hey! my name is bea (she/her/hers). 22. leo. bi. chronically obsessed with joseph quinn.
my blog is 18+ so minors do not interact<3 you have been warned.
click here for my masterlist <3
just stating this here & now: i do NOT use ai to write my fics. not to be that person but i have a masters degree in english literature, hence my usage of em dash's, oxford commas, semi-colons, etc. to be 100% transparent, i have grammarly attatched to my browser, which i do use. it does not "write my fics for me," just helps with spelling, grammar, etc.
Fandoms:
i am apart of many fandoms, however my blog is mainly eddie munson x fem! reader content. no y/n mentions, always.
i also just started a Geta series!!!
other joseph quinn roles may be coming soon... ;)
Requests are: closed for now!
while i am open to catering to anyone's wants/needs/desires, i will NOT write any requests pertaining to: pedophilia, underage characters, etc... and you will be blocked/reported upon requesting. just don't be gross, 'kay?
i am still human! i try to reply to 2-4 requests at a time to pace myself, and usually i'll prioritize requests first. however, if my squirrel brain gets an idea, i'll post one of my own, then a request, vice versa.
i may reach out to follow up on requests/to clarify. i just want to make sure i get your vision just right:)
on a more positive note, feel free to ask any questions you choose, i am an open book! much love for you all, thank you for your continued support. i appreciate it more than you'll ever know <3
this is part two, click here for series masterlist
description: it's the summer leading into your senior year, and you decide to spend summer break with your best friend and roommate, violet munson. and of course, her dad. what starts as harmless flirting turns into something a little more...interesting.
pairing: dilf!eddie x reader (fem!reader)
tags: dilf!eddie, 21 y/o reader, no y/n, best friend's dad, age gap romance, eddie being jealous, girl dad eddie, eddie and violet are literally twins, single dad eddie, shameless flirting, metalhead x metalhead, emo/goth reader, domestic fluff (like fr), violet munson being an instigator, steve has a wife and daughter?, summer vibe
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, age difference, mentions of toxic family dynamics
WC: 6.5k
A/N: AGH part two is finally here!!! sorry fics have been coming out slower than usual, between summer classes and work i've been BUSSYYYYY!! buuut, i'm so excited to hear what you guys think<3
reblogs are always appreciated :))
The annual start-of-summer lake day was apparently sacred in Hawkins. You discovered this at exactly eight-thirteen in the morning when a bikini top smacked you directly in the face. You jolted awake with a startled noise, immediately sitting upright as Violet stood in your doorway looking entirely too awake for a college student on summer break.
"Rise and shine."
You squinted at her through messy hair. "What time is it?"
"Lake day time."
"That's not a real time."
"It is in this house."
You groaned and flopped backward into the mattress. Unfortunately for you, Violet Munson had never been known for mercy. An hour later, you were sitting cross-legged on a kitchen stool nursing a cup of coffee while Violet packed enough snacks to survive a small apocalypse.
The house was quiet in Eddie's absence. He'd left for work before either of you woke up, disappearing sometime around six in the morning after leaving a note on the counter reminding Violet, "be there around four. please try not to drown anybody."
You'd stared at that note for far longer than necessary. Not because his handwriting was attractive, that would be ridiculous.
The front door opened dramatically, snapping you out of your lovestruck focus on Eddie’s chicken scratch. A blonde girl walked inside without knocking, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, and a set of car keys dangling from one finger.
"Please tell me somebody made coffee."
"Kitchen," Violet called.
The girl immediately rounded the corner before stopping when she saw you. For a second, she simply stared, then she looked at Violet. Then back at you.
"Huh."
"What?" Violet asked.
The girl pointed. "This is the roommate?"
"Yep."
"Huh."
"What does that mean?"
The girl shrugged. "Nothing. Just expected someone different."
She extended a hand toward you. "Harper Harrington."
You shook it. "The Harrington?"
She sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."
The rest of the group filtered in over the next half hour, the same way Harper had; no knocking, no warning, just casually wandering into the Munson house like they owned part of it. By the time everyone finally piled into their respective cars, you'd met enough people to completely lose track of who belonged to who.
Apparently, that was another Hawkins thing. Everybody's parents knew everybody else's parents, everyone had grown up together, and somehow half the town seemed related through friendship if not blood. It was oddly comforting in a way you weren't used to, a kind of community that only seemed possible in places where people stayed.
The lake itself ended up being far prettier than you'd expected. Hawkins might've been small, but the water stretched wide beneath the summer sun, sparkling between the trees while boats drifted lazily across the surface.
The group immediately claimed a familiar patch of shoreline, unloading coolers and folding chairs with the efficiency of people who'd been doing this every summer since birth.
Before you'd even finished laying your towel out, somebody had already started music, somebody else had started a volleyball game, and Harper was loudly accusing one of the others of cheating at something.
Hours slipped by surprisingly fast after that. You swam, floated on your back in the lake, got dragged into a game of beach volleyball despite repeatedly insisting you sucked at sports, and somehow ended up sharing a giant bag of chips with Harper while she filled you in on years of Hawkins gossip.
By mid-afternoon, your skin was warm from the sun, your hair was damp from swimming, and for the first time since arriving in Indiana, you weren't really thinking about anything at all. Well, almost anything.
"Your eyes keep going to the parking lot."
You looked over at Harper. "What?"
She smirked. "Nothing."
Immediately suspicious, you narrowed your eyes. "Harper."
Before she could answer, a familiar roar of an engine echoed through the trees. And suddenly, half the group perked up. "Oh, they're here."
You turned instinctively toward the parking area, a big mistake. Huge mistake, actually. Because there, climbing out of the old van with a cooler balanced against one hip, was Eddie.
For a second, your brain didn't quite process what it was seeing. Then it did, and unfortunately, that made things significantly worse. Gone was the grease-stained work shirt you'd seen him leave in every morning.
Instead, he'd changed into a pair of faded black swim trunks hanging low on his hips and absolutely nothing else. His curls had been pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, exposing the tattoos crawling across his shoulders and chest, and the late afternoon sunlight caught against every silver ring still decorating his fingers.
Sweet fucking Jesus. You suddenly understood every poor decision women had ever made throughout history.
"Wow." The word escaped before you could stop it.
Harper followed your line of sight, then she looked at you, then back at Eddie. Then at you again. "Oh."
Your stomach dropped. "Oh no."
"Oh," Harper repeated, sounding somewhere between inquiry and suspicion.
Across the beach, Steve appeared from the passenger side, carrying enough bags to feed a football team. Beside him was a woman with dark hair and oversized sunglasses, effortlessly beautiful in the way that made you immediately understand why Steve Harrington had spent years getting himself into trouble.
"That's my mom," Harper informed you.
"She's gorgeous."
"I know. It's annoying."
Steve immediately spotted the group and lifted a hand. "Alright, move. Important people are here."
"Nobody asked you to come!" one of the kids yelled back.
Steve looked genuinely offended. "That's a terrible thing to say to the guy carrying burgers."
The entire group immediately changed sides.
"Welcome, Steve."
"Great to see you, Steve."
"We love you, Steve."
His wife snorted. "You people are shameless."
Meanwhile, you were doing your absolute best not to stare at Eddie. Unfortunately, Eddie wasn't making that particularly easy.
He'd abandoned the cooler near the picnic tables and was helping Steve unload supplies, muscles flexing every time he lifted something. The man wasn't even showing off. He looked completely unaware of the fact that he was walking around looking like every romance novel cover come to life.
Or maybe he was aware, because halfway through carrying a folding table, he glanced up. And immediately caught you staring. Fuck.
His eyebrows lifted, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, the bastard winked. You nearly swallowed your own tongue.
You snapped your head back to the lake, Harper immediately tilting her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you replied on impulse. She hummed in response, but it didn’t quite sound convinced.
Before you could formulate a solid response to her lack of one, Eddie finally started walking toward the group. The closer he got, the worse the situation became.
Up close, you could see the faint tan lines across his shoulders, the tattoos wrapping around his arms, the way a few escaped curls had fallen loose around his face despite the bun. It should've been illegal for a forty-year-old father to look like that.
Thirty-nine. Not that you knew that, or thought about it. Or remembered constantly.
"Hey, sweetheart." His voice alone was enough to make your stomach flip.
You looked up and immediately regretted it. Because now he was standing directly in front of you, still shirtless, still damp from whatever shower he'd apparently taken after work, and still looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Hey."
Eddie's eyes drifted over you slowly, taking in your swimsuit, your sun-kissed skin, and your damp hair. The look lingered just long enough to make heat crawl up your neck before he finally grinned.
"Looks like you're surviving Hawkins."
"Barely."
"Mhm."
Eventually, Steve decided he'd had enough of everyone picking at chips and snacks.
"Alright, listen up!" he shouted from beside the grills. "Food's done, and if you little gremlins don't come eat now, I'm not reheating anything later."
A chorus of complaints immediately followed.
"We're literally walking over!"
"Relax, dad!"
"You're not my dad!"
Steve pointed a spatula threateningly. "I could've been."
His wife rolled her eyes from where she was arranging burger toppings. "Ignore him. Everybody grab a plate."
