flung water back at you, laughter echoing across the lake.
The afternoon was spent in that cycle, splashing, laughing, kissing.
“That was the last time I was ever letting you go,” His eyes softening.
“I love you, Eds,” sincerity lacing your tone.
He kissed you again, water embracing you both, the sun long gone. The worries of the world forgotten.
a/n: It's a little bit of everything. I took some inspiration from a few songs to write this, and it really changed the initial plot of what I had in mind, but as always, this is all a lot and new to me sooooooo I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND LOTS OF LOVE.
₊ ° ⊹ ♡ 𝐚/𝐧: requested by this anon <3 i loved writing this sm , it was so fun :3 i know the header is kinda 2000s but it can take place in any era . . . hope you enjoy!!!
⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: never proofread , includes fluff and smut , the reader is very bubbly and optimistic , reader is known to wear bright clothing , eddie absolutely adores you , contrast in styles , opposites attract kinda love , tooth rotting sweetness
eddie munson absolutely adored you. every girl in hawkins knew it. some even envied it. not because they wanted him for themselves, but because of the way he looked at you. the way he smile when you walked into a room. the way his voice softened when he said your name.
you were his opposite in every way that mattered. while eddie lived in black denim, battered jackets, and the faded logos of metal bands, you showed up in sunshine. bright yellows. soft baby blues. peppermint pinks. you were all warmth and laughter, a walking burst of color in his otherwise monochrome world. and he couldn't get enough of it.
your personality was just as luminous. bubbly in a way that wasn't forced, cheerful in a way that made people want to be near you. but eddie was the one you chose. on his worst days—when the weight of being eddie “the freak” munson pressed down on his shoulders, when the town looked at him like he was already guilty of something—all it took was you pressing a kiss to his cheek, leaving a glossy lipstick print behind, and chirping, "hi, eds!" his whole world realigned. the tension bled out of him, and he’d crack a smile before he even realized he was doing it.
he made it his mission to keep you as happy as you made him. happier, if he could manage it. when he went thrifting for his usual rotation of battle vests and band tees, his eyes would wander to the racks he'd never touched before—the ones full of color. he’d pick through floral prints and pastel sweaters and anything with a pop of brightness, imagining how it would look on you. he didn't care what shade it was, as long as it had life in it. you could walk out in lemon yellow one day and powder purple the next, and every time, he'd stop mid-sentence, his rings tapping against the steering wheel, and just watch you. mesmerized. like you were the only thing in focus.
the way his hand found the small of your back, the way he'd tug a strand of your hair and grin, the way he'd defend you with a ferocity that surprised even him—it all said the same thing: you were his favorite person. his good thing. his bright spot in a world that had never been particularly kind to him.
he lived for the moments he spent with you. it was a fact that puzzled his friends but made perfect sense to him: no matter how high-energy or delightfully bubbly you were, you never wore him out. where other people drained his battery, your presence seemed to supercharge it. he just couldn’t get enough of you.
he took pure joy in spoiling you, willingly trailing behind you into crowded boutiques to help you hunt for the brightest clothes you could find. he would happily carry your bags, hold your hand on the walk to the ice cream parlor, and listen to you chatter about anything and everything.
but you never let it be a one-way street. you noticed every single one of his niche interests. whenever you spotted a vintage cassette tape he was missing or a faded metal/rock tee in a thrift store window, you bought it without a second thought. you knew the map of his heart just as well as he knew yours.
one morning at school, you practically floated down the hallway. catching sight of his familiar denim jacket at his locker, you skipped right up behind him, your bright skirt swirling around your knees.
"eds! eds! i got you a little somethin'!" you chirped cheekily. you leaned against the locker next to his, beaming a dazzling smile that instantly made the crowded, dingy hallway fade into the background.
eddie turned around, a helpless, breathless grin breaking across his face the second he looked at you. you were like a burst of pure sunshine. "i already told you, honey," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, affectionate register reserved only for you. "you don't gotta keep getting me things."
"oh, hush. lookie!"
his chest ache with a sudden wave of warmth.
you unzipped your backpack and carefully pulled out a pristine copy of the final installment of the fantastic art of frank frazetta.
eddie froze. his jaw practically dropped, his dark eyes blowing wide as he stared at the fantasy art book in your hands.
"i know you have all the other volumes," you rushed out, your words tumbling over each other in your excitement, your hands gesturing animatedly. "and you’re always talking about how much you wanted this last one that came out last year, but you said it was impossible to find around here and—"
he didn't let you finish. overwhelmed by how incredibly lucky he was, eddie stepped forward, cupping the back of your neck with his hand and pulling you into a deep, desperate, and utterly devoted kiss. the metal of the locker clattered slightly behind you, but you didn't mind. you melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, a soft smile tugging at your lips against his mouth.
when he finally pulled back just an inch, his thumb gently traced your cheekbone. you looked up at him through your lashes, breathless and beaming.
"so... you like it?" you teased softly.
"i love it," he whispered, his voice thick with genuine emotion. he leaned down to press a lingering, tender kiss right to the center of your forehead. "and i love you. seriously, sweetheart, you’re the best. how the hell did you even find this?"
"i have my ways," you replied with a playful wink. "you’re always taking care of me, eds. i figured it was my turn to take care of you."
eddie stared down at you, his heart hammering against his ribs. it physically ached how much he adored you. just your presence alone brought an effortless, healing warmth into his chaotic world.
"you take care of me every single day, honey. believe me," he said softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest, never wanting to let you go.
he lived to make you laugh. to eddie, your laughter was the absolute best sound in hawkins—light and infectious. he loved triggering it, often leaning in to playfully tug on one of your belt loops, wind a strand of your hair around his rings, or wrap his hands around your waist to hoist you up and twirl you around until you were breathless and giggling.
you were the kind of couple that made the rest of the school roll their eyes, completely shameless about your public displays of affection. if his hand wasn’t enveloped in yours, his arm was draped over your shoulders, or his fingers were idly weaving through your hair while you stood at your lockers. he was a constant flurry of physical devotion, paired with an endless stream of vocal praise.
he noticed every single detail about you, never hesitating to loudly declare how incredible your hair looked that morning, or how much he loved the specific, vibrant outfit you had meticulously pieced together. naturally, you matched his energy note for note.
your eyes would go wide with excitement when you would notice a change in his appearance. you would let out a soft, delighted gasp, your gaze practically scanning him from head to toe.
"wait, is this a new jacket?" you once asked, your voice spiking with that signature, sunny enthusiasm. you grabbed the lapels of the dark denim, smoothing your hands over the fabric. "why didn't you tell me you got it? it looks so cool! and oh my god—did you get new pins, too?"
eddie’s chest would swell, a proud, dramatic smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at your hands resting on his chest. he would hook his thumbs into his pockets, leaning back against the locker to bask in your undivided attention.
another time, you were comfortably sprawled out across his unmade bed, your legs kicking idly in the air as you flipped through a colorful magazine, a vivid splash of bright energy against his dark posters and cluttered shelves.
one the floor below, eddie sat cross-legged with his beloved guitar balanced on his knee. his brow was furrowed in intense concentration, his calloused fingers flying over the fretboard as he tried to nail a complex, blistering metal riff. suddenly, a sharp, sour chord rang out, followed by the heavy thud of his palm muting the strings.
eddie let out a defeated groan, burying his face in his hands as his dark curls spilled forward.
"what happened, eds?" you asked softly, lowering your magazine. your voice was a gentle, curious balm to his immediate irritation.
"sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice muffled by his hands. he looked up, looking thoroughly exhausted by his own perfectionism. "i just... i keep messing this one stupid part up. my fingers aren't moving fast enough."
you smiled down at him from the edge of the mattress, your eyes filled with nothing but absolute faith. "maybe try slowing it down until you get it right," you suggested sweetly, leaning over to rest your chin on your hands. "i know you like to rush the tempo when you get frustrated. just breathe and take it easy."
eddie blinked up at you. it never failed to amaze him how easily you could read him, or how your sunny optimism could instantly defuse his worst moods. he swallowed his pride, giving you a grateful nod. "right. okay, yeah. thanks."
he reset his hands, consciously drawing a deep breath. following your advice, he played the intricate sequence at a fraction of its normal speed. it sounded better. cleaner even. he looped it again, slightly faster this time, his confidence building with every note. by the third repetition, his fingers moved with fluid precision, finally nailing the riff at its proper, thunderous tempo.
you let out a delighted giggle, clapping your hands together. "yay! see, i told you!" you cheered, your face lighting up with pride. "you’re so good, eddie. you don't have a single thing to worry about, trust me. no guy in hawkins can play like you."
eddie froze, his fingers resting on the vibrating strings as he looked up at you. you were glowing, completely invested in his little victory. he was so deeply, hopelessly head over heels for you that it felt entirely overwhelming.
without a word, he carefully unplugged his guitar and set it safely in its stand. he stood up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, playful intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
before you could ask what he was doing, eddie crawled onto the bed, looming over you. with a swift, gentle tug, he slipped the magazine right out of your hands and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, where it landed somewhere on the floor.
"eddie!" you gasped, a bright laugh bubbling out of you as he suddenly captured your lips in a deep, intoxicating kiss.
you giggled softly right into the kiss as his weight gently guided you back down onto the pillows. his hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with pure adoration.
"you’re so sweet, you know that?" he whispered, his chest rumbling with a breathless laugh as he began peppering your face with a barrage of soft, ticklish kisses—your jaw, your nose, your eyelids. "an absolute angel. what did i ever do to deserve you?"
"i love you, eds, but my magazine—"
"shh, i’ll get you more."
he always made sure to show you how much he loved you. especially in the bedroom.
when you were together physically, your pleasure was always the main priority. and he made sure to remind you of that. he’d watch you with those soft brown eyes, learning exactly what made you gasp, what positions had you clutching the sheets, which angles drew out the longest moans from your throat. and once he knew, he would lead you through crescendos again and again until you were boneless and breathless beneath him.
he never resorted to cruelty or manipulation to heighten the experience. there wasn’t really any need for degrading language or forced begging when genuine worship did the trick so effectively. instead, eddie would whisper sweet nothings against your neck as he moved within you—the way you looked right now was "the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen," how lucky he felt to be trusted with this intimacy, promises to do this forever if you'd let him.
his large hands would thread through your hair, anchoring you gently while his hips created a rhythm designed specifically for maximum sensation. soft kisses would trail across your collarbones, along your jawline, at the sensitive spot behind your ear. the sight of you—brows knitted in concentration, lips swollen and parted—was genuinely breathtaking to him. it filled something hollow in his chest, watching you come undone like this, knowing he was the one causing these reactions.
"let me take care of you, yeah?" he'd murmur, adjusting his pace when he felt you tense toward release. "just feel it, baby. i got you. you gonna come for me?"
your fingers would dig into his bicep, nails leaving faint red marks on his skin as pleasure coiled tight and unbearable in your core. "y-yeah, eds. i’m so close."
the words barely had time to leave your mouth before eddie changed his rhythm, driving deeper with increased intensity. his lips found your neck again, sucking gently at the sensitive skin there while his hips established a harder, more demanding pace.