The entire group migrated toward the picnic tables in a noisy mass of towels, sunscreen, half-finished conversations, and dripping lake water. Harper immediately stole a burger before Steve could finish serving everyone, earning a dramatic gasp from her father that she completely ignored.
You found yourself settling onto the end of one of the benches while everyone else naturally fell into conversations that had clearly been going on for years.
Maya and the twins were arguing about something that happened last summer. Harper was making fun of a guy she'd apparently gone to school with. Logan was telling some story that required absolutely zero context for everybody except you.
You smiled when appropriate and laughed when everyone else laughed. But after a while, you started feeling it, that subtle little distance.
Nobody was being unkind. Quite the opposite, actually. Everyone had gone out of their way to include you throughout the day. But there was still a difference between being welcomed into a group and having years of inside jokes and memories with them.
You were still catching up. Still learning names, stories, histories...still the new person.
For a moment, your thoughts drifted back home. To being the odd one out at family dinners. To sitting quietly while everyone else talked around you. To feeling like there wasn't really a place carved out for you anywhere, so you picked at your food.
The feeling only lasted a minute, maybe less. Because suddenly a shadow fell across the table, then Eddie slid onto the bench beside you.
"Hey."
You glanced over. "Hey."
He balanced a paper plate on one knee and took a bite of his burger before speaking again.
"You look like you're plotting something."
You snorted. "I promise I'm not."
"Mhm."
"What?"
Eddie tilted his head slightly. "You got quiet."
"I'm okay."
"I know."
His voice was soft enough that nobody else would've heard it over the surrounding conversations.
Then he nodded toward the group, "They can be a lot."
You laughed quietly. "That's one way to put it."
"Trust me, sweetheart. I've known most of these idiots since before they could drive."
"Feels like everybody here has known each other forever."
"Pretty much."
Eddie picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Harper was born when Vi was little. Maya's parents live three streets over. Logan practically grew up at my garage. Steve's wife still makes fun of me for a haircut I got in nineteen ninety-three."
You laughed. "What was wrong with the haircut?"
"Oh, it was terrible."
"Really?"
"It was magnificent."
"Those are two different answers."
"Both can be true." His shoulder bumped yours lightly, and you couldn't help smiling.
The conversations around you continued, but somehow they felt less overwhelming now. Maybe because Eddie wasn't trying to force you into them. He wasn't doing the awkward introduction thing or drawing attention to the fact that you were newer than everyone else.
"You know," he said after a minute, looking out toward the water, "when I first moved into Wayne's, I barely spoke for an entire summer."
You blinked. "You?"
"Hard to believe, I know."
"Impossible, actually."
Eddie grinned. "Seriously. I was awkward as hell."
"No way."
"Way."
You studied him skeptically. Just before this, the man had an entire picnic table laughing at half of what he said. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You expect me to believe you were shy?"
His grin softened slightly. "Not shy."
He looked down at his beer. "Just didn't think people wanted me around."
The admission surprised you enough that you didn't answer right away. Because for a second, you caught a glimpse of something underneath all the confidence and sarcasm; something younger.
Eddie glanced over and immediately noticed your expression. "Hey."
"Hm?"
"Don't get all sad on me."
You laughed. "I'm not sad."
"Good."
Then he reached over and stole one of your fries, again.
"Hey!"
"Occupational hazard. Gotta make sure it’s not poison."
"That's not what that means."
"It does if I say it does."
The Hideout was somehow even more charming now than it had been in all the stories Violet told. Maybe it was the nostalgia baked into the place. The old wooden bar, the dim lighting, the neon beer signs buzzing softly against the walls.
Maybe it was because half the people inside seemed to know Eddie by name. Or maybe it was because every few minutes someone would stop by your table to greet either Steve, Eddie, or both, and you'd get to watch them slip so naturally into the lives they'd built here.
You, Harper, and Violet had claimed a booth near the back while Steve and Eddie wandered over toward the dart boards with beers in hand. A local band was setting up in the corner, tuning guitars and testing microphones while conversations drifted through the crowded room.
Meanwhile, across the room, Steve lined up a shot at the dart board while Eddie leaned against the wall beside him. The dart landed with a satisfying thunk.
"Ha."
"Congratulations," Eddie deadpanned. "You're winning against a mechanic."
Steve ignored him. For a minute, they stood there in comfortable silence, watching the girls at the booth. Harper was talking animatedly about something while Violet argued with her. You sat between them, laughing at whatever ridiculous story was being told.
Then Steve glanced sideways. "So."
Eddie sighed immediately. "No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You were about to."
Steve threw another dart. "You gonna tell me what's going on there?"
Eddie looked offended. "Nothing's going on."
"Bullshit."
"Steve."
"Eddie."
The older man took a sip of his beer, and Steve pointed subtly toward your booth.
"You talked to her almost the entire barbecue."
"We were talking."
"You were talking."
"That's what I said."
Steve stared, and Eddie stared back. Neither moved, then finally Steve sighed.
"I feel like I'm watching a train derail in slow motion."
"Jesus Christ."
"Eddie."
"What?"
"That's your daughter's best friend."
"I know who she is."
Steve rubbed his face. "I liked you better when your bad decisions only affected you."
Eddie barked out a laugh despite himself. "Nothing's happening."
Steve looked like he wanted to believe him, then his expression changed when his eyes drifted toward the bar. Eddie followed his gaze and immediately wished he hadn't.
Because sometime during the conversation, Violet and Harper had wandered over to grab another round of drinks. You'd stayed behind at the booth, scrolling through the jukebox selections alone.
Unfortunately, somebody else had noticed. A guy. Young, mid-twenties maybe. Definitely closer to your age than Eddie's. The guy leaned casually against the edge of your booth and said something.
You smiled politely, and the guy smiled wider. Eddie's jaw tightened instantly. Steve saw it happen in real time.
"Oh no."
"I'm fine."
"You are absolutely not fine."
"I'm completely fine."
The guy sat down at your booth, across from you, knee brushing yours slightly under the table. Steve physically winced.
"Oh, that's bad."
"I'm gonna go say hi."
"You don't know him."
"I know enough."
"Eddie."
But Eddie was already moving. Across the room, you were only half paying attention to whatever the guy was saying.
Something about being from Indianapolis. Something about visiting family. Something about your tattoos. Honestly, he seemed perfectly nice.
Then suddenly his expression changed, and you frowned.
"What?"
The guy glanced up and immediately looked nervous. A familiar tattooed arm draped itself across the back of your booth, then another appeared on the opposite side, boxing you in completely.
"Oh," Eddie said pleasantly. "There you are, sweetheart."
The guy looked between the two of you. "Oh."
Eddie smiled, but not his real smile. The dangerous one. The one you'd already learned meant trouble. "Sorry, man. Didn't realize somebody was sitting here."
The guy stood up so fast he nearly knocked his drink over. "No, no, you're good."
"Mhm." Eddie never stopped smiling.
The guy made a very quick decision. "Well. Nice meeting you." Then he practically disappeared into the crowd.
The second he was gone, you looked up at Eddie.
"Eddie."
"What?"
"What was that?"
He looked genuinely confused. "I came to say hi."
You stared, and he stared back, for approximately three seconds. Then you started laughing, because somehow that was even less convincing than whatever excuse he'd intended to use.
"You are ridiculous."
"Maybe." His grin softened, then he brushed his fingers briefly against your shoulder. "Just checking on you."
The warmth in his voice immediately ruined any chance of staying annoyed.
"You're impossible."
"Been told that."
A few minutes later, after you'd disappeared toward the restroom, Eddie eventually wandered back to the dart boards, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Steve was waiting with a beer in hand and a flat expression.
Eddie immediately knew. "No."
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"Seriously?"
Eddie grabbed another dart while Steve pointed toward the booth.
"The kid practically evacuated."
"He left."
"You ran him off."
"I didn't run him off."
"Eddie."
"He made his own choices."
Steve laughed in disbelief. "You are forty years old."
"Thirty-nine."
"That somehow makes this worse."
Eddie threw his dart. Bullseye. "Don't."
Steve stared at him for a second, then looked toward the bathroom where you'd disappeared, then back toward Eddie. Then finally sighed. "You're screwed."
The second you came back from the bathroom, Eddie was waiting. Not in an obvious way, not standing outside the door like some lovesick teenager. Just leaning casually against the dart board wall with a beer in one hand and entirely too much amusement in his eyes.
The second he spotted you weaving through the crowd, his face brightened ever so slightly. A tiny thing, small enough that most people wouldn't notice it.
"Sweetheart."
You rolled your eyes as you approached. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever this is."
Eddie grinned. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
"Prove it."
You opened your mouth, then closed it, because annoyingly enough, you couldn't. Which only made his smile wider.
"That's what I thought."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet."
"And yet nothing."
"And yet you're still standing here." You hated when he had a point, especially when he looked so pleased about it.
The dart board behind him sat abandoned now, Steve having wandered off to join his wife and Harper near the booths. A few empty lanes sat open, and before you could stop him, Eddie was already pulling a set of darts from the board.
"You ever play?"
You eyed them suspiciously. "Not really."
"Oh."
The grin returned, the dangerous one. "Perfect."
Immediately, you groaned. "No."
"Yes."
"Eddie."
"C'mon."
The next thing you knew, a dart had been pressed into your hand. Five minutes later, you were learning very quickly that Eddie Munson was the most distracting teacher alive. Because at first, he genuinely tried, for all of about thirty seconds.
"You wanna hold it like this."
His hand settled over yours; warm, calloused, and large enough to completely engulf your grip. Your stomach betrayed you immediately, then he stepped behind you, which was somehow worse.
"Oh, my god."
"What?"
"You know exactly what."
"I am literally teaching you darts."
His voice was directly beside your ear, maybe lower, and definitely rougher. You hated him.
"You stand like this."
His hands settled briefly on your hips, “adjusting”, supposedly. The problem was that neither of you seemed particularly focused on darts anymore.
Your heart was pounding loud enough that you were worried somebody else would hear it while Eddie leaned slightly closer.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You just missed the board entirely."
You looked, and the dart was currently embedded in the wall. "...Okay."
Eddie barked out a laugh, the sound vibrating straight through your chest. "See?"
"Shut up."
"Can't."
His hand slid down your arm, adjusting your grip again. You were beginning to suspect the lesson wasn't real.
Across the room, Steve looked up from his booth and immediately regretted it. "Oh, for the love of God." His wife followed his gaze, then immediately started laughing.
Meanwhile, Harper and Violet were sitting across from one another sharing fries. Harper watched the dart situation unfold for approximately thirty seconds, then another thirty. Then finally turned toward her friend.
"Can I ask you something?"
Violet didn't even look up from her food. "You already are."
"Does this not bother you?"
For the first time all night, Violet's attention shifted toward the dart boards. Toward you. Toward her father. You were laughing at something Eddie had said. Head tipped back, smile huge, the kind of laugh that made your entire face light up.
Violet's expression softened immediately, and the sarcasm disappeared for a second. "Honestly?"
Harper nodded. Violet watched you for another moment before speaking. "No."
Harper looked surprised. "Really?"
"Nope."
Her fingers traced the rim of her drink absentmindedly. "That's probably the happiest she's looked in years."
Something in her tone made Harper pause. "What do you mean?"
Violet was quiet for a second. "Freshman year."
Harper waited.
"There was this guy."
Immediately Harper winced. "Oh."
"Yeah."
The response alone said enough. "Bad?"
"Not physically." Violet sighed. "But he spent two years making her feel like everything about her was too much."
Her eyes drifted back toward you, toward the smile currently plastered across your face.
"He hated her music,” she laughed softly. "Hated her clothes. Hated her tattoos. Thought she was dramatic every time she had feelings."
Harper frowned. "What a dick."
"Exactly."
The relationship had ended almost two years ago now, yet Harper noticed something sad in Violet's expression anyway.
"She hasn't dated since."
Across the room, Eddie was currently saying something that had you doubled over laughing. Whatever it was made him grin too. The look on his face wasn't subtle, not even a little.
And for some reason, instead of making Violet uncomfortable, it made her chest feel warm.
Because she remembered crying with you in your dorm room, remembered helping you pick up the pieces afterward. Remembered all the nights you'd insisted nobody would ever actually want all of you.
Not the loud parts. Not the messy parts. Not the emotional parts. All of it. Yet there you were, laughing, flirting, happy, for the first time in forever.
Harper followed her gaze, then smiled. "Oh."
"Yeah."
Violet grinned into her drink. "Besides."
"What?"
She looked back toward her father, then toward you and smirked that usual Munson smirk. "My dad's obsessed with her."
Across the room, Eddie's hand settled briefly against the small of your back as he helped you line up another throw.
Harper burst out laughing. "Obsessed is an understatement."
A couple hours later, the Hideout had gotten significantly louder.
The local band had long since started playing, conversations were being shouted over music, and somehow your group had managed to push three tables together into one giant mess of empty baskets, beer bottles, and half-finished stories. Steve's wife had eventually given up trying to keep everyone organized, settling instead into laughing at the chaos from a safe distance.
You, unfortunately, were drunk. Not blackout drunk, not Violet-at-the-lake drunk, but definitely drunk enough that everything felt pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.
Unfortunately, Eddie seemed to be in exactly the same boat, which was proving dangerous for everyone involved, especially you. Because sober Eddie at least attempted restraint. Drunk Eddie apparently thought personal space was a government conspiracy.
By ten-thirty, his arm had somehow become permanently draped across the back of your chair. Every time he laughed, he leaned into you. Every time he told a story, his hand found your shoulder, your arm, the small of your back. The man seemed physically incapable of existing more than six inches away from you.
And the worst part? You weren't exactly discouraging it.
"You are so full of shit."
Eddie pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. "That hurts, sweetheart."
"You're lying."
"I'm embellishing."
"That's just lying with confidence."
Steve nearly choked on his drink. "Jesus Christ, she's got your number."
"I don't like this," Eddie muttered.
"You love it."
"Maybe."
The answer came so fast that the entire table immediately started laughing. Harper physically dropped her head onto the table. "Oh, my god."
"What?" Eddie asked.
"Nothing."
"It was definitely something."
Across from you, Violet was grinning into her drink like this was the greatest show she'd ever witnessed. "He's not even trying anymore."
"I'm sitting right here."
"I know." The grin only got bigger.
By eleven-thirty, Steve had finally announced that he was taking his wife home before Harper somehow got herself banned from the establishment.
"I've done nothing wrong."
Steve pointed. "You started three separate arguments."
"I won all three."
"Goodnight, Harper."
The group slowly began breaking apart after that. Goodbyes were exchanged. Tabs were closed. Chairs scraped across the floor as people gathered their things. You stood up and immediately regretted it as the room tilted slightly.
"Oh."
Eddie looked over. "Oh no."
"I'm fine."
"You almost walked into a table."
"The table moved."
"The table did not move."
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the furniture, and Eddie started laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. Ten minutes later, you were outside in the warm summer air waiting while Steve finished saying goodbye to someone.
The night was quiet compared to the noise of the bar. Crickets chirped in the distance while streetlights cast soft yellow pools across the pavement. You were halfway through explaining a very important theory about why raccoons probably conversed through telekinesis when Eddie suddenly crouched in front of you.
"What're you doing?"
He pointed at your shoes. "You can't walk."
"I can absolutely walk."
To prove your point, you immediately stumbled. Eddie looked at Violet, and Violet looked at Eddie. The two of them started laughing.
"I hate everybody."
"No, you don't."
Then, before you could argue, Eddie hooked an arm behind your knees. You squeaked as the ground beneath you disappeared. "Oh, my god."
"There we go."
"Eddie!"
Suddenly you were being carried like it was nothing. One arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back. You stared at him, and he stared back.
"What?"
"You picked me up."
"Congratulations."
"You're carrying me."
"Mhm."
"Why?"
"Because you're drunk."
You considered this. "Fair."
Violet made a choking noise behind you. When you looked over, she was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
"You look insane."
She pointed. "No, you look insane."
The walk home wasn't particularly long, but apparently that didn't matter. Because every time you suggested being put down, Eddie refused, every single time.
At one point, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your cheek against his shoulder. The man practically preened.
"Look at him," Violet whispered.
"Oh my god," Harper whispered back.
"He loves this."
"He absolutely loves this."
Eddie ignored both of them, or pretended to. The smile he was trying to hide said otherwise. By the time the Munson house came into view, you'd gone completely boneless against him, warm and sleepy from the alcohol and the summer air.
"Comfortable?"
"Mhm."
"Good."
You hummed contentedly. Behind you, Violet immediately gagged.
"Dad."
"What?"
"You're gross."
"Am not."
"Are so. You carried her two miles."
"It was half a mile."
"You know that's not the point."
Eddie just laughed, then adjusted his grip slightly and carried you up the front steps anyway. By the time you got inside, Harper was heading toward her own car parked down the street. She paused halfway down the driveway, pointing between you and Eddie.
"I'm not saying anything."
"Good," Eddie called.
"But I'm thinking a lot."
"Harper."
She grinned. "Night, lovebirds."
Then she disappeared before either of you could throw something at her. The second the front door opened, Violet immediately announced, "I am going to bed before one of you says or does something that permanently changes my brain chemistry."
You barked out a laugh. "You are so dramatic."
Violet looked toward the ceiling as if she were asking God for patience. "Goodnight." Without another word, she disappeared down the hall, and a few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed.
Eddie finally set you down on the couch like you were something fragile, which was ridiculous. You immediately sank into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.
"Oh."
His mouth twitched. "What?"
"This couch is amazing."
"It's literally a couch."
"It's a really good couch."
"You're drunk."
You pointed at him. "So are you."
"Yeah." At least he was honest.
Eddie snorted softly and dropped down onto the floor in front of you, resting his arms across his knees. The position put him directly between your legs. Not touching, but close enough that your foot bumped his shoulder.