"come for me, sweet girl. let me have it," he would groan against your skin, voice strained with his own building need. his free hand slid down to grip your hip, holding you steady for his increasingly powerful movements. "fuck, you're doing so good for me. so fucking perfect."
his praise—that warm, admiring tone—would always send you tumbling over the edge. a long, broken moan escaped your lips as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. the sight and sound of your climax would trigger his own release almost immediately, eddie burying himself deep with a shuddering groan, face pressed against your shoulder.
for several moments, neither of you would move except for the rise and fall of your chests. eddie would press slow, lingering kisses to your cheek, temple, anywhere his lips could reach. when he would finally pull back, he carefully disengages from your body and toss the condom into the small waste bin by the bed.
he’d collapse beside you instantly, his weight settling next to yours. he wouldn’t move away, but instead shift slightly, resting on an elbow so his gaze would be fixed entirely on you. his eyes, usually charged with intense passion, were now soft, reflective pools of pure affection as he watched you try to regulate your breathing.
"you okay?" he asked softly, his voice a low, comforting rumble. his fingers began to gently thread through your hair, a comforting, rhythmic caress.
you responded with a soft, contented hum—a sound that vibrated pleasantly against your ribs—a clear signal of contentment. "mhm," you breathed out.
"what about you? are you okay?" you immediately countered, a flicker of genuine concern crossing your features. "did i hurt your arm? or maybe your back?"
a warm, pleased chuckle escaped him at the sheer sweetness of your concern for him. he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a feather-light kiss—a promise of more closeness to come. "i’m fine, baby. you know i like the sting."
you playfully slapped his chest, a quick, affectionate tap that elicited a deeper laugh from him. "seriously though," he insisted. "do you need anything? water? or should we raid the fridge?" he would never let you go unsettled after a session.
but most of the time, you would just shake your head, your desire for proximity overwhelming any immediate need. "no, i’m okay, eds. just wanna lay here with you."
his heart would give a clench at your simple request. he’d pull you closer, maneuvering until your head settled perfectly in the cradle of his chest, allowing you to absorb the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat. "you ever need anything," he murmured close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin, "tell me. i want to make sure i’m good to you."
"you’re always good to me, eddie," you reassured him, feeling safe and cherished nestled against him.
nobody had to understand the connection between you two. it was a bond that defied easy explanation—you, radiant and bright as the morning sun; eddie, a man who would move galaxies just to keep you smiling. somehow, despite the contrast in your natures, the two of you brought out the best in each other.
the world might not have understood it. they might have seen your brightness as a stark contrast to his brooding nature.
but you knew better.
you understood that it was precisely because of your differences that you worked so beautifully together. when life tried to dim your sparkle, eddie was there to fan the flames of your spirit. and when his own demons reared their ugly heads, you were the one constant source of warmth and comfort.
at the end of the day, all that mattered was the love you shared. it was the kind of love that made sense only to those lucky enough to experience it firsthand.
and so, despite the judgmental stares and whispered rumors, you remained unapologetically you—a walking embodiment of joy and optimism. and eddie continued to be eddie—a man who would stop at nothing to ensure your happiness.
Papercraft commission of Frieren! I love this series, so I was extra excited to make this piece. ^_^
Since I had free choice of what spell to depict, I picked the Vollzanbel/black hole spell from the big magic fight in episode 25, because I thought it would look especially rad made out of shimmery holographic paper. Plus, I also got to make flying rocks! Bursts of fiery light! Lots of drama!! And, my favorite part - I got to go super, wildly detailed with Frieren's hair!
˚꩜｡summary: between cinnamon rolls and spilled glitter, you and wayne conspire behind eddie's back to plan the perfect birthday for him. unfortunately, it so happens to fall on the same fucking day as thanksgiving this year.
˚꩜｡tags/tw: tooth rotting fluff (but the blog is still 18+ so mdni) | no y/n, afab/fem!reader, est. relationship, thanksgiving, eddie's birthday, reader secretly being emotional, eddie calling us mama bc its hot idc, kinda grumpy (reader) x sunshine (eddie), no smut
˚꩜｡word count: 9.4k+
˚꩜｡a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month. i hate it, its utter poo and not proofread </3
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
The following weeks disappeared faster than either of you had expected.
One moment, Eddie was desperately trying to finish the nursery while Wayne showed up every weekend with a new excuse about checking the paint or making sure Eddie hadn’t installed the shelves crookedly.
The next, Robin had somehow convinced herself she was Julian’s favourite aunt, Dustin and Will had started thrifting children’s fantasy books, and Steve had developed a stress twitch every time someone handed him a baby item – mostly because it wasn’t a baby item for himself.
He secretly grew to hate Eddie for beating him to becoming the first dad of the group.
Before you knew it, November had arrived.
And somehow, so had Eddie’s twenty-fourth birthday.
Which, coincidentally, fell on Thanksgiving that year.
Because you definitely didn’t have enough shit to do already.
Which was exactly how you’d found yourself sitting somewhat cross-legged on the living room floor – despite knowing getting back up again was going to be absolute hell – with Eddie’s entire collection of photographs from the last six months scattered around you.
A tube of glue rested beside your knee. The biggest photo album you’d been able to find lay open in front of you, surrounded by at least a dozen sheets of stickers and enough glitter pens to concern any reasonable person.
Looking back, you probably should’ve started sooner. Who would’ve thought sorting through six months’ worth of photographs, gluing them onto pages, and decorating them with little captions and notes would take more than ten hours?
Craning your neck towards the clock hanging above the refrigerator, a flicker of panic immediately settled in your chest when you realised it was already nearing five.
Which meant Eddie would be leaving the garage any minute.
Which meant you and your surprise gift were completely screwed. Because there was absolutely no way in hell you’d been able to clean up the disaster surrounding you and hide all the evidence before he got home.
Just like you’d predicted, not even twenty minutes later the soft click of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment.
The photo album had been snapped shut and shoved beneath the couch – which would undoubtedly become a problem for another day – while your hands tried to move faster than what was humanly possible as you stuffed the remaining supplies into a plastic Walmart bag.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered under your breath, your eye twitching when you nearly dropped a tiny tube of glitter onto the floor. “Please kill me.”
“Don’t even think that.”
Eddie’s voice immediately pulled you from your frantic movements. Your hand froze halfway towards the sticker sheets while your heart seemed to stop beating entirely.
Eddie, bless his heart, walked straight past the evidence without a glance. He set the plastic bag of takeout on the kitchen table, mumbled something about needing the bathroom, and immediately disappeared down the hallway.
Your eye twitched again, then a few times more.
Only when he’d disappeared into the bathroom did you finally snap back into motion, hurriedly shoving the remaining supplies into the bag before cramming it beneath the couch beside the hidden photo album.
While his disgustingly loud stream echoed through the apartment – because he’d recently developed the infuriating habit of leaving every door open in case something happened – you were busy trying to push yourself off the floor.
You tried twice before giving up entirely.
“I forgot to call,” he started before flushing the toilet. “But is Chinese okay?”
Heavy footsteps followed him down the hallway a moment later.
“Or do you want something else?” he asked as he stepped back into the living room. “I don’t mind getting something else if you don’t want Chinese tonight.”
“No, Chinese is fine,” you replied quietly as you finally found his gaze. “Did you get extra egg rolls?”
“Yeah, of cou–” Eddie immediately stopped mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“I–”
“And why do you have tiny containers of glitter?”
Your usual staring contest had apparently started without either of you noticing.
You didn’t win this one.
“I, uh…” you trailed off, desperately trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds while a nervous chuckle escaped you. “No reason, babe.”
“Sweetheart,” he said quietly as he reached for your arms.
“What?”
“You’re the best liar I know,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “But somehow you’re really giving yourself away with this one. What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” you grumbled between annoyed noises when you were finally back on your feet. “And I’m not a good liar.”
Eddie blinked slow and suspiciously at you.
“You literally just contradicted yourself with that second statement.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Sweetheart.”
“What?”
“You absolutely did.”
You ignored him completely as you shuffled towards the kitchen table.
Unfortunately, Eddie had spent far too many years dealing with your nonsense to be thrown off that easily.
“Besides,” he continued, reaching out to brush something from your cheek, “you literally gave glitter on your face.”
“That’s a pregnancy symptom,” you murmured as your hand immediately flew up.
“That’s not a thing, mama.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’m fairly certain human beings aren’t disco balls.”
“Well, maybe Julian is.”
A laugh escaped him despite himself as he gently pulled a chair for you.
“You literally sound like me right now.”
“Your sperm made my brain melt, that’s why.”
Soft chuckled, the clanking of plates, and the rattling of cutlery being pulled from the drawer filled the brief silence that settled between the two of you.
“So, we’re just gonna pretend you’re not hiding anything?”
“Yes, exactly,” you mumbled around an egg roll.
Eddie simply stared at you. “You just admitted you’re hiding something.”
Shoving another egg roll into your mouth, you quickly dropped your gaze to the table and ignored the question entirely.
“So…” you started after finally swallowing. “What do you want for your birthday?”
Hopefully he’d get distracted by the subject of his birthday and forget all about your suspicious behaviour.
“I already got everything I want,” he replied softly as he scooped some fried rice onto his plate. “You. A beautiful mini-you. I don’t need anything else.”
“That’s bullshit,” you muttered between bites.
“Okay, yeah.” A grin immediately tugged at his lips. “Getting married still needs to be scratched off my list, but that’s a problem for near-future me.”
“Getting married is not a birthday gift.”
“It definitely is if you’re the bride, mama.”
Knowing Eddie after more than a decade, you knew he was being completely serious.
Which is exactly why, on top of stressing about a half-finished photo album and Thanksgiving dinner, you now found yourself stressing over the possibility of adding a last-minute proposal to an already overflowing to-do list.
It was a ridiculous idea – you knew that.
And it would absolutely make him dissolve into a puddle of his own tears the second it finally sank in that you’d beaten him to it.
Just like you’d done nearly six years ago when you’d asked him out on a date that had eventually turned in a relationship.
Eddie still told that story to anybody willing to listen. All glimmering eyes, bashful smiles, and increasingly dramatic retellings as he explained how he’d spent two full days convinced he’d imagined the entire thing.
According to him, he’d never fully recovered. If you were to ask everyone else, he’d simply never shut up about it.
Jesus fucking Christ. That date was coming up too.
While the white ceiling stared right back at you, your mind reeled with too many spiralling thoughts and the growing certainty that you were going to have a panic attack at three in the morning while Eddie snored peacefully beside you.
This was ridiculous.
So was the month of November – which you’d just decided was the worst month of the entire year.
First there was Thanksgiving, which somehow fell on the same exact day as Eddie’s birthday. Then there was the anniversary of your first date, and on top of that, Wayne's birthday too. Then there was the increasingly dangerous idea of adding another important date to the month while you continued entertaining the possibility of proposing to him.
And somewhere in between all of that, you still had to finish a photo album and grow an entire human being.
It was too much.
November was trying to kill you.
“Why are you awake, mama?”
Five quiet words were more than enough to nearly make you jump out of your skin and go into early labour.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you scared me,” you choked out. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled tiredly.
“November,” you mumbled back after a few seconds as you tried turning on your side, only to immediately give up and remain on your back.
“November?”
“November’s gonna kill me.”