The soft yellow kitchen light caught the amber in his eyes while he looked up at you. God, the man was unfair. His curls had mostly fallen out of the bun by now, loose strands hanging around his face. His cheeks were flushed from alcohol and laughter, eyes warm and heavy-lidded.
You were in trouble.
"So."
You narrowed your eyes. "So."
Eddie grinned. "You're drunk."
You gasped dramatically. "The audacity."
Eddie laughed, head tipping back slightly, and suddenly you understood why everybody in Hawkins liked him so much.
It wasn't just that he was funny. It was that he laughed with his entire body, like he genuinely enjoyed existing, like he enjoyed being around you. The thought made your stomach flutter.
"You know," you said after a moment.
"Oh boy."
"You scared that guy away."
Eddie immediately looked innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
"I'm serious."
"You practically chased him out of the Hideout."
His grin widened. "He left on his own accord."
"Mmhm."
"He did."
"Eddie."
The man actually had the nerve to shrug. "He seemed like a smart kid."
You laughed. "Oh, my god."
"What?"
"You were jealous."
His eyebrows shot upward. "Jealous?"
"Very."
"Of a twenty-something wearing boat shoes?"
You burst out laughing since the immediate answer told you everything. "Aha."
"No."
"That's not a denial."
"It is."
"It was a terrible denial."
Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to hide a smile. "You are exhausting."
"Because I'm right."
"You're not."
"You totally are."
The two of you stared at each other, then Eddie sighed dramatically. "Maybe I didn't love him talking to you."
Victory. You pointed immediately. "I knew it."
"Oh, don't look so proud of yourself."
"I am."
"You shouldn't be."
But he was smiling again, the soft kind this time, the one that made your chest feel warm. His eyes drifted across your face for a second before he spoke again.
"You know what my problem is?"
"What?"
Eddie leaned back slightly against the couch. "I forget how old you are."
You blinked. "What?"
"I spend all day talking to you and hanging out with you, and it feels normal." His voice had gotten quieter. "Then some guy your age walks over, and suddenly I remember you're twenty-one."
You stared at him, because there wasn't really a joke hidden inside that one. Eddie looked away first, shaking his head. "Forget I said that."
"No."
His eyes returned to yours. "No?"
"No."
"I like talking to you." The confession left your mouth before you could stop it.
Eddie's expression softened instantly. "Yeah?"
You nodded. "Yeah."
Something warm flashed across his face, like you'd handed him something precious.
"Good." The word came out almost embarrassingly gentle.
For a second neither of you spoke, neither of you seemed particularly interested in breaking whatever this was. Then Eddie glanced upward, down the hall towards Violet’s room. And a mischievous grin slowly appeared.
"Oh."
You immediately recognized that look. "What?"
"I just realized something."
"Eddie."
"If you become my girlfriend—"
"Oh, my god."
"—Vi is gonna be so annoying about it."
You laughed so hard you nearly fell sideways off the couch.
You were still smiling when you looked down at Eddie. He was resting his arms on the couch cushion beside your legs now, chin tilted upward as he watched you.
"You know," you said quietly, "I think Harper's gonna make fun of me tomorrow."
Eddie snorted. "Harper's gonna make fun of me tomorrow."
"Fair."
"Steve definitely is."
"Oh, absolutely."
The thought made you laugh again, and Eddie smiled immediately at the sound. God. There it was; that damn look again. The one he'd been giving you all summer. The one that always felt like he was seeing something in you that nobody else quite did.
Neither of you spoke, just slowly drifted closer until the distance between you felt ridiculous. Then Eddie's hand settled lightly against your knee. A question, not a demand, just an invitation.
You answered by leaning forward first. The kiss was soft, almost embarrassingly sweet compared to the way you'd started things the first night. Just Eddie smiling against your mouth halfway through it because apparently he couldn't help himself.
"Hi," he murmured.
You laughed. "Hi."
"Thought about doing that all night."
"You're impossible."
"Been told."
His thumb traced absentminded circles against your leg while he looked up at you. For a second, neither of you spoke. Then the thought slipped out before you could stop it.
"Would you actually want that?"
Eddie's brows knit together slightly. "What?"
You suddenly felt nervous, which was stupid, but there it was anyway. "The girlfriend thing."
"What?"
You shrugged awkwardly. "Earlier."
When realization dawned, something softened in his face. "Sweetheart."
The nickname came out quieter than usual. You looked away first, which only made him smile.
"Yeah."
Your eyes snapped back to his. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." There wasn't even a second of hesitation.
His hand slid over yours. "I wouldn't joke about that."
Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
You laughed softly, and Eddie squeezed your hand once. "So?"
"So?"
He grinned. "Would you?"
You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Oh, now who's asking questions?"
"Me."
"You can't just reverse it."
"I absolutely can."
You laughed despite yourself, then looked down at your intertwined fingers. At the rings on his hand. At the way he was watching you.
"I'd think about it."
Eddie barked out a laugh. "You'd think about it?"
"I would."
"That's cold."
You nudged his shoulder with your foot. "Shut up."
"I'm serious."
"You should be grateful I'm considering it at all."
His grin widened. "Considering it."
"Mhm."
"Well."
The look that crossed his face immediately made you suspicious. "What?"
Eddie stood slowly, still holding your hand, still smiling. "I might have a way to improve my chances."
"Oh, do you?"
"Mhm." Eddie’s grin turns wicked as he tugs you up from the couch by your hand, pulling you flush against his chest.
“You’ve been teasing me all damn night in this little skirt,” he murmurs, voice dropping low. “Then some college prick thinks he can talk to you at the bar? Nah. I think it’s time I remind you exactly who this pussy belongs to.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he walks you backward down the hallway, kissing you hard, tongue claiming your mouth while his hands slide under your skirt and grab two handfuls of your ass. The second his bedroom door shuts, the switch flips completely.
“Clothes off. Now.”
You move fast, but apparently not fast enough. Eddie spins you around, bends you over the edge of his bed, and yanks your skirt and panties down in one rough motion. He kicks your legs wider, drops to his knees, and buries his face in your cunt from behind without warning.
“Fuck— Eddie!”
He eats you like a man starved. Messy, loud, and filthy. Long drags of his tongue, sucking hard on your clit, then fucking his tongue into you while his grip on your hips keeps you pinned exactly where he wants you. You’re already shaking by the time he pulls back, lips shiny.
“Think that little boy at the bar could eat this pussy like that?” he growls, standing up and shoving two thick fingers into you. “You think any of those college boys could make you drip down their chin the way you do for me?”
You moan helplessly, pushing back on his fingers. He curls them perfectly, stroking that spot that makes your knees buckle. He flips you onto your back on the bed, strips his shirt off, then yanks his belt open. His cock springs out, hard and leaking, but he doesn’t fuck you yet.
Instead, he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out the black vibrator.
“Eddie—”
“Yeah, baby?” His smile is dark, predatory. “Gonna make you so fucking sensitive you forget any other man exists.”
He clicks it on and presses the buzzing head directly against your swollen clit. At the same time, he pushes his cock into you in one slow, deep thrust. You cry out, back arching hard.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, bottoming out. “So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for me.”
He starts fucking you in hard, steady strokes while the vibrator stays glued to your clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming — his thick cock stretching you open, dragging against your walls, and the relentless buzz making your thighs tremble violently.
“Look at you,” he taunts, voice rough as he leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other keeping the vibrator exactly where he wants it. “Taking my cock so fucking well. You’d never go back to some twenty-one-year-old loser after this, would you?”
You shake your head frantically, moaning loudly.
“Say it.”
“I—I wouldn’t,” you gasp. “Never— fuck, Eddie—”
He clicks the vibrator up a setting, and your eyes roll back.
“That’s right. Because no college boy is ever gonna fuck you like I do. None of them are gonna make you come so many times you can’t even speak. None of them know how to ruin this pretty cunt the way I do.”
He fucks you harder, hips snapping, the wet sound of you obscene in the room. The vibrator never leaves your clit, and you come the first time with a broken cry, clenching around his cock so hard he curses.
But he doesn’t stop. He keeps the vibrator pressed tight, keeps thrusting deep, drawing out every aftershock until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and twitching.
“Too much— Eddie, please—”
“You can take it,” he growls, leaning down to bite at your neck. “You’re gonna come again. Gonna soak my cock while you’re crying for me.”
He angles his hips just right and turns the vibrator even higher, and the overstimulation hits like a freight train. You’re sobbing his name, nails raking down his back, legs shaking uncontrollably as another brutal orgasm rips through you.
Only then does he pull the vibrator away, toss it aside, and fuck you like he’s trying to claim you completely. Deep, punishing strokes. His hand wraps around your throat tight, and high enough to hold you there while he stares into your eyes.
“Say you’re mine,” he demands, voice wrecked. “Say you’ll be mine. Let me take care of you all fucking summer. Hell, however long you’ll let me.”
“I’m yours,” you moan, voice hoarse. “I’ll be your girlfriend, whatever you want—fuck, I’m yours, Eddie—”
He kisses you filthy and deep, then buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, groaning your name against your mouth as he fills you. For a minute, the only sounds are your ragged breathing.
Eddie pulls out gently, then collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms. His hands are soft now, stroking down your back, pressing kisses to your sweaty forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice gentle again.
You nod, still trembling. “Yeah… Jesus Christ.”
He chuckles lowly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Good. Because I meant every word. I want you to be mine, not just for the summer.”
You smile against his chest, pressing a kiss over one of his tattoos.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I want that too.”
Eddie’s arms tighten around you, and for the first time all night, his smile is soft.
i am SO excited for the next part of Hell of a Summer!!! your writing is so good!! do you have an idea of when it’ll be published? 🫶🏻
Im so glad you asked! It's actually in final stages of proofreading and shoud be out sometime tonight, as well as part two of The Scapegoat. STAY TUUUNEDDDD🥰
hey friends! so, i've been trying to figure out my taglist situation and i want to make sure i don't miss anybody in the process of remaking it. that being said...
please comment which you'd like to be added to!
if there's a specific series you'd like to be added to, please specify which one(s)
Overall taglist (one-shots, series, blurbs, etc); this would mean ANY fic I write, which as of rn may entail: Eddie Munson, Johnny Storm, Emperor Geta, and Dean Winchester. (Spencer Reid is coming soon, promise)
only fluff one shots
only smut one shots
only hurt/comfort one shots
and so on.
thank you all for your continued support! much love <33
description: morticia and gomez addams if they survived the horrors of hawkins, got married, raised two equally dramatic children, and spent the rest of their lives being unapologetically obsessed with each other.
pairing: eddie x wife!reader
tags: eddie x reader, no y/n, husband!eddie munson, dad!eddie munson, morticia and gomez addams coded, tooth rotting fluff (they're obsessed with eachother), soulmates, edward jr & corvina, domestic bliss, slice of life, gothic romance, munson family, black cat x black cat, love as devotion and worship
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, unprotected, mushy fluff
WC:7.3k
A/N: requested by @pierrotandsam AGH HERE IT IS!!! I HOPE YOU LOOOOOVE IT :))) reblogs are a writer's best friend <3
I'm so obsessed with this. **I proofread as best as i could...i got three hours of sleep last night, so my brain is straight mush
Eddie still remembers the day he first laid eyes on you. Summer, going into his third senior year at Hawkins, you walked into Larry’s Auto Body Repair looking like something pulled from the pages of a half-burnt gothic novel left to rot in an attic trunk.
The heat outside had been miserable; thick, wet Indiana air that made grease cling to skin and tempers run short, but you arrived untouched by it all. Draped in black despite the July sun, lace sleeves swallowing your wrists, silver rings glinting like tiny knives beneath the fluorescent lights.
Your perfume smelled faintly of clove cigarettes, old paper, and rain. Long dark hair spilled down your back in soft waves, and your eyes, God, your eyes, looked mournful in the way stained glass saints did. Beautiful enough to make a man confess every awful thing he’s ever done, truth or not.
Eddie had nearly dropped an engine part directly on his foot.
You’d stepped into the garage like you belonged in another century entirely, gaze drifting slowly across the room with detached fascination, lingering on rusted tools and oil stains as if they were artifacts in a museum.
Then you smiled at him. Not sweet, not shy, but devastating. Like you already knew every terrible thing about him and adored him for it anyway. From that moment on, Eddie Munson was ruined.
Years later, the people of Hawkins still spoke about the two of you in hushed, bewildered voices. The Munsons of the Creel House. The strange family on the hill with wrought iron gates, tangled in dead vines and black roses that somehow bloomed year-round.
Children swore candlelight moved through the windows at impossible hours. Neighbors whispered about organ music drifting through storms and the silhouettes dancing behind curtains long after midnight.
The truth was far less sinister, mostly. You simply loved beautiful things that others were too frightened to appreciate. And Eddie loved you enough to follow you anywhere, even the old Creel House.
At first, he’d refused to even step onto the property. Too many memories. Too much blood soaked into those walls. Vecna. Chrissy. The Upside Down. Every rotten thing Hawkins tried desperately to bury lived in the bones of that house.
But then you’d walked through the front doors for the first time, black dress trailing over dusty hardwood, staring up at the massive chandelier with wonder glowing across your face like moonlight.
“Eddie,” you’d whispered softly, almost reverently. “It’s perfect.”
And that had been it. Because you looked at the house the same way you looked at him, not with fear, but affection. Like ruined things deserved devotion too. So he rebuilt it for you.
Every creaking staircase. Every shattered window. Every rotted inch of wallpaper. Together, you turned the graveyard of Victor Creel’s legacy into something warm, strange, and terribly romantic. A home, your home.
Corvina, your eldest daughter, drifted through the manor like a tiny phantom in velvet dresses, all solemn eyes and unnerving intelligence. She collected moth wings in glass jars and read Poe beneath thunderstorms while Eddie watched with equal parts pride and concern.
Meanwhile, Edward Jr, though everyone called him Teddy, was chaos incarnate. Wild curls, scraped knees, and his father’s crooked grin. The poor kid had inherited Eddie’s dramatic flair and your complete lack of fear, which meant most afternoons ended with him attempting something mildly catastrophic somewhere on the property.
Eddie had been hesitant about naming him after himself. Truthfully, he was terrified.
He remembered sitting beside you in bed while rain battered the windows, your newborn son asleep against your chest. Candlelight flickered gold across your skin as Eddie stared at the tiny little thing wearing his name.
“What if he ends up like me?” he’d asked quietly. You’d looked at him then with that same devastating softness you’d always reserved for his ugliest thoughts.
“My darling,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his curls, “I should certainly hope so.”
And just like that, the fear dissolved. Because in your eyes, Eddie Munson had never been something to outgrow or overcome. He had always been something to cherish.
The Creel House came alive slowly in the mornings. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows that morning, the sky outside painted silver and gloomy in the way you adored most.
Eddie stood at the stove in silk pajama pants and a black robe hanging open over his tattooed chest, swaying dramatically to the music while making pancakes shaped vaguely like bats.
“Darling,” you called from your place at the kitchen table, long black sleeves draped elegantly around your coffee cup, “I do believe those are becoming progressively less edible.”
Eddie pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Cruel. Wounded before breakfast.”
“You married me for my cruelty.”
“I married you because you looked at me like a Victorian widow cursed by the sea.”
You smiled over the rim of your mug. “And you looked like trouble wrapped in leather.”
“Mm,” Eddie hummed proudly. “Still do.”
Before you could respond, Eddie appeared beside your chair suddenly, dramatically dropping to one knee like a man overcome with passion. He took your hand delicately, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Then another to your wrist. Then another just beneath your sleeve.
You laughed softly, tilting your head as his curls brushed your skin. “Edward Munson,” you murmured. “The children are awake.”
“Good,” he replied against your hand. “They should witness devotion.”
Right on cue, Corvina entered the kitchen carrying three books against her chest, long dark braid hanging over one shoulder. She glanced once at the scene before deadpanning:
“You’re disgusting.”
“Thank you, my dove,” you said warmly.
Corvina moved to pour herself coffee like she hadn’t witnessed anything unusual at all. Then came the sound of slower footsteps, Teddy.
Edward Jr. appeared in the doorway wearing his Hawkins High hoodie, backpack hanging off one shoulder, curls sticking up wildly like he’d been running nervous hands through them for an hour.
And immediately, both you and Eddie noticed the expression on his face, and Eddie straightened a little. “Whoa. What’s with the funeral look, Theodore?”
Teddy hesitated, then slowly held up a folded yellow slip of paper. Your brows lifted slightly while Corvina sipped her coffee with the detached calm of someone witnessing an execution.
“It’s a summons,” Teddy muttered.
Eddie blinked once, then dramatically pointed the spatula toward him. “What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s exactly what I used to say,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “And I was usually innocent at least forty percent of the time.”
You extended your hand calmly. “May I see it, darling?”
Teddy crossed the kitchen and handed it over anxiously while Eddie abandoned the pancakes entirely to loom over your shoulder. His chin immediately dropped onto the top of your head while his arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind instinctively.
You unfolded the slip carefully:
REQUESTED PARENT CONFERENCE.
PRINCIPAL HIGGINS.
REGARDING: EDWARD MUNSON JR.
Eddie groaned immediately. “Jesus Christ. They started early this year.”
Teddy looked miserable. “Dad, I swear, I didn’t even do anything. It was those idiots from the basketball team—they kept messing with my stuff in gym, and one of them shoved me into a locker, and when I shoved him back, he started bleeding and—”
“Bleeding?” Corvina asked mildly.
“He ran into the trophy case!”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Natural selection.”
“Teddy,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “Look at me.”
He did immediately.
And despite being nearly Eddie’s height now, despite the deepening voice and teenage awkwardness settling into his limbs, he still looked at you the same way he had as a child: like you could fix anything simply by speaking.
“You are not in trouble with us,” you assured gently.
Eddie nodded instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Nope.” Eddie waved him off. “Listen, kid, Hawkins High has been blaming Munsons for shit since before you were born. It’s practically a school tradition.”
Teddy huffed out a nervous laugh. You rose from your chair then, smoothing your hands over Eddie’s wrists where they rested around your waist. “We’ll attend the meeting.”