Before Eddie’s brain could properly catch up with being awake again, you’d already started voicing your spiral. While you continued staring at the ceiling, your hand moved frantically through the air as you nearly tripped over your own words.
“...your birthday, and Thanks– and then our anniversary, Wayne, and then there’s the–”
The words immediately died in your throat.
Photo album.
“Julian.” You mentally slapped yourself.
Eddie immediately pushed himself up onto an elbow.
“What about Julian? Is she okay?”
The sudden alertness in his voice pulled a sigh from you.
“She’s fine,” you murmured. “She’s just… getting too big.”
One hand found your stomach.
“She’s conspiring with November to kill me.”
“I don’t think she’s capable of conspiracy yet,” he murmured after a relieved sigh escaped him.
“That’s exactly what she wants you to think,” you muttered, rolling your eyes before finally looking over at him. “She’s your daughter. Of course she’s already capable of conspiracy.”
Somewhere between debating whether Julian was going to be a troublemaker and reminding Eddie he’d been caught smoking under the bleachers at fourteen, exhaustion had finally won.
Not for long, but long enough.
Because the next thing you knew, the apartment smelled like coffee, cinnamon, and impending disaster.
The sleepy scowl that came with realising you’d woken up far earlier than any reasonable person deserved only deepened when you heard the soft clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Eddie’s arm remained glued firmly around your stomach, completely unaware of whatever crime was currently taking place outside the bedroom.
Whoever it was – and whatever they were doing – it was entirely too early to be dealt with.
Unfortunately, the moment you’d woken up, sleep had abandoned you completely, forcing you to deal with whatever was waiting for you outside the bedroom door.
A hoarse grunt that closely resembled a curse slipped from your lips as you quietly pushed the bedroom door open and waddled into the hallway.
Wayne had apparently used the emergency key – emphasis on emergency, which there certainly wasn’t at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning – and was now standing in your kitchen wearing the ridiculous pink apron Robin had once gifted to you, with the words Baking Queen stretched tightly across his chest.
Icy blue eyes immediately found your while both of his hands froze halfway through whatever he was doing when your footsteps echoed across the tile.
“Why are you awake?”
“Why are you in my kitchen?”
“No reason.”
Wayne immediately averted his gaze and turned back towards the counter.
Which was suspicious, extremely so.
“It’s seven in the morning, Wayne,” you mumbled as you shuffled towards the fridge.
“Then I won’t tell you I’ve been here since five-thirty.”
“Jesus Christ,” you sighed as you pulled the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. “Eddie is truly your son. No DNA test required.”
The olden man merely snorted under his breath and shook his head as he stirred whatever suspicious concoction he’d poured into the expensive mixing bowl nobody but you were supposed to use.
“Can you at least tell me what you’re making?”
“My mom’s cinnamon rolls,” he replied distractedly. “And muffins.”
“What’s all of that for?”
“I just…” He paused briefly. “Haven’t been around much lately. Wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Wayne,” you deadpanned. “You’ve been here three times a week for the last month.”
“That’s not enough.” His lips pursed in obvious displeasure as his gaze remained fixed on the bowl. “I should be more present. Don’t wanna be like my grandfather. Absent and mean.”
The grip you had on the carton tightened slightly as an odd mixture of gratitude and annoyance settled in your chest.
“The last thing she’s gonna think is that you’re absent or mean,” you replied softly as you poured yourself a glass. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna accuse me of not being around enough compared to you and Eddie.”
“Well, she is a Munson,” he muttered, still not looking up from the bowl. “Dramatic accusations are kind of a family thing.”
“She’s still half mine,” you deadpanned. “Can still make Eddie agree on changing her last name to mine.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Wayne–”
“You’re not talking my baby from me.”
A very sleepy Eddie suddenly appeared in the kitchen before the two of you could continue your light-hearted argument.
Missing one sock and rubbing at his eyes, he shuffled across the hardwood floor like a man who wasn’t entirely convinced he even existed.
“Who’s taking who away from you?”
“Nobody,” Wayne replied as he poured him a cup of coffee before sliding it across the counter. “I won’t let her.”
Eddie frowned. “Won’t let her do what?”
“Change Julian’s last name.”
“Yeah, absolutely not.” Half-lidded brown eyes stared at you over the rim of his coffee mug. For a moment, he simply blinked. “And you won’t be able to manipulate me by showing me your boobies, so don’t even think about trying.”
“Eddie,” you groaned.
Wayne immediately pointed a wooden spoon at him. “Language.”
“Boobies isn’t even a bad word.”
“It is at seven in the morning.”
The sudden ding! of the egg-shaped timer echoed through the kitchen, immediately pulling Wayne’s attention away from the conversation. The wooden spoon in his hand fell back into the bowl as he turned towards the oven.
Eddie, who hadn’t even attempted to question why his uncle was standing in your kitchen at seven in the morning on a Saturday, quietly continued sipping his coffee while Wayne pulled a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven and slid another one inside.
“Since you both are awake, should we discuss Thanksgiving?”
“That’s only next week,” Eddie murmured from behind the rim of his mug. “We’ve got more than enough time.”
Wayne slowly turned around. “Did you lose your goddamn mind, boy?”
Eddie’s hand halted halfway to his mouth.
“What?”
“Thanksgiving is five days away.”
“Yeah, exactly.” He shrugged. “Sound like plenty of time.”
“That’s because you’ve never cooked Thanksgiving dinner,” Wayne muttered as he twisted the timer again. “And your goddamn birthday falls on the same day, too.”
Eddie’s eyebrows immediately pulled together as he glanced at you.
“Is that why you were stressing?” he asked quietly. “Because of my birthday and Thanksgiving?”
“What the hell do you mean she was stressing?”
“I–”
“Why the hell are you letting her stress?” Wayne immediately cut you off before you could even try to say anything.
“I wasn’t letting her stress,” Eddie shot back.
The morning slowly melted into afternoon while Wayne lectured Eddie about not letting you stress – making him shrink into himself before immediately becoming defensive again – while transforming the apartment into something that resembled an expensive bakery.
By noon, every available surface had been claimed by cinnamon rolls, muffin tins, mixing bowls, and ingredients you couldn’t even identify anymore. The sweet scent of cinnamon lingered so heavily in the air that you were fairly certain it had permanently attached itself to the walls.
Before you knew it, Wayne had scribbled an insanely long grocery list and shoved it directly into Eddie’s chest, ordering him to stop standing around looking dumb and go to the grocery store.
“I’m telling you, Wayne,” Eddie grumbled as he buckled his belt. “We have more than enough time to buy a turkey.”
“The more you speak, the better I understand why it took you three tries to graduate,” Wayne muttered, shooting him an unimpressed look.
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Go buy my goddamn turkey. And make sure it’s a big one,” Wayne added before he could get another word out. “Otherwise I’ll be roasting you this year.”
After placing a lingering kiss on your forehead, Eddie finally walked towards the front door, annoyed mumbling following the metalhead out the door.
Both you and Wayne stood perfectly still as you listened to the familiar sounds of keys jingling, and watched the door opening and eventually clicking shut behind him.
Silence lingered for another second, then another two, before you shuffled towards the large kitchen window and pulled the curtain aside just enough to watch Eddie climb into the van.
Only when he finally backed out of the parking spot and disappeared down the street did you let the curtain fall back into place.
“Thanksgiving and his fucking birthday on the same day,” you hissed, nearly breaking your neck as you turned towards Wayne. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”
“First of all, you’re gonna sit down and try a cinnamon roll,” he murmured beside you.
“…Can I have two?”
Wayne carefully loosened the cinnamon rolls from the tray while you shuffled back towards the table. A moment later, he placed a plate in front of you alongside a freshly refilled glass of orange juice.
He gave you three rolls.
A content sigh escaped you when you shoved a piece into your mouth.
“Good?”
“So, so good.”
Wayne chuckled softly as he poured himself another cup of coffee before pulling out the chair beside you.
“Now,” he started after taking a sip, “ about Thanksgiving and that boyfriend of yours.”
“It’s stressing me out, Wayne.” You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows while waving the half-eaten cinnamon roll around.
“Less stressing, more munching.” He pointed at the plate.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s keep it simple,” he continued. “He’s turning twenty-four. That’s not nearly as important as twenty-five.”
“Yeah, but it’s his last birthday without a screaming baby around.”
Wayne shot you a look that immediately made you shove another piece into your mouth instead of continuing.
“We keep it simple, but stupid. Too many turkey decorations,” he continued. “Enough to satisfy that photo obsession of his.”
A groan immediately escaped you. “Oh, God. He’s gonna love that.”
“Exactly.” Wayne took another sip of coffee. “We can ask that Byers boy to make him a banner.”
“A banner?”
“Something ridiculous. Munson Thanksgiving or some nonsense.”
“That’s a horrible idea.”
“Knowing him, he’ll lose his mind when he sees it. And he’ll probably take pictures of it,” he chuckled against the rim of his cup. “And then he’ll make you use it every year.”
You dropped your forehead onto the table. “I hate that you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
While you and Wayne had started making lists over shared laughter, coffee, and cinnamon rolls – even after he’d eventually cut you off, which you ignored – Eddie was currently the one stressing out on the other side of town.
Not because of Thanksgiving, or his birthday. Not even because of the goddamn turkey. But because, despite having been raised by the man, he still couldn’t decipher a single word of Wayne’s handwriting. He’d already asked two employees for help, and neither of them had been successful.
But that was a him problem.
You, on the other hand, had finally stopped stressing.
Kind of.
At least until you had left the bathroom and found Wayne standing in the middle of the living room with a broom in one hand and the photo album in the other.
A noise somewhere between a gasp and a dying animal immediately escaped you, while Wayne’s blue eyes flickered between the photo album and your horrified expression.
“Is there some kind of homemade pornography in here?”
“Jesus Christ, Wayne,” you groaned as you immediately reached for the album. “No. Give it back.”
He effortlessly lifted it out of reach. “If it’s not porn, then what is it?”
“I said give it back.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
Taking advantage of the fact he didn’t an obnoxiously large stomach standing in his way, Wayne all but jogged across the living room as he tried to get out of your reach and sneak a look at whatever the hell you’d been hiding.
The album fell open to the first page, and Wayne was met a photograph of you not nearly as pregnant as you were now, while Eddie grinned at the mirror behind you. Around the picture, ridiculous dragon and guitar stickers had been glued onto the page, alongside a sappy lyric from some love song.
“You made all this?”
“Wayne–” you immediately gave up and just sighed instead.
He continued flipping through the pages in silence, blue eyes moving painfully slowly over the ultrasound photographs, nursery pictures, and the little notes you’d scribbled beside each memory.
“Oh, God,” he whispered. “He’s gonna be insufferable when he sees this.”
“Wayne,” you sighed again. “He cannot, under any circumstances, know about this.”
“He’ll probably cry, too,” he continued, completely ignoring you as he turned another page. “And then he’ll never shut up about it.”
“For the love of God, Wayne.”
A low chuckle escaped him when his eyes landed on the particularly awful photograph of you sprawled across the couch with a bucket of ice cream in your lap, trying – and failing – to hide your face behind one hand.
“You still got your key to the trailer?” he asked quietly, finally looking up.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because this isn’t safe here,” he tapped the edge of the album. “That boy can find trouble in an empty room.”