“Together,” Eddie added.
“And if your principal insists on being unreasonable,” you continued calmly, “your father does so enjoy making authority figures uncomfortable.”
Eddie grinned wickedly. “Baby, remember the vice principal in ‘89?”
You smiled faintly. “He looked moments from cardiac arrest.”
Teddy finally laughed properly at that, the tension melting from his shoulders almost instantly.
Without another word, Eddie reached over and grabbed one of the bat-shaped pancakes, shoving it onto Teddy’s plate. “Eat up, kid,” he said. “Nothing scarier than school administration on an empty stomach.”
Corvina glanced toward the stove. “Those are burnt.”
“They’re wonderful,” Eddie corrected.
You reached for his hand again, kissing his knuckles this time. “My talented husband,” you said softly.
Eddie practically preened under the affection, leaning down immediately to kiss you dramatically enough to make Corvina groan.
“Oh, my God.”
“Teddy,” Eddie said seriously against your mouth, “never settle for a love that doesn’t make your children physically ill.”
“Noted,” Teddy muttered through a mouthful of pancake.
By noon, rain had turned into a heavy mist that clung to Hawkins like a veil, which was the exact kind of weather you loved. The kind of weather Eddie insisted was “romantic as hell.”
The two of you walked through the halls of Hawkins High side by side like something entirely out of place amongst the fluorescent lighting and beige walls. Students slowed as you passed, conversations dipping into whispers almost immediately.
You floated through the hallway in a long black coat that brushed your calves, silver jewelry gleaming beneath the dim lights, while Eddie walked beside you in dark rings and leather, one hand firmly wrapped around yours, as if he physically couldn’t stand not touching you for more than a few seconds.
Which, truthfully, he couldn’t.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured low enough only you could hear as you approached the office, “if Higgins pisses me off, are we thinking subtle psychological warfare or full public humiliation?”
You glanced at him calmly. “Let us see how brave he feels first.”
“God, I love when you threaten people poetically.”
The secretary barely looked up when you entered the office, though her expression tightened almost immediately at the sight of Eddie, still, after all these years. Eddie noticed too, squeezing your hand once before leaning casually against the counter.
“We’re here about Teddy,” he said.
The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “Principal Higgins is expecting you.”
“Lucky him,” Eddie muttered.
You placed a gentle hand against his chest before he could continue, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his jacket. “Behave, mon amour.”
Eddie looked down at you like you’d hung the moon itself in the sky. “For you?” he said softly. “Always.”
The secretary looked deeply uncomfortable. Good.
Principal Higgins’ office looked exactly the same as it had when Eddie sat in it at seventeen; stale coffee smell, ugly filing cabinets, school banners hanging crookedly on the walls.
Only now, Higgins himself had more gray hair and less patience. He didn’t stand when you entered. Instead, he leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes moving between you both with poorly concealed irritation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie sat down across from him casually, slinging an arm immediately across the back of your chair. “Higgins,” he replied. “Still alive, huh?”
You rested one elegant hand atop Eddie’s knee beneath the desk, feeling him relax instantly under your touch.
Higgins ignored the comment. “Teddy was involved in an altercation yesterday afternoon.”
“Involved,” Eddie repeated. “Interesting wording.”
“He assaulted another student.”
“He defended himself,” you corrected smoothly.
Higgins finally looked directly at you then, expression tightening slightly. “And how exactly would you know that, Mrs. Munson?”
“Because, unlike this institution,” you replied calmly, “our son tells us the truth.”
Higgins folded his hands atop the desk. “Mrs. Munson, with all due respect, Edward Jr. has inherited certain… behavioral tendencies.”
There it was. Eddie’s jaw tightened instantly beneath the lazy posture he wore like armor. But you? You simply tilted your head slightly.
“What an unfortunate thing to say aloud,” you murmured.
Higgins shifted faintly. Eddie watched you carefully now, eyes practically sparkling because he knew that tone and knew it well. It was the same tone you used moments before verbally disemboweling someone.
“The Munson family,” Higgins continued carefully, “has had a difficult history with this school. Your husband, especially.”
Eddie gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, because this town treated me like I was carrying the plague.”
“You developed quite the reputation.”
“And your athletes didn’t?” Eddie shot back. “Interesting.”
“Eddie,” you said softly, not looking away from Higgins. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, expression serene enough to be unsettling.
“Our son,” you said carefully, “was cornered by three boys larger than him.”
Higgins opened his mouth, but you continued before he could speak.
“One shoved him into a locker repeatedly. Another destroyed his sketchbook. And when Theodore defended himself after being physically provoked, suddenly, he became the problem.”
Silence, and Higgins shifted again. You leaned forward slightly then, dark eyes steady on his.
“And now you sit before two former students who know exactly how Hawkins High operates and imply there is some sort of inherited defect in our child because his last name is Munson.”
Eddie looked dangerously proud beside you.
Higgins cleared his throat. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“No?” you asked gently. “Then perhaps choose your words more carefully.”
The office went quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows. Eddie finally leaned forward himself, rings clinking against the desk.
“Look,” he said flatly, “I know exactly what this place thinks about me. Fine. Whatever. But you do not get to stick that shit onto my son because some meathead couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”
Higgins sighed heavily. “No one is suspending Teddy.”
“Very generous,” Corvina’s voice drawled suddenly from the doorway.
All three of you turned. Corvina stood there holding a hall pass and looking deeply unimpressed.
“She followed us?” Higgins asked incredulously.
“She’s observant,” you replied.
“And nosy,” Eddie added proudly.
Corvina stepped inside without invitation. “Also, for the record, Tyler Bennett admitted in chemistry that he started it because Teddy wouldn’t let them make fun of that freshman girl.”
Eddie blinked. Then slowly turned toward his son’s principal with the most insufferably smug expression imaginable. “Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”
You reached over then, brushing your fingers lovingly along Eddie’s jaw.
“My darling,” you sighed softly. “It appears our son inherited your unfortunate tendency toward heroics.”
Eddie practically melted into your hand. “Baby,” he whispered dramatically, grabbing your wrist to kiss your palm, “you say the sexiest things to me.”
Corvina stood near the doorway with her arms crossed, entirely too pleased with herself. Eddie lounged back in his chair again, one boot hooked over his knee while he admired you with open, ridiculous affection.
Meanwhile, you remained perfectly composed, which somehow made you infinitely more terrifying.
“Well,” Higgins said stiffly after a long silence, “I believe this matter can be considered resolved.”
“How fortunate,” you replied smoothly.
Eddie snorted under his breath, and Higgins ignored him. “I’ll speak with the boys involved.”
“You should,” you said. “Especially if the school wishes to maintain the illusion of fairness.”
The principal’s jaw tightened faintly. Then, as though remembering something unpleasant, his eyes flicked briefly toward a framed flyer hanging beside his desk.
Hawkins High Arts Expansion Fund: Sponsored by the Munson Mortuary.
Eddie noticed immediately, as did you. A slow smile touched your lips. “You know,” you mused softly, rising from your chair, “Edward and I have always cared deeply about the arts.”
Eddie stood the second you did, naturally gravitating toward your side like a shadow stitched to your heels.
“The theater department,” you continued thoughtfully, smoothing the sleeve of your coat, “the music programs, student scholarships…”
Higgins straightened slightly.
“Hell,” Eddie added casually, “the new ceramics kiln was us.”
You turned your attention back to Higgins, expression warm enough to unsettle.
“It would simply devastate us,” you said gently, “if the environment here became hostile enough that we no longer felt comfortable continuing such generosity.”
Higgins cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“No,” you agreed pleasantly. “I imagine it won’t.”
Eddie grinned beside you like the devil himself. God, he loved you. Loved the way you could flay someone alive without ever raising your voice. Loved the way people underestimated your softness right until the moment they realized it had teeth.
You reached for his hand, and he took it instantly.
“Well,” Eddie sighed dramatically, “this has been deeply irritating.”
As the four of you started toward the office door, Higgins spoke again. “Mrs. Munson.”
You paused, turning slightly. “I assure you,” he said carefully, “Theodore will be treated fairly.”
You held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “I should hope so.”
And with that, you left. The halls quieted again as your family walked through them together.
Eddie’s hand remained clasped tightly with yours while Corvina drifted ahead in a sea of black fabric, entirely unbothered by the stares surrounding her.
The second the front doors shut behind you, Eddie turned toward you with outright admiration burning in his expression.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Marry me again.”
You looked at him calmly. “I would a thousand times.”
Candles flickered low throughout the house, golden light dancing against dark wallpaper while thunder rolled softly somewhere in the distance.
Dinner had long since ended, dishes abandoned in favor of the far more important activity of Eddie dramatically sprawled across the velvet chaise in the sitting room with his head in your lap.
“Darling,” he sighed as you lazily combed your fingers through his curls, “if I die right now, know that I died fulfilled.”
“You’re forty years old,” Corvina deadpanned from the armchair across the room. “Not a dying Victorian poet.”
Eddie pointed accusingly toward her without lifting his head. “Your mother encourages this cruelty.”