Then he carefully closed the album, tucking is against his chest. “Sooner or later, he’s gonna stick his head under that couch looking for a guitar pick or some other dumb thing.”
“That’s… a fair point.”
“I’ll hide it in the trailer if you want,” he tucked the album beneath one arm. “And you just come by whenever you can to finish it.”
“You’d do that?”
“C’mon, kid. I’m already an accomplice,” Wayne scoffed and patted the photo album. “Might as well help you hide the body.”
By the time Eddie had finally given up on his grocery mission – after only managing to decipher about half of Wayne’s list – you and Wayne had already finished conspiring.
The photo album had been safely hidden away in Wayne’s truck alongside the plastic bag filled with supplies, Thanksgiving had somehow evolved into a military operation, and a concerning amount of birthday-related nonsense had been added to the planning.
When Eddie finally walked back into the apartment, the two of you were cooking.
Or, more accurately, Wayne was cooking.
You were sitting at the table attempting to chop an onion between bouts of hysterical laughter while Wayne told you a childhood story about Eddie you’d never heard before.
“…and then Gareth asked him if he could fly,” Wayne continued as he stirred whatever he’d been cooking, completely ignoring the fact that Eddie had gotten home. “And Eddie being Eddie, he said yes and threw himself off the stairs.”
“Oh, God, no,” you snickered.
“Wayne,” Eddie groaned as he dropped the grocery bags onto the counter. “Stop telling her things.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t need to know these stories.”
Wayne finally glanced over his shoulder. “Kid, she got pregnant with your child. I think we’re well past the point of keeping secrets.”
Eddie’s secrets, in that case.
Because you and Wayne had spent the following few days plotting whenever Eddie was at work, or otherwise occupied somewhere else.
Somewhere along the way, Wayne had recruited Steve and Robin to help buy the ridiculous turkey-themed decorations.
Meanwhile, you’d somehow convinced Will not only to make the stupid banner, but to help you sew a birthday had out of felt. Turkey-themed too, obviously.
Looking back, you still weren’t entirely sure how the conversation had escalated that far. Even more surprisingly, Jonathan had agreed to spend the entire evening acting as photographer. Which meant, unfortunately, that you’d have to make an entirely separate photo album of just the Thanksgiving photos.
The only person left completely in the dark was Eddie.
Which, considering he’d been far too busy thrifting decorations, books and various other nursery-related nonsense despite the room having been finished for weeks, wasn’t particularly surprising.
The man had somehow convinced himself that the baby needed a personal library before she was even born. At this point, you were fairly certain Julian owned more books than the two of you combined.
Banners and garlands draped from chairs backs and light fixtures, all of them turkey-themed – some cute, some borderline unhinged – so that every corner of the room seemed to be screaming gobble gobble.
Robin and Steve had gone completely overboard, to the point they’d somehow found turkey-shaped napkin holders – which you hadn’t even known existed – and a ridiculously dramatic centrepiece that looked less like fall décor and more like an entire flock had staged a hostile takeover of the dining table.
Somewhere along the way, they’d manipulated Dustin and Gareth into helping them hang harvest signs, garlands made from fake leaves, and enough decorative acorns to fill a small forest.
Amid the turkey-induced chaos sat a bright, cheerful cake table. Balloons in various shades of black and grey floated above it, valiantly trying to compete with the ongoing turkey parade, while overhead hung the banner Will had made.
Bright block letters reading Munson’s Thanksgiving stretched across the fabric alongside an absurdly detailed painting of Eddie dressed as a turkey and you dressed as a pilgrim.
The living room looked festive in theory. In practice, however, the overload was so complete it bordered on madness – as though someone had given a craft store a mission and refused to stop until the walls started arguing back.
Eddie hadn’t been exactly thrilled when he’d learned Steve was hosting Thanksgiving this year.
The man had eventually convinced him by promising that next year, when Julian was actually around, the two of you could host instead.
What Eddie didn’t know was that you’d spent days begging. Incessantly, to the point of outright manipulation; at one point, you’d threatened to choose someone else as Julian’s godfather if Steve didn’t let you use his house.
The reason had been simple: Steve’s – his mom’s, actually – dining room was bigger than yours. And, more importantly, it allowed everyone to decorate without Eddie accidentally discovering the surprise.
Unfortunately, that also meant that Eddie had spent the entire week glued to your side after Wayne had told him to worry about you and your swollen feet instead of the holiday. Which, in turn, meant you were slowly climbing up the walls.
“What time do we leave again?” Eddie asked for what had to be the fifth time, squinting down at the cuffs of his button-up shirt.
The mascara wand nearly took out an eye when your eyelid twitched in annoyance.
“For the last time,” you groaned, blinking at your reflection in the mirror, “we leave in half an hour.”
“Oh,” he hummed. “Does that mean we have enough time for you to do my hair?”
“Not if you keep making me poke my eye out while I’m trying to do my makeup,” you muttered.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you sighed, catching his gaze in the mirror and shooting him a soft smile. “I’m almost done, okay?”
“Okay, mama.”
While Eddie paced back and forth through the apartment, checking for what had to be the tenth time whether the scalloped potato grin he’d made was still in the oven and hadn’t suddenly disappeared, you’d managed to finish your mascara and apply a quick layer of lipstick.
“How do you want your hair, Eds?” you asked softly as you gathered the assortment of curly hair products you insisted he use.
“Out of my face,” he mumbled, absentmindedly fiddling with his stuffed dragon.
You stared at him for a moment.
“…I got that,” you replied, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “But do you want a bun? A low ponytail? Half up, half down?”
Eddie’s fingers stilled against the dragon. “Half up, half down?” he answered after a second, though it sounded more like a question than an actual opinion. “We never do that. Might be a nice change.”
“Mhmm.”
The bathroom fell quiet again as you worked the products through his curls.
Eddie remained seated on the toilet seat, knees spread slightly while the stuffed dragon rested in his lap. Every now and then he absentmindedly smoothed his thumb over one of its wings while you gathered the top half of his curls and secured them in place.
“You’re quiet,” you said softly as you washed the sticky hair product from your hands. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
His fingers continued tracing the dragon’s wing before he eventually shrugged.
“I dunno.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Eddie remained seated, eyes fixed on the plushie in his lap.
“Everything just feels different this year,” he murmured quietly before shrugging again. “Good different.”
“Yeah?”
He finally lifted his gaze from the dragon. His eyes settled on your stomach for a few seconds before eventually finding yours.
“Just... next year we're gonna celebrate Thanksgiving with her here.” One of his hands instinctively settled on the curve of your bump while a grin slowly spread across his face. “She'll probably try stealing everybody's food.”
“She won't even have teeth by then, Eds.” You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips immediately gave you away.
“Then she'll gum the turkey,” he chuckled softly. The grin on his face widened as he glanced back down at your stomach. “She's a Munson, after all.”
You gently squeezed his shoulder.
Eddie reached up and wrapped a hand around your wrist before finally pushing himself to his feet.
“Thanks for doing my hair, sweetheart.”
Glimmering brown eyes found yours, and the softness in both his expression and voice spread a warmth through your chest.
“Of course, Eds.”
He carefully placed the dragon on the counter so he could hold you instead.
His hands immediately settled against your sides while he leaned forward to press a kiss against your forehead before resting his own against it.
“Think this is probably my favourite Thanksgiving already.”
The giggle that escaped you had very little to do with his dramatic sentimentality.
It had far more to do with the fact that he was completely unaware of how screwed he was the second he walked through Steve's front door.
His hands remained warm against your sides while his forehead rested gently against yours, thumbs absentmindedly brushing lazy circles against your waist.
“You somehow get prettier every single day,” he murmured quietly.
“You’ve lost your mind, Eds.”
“I did,” he agreed easily. “About ten years ago.”
Even after all those years, he somehow still managed to spread heat across your cheeks while he merely grinned to himself. A bashful laugh escaped you before he leaned in, stealing a slow kiss that lingered just a little longer than necessary.
“You ready?” he asked softly when he finally pulled away.
“As long as you’re with me.”
The drive to Steve’s passed surprisingly quietly. The scalloped potato gratin rested carefully on your lap like some bizarre practice baby while Eddie absentmindedly tapped his fingers along to the music drifting softly through the van speakers. Every now and then he’d reach across the console to squeeze your hand or steal another glance your way just to smile.
Completely, utterly oblivious.
Meanwhile, the Harrington household had descended into absolute anarchy.
“Everybody shut the fuck up,” Robin whisper-hissed as she peeked through the curtains. “The van just pulled in!”
Instantly, half the room sprang into motion. Someone flicked the lights off, somebody else immediately walked into a chair, and another person loudly whispered for everyone to stop making noise. Outside, the familiar slam of Eddie’s van door echoed through the driveway.
“Positions!” Robin squealed
Mike reminded her nobody had actually assigned positions, and chaos immediately followed his comment.
Lucas accidentally elbowed Gareth in the ribs while Max shoved Dustin behind the couch because he was too tall. Steve nearly tripped over the coffee table trying to get out of the way, and Jonathan quietly lifted the camera without saying a word.
The doorknob turned, the front door swung open, and the first flash was absolutely blinding.
The sudden burst of light left both of you blinking spots from your vision before you’d even managed to step properly inside the living room.
“What the fu–”
“HAPPY BIRTH-GIVING!”
While you were busy shooting everyone an unimpressed look over their spectacularly uncoordinated choice of words once the lights flickered back on, Eddie simply stood frozen in the doorway.
His eyes slowly wandered around the room, taking in the turkey decorations, the black and grey balloons, the cake sitting proudly on the dining table, and finally the ridiculously oversized banner stretched across the wall alongside the matching felt turkey hat. His eyebrows climbed a little higher with every new detail.
“…You guys threw me a Thanksbirthday?”
“Oh God, that’s so much better than what we rehearsed,” Dustin muttered. “How didn’t we come up with that?”
“When did we rehearse again?” Jeff asked confused, eyebrows pulled tightly together and her hands resting at her hips.
“We didn’t,” Erica sighed while pinching the bridge of her nose.
Dark brown eyes eventually found your through the overwhelming sea of decorations. His lips had already begun curling into the start of a pout while his eyebrows remained faintly pulled together.
“Is this… Did you–” he blinked once before looking around the room again. his voice cracked ever so slightly. “Did you plan this?”
Realising Eddie had apparently forgotten he was still holding the scorching hot baking dish, Dustin quietly stepped forwards and carefully lifted the porcelain dish from his hands before disappearing into the kitchen without another word.
“With some help from Wayne,” you admitted with a bashful shrug, your hands instinctively settling on your stomach as your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your dress. “And a few other people.”
“Help my ass,” Steve deadpanned. “More like outright manipulation.”
Eddie slowly looked around the room again.
Steve sighed dramatically when he noticed the atmosphere slowly beginning to tip into something far too emotional for his liking, and clapped his hands together to put a stop to it.
“Right,” he announced, already making his way towards the kitchen. “Before everybody starts robbing, someone please take that stupid turkey hat and put it on the birthday boy.”
“I’ll do it!” Robin immediately exclaimed.
“You were always going to do it,” Steve muttered under his breath.
Before Eddie had any chance to protest, Robin had already plucked the felt hat from the table and proudly settled it on top of his freshly styled curls while another few blinding flashes followed.