You smiled softly down at him. “I find it endearing.”
“That’s because you worship me.”
“Correct.”
Corvina physically recoiled. “Can you two act normal for ten minutes?”
“No,” both of you answered immediately.
Teddy snorted from the floor where he sat building something suspiciously dangerous out of spare radio parts. Then, the doorbell rang, and everyone paused. Corvina moved first, way too fast for her character.
You noticed immediately. Eddie noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. The three of you slowly turned toward her as she stood abruptly from the chair, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her black skirt.
“…Interesting,” you murmured.
Corvina narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”
Eddie sat up slowly now, a grin already forming. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Corvina Lucille Munson,” Teddy gasped dramatically. “Are you nervous?”
“I will kill you.”
The bell rang again. Corvina moved toward the front door with all the rigid dignity of someone approaching their execution.
You and Eddie exchanged a look. Then, silently, both rose from your seats to follow.
The front door creaked open, and standing beneath the porch light was perhaps the least expected person imaginable. A boy. Tall, clean-cut, nervous beyond belief. Bright blue varsity jacket. Hair neatly combed. Holding flowers.
The poor thing looked like he’d wandered into the wrong horror movie. Corvina stared at him; the boy stared at Corvina. Then his eyes slowly lifted, and landed directly on you and Eddie looming behind her like two beautifully dressed vampires awaiting explanation.
His face drained completely of color. Eddie blinked once, then immediately leaned toward you and whispered with genuine awe:
“He looks like he says ‘yes ma’am’ unironically.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “How refreshing.”
“Mom,” Corvina warned.
The boy swallowed hard. “H-hi, Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie lit up instantly. “Oh, I like him.”
Corvina closed her eyes briefly like she regretted ever being born. You stepped forward gracefully, gaze drifting over the bouquet in his trembling hands.
“How lovely,” you said softly. “Funeral lilies.”
“They’re her favorite,” he blurted.
Then you looked at Corvina slowly, while Corvina looked horrified. Eddie looked seconds from losing his mind entirely.
“Teddy,” he whispered sharply. “Your sister has a boyfriend.”
“I KNEW IT.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Corvina snapped immediately. “He’s an experiment.”
The boy blinked. “An… experiment?”
“You’re studying social dynamics?” you guessed politely.
“Yes,” Corvina said quickly.
Eddie crossed his arms. “By holding hands with the quarterback?”
“Second-string quarterback,” Teddy corrected.
Everyone looked at the boy while he awkwardly raised one hand. “We lost regionals.”
Eddie burst out laughing. “Oh my God, sweetheart,” he wheezed to you. “She brought home a jock.”
“He’s not a jock.”
The boy tried to help. “I’m also on the debate team.”
You gasped softly. “How multifaceted.”
Corvina looked moments from throwing herself from the staircase.
Eddie grinned wickedly at her. “Baby bat’s got a crush.”
“I do not.”
“He knows your favorite flowers,” Teddy sang obnoxiously.
“I hate this family.”
The boy, still somehow standing there despite the obvious psychological warfare occurring around him, looked toward Corvina carefully. And to everyone’s shock, his expression softened.
“She talks about you guys a lot, actually.”
Corvina froze.
Eddie immediately clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, my.”
“Dad.”
“She told me,” the boy continued nervously, “that her parents are… intense, but very in love.”
You smiled faintly. Corvina looked like she wanted the floorboards to consume her.
“And,” he added carefully, “that her dad still leaves dead roses on her mom’s pillow every morning.”
Eddie looked at you instantly, utterly smitten. “Baby,” he whispered emotionally, “our love is inspiring the youth.”
You reached up, smoothing your hand against his jaw affectionately. “We are deeply romantic.”
“You’re deeply weird,” Teddy corrected.
“Thank you.”
Corvina groaned. “Can we please go before they start kissing again?”
Too late. Eddie had already grabbed your hand dramatically.
“You wound me, little raven,” he said, pressing a theatrical kiss against your knuckles. “Your mother’s beauty simply overwhelms me.”
The boy stared. Teddy stared. Corvina pinched the bridge of her nose. And you, you simply looked at your husband with soft, endless devotion while thunder echoed gently overhead.
“Oh, mon amour,” you sighed lovingly. “You are still the most handsome thing this house has ever held.”
Eddie nearly died on the spot.
The house felt different when the children were gone. Corvina had vanished off to some poetry reading with her painfully polite almost-boyfriend, while Teddy was staying overnight at a friend’s house after aggressively insisting he was “old enough to survive one night without parental supervision.”
Eddie had looked personally offended by the statement.
Now the evening rain had finally stopped, leaving the world outside soaked silver beneath the moonlight.
You stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fastening a pair of silver earrings, when Eddie appeared in the doorway, already staring at you like a man deeply unwell. His dark button-up hung half-open, curls still damp from the shower, rings glinting in the candlelight.
But his expression, my God. After all these years, he still looked at you like the first breath after drowning.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, “there goes every coherent thought I’ve ever had.”
You smiled softly at his reflection. “You say that every time I wear black.”
“Because every time you wear black, I fall in love with you all over again.”
“You’re very dramatic.”
“You’re very beautiful. We all cope differently.” You laughed quietly as he crossed the room toward you.
The second he reached you, his hands found your waist instinctively, warm and familiar through the fabric of your dress. He buried his face briefly against your neck with a content sigh like “this—this right here—was the safest place in the universe.”
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
You raised a brow. “Edward.”
“Please?”
Amused, you obeyed. You heard him moving around the room for a moment before something soft brushed across your palms.
Flowers.
When you opened your eyes again, Eddie stood before you holding a bouquet of black dahlias and dead roses tied together with velvet ribbon, just like your first date.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Eddie suddenly looked shy beneath all the tattoos and bravado. “I know they’re a little wilted, but Gareth’s florist cousin said—”
“They’re perfect.”
The relief on his face was immediate. You reached up carefully, fingertips brushing his cheek while he melted into your touch on instinct.
“Do you remember,” you asked softly, “what you said to me the night you gave me flowers for the first time?”
Eddie grinned a little. “Yeah.” He leaned closer. “‘Most girls want roses. You looked like you’d appreciate something half-dead.’”
“And I nearly married you on the spot.”
“You definitely wanted me carnally.”
You laughed again and kissed him gently. Eddie hummed happily against your mouth, already chasing after another kiss before you’d fully pulled away.
“Come on,” he whispered. “I’ve got a surprise.”
The graveyard sat at the edge of Hawkins beneath enormous twisted trees, moonlight filtering silver across old headstones and damp grass. Most people found it unsettling, but you found it beautiful, especially tonight.
Your breath caught softly as Eddie led you through the cemetery gates hand in hand.
Because there, beneath the crooked oak tree where he’d taken you all those years ago, sat an entire picnic laid out atop black blankets and velvet pillows. Candles flickered inside lanterns. An old radio played something metal, low enough to blend with the wind.
Your favorite wine rested beside a basket overflowing with chocolate-covered strawberries and homemade pastries, which Eddie had very obviously burnt slightly. And in the center, a vase of black dahlias. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck suddenly, almost bashful. “I know it’s kinda stupid—”
“It isn’t.”
Your voice was so soft that it stopped him immediately. He watched as you stepped slowly into the little space he’d created, moonlight catching the emotion shimmering across your face.
“You remembered everything,” you whispered.
“Course I did.”
Eddie moved closer then, taking your hands carefully. “This is where I fell in love with you,” he admitted quietly. “Figured it deserved revisiting.”
Your chest ached. Because despite all his theatrics, despite the flirting and dramatics and endless teasing, Eddie loved with terrifying sincerity, always had.
You touched his face gently. “You never told me you loved me that night.”
“No,” he said softly. “But I knew.”
The wind moved through the cemetery trees around you, carrying the scent of rain and earth and candle smoke. Then Eddie suddenly dropped dramatically onto the blanket.
“Now,” he announced, patting the spot beside him, “come seduce your husband under the moonlight.”
You smiled helplessly and settled beside him. Immediately, he pulled you into his lap like gravity itself demanded it. You curled against him easily, fingers playing with the rings on his hand while his chin rested atop your shoulder.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply existed there together beneath the stars, wrapped in candlelight and old music and decades worth of devotion.
Eventually, Eddie pressed a slow kiss against your neck. “You know,” he murmured, “I was so scared to bring you here on our first date.”
You turned slightly. “You were?”
“Terrified.” He laughed softly against your skin. “Wayne told me if I took a girl to a graveyard, she’d think I was either a serial killer or possessed.”
“And instead?”
“You told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.”
“It still is.”
Eddie looked at you then. And suddenly he was twenty again; grease stains on his hands, heart beating too fast, staring at the most hauntingly beautiful girl he’d ever seen while wondering how someone so lovely could possibly want him back.
Only now, he knew, because you’d spent decades proving it.
His hand slid carefully against your cheek. “My sweet girl,” he whispered.
You kissed him before he could say anything else. Slow and loving, the kind of kiss built from years and years of choosing each other over and over again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled softly again.