Robin’s maniacal laughter as she forced the hat onto Eddie’s head was forever frozen in one photograph, while in another, Eddie’s glossy brown eyes and impossibly wide smile were directed entirely at you.
The prettiest one, however, had been completely unplanned. Despite your half-hearted protests, Eddie had suddenly pulled you into him, one had curling around the back of your head while the other settled carefully against your side before stealing another kiss. Behind the two of you, Max, Lucas, Mike and Gareth had apparently decided that the perfect opportunity to immortalise themselves was by pulling the ugliest faces they could manage.
While Eddie continued insisting that Jonathan take just one more, Wayne and Steve quietly took it upon themselves to reheat the homemade dishes and put everyone else to work.
And within minutes, the large open kitchen had become so busy it almost resembled one of New York’s subway stations. People constantly crossed paths carrying casserole dishes, bowls of mashed potatoes, trays of rolls and drinks from one room to the next, somehow avoiding collisions through nothing more than sheer luck.
Dinner quickly dissolved into the usual chaos that came with squeezing fifteen people around one table. Conversations lapped, someone stole food off someone else’s plate every few minutes, and Jonathan continued documenting the evening in between bites despite everybody’s – except Eddie’s – increasingly dramatic complaints.
By the time plates had long since been pushed aside and half-empty dishes carried back into the kitchen to be dealt with later, Nancy had already started rummaging through Steve’s cupboards in search of dessert plates and tiny forks for the cake.
Max swatted your hand away the second she spotted you reaching for the heavy cake she and Lucas had baked, shooting you an unimpressed look before carefully lifting the platter herself and carrying it back to the table.
It was… definitely a cake.
Extremely colourful in the way it looked like a unicorn had thrown up over it, with crooked icing, wonky letters spelling Happy Birthd-ay Eddie!!!!!!, and entirely too much edible glitter for it to still be considered edible.
Eddie, however, couldn’t have cared less whether it looked like it belonged in a bakery or a kindergarten classroom; not when every single one of the people he loved the most stood around him, clapping wildly while completely butchering Happy Birthday three times in a row.
At some point, your hands found his shoulders after you’d decided you’d had enough of clapping yourself. Instead, you simply held him from behind while smiling down at the birthday boy beneath the ridiculous turkey hat.
“Make a wish, baby,” you whispered against his ear, nestling your face into the crook of his neck.
Eddie turned his head just enough to steal a lingering glance at you. A soft smile tugged at his lips while something indecipherable settled in his eyes before he looked back towards the flickering candles.
His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and then he leaned forwards and blew them out.
Steve, who had apparently decided his gift deserved to be opened first, slid the cake unceremoniously towards the middle of the table before Eddie had so much as touched the knife, then proudly dumped a total of six neatly wrapped boxes in front of him.
“Dude,” Mike deadpanned. “What the fuck? We all agreed on one gift.”
“It is one gift,” Steve replied, looking at him as though he were the stupidest person alive. “It’s a set.”
It turned out Steve had apparently been making mental notes every time he’d seen Eddie’s toolbox during the nursery renovations. Convinced the battered collection of second-hand tools was one poorly timed accident away from amputating a finger, he’d replaced nearly all of them with brand-new equipment.
Robin’s present consisted of matching t-shirts for Eddie and Julian in several different sized after she’d convinced herself the baby would probably outgrow the first four before she’d even had the chance to wear them.
Mike and Dustin, being perpetually broke college students, had pooled their money to buy an ridiculously overpriced guitar they’d stumbled across in a thrift store, while Will had spent hours painting a custom design across the body to make it one of the kind.
Eddie had become so preoccupied with tearing the Easter-themed wrapping paper of Max’s gift that he never noticed you quietly slipping away from the table.
Laughter and the occasional shout echoed through the hallway while you disappeared into the guest room, returning a moment later with the horribly wrapped scrapbook tucked carefully against your chest.
It had grown to nearly three times its original size since the day Wayne had discovered it beneath the couch, the pages thickened by photographs, stickers, handwritten notes and little keepsakes you’d glued inside over the past week and a half.
Without saying a word, you slid it gently across the table before pulling the chair beside Eddie closer and settling into it.
“Happy birthday,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.
“The happiest,” Eddie answered absentmindedly, his eyes lingering on the smile you gave him instead of the gift.
It took three gentle taps against the wrapped cover to finally pull his attention away from you.
“I told you,” he murmured quietly as he rested his hands on it, “I already have everything I wanted.”
“And I told you you were full of shit,” you teased, biting your bottom lip while you watched him begin peeling away the paper.
Across the table, Wayne’s blue eyes immediately found you’re the second the puzzle-patterned cover came into view.
“What’s this?” Eddie asked softly.
“Open it,” you whispered.
The torn wrapping slipped forgotten onto the floor.
Eddie stole a quick glance at you before his fingers curled around the cover and gently lifted it open.
The Munson’s first photo album
Eddie’s lips parted ever so slightly.
“Sweetheart?”
He barely breathed the word as his fingertips traced the edge of the photograph, almost as though he were afraid it might somehow disappear beneath them.
“I was wondering where this picture had gone,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. “Though we’d somehow lost if off the fridge.”
You smiled to yourself but said nothing; instead, you simply watched as he turned the page.
The first ultrasound photograph had been carefully glued into the corner of the report the hospital had given you, the edges surrounded by entirely too much glitter and tiny heart stickers.
Every page after that had been arranged chronologically, each one overflowing with photographs, handwritten notes, little jokes, conversations, dates, and tiny keepsakes you’d somehow managed to save over the past six months.
The room remained impossibly quiet as Eddie slowly worked his way through them.
His eyes lingered on the particular unfortunate photograph he’d taken of your disgusted expression after one of your morning sickness episodes before drifting towards the small, crumpled list of baby names he’d scribbled somewhere along the tenth or eleventh week. Beside it, squeezed into the remaining space, was one of your observations.
10/11 weeks
Your dad continues to suggest horrible baby names while I continue considering breaking up with him and fleeing across the country with you
A breathless laugh escaped him.
“You wouldn’t dare break up with me and flee across the country.”
“Never,” you admitted quietly.
The corner of his mouth lifted into another smile before he carefully turned the page.
This time he was met with a photograph you’d secretly taken of him standing in the baby aisle of the thrift store, completely surrounded by children’s books and stuffed animals.
The receipt had been glued neatly into one corner alongside the crumpled chocolate wrapped he’d insisted on keeping because, in his own words: We need to immortalise this day! You willingly ate chocolate!
Beneath it, another note.
Week 13
I’m considering putting your dad into a conservatorship. He’s spending all his money on you instead of saving it for my pregnancy cravings. You aren’t even here yet and you’ve already got him wrapped around your finger.
Another quiet chuckle escaped him before it slowly faded away.
“You kept everything.” His voice was softer now, almost reverent.
You merely shrugged, suddenly finding your hands far more interesting than the room full of people watching the two of you.
“I wanted her to know.”
“Know what?” Eddie looked up, confusion softening the smile on his face.
“How loved the two of you are.”
Silence settled over the room, and Eddie lowered his gaze back to the album resting in his lap, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the edge of one of the photographs.
It wasn’t really a birthday present, and it hadn’t really been meant for him – it was for Julian.
So that one day, when she was old enough to ask about the pictures, he could pull her into his lap and show her just how loved she’d been long before she ever took her first breath.
Eddie barely made it another three pages before quietly closing the scrapbook, setting it aside, and pulling you into him.
His hand carefully cradled your cheek like you were something delicate and rare – which, in his eyes, you absolutely were – and he simply looked at you for a long moment instead of saying anything. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because none of the words crowding his mind felt nearly big enough.
His lips found yours instead, lingering there while his free hand instinctively settled against the curve of your stomach.
Neither of you pulled away when the familiar click of Jonathan’s camera echoed through the otherwise silent dining room.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Steve groaned from somewhere beside him. “Give them one minute.”
“She literally threatened to break my camera if I didn’t take pictures of everything,” Jonathan defended simply before lowering it anyway.
“They’re making out, dude.”
“I’m preserving memories. And my camera.”
A soft laugh escaped you against Eddie’s lips before he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against yours for another quiet moment.
The rest of the evening somehow slipped by unnoticed after that.
Cake was finally cut once Erica declared everybody had become entirely too emotional to appreciate it earlier, wrapping paper accumulated beneath and around Eddie’s chair until Steve eventually gave up trying to keep the dining room tidy, and Jonathan continued documenting the evening despite his growing concern over how much developing all those photographs was going to cost him.
Wayne quietly slipped the leftover cinnamon rolls into your hands before anybody else had the chance to claim them. Robin hugged the two of you no fewer than four separate times before finally accepting that you did, in fact, have to go home eventually, while Steve packed enough leftovers into plastic containers to feed the two of you for the better part of a week, muttering something about pregnant women needing proper meals whenever you tried protesting.
Somewhere along the way, Dustin and Gareth started arguing over who had actually won whatever boardgame they’d somehow managed to begin after dessert, while Max threatened to throw both of them outside if they didn’t stop bickering.
The house slowly emptied one goodbye at a time. Heavy coats were pulled back on, leftovers divided, forgotten dishes returned to their rightful owners, and promises were exchanged to meet again at Wayne’s birthday.
By the time the two of you stepped back outside, the November air had turned crisp enough to sting your cheeks. Eddie’s fingers immediately found yours as the two of you made your way towards the van.
He hadn’t stopped smiling once, not all evening.
Not even during the quiet drive home.
One hand remained lazily draped over the steering wheel while the other kept reaching across the centre console to find yours whenever the road allowed it. The scrapbook rested safely on your lap, and every now and then his eyes drifted from the road to the album before finding you again.
The apartment door clicked softly shut behind the two of you as you shuffled further inside, immediately struggling to shrug off your coat. Somewhere in the last few hours your arms had apparently doubled in size, leaving you unable to wrestle yourself free from the thick fabric.
“Here, mama,” Eddie murmured after hanging his own coat over the back of the couch. “Lemme help you.”
“I can do it,” you muttered.
“Clearly.”
You shot him an unimpressed look that only made him giggle.
A relieved sigh escaped you as he carefully eased the coat from your shoulders before crouching to help you with your shoes despite your repeated insistence that you were, in fact, perfectly capable of doing that yourself.
The second your feet were finally free, you leaned down to press a quick kiss against his lips before disappearing into the bathroom.
Makeup came off in lazy swipes while your jewellery clinked softly against the little ceramic tray beside the sink, another tired sigh escaping you as the day finally began catching up with you.
Something shuffled outside the bathroom door, and the mattress groaned a second later.
Eddie had barely taken off his shoes before dropping onto the bed on his stomach and flipping the scrapbook open to finish where he’d left off.
By the time you finally wandered back into the bedroom a minute later, he’d become completely lost in the colourful little world you’d crafted for him. Every now and then a quiet chuckle escaped him as his eyes wandered across pages overflowing with glitter, stickers, pressed flowers and little handwritten notes.
His gaze had settled on the page dedicated to the day you’d found out Julian was a girl.
Week 16
Your dad embarrassed me at the hardware store by picking the most horrible, monstrous shades of pink – worse than bubblegum and magenta combined. It made my eyes water and nearly turned me blind, that’s how bright they were! Luckily for the both of us, your mama managed to convince him that “dragons scale green” was a much better colour – which isn’t even a real colour, but it worked nonetheless.
“Can’t believe you manipulated me by lying about dragon scale green being an actual colour,” he murmured when he heard the bedroom door click shut behind you.
“You say that like you don’t know me,” you teased.
A low groan escaped you as you reached over to switch on your bedside lamp before making your way towards the dresser for a change of clothes.
Eddie merely chuckled before lowering his gaze back to the scrapbook.
“Aren’t you taking your clothes off?” you asked quietly while closing one of the drawers.
“Can’t,” he replied distractedly. “I’m busy, mama.”
“The scrapbook isn’t going anywhere, Eds.”
“You don’t know that.”
Week 16 – part two
Your dad manipulated your grandfather Wayne and uncle Steve into helping him with your nursery by telling them he was going to steal you away before either of them ever got the chance to hold you.
And he has the audacity to call me mean. Do you believe that?
Another tired chuckle escaped you as you slipped out of your dressed and pulled one of Eddie’s old shirts over your head – oversized, faded black cotton, and smelling entirely like home.
“I love you,” you confessed quietly as you climbed onto the bed and shuffled backwards until your back rested comfortably against the headboard.
“I love you so much more,” he whispered without looking away from the scrapbook, dark brown eyes glimmering beneath the warm amber glow cast by the bedside lamps. “You have no idea, mama.”
You watched him for another quiet moment before reaching over to cradle his cheek, the smallest smile creeping onto your lips.
Eddie leaned into your touch before pushing himself up just enough to steal another lingering kiss. When he pulled away again, he flopped back onto the mattress – this time on his back – and rested the scrapbook against his chest before shuffling closer until you were tucked comfortably against his side.
The more Eddie turned the pages, the bigger your stomach became in the photographs – and somehow, the more sentimental your little notes became.
Week 23
I hope one day you know just how lucky you are
Your grandfather Wayne loved you long before you were born – back when you were still fives times smaller than the tiny boots he’s holding in this picture
(Between me and you… he absolutely cried after this picture was taken. Don’t tell him I told you that)
A few more pages followed by a few more quiet laughs.
Then Eddie’s fingers suddenly stopped.
The page had been decorated around a photograph of him smiling straight at the camera. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, the prescription glasses he pretended he didn’t own sat balanced carelessly on top of his head. Beside it, you’d glued the photobooth strip from the date the two of you’d driven to Indianapolis together.
Week 26
Your dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to me
Eleven simple words, that was all it took.
His thumb remained resting against the paper while his eyes read the sentence once. Then again, and then one more time.
“…Sweetheart.” He barely whispered the word.
When he finally looked up at you, his lower lip had begun to tremble ever so slightly, his glossy brown eyes saying everything his voice no longer could.
Eddie’s fingers trembled as they moved to close the photo album before your hand gently curled around his to stop him.
“Look at the next page,” you whispered quietly.
His big brown eyes glimmered beneath the warm bedside light as he looked up at you for a long moment before lowering his gaze back to the scrapbook.
The next page looked completely different from the ones before it. There were no photographs, no glitter, no guitar stickers, nor another ultrasound tucked into one of the corners.
It was almost entirely blank, save for the little green velvet pouch taped carefully to the middle of the page.
His eyebrows pulled together. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” you chuckled tiredly, shuffling farther down the bed until your head rested comfortably against the pillows instead of sitting upright.
Eddie hesitated for a moment before carefully peeling the pouch from the page. He weighed it thoughtfully in the palm of his hand, fingers gently working the drawstrings loose until a simple silver band slipped quietly into his hand.
“What–”
“I’m not proposing!” you immediately choked out before he could finish, already shaking your head. “I’m not stealing that from you too. I just…”
A bashful smile tugged at your lips as you pushed a hand through your hair, suddenly finding the comforter far more interesting than meeting his eyes.
“I know you,” you murmured quietly. “And I know you’re probably putting every spare dollar aside to buy me some ridiculously expensive ring I don’t need.”
His mouth opened to protest, but nothing came out.
“And I also know you’re going to completely forget about buying one for yourself.” You shrugged lightly before offering him another small smile. “Marriage kind of requires two rings, Eds.”
Silence settled comfortably between the two of you while Eddie slowly turned the silver band over his fingers.
Then he froze again and his breath caught ever so slightly the warm glow from the bedside lamp caught the engraving tucked neatly along the inside of the band. His thumb carefully brushed across it. Your name. And next to it, Julian’s, followed by your anniversary date.
Without saying anything, you reached over and gently took the ring from his hand before carefully sliding it onto his finger – settled into place effortlessly.
“It fits,” he whispered in quiet disbelief, turning his hand from side to side beneath the light. “I don’t even know my own ring size. How did you…”
A sheepish grin spread across your face. “I may have stolen your pig-head ring.”
His head snapped towards you.
“That’s why I couldn’t find it!”
“I know.” A string of guilty chuckles escaped you as you hid your face behind your hand. “I’m sorry. I needed something for the jeweller to measure.”
Eddie looked back down at the simple silver band resting against his finger, absentmindedly twisting it.
“You really though about everything,” he murmured quietly.
“Hardly.” You snorted. “I just know you.”
“I wouldn’t have forgotten my own ring, sweetheart,” he argued, although there wasn’t much conviction behind it.
“Eddie.”
He lasted all of two seconds when you slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Maybe I would’ve.”
A quiet laugh escaped the two of you.
Carefully, almost reverently, he slid the scrapbook onto his nightstand before switching off the bedside lamps. Darkness settled over the bedroom, broken only by the pale strip of moonlight spilling through the curtains.
Instinctively, Eddie’s arm found its familiar place around your waist, his hand resting gently over the curve of your stomach.
“Thank you,” he whispered into the quiet.
You turned just enough to press a sleepy kiss against his still covered shoulder.
Summary: In a world where the first words that soulmates say to each other are displayed like tattoos, what do you do when your particular soulmate's opening line is an unequivocal rejection?
Warnings: a healthy dose of angst (with an eventual happy ending!); enemies to friends to lovers; smut in later chapters (planning this as a slow burn); mentions of past family trauma and personal issues; slightly ludicrous amount of swearing (apparently I am a complete potty mouth!)
A/N: Right, after months of lurking and devouring so many fantastic stories by others on Tumblr, I finally found some time to try out this scribbling business myself. First time I've posted any of my internal ramblings, so please be gentle with me!
Chapter w/c: 1.4k
Divider made by @pixynari
To borrow an opening, it is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing good ever comes from answering the phone last thing on a Friday evening.
"Pleeeease babe, just come for a couple of drinks. Three tops. Or four. It'll be great. Steve and his friends really want to hang out with us."
"No Jennifer, Steve and his friends really want to hang out with YOU, his soulmate, the love of his life. My presence is very much not required."
"Not true babe, Steve loves you and the rest of the guys really want to meet this mysterious bestie I keep telling them about. C'mon, I really want you there with me tonight. And you're in desperate need of a good night out!"
Never really able to say no to Jen, your best friend since childhood and the most important person in your life, you found yourself caving with a weary sigh. Which was why, approximately an hour after that conversation, the two of you were pulling up outside a dingy looking bar in her boyfriend's antique BMW, a retro 80s model that was his pride and joy.
Ever the gentleman, Steve rounded the car and opened both Jen's door and yours, ushering you both onto the pavement with a little bow. "Here we go ladies, right this way."
"Thank you kindly, Steven," you replied imperiously, holding the cold demeanour for all of five seconds before you started to laugh. Steve smiled warmly, grabbing you for a brief hug before his arm returned to its usual place around Jen's shoulders.
You grinned as you watched them walk ahead of you, genuinely pleased to see them so wrapped up in each other. When Jen had called you four months ago in a total panic, screaming about having found her soulmate, you had initially been wary. You had very little time for the soulmate doctrine - the idea that everyone is born with an unbreakable bond to another person, revealed when their first words to you appear on your skin like a tattoo. So few people ever seemed to find their mates nowadays that it seemed like a totally ridiculous notion. And even if you did find your true mate, there was no guarantee that it would last. The weekly lifestyle magazines seemingly made a fortune with the many angsty tales of people whose soulmates turned out to be deadbeat cheaters or psychopaths (or, in the most unfortunate cases, a mix of both).
Your initial meeting with Steve Harrington in your official capacity as “Jen's Best Friend” had therefore begun extremely awkwardly. You had definitely approached it with a highly cynical mindset, determined to sniff out whatever personality faults Steve might be hiding behind his megawatt smile and gravity-defying hair. However, over a tray of burgers and fries at Benny's diner, he successfully proved you wrong, revealing himself to be one of that increasingly rare species in modern society: a nice guy. He showered Jen with quiet care and affection, paying close attention to her every need in an endearing manner. He wasn't phased by your initially icy mood, seemingly understanding that it came from a wish to protect your friend and keen to prove himself a worthy suitor for her. He spoke honestly about himself, his past as an idiot high-school jock and the way in which his found family of close friends in Hawkins had given him a purpose and set him straight after graduation. You had left the diner that evening comfortable in the knowledge that Steve really was a decent man and that Jen was (as you told her over the phone later) an exceedingly lucky bitch.
However, you had yet to meet any of the Hawkins crew (as Jen had dubbed them). Admittedly the fault for this lay with you and the many excuses you had made to wriggle out of prospective meet-ups in the past few months. Whilst you were no blushing wallflower, you were definitely more of an introvert than Jen, whose bubbly personality would easily win over any room in minutes. Your nature and your past experiences had made you distrustful of new people and large crowds were definitely not your natural happy place. But your friend was keen for you to get on with her new group of acquaintances so here you were, taking a deep breath and readying yourself to be sociable.
As the three of you walked into the bar, with its crowded, smoky atmosphere and pounding music, you suddenly felt the telltale feeling of anxiety clawing at your insides. The thought of meeting a whole group of strangers was rapidly becoming overwhelming and you needed an out, quickly. Taking a look around, you spotted the sign for the bathrooms at the side of the bar. You tapped Jen on the shoulder, motioning that you were heading to the toilet and would join them shortly, ignoring the concerned look that she gave you as you scurried away.
Pushing the door to the ladies open, you let out a deep breath. 'For fuck's sake,’ you thought to yourself. 'So fucking stupid, get a grip woman.' Moving over to the sink, you ran your hands under the cold tap as you took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down enough to head back outside.
As you steadied yourself against the counter, you became aware that the bathroom wasn't as empty as you had initially thought. Hushed noises of someone having a particularly good time in the far cubicle filtered through the air.
You chuckled under your breath. 'At least someone's enjoying their evening, I guess,' you thought wryly. As you went to turn off the tap in the sink, you felt an object hit you in the back, having been flung over the wall of the cubicle.
"So good Ed, love what you do to me so much, feels so fucking good..."
"Oh my fuck... You too baby, can't get enough of you sweetheart..."
Swallowing down a yelp, you turned round and saw a jacket lying on the floor. A cut-off denim vest covered in metal patches, the biggest of which was a large homage to Dio on the back. 'Cool jacket,’ you thought as you picked it up, laying it on the counter. 'Shame to ruin it on this disgusting floor.’
"Come on babe, I fucking love you, so fucking much. Cum for me baby, fuck!"
"Yes yes yes Eddie, fuck yes! I love you baby, wish you were my soulmate, should be you, not fucking Jason, oh fuuuuck!'
"Sssh baby, enough of that soulmate bullshit. You're it for me, no one else."
"But Eddie..."
"But nothing. You know what, if my goddamn soulmate walked in here right now, I'd tell them straight: 'I don't give a fuck about you, you're nothing to me!'"
NO.
WHAT?!
Time felt like it stopped completely as all the oxygen in your lungs suddenly drained away. You gripped the counter as a sharp stabbing pain burned along your right hip and sweat gathered on your brow. Gingerly lifting your shirt with a trembling hand, you saw the words that had just been screamed across the restroom branded on your skin.
'I don't give a fuck about you, you're nothing to me!'
No no no no, what kind of sick fucking joke was this?! An unequivocal soulmate rejection, memorialised on your body like a permanent symbol of your worthlessness. You felt shocked to the core, frozen on the spot in complete mortification. Yeah, you might have hated the whole soulmate concept as an abstract theory. However, it was quite the kicker to hear your apparently preordained life partner dismiss you so decisively and so cruelly in real life.
Biting back both a scream and the onset of tears, you breathed heavily and turned towards the door. You needed to get out of here before the lovebirds emerged from the cubicle. An obscenely large alcoholic drink was very much in order. Straightening yourself up and taking one last deep breath, you opened the door. "Message received loud and clear, arsehole", you muttered softly, hoping that the imminent branding stung this Eddie dickhead as much as yours had hurt you.
After meeting at seven years old, two lonely children growing up in forgotten corners of Hawkins become best friends; as years pass, it’s something more. Eddie learns that sometimes home isn’t a place, but a person who’s been there all along. Series is set to span from the ages of 7-20
series warnings; very emotionally mature seven year olds? swearing, smut in later chapters, depictions of abuse, death of a parent, alcoholism, attempted sexual assault in later chapters, drug use/selling. i think that’s it?
Morning arrived quietly, the storm having passed during the night leaving Forest Hills washed clean beneath the summer sky. Rainwater still clung to telephone wires, small droplets of water catching in the early morning sun before dripping aimlessly into the puddles below. The mud between the trailers had dried and hardened around the edges; small footprints etched into the ground.
Wayne was already outside; Saturday mornings meant no shift at the plant until Monday evening. The trailer steps needed fixing and he’d decided earlier that morning that it was only a matter of time before Eddie put a foot through one; he knelt beside the porch with a hammer and a length of timber he’d rescued from the shed.
Inside, Eddie still slept; or so Wayne had thought. He’d tried waking him twice earlier only to be met with protest and a mumble of something about having rights. A loud thud from Eddie’s room rattled the trailer wall followed by a distant “Ow.”
Wayne smiled despite himself, “Y’alive in there kid?” he called
A muffled voice drifted through the trailer thirty seconds later, “The floor wants to swallow me, Uncle Wayne!”
Wayne snorted, shaking his head with a smile as he replied, “Can it wait til after breakfast?”
Silence followed before Eddie’s voice drifted through the trailer again, “I’ll ask! Is breakfast ready now?”
Wayne smiled again, “Got about five minutes, kid.”
“I’m coming!” followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like Eddie falling over.
Eddie burst through the screen door a minute later; hair flattened on one side from sleep, the other side sticking up wildly.
“You didn’t wake me.”
Wayne raised an eyebrow before speaking, “I tried, kid.”
“Did not.”
“Kid, I yelled twice.”
Eddie’s eyebrows scrunched together in thought before speaking, “Maybe you didn’t yell loud enough.”
Wayne turned to hammering the step into place with a smile, “Next time i’ll yell extra loud then, kid.”
Eddie considered it before speaking, “Is breakfast really gonna be ready in five minutes or was that a lie?”
Wayne chuckled, placing down the hammer on the step before standing to ruffle Eddie’s hair, “Only if you help make it.”
“So it was a lie?”
“Think of it as a twisted truth.”
Eddie mumbled something about life being unfair before walking back inside.
By the time Eddie stumbled into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, having told Wayne that there was ‘something important’ in his room that he needed to do and doing absolutely nothing to help, Wayne had prepared breakfast.
Eddie sighed as he sat down at the table and was presented with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, “Awwww man.”
“What?”
“I wanted cereal,” Eddie said solemnly, lips drawn into a pout
Wayne raised an eyebrow, an amused smile covering his face as he spoke, “You wanted sugar, kid.”
“No, cereal has important vitamins.”
Wayne laughed with a shake of his head, “So do eggs, Ed”
“But they’re boring ones.” He pouted again, one hand resting in a fist against his cheek, the other poking solemnly with a fork at the eggs
Wayne poured himself another cup of coffee with a smirk, “You’ll survive.”
Eddie sighed with the tremendous distress possessed only by the dramatic seven-year-old himself before shovelling the eggs into his mouth.
Outside, a bird landed on the porch railing, calling out in morning song; Eddie’s head whipped to face it, eyes drifting immediately towards the trailer opposite.
The station wagon remained exactly where it had been yesterday; the mattress had finally been dragged inside, though rubbish bags still lay split open in the back; clothes spilling into the mud where they’d fallen during the storm. The curtains were still shut; no movement behind them, no sound, only darkness. He looked away before Wayne could see him staring and went back to shovelling eggs into his mouth. It was approximately thirty seconds later when he glanced back again, then stoped, only to the same thing ten seconds later. Wayne watched, smiling into his coffee as he spoke,
“You’ll strain your neck, kid.”
Eddie frowned innocently, “Huh?”
“Lookin’ out the window every ten seconds at that trailer.”
“I’m not lookin’, I was looking at the birds.”
Wayne smiled again, “There ain’t been a bird there for two minutes.”
Eddie looked genuinely offended, brows scrunched together; no quick remark, because for once, Wayne was right.
The hours seemed to pass slower than Eddie believed they had any right to. Saturday mornings usually disappeared in a blur of comic books, bicycles, the occasional worm and scraped knees; today seemed determined to crawl. He attempted reading beneath the awning and found himself turning the same page three separate times without remembering what had happened; then he tried painting one of his miniature knights and ended up giving him two blue boots, purple hair that was meant to be brown and an accidental green face.
Eventually he settled back on the front porch; a comic book balanced across his knees, eyes fixed determinedly on the speech bubbles not reading a single word, his mind drifting every few seconds to the girl across the trailer park.
Wayne watched him from the porch steps, hammer in hand as he hummed.
“Y’know, kid.”
Eddie didn’t look up, only hummed in response
Wayne reached for a screw from the box beside him, “Even if you stare hard enough, that trailer still ain’t gonna walk over here.”
“I wasn’t staring.” Eddie replied defensively
“Kid, lying ain’t right.”
“I was just-“ Eddie searched desperately for an explanation, “thinking.”
Wayne nodded thoughtfully, “Bout what’s across the road?”
Eddie’s cheeks turned a light shade of crimson, eyes downturned as he spoke, “Maybe.”
Wayne closed the toolbox with a heavy clink, “Kid.”
“Hmm.”
“If she said she’d come back,” He shrugged, “then she probably will.”
Eddie wanted to believe him; but adults said probably an awful lot; probably tomorrow, probably next week, probably soon. His father had once promised he would probably be home before Christmas; that had been a long time ago and he still hadn’t come. Probably, Eddie had decided, was simply another word for don’t wait up.
He waited anyway.
It was nearly five in the afternoon when the front door of the trailer opposite opened; not quickly, cautiously, as though whoever stood behind it wasn’t entirely certain they should step outside. Wayne watched from the steps as Eddie looked up so fast his comic slid into the dirt beneath him.
She stood on the small metal porch with both hands clasped around something guarded against her chest; her hair had been brushed this morning, though not particularly well. A stubborn knot still remained behind one ear but she’d changed into a pair of faded blue dungarees over a striped yellow T-shirt, and unlike yesterday, her shoes were tied properly.
She spotted him watching; for a long moment neither of them moved. Then she lifted one small hand in a wave, the other clutching the little pewter dragon.
She remained where she was; a ghost of a smile on her features as she looked timidly toward Eddie; one hand still wrapped tightly around the dragon, the other hanging down by her side.
Eddie was already on his feet before he’d consciously decided to move; he hurried down the porch steps, barely avoiding tripping over Wayne who mumbled a quiet careful kid, and crossed the muddy path between the trailers, stopping just a few feet away. Yesterday had taught him that people who startled easily deserved a little room.
“Hey, sunshine.” he called
She stared at him for a second before answering, her voice quiet, “Hi, Eddie.”
She looked at him for another long moment before holding her hand out, “I brought him back.”
Eddie took a tentative step forward, hand reaching out towards her outstretched palm where the little red dragon rested before pulling it back, “You should keep him.”
Her face contorted in confusion, “But he’s yours.”
Eddie shrugged, “I’ve got loads. Plus, he probably likes you better anyways.”
Her fingers curled around the dragon then, a small smile twitching at her mouth as she pushed the hair back from her face, “I think I might call him flame.”
Eddie tilted his head, “but you said that you don’t like to name things.”
She shrugged, “I don’t think he’s going to get taken away.”
Silence settled softly between them; a gentle breeze stirred through the trees lining the edge of the trailer park. Somewhere nearby, a radio crackled to life, soft country music neither child recognised drifting slowly from the speakers.
Across the road, Wayne looked up from where he was sat on the porch steps, a cigarette hanging loosely from his finger tips; he watched the pair standing in the middle of yesterday’s muddy footprints, and at the way little girl looked down at the dragon in her hand. Then, almost absent-mindedly, she slipped it carefully into the pocket of her dungarees.
He smiled then, maybe dragons really did know where they belonged.
Description: After witnessing your best friend Eddie Munson finish a yogurt cup without a spoon, you wonder what else he can do with his tongue.
Eddie always crashes your place when he's hungry. At first it was "annoying" as you'd joke with him. He did it once when you had a guy over, and the guy was so mad he stormed out.
"You scared him off, jackass!" You pouted.
"You want my opinion? He was dressed kind of boring, anyway."
"Get out!"
In the present day, nothing's changed. He's still your annoying little shit. But you've grown used to him coming by for a snack, so it doesn't phase you.
His knocking rhythm is unmistakable.
"Come in, cockroach." You say, stepping aside when you let him in.
"Is that any way to speak to your best friend?" Eddie grins.
"It's the best way to speak to you." You joke, shutting the door behind you. "Make yourself at home." You say with the click of the lock.
Eddie opens your fridge, scanning everything. "Holy shit, no way. Do you not like yogurt? This pack is untouched."
"I bought it because you do."
"Wow, thanks." His voice softens. He rips off a strawberry yogurt, setting the rest of the pack down into the fridge with a light thud.
He comes and lounges with you on the couch, ripping some of the cover off just enough to expose the whole cup.
"Why didn't you get a spoon, you weirdo?" You chuckle.
"Eh. Don't need one." He shrugs casually.
Just as you're about to verbally berate him again for his odd habit, he's showing you exactly what he meant.
You don't know why you're thinking of it in such a suggestive way, maybe because it's been a while since you've found a guy you'd actually screw. You're deprived, it's nothing much you figure. But the way he's swirling his tongue in the cup with his eyes heavy lidded in complete focus does something unexplainable to you. His pretty lashes flutter softly. You watch him right until he finishes it, no spoon needed just like he said.
He licks the last of the yogurt off his lips, before showing you the empty cup with a proud grin.
"See? Told you."
You've witnessed his relationships before they ended, and now you're questioning why anyone would leave someone who could do that.
""You still could've used a spoon, weirdo."
"Why? Aren't you impressed?"
"Maybe. I've seen better." You grin.
"Oh have you? Is that a challenge?"
"Mhm."
"A shame. I thought you'd know by now to never challenge me." He smirks.
His face is buried in between your legs, making you regret every slick comment that you said. He's unpredictable with his mouth, switching between gentle clit sucking and feverish flicks. His strong hold on your thighs keeps your pussy against his mouth, no matter how much you squirm from unbearable pleasure.
He's on the verge of pulling you into your third orgasm. Your hips instinctively try to pull away from sweet overstimulation, but he tugs you back onto his mouth with a frustrated grunt.
Your thigh clamp tightly around his head, disheveling his curls. He carefully slips his tongue inside you just slightly to flick the tip of it upwards, stimulating your nerves.
You're spewing unintelligible pleads and cries, breaking completely when Eddie coaxes you to cum a third time.
He lifts his head, pushing his messy curls out of his face. He rests his warm cheek on the inside your thigh, and grins cockily.
My I request platonic!eddie x younger sibling(like teen)!reader who ran away at some point (I imagine it’s in response to their mom being dead, dad in jail, and the town thinking them and their brother are demonic just cause of Eddie being a metalhead)? Maybe they reunite due to something related to the upside down, or maybe reader gets arrested and has to get picked up several towns over, whatever you want. Maybe with the vibe of Dashboard by Noah Kahan?
I’m sorry if this is too specific or ramble-y!!!
a/n: Hi babe! Glad to finally get this to you, and I have ideas for a part two if there is interest...This was an interesting dynamic to write, and it was a bit hard to settle into. That being said, I did my best! I usually write for fem readers (and I also made her in her 20s), so I hope that's okay!
Devil Shows Up On Your Dashboard Again
Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Sister!Reader
Warnings: mention of parental loss/grief, namecalling, estrangement, reader has kleptomaniac tendencies
"Chop, chop," the officer instructs, brutely, routinely, as if shoving people into little cells for something as simple as a few stolen pairs of earrings, a few bottles of perfume - just little things - was an everyday occurrence. Which now that you thought about it, you supposed it was for this man. He just looked like any old cop, but there was something slightly endearing about his expression. Not like the typical harsh, over dramatic run-ins you'd previously had with the fuzz. It reminded you of that guy back in Hawkins...What was his name? Oh yeah, Hopper. He had been alright as far as these badge-flashing assholes went. This guy looked different though: buff, dark-skinned, with a shiny bald head. At least he wasn't actually from Hawkins, Indiana. That place made you want to barf.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile. "Alright, kid. Who's your phone call going to?"
Your smug smile dropped. You had no idea. All of your friends were sleeping off their hangovers, or getting themselves into worse situations than you had today. As fun as they were to be around, they didn't know the first thing about your life or the other way around. They didn't know that you'd grown up in a suburbia nightmare, wrought with prisses who'd made you feel like you should've been dead. They didn't know that your mom was six feet below ground, or that her shitty husband had left you and your older brother (with no food in the house) to spend the rent on drugs and lottery tickets. They didn't know that the constant harassment, shouts of "Trailer Trash!" or "Devil Incarnate!" directed towards your brother, and then towards you, had been the real reason you'd changed zip codes. It was never the wanderlust, it was straight fear. It made you sick to think about how weak you really were. So, yeah. You had no idea who that phone call was going to. The officer tapped his dress-shoed foot, and sighed.
"I don't got all day, your highness."
You stared up at the ceiling of the cell, looked at the water stains forming pictures in the plaster. One kinda looked like a Siberian tiger. Huh. But, before you could think, one word shot out of your mouth.
"Eddie."
"I need a full name there, hun." The cop flipped open a mini legal pad and clicked a pen.
What the fuck were you doing? "Edward Munson." You recited his number to Mister Shiny Head, surprised you could even recall it. It'd been almost two years now. Two years since you and your brother had graduated (At the same time, despite him being three years older than you—Mrs. O’Donnell really had it out for him). Two years since you'd seen Wayne and him. Your eyes misted over at the thought of them, and you swallowed, annoyed with yourself for even letting them cross your mind.
“Eddie Munson…as in..as in Corroded Coffin? As in ‘Fire Shroud’?”
That stupid fucking song. It was all over the radio with it’s blasting guitar solo and raw vocals. You nodded, nonetheless.
“All right, Miss Munson. I’ll give ‘im a ring.”
。:+* ゜ ゜゜ *+:。
The door of the cell opened again, that loud screech made you want to punch someone. Two loud clomps, and you could see your older brother’s beat-up Reeboks as your eyes burnt a hole in the nasty floor. You heard a sigh, and a rather large swallow. A sniff. Almost like he was about to start crying. He probably looked at you and just saw Al, after all. You physically could not move your head to meet his eyes.
Baldy tsked, and said, “I’ll give you two a sec. Eddie, she’s good to go. Get her stuff at the front and sign a little paperwork fo’ me. Thanks for the autograph.” A loud screech again as the door closed, but no sound of a key turning.
“’Course, man,” Eddie replied, voice full of genuine kindness.
You sat there…waiting for him to say something. Do something. Literally anything. But he wouldn’t. Your fists clenched tightly, leaving those familiar crescent moons in the skin of your palms. Your nostrils flared, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Swallow it down. But no-
“Why’d you even show, Eddie? Don’t have anywhere else to be?”
Nothing. You finally dared to look up, and meet your brother’s eye. There he was, in all of his “lead man of Corroded Coffin” glory. He had aviators perched in his bird’s nest of curls. Although - it actually looked quite nice - styled, smooth…no more frizz. Clad in a pair of leather pants and a tattered Metallica tee, Eddie looked somehow the same and shockingly different all at once.
You glared, and he just cocked his brow and crossed his hands across his chest. It was a move you would’ve pulled had the roles been reversed. Siblings. He opened his mouth to speak, demeanor changing again, like he was some sort of breathing kaleidoscope.
“Do you even,” Eddie’s voice broke, and he looked to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Do you even understand?” He asked, softly. “Do you? I- Fuck, Wayne and I…And now you call me. Not to check in and say hello. Not to explain why you left. Not to say ‘Merry Christmas, Eddie!’ or ‘Tell Wayne I say Happy Birthday!’, and definitely not to congratulate the band-”
You cut him off. “I don’t give a FUCK about your stupid little garage band! Okay, Eddie? I don’t! God forbid, I have a life, and other things to worry about. You haven’t even tried to call-”
“Are you FUCKED in the head!? REALLY?? Are you going to tell me I didn’t try?” Eddie’s head dropped into his hands, and he took a moment to catch his breath. “You’re my little sister, and I thought you were fuckin’ dead, okay? I scoured every inch of Hawkins, and then the next town over, and then the next. And then I did it again, because I LOVE YOU.”
You swallowed, nostrils flaring, eyes burning. You stood up from the stupid little cell bench to face him.
“You always look for an easy way out, okay? The world doesn't just restart once you leave. The clocks don’t reset.”
“I just needed someone to get me out, Eddie. Nothing more. Sorry if it inconveniences you.”
His jaw dropped, and he laughed from the shock of your words. “Well here I am, asshole. Go get your shit from the front. I’m really glad you called me, and next time you want to steal CVS cologne, be a little less obvious about it.” He turned on his heel, and began to walk down the hallway.
“YEAH? OKAY, EDDIE! GO SIT IN YOUR TOUR BUS, AND DON’T COME BACK! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” You yelled, startling the officers chatting around you.
You began to cry when you really saw him leave. You hated yourself for wanting him to come back. You hated yourself for how you’d talked to him. You hated yourself for letting things escalate so quickly. You hated yourself for just changing your zip code, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. You hated that it had been. Eddie was right.
Your shoes scuff across the floor of Hawkins High. You're slumping your shoulders to make yourself smaller, but sometimes you wish you were invisible.
Your days have felt shorter and shorter, more meaningless by the second. Whatever it means to live to the fullest, you haven't been doing it. Because you don't care to anymore. Your life has gone by faster than you can process.
Everyday feels the same. An aching emptiness lulls within your heart. If no one's out to get you, then your mind is. It's a wheel of neverending solemn.
You're just waiting for the final school bell to ring. You've heard that Eddie Munson sells after school, and you're planning on buying from him. You've never really talked to him so you can't really form an opinion on him. But you do know that he's different. Not many people at Hawkins look like him, or dress him. You can give him props for being himself. You haven't exactly figured out who you are yet.
Hours and hours of ticking of the school clock finally comes to the final bell. You snatch your bag off of the floor and begin treading towards the woods behind the school.
The woods are a perfect quiet to give you time to think. Your thoughts have been so loud, it's hard to pay attention to anything else.
You take a seat at the bench, and begin fiddling with your fingers. Most people would look around for threats, but you don't. Maybe because you don't care if anything happens to you.
Eddie's footsteps push a few dry leaves, causing crunching sounds that you keep track of to know when he's coming up.
"I see you're buying today." He grins.
You hope your stoic expression doesn't scare him.
"Yeah." You say flatly.
Eddie takes a seat in front of you, opening his lunchbox to quickly scan his inventory.
You take the moment to examine him out of curiosity, trying to form an opinion on him. He's probably got the longest hair on any guy in Hawkins, aside from that stoner kid you always see around. He's the first guy you've ever seen with Bambi eyes.
"Ohhkayy…what are we buying?" Eddie asks, looking up from his lunchbox.
"You got antidepressants in there?" You joke flatly.
"Sorry. Those are legal, so no."
His statement is small and stupid in an amusing way, so it makes you chuckle a bit anyway.
"I'll take weed. All the ounces you have."
Eddie's brows furrow. "Are you rich? That's 80 bucks!"
"Never met a dealer that's concerned over how someone gets their money."
"I'd be lucky to see a fifty dollar bill in one place!"
"Be thankful I'm paying your ass!" You laugh.
Eddie chuckles too, holding his ringed hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Let me get your green."
He shuffles through the box. "If you don't mind me prying?…. I never saw you for the drug doing type. I've only ever seen you in one class so I can't speak for you. You're just…quiet."
"Well…surprise." You try to joke, but the smile never reaches your eyes. "I'm losing my mind…you ever feel like that?"
"Um, you know…just on a daily basis."
You roll your eyes at his amusing stupidity yet again, but you chuckle anyway.
"Okay…that'll be eighty, miss."
You take the money out of your pocket and hand it to him, and he exchanges the weed with you.
"Thank you for your service, come again sometime."
"I think I'll pass." You joke.
"You are killing me." He grins.
"Hey, Eddie? Thanks."
"You're welcome." You begin turning to walk away until you hear him speak.
"You know I…never got your name."
You softly tell it to him, placing your hands in your pockets.