Eddie smiled against your mouth. “Think the kids are behaving themselves?”
You smoothed your fingers through his curls lazily. “Not our concern tonight.”
“God,” he sighed happily, pulling you impossibly closer, “I adore you.”
“Eddie,” you whispered, tilting your head as his lips brushed the side of your neck. “You’ve outdone yourself, mon amour.”
He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Only the best for you.”
You laughed softly, and the sound made him tighten his hold, one hand sliding reverently down your side, tracing the black silk of your dress.
Eddie loved pleasing you more than anything, maybe even more than breathing. He lived for the way your breath would hitch when he touched you just right, for the way you looked at him like he was the only man in any world worth having.
His fingers found the hem of your dress and slipped beneath it, warm palm gliding up your thigh. “Let me worship you here,” he murmured, voice low and rough with devotion.
You turned in his lap, straddling him, your long dark hair falling around you both like a curtain. The cemetery was empty, the night yours alone. You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, silver rings cool against his skin.
“Then worship me, Edward,” you said softly, the command wrapped in velvet.
Eddie’s eyes darkened with hunger and endless love. He kissed you deeply, almost reverently at first, then with growing heat as your tongues met. His hands roamed, pushing your dress up around your hips. He groaned when he realized you’d worn nothing beneath it.
“Fuuuck me,” he breathed against your mouth, a crooked, adoring grin breaking through.
“Oh my love, I plan to.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm, then lowered you gently onto your back atop the velvet pillows. The cool night air kissed your skin as he peeled the dress from your body, kissing every inch he revealed. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you with pure reverence.
He settled between your legs, curls brushing your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue found your center with devastating patience; slow, worshipful strokes that had your fingers tightening in his hair.
He moaned into you like you were the finest thing he’d ever tasted, savoring every gasp and whisper of his name that left your lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your slick flesh, voice thick. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Your back arched as pleasure coiled tight inside you, and Eddie watched it all unfold like a man witnessing divinity. When you came undone beneath his tongue, thighs trembling around his head, he held you through it, kissing you gently until the waves subsided.
Only then did he rise, shedding his shirt and pants with reverent haste. His cock was hard and aching for you, but he took his time, crawling over you, kissing you so deeply you tasted yourself on his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, lining himself up. “More than life. More than death. More than anything in this fucking universe.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him inside you with one smooth thrust. Both of you moaned at the perfect fit; years together, and it still felt like coming home.
Eddie moved with slow, deep rolls of his hips, savoring every clench of your walls around him. His forehead pressed to yours, curls falling around your faces as he gazed into your eyes.
“Look at me while I fuck you, baby,” he breathed, devotion dripping from every word. “Want to see those saintly eyes when you come on my cock again.”
The cemetery felt alive around you; the wind whispering through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the scent of earth and night-blooming flowers mixing with sweat and sex. Eddie’s pace gradually quickened, one hand sliding between you to circle your clit while the other pinned your wrist gently above your head.
You came again with a soft, broken cry of his name, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as pleasure wrecked him. Even then, he kept moving; lazy, loving thrusts to draw it out, kissing you through every aftershock.
Afterward, he collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine while your leg draped over his hip.
Eddie pressed a kiss to your hair, voice hoarse with satisfaction. “I’d desecrate every grave in Hawkins if it meant making you feel like that.”
You smiled against his chest, fingertips playing with the silver strands beginning to thread through his dark curls. “If we keep this up, Corvina and Teddy may have a sibling.”
“Would that be so bad? Another mini-Munson running around, raising hell?”
You rolled your eyes lovingly, planting a few peppered kisses along his chest and jaw. “Poor Principal Higgins wouldn’t know what to do with himself with a third Munson.”
Dinner in the Creel-Munson House was rarely quiet. Not because anyone particularly tried to be loud, it was simply impossible for four Munsons to exist in the same room without the atmosphere becoming theatrical.
Thunder groaned outside while candlelight flickered across the dining room, illuminating velvet curtains, silver dishes, and the massive candelabra Teddy insisted made “every meal feel like a vampire intervention.”
Tonight, Eddie had been suspiciously smug since five o’clock, you noticed immediately. Corvina noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. Which meant all three of you spent most of dinner staring at him with increasing suspicion while he fought a grin behind his wine glass.
Finally, Teddy pointed his fork accusingly. “You’re hiding something.”
Eddie gasped dramatically. “What a horrible accusation.”
“You’ve been smirking for an hour,” Corvina added.
“You also called the garlic bread ‘historic,’” Teddy said. “That means something’s wrong.”
You smiled faintly from your seat at the head of the table. “Darling,” you said gently to Eddie, “are you planning a crime?”
Eddie looked delighted by the question. “No,” he answered proudly. “Something better.”
Then, with all the ceremony of a man revealing the crown jewels, Eddie reached into his jacket and slapped four tickets dramatically onto the table. Silence.
Teddy squinted. Then his eyes widened so violently you thought they might leave his skull.
“No fucking way.”
“Language,” you corrected softly.
“No FUCKING way.”
Corvina leaned forward slightly now, dark eyes narrowing in interest. Eddie sat back in his chair with unbearable smugness. “Iron Maiden,” he announced grandly. “Indianapolis. Front section.”
Teddy SHRIEKED, like actually shrieked. The sound echoed through the dining room while Eddie burst into laughter.
“Oh my God,” Teddy gasped, grabbing the tickets with trembling hands. “Dad—Dad, are you serious?!”
“Your old man still has connections, baby.”
Teddy launched out of his chair instantly.
You sighed knowingly. “Brace yourself, mon amour.”
A second later, Teddy practically tackled Eddie backward in a hug. “There he is,” Eddie wheezed dramatically as Teddy nearly crushed him. “My son. My flesh and blood.”
“You are the coolest person alive.”
“I know.”
Corvina, meanwhile, carefully picked up one of the tickets with much more restraint. But you noticed the tiny upward twitch at the corner of her mouth immediately.
“Dickinson is still performing?” she asked calmly.
Eddie clutched his chest. “That sounded almost excited.”
“It wasn’t.”
“She got the Munson concert gene,” Teddy informed you loudly.
“She absolutely did,” Eddie whispered emotionally. Corvina rolled her eyes, though there was the faintest flush creeping into her cheeks now. You watched your family fondly from your chair, chin resting against your hand.
This. This was your favorite thing.
Eddie glowing with happiness while the children inherited every loud, passionate, ridiculous piece of him without even realizing it. Teddy flopped back into his chair, grinning wildly.
“This is literally the greatest day of my life.”
Eddie pointed at him immediately. “That’s exactly what I said when your mother kissed me the first time.”
“You say that about everything Mom does,” Corvina muttered.
“Because your mother is extraordinary.”
You reached over and touched his hand gently, as Eddie looked at you like he’d been shot directly through the heart.
Then, Corvina cleared her throat, causing everyone to look at her immediately.
“…What,” she said flatly.
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to ask for something.”
“I’m not.”
“You did the voice.”
Teddy gasped dramatically. “She DID do the voice.”
Corvina looked deeply regretful. “I hate all of you.”
You smiled softly. “What is it, little raven?”
A pause. Then, with visible reluctance: “…Could I possibly have one additional ticket?”
The room went silent, and Eddie blinked once. Then slowly lowered his wine glass.
“…For who?”
Corvina stared at her plate. “No one.”
“Corvina.”
Another pause.
“…Damien.”
Eddie’s entire body reacted as if he’d just been informed the government had finally collapsed.
“THE BOYFRIEND?”
“He is not—”
“The assistant quarterback?!” Teddy shouted.
“THE DEBATE CLUB ONE?” Eddie cried simultaneously.
Corvina groaned into her hands. You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to smile.
“He likes Iron Maiden,” Corvina muttered.
Eddie looked genuinely betrayed. “The clean-cut child likes Maiden?”
“He listens to metal with me.”
Eddie stared at her for a long moment. Then suddenly leaned back in his chair, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“She likes him.”
“I do not.”
“She’s sharing music with him,” Eddie whispered hoarsely to you. “Baby, that’s intimate.”
Teddy looked horrified. “That’s like… sacred.”
“Exactly.”
Corvina looked ready to walk into traffic. You finally spoke, voice warm with amusement.
“Perhaps,” you said carefully, “she simply enjoys his company.”
Corvina nodded quickly. “Exactly.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes immediately. “Have you held hands?”
“Dad.”
“HAVE you?”
“No.” Too fast.
Teddy slammed both hands on the table. “THAT WAS A LIE.”
Corvina pointed at him. “You are dead to me.”
Eddie suddenly looked emotional again. “Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed dramatically, “your first love.”
“It’s not love!”
You stood then, gliding around the table toward your daughter. Corvina visibly braced herself for teasing. Instead, you simply smoothed a strand of dark hair behind her ear gently.
And very softly, you said: “If someone makes our little raven smile enough to frighten her this badly… we should like to know him.”
Corvina froze. Because despite all the drama and teasing, your family loved hard. Openly, and without shame, just like Eddie always had.
The house had long since gone quiet. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock groaned past midnight while rain tapped softly against the windows of your bedroom. Eddie lay sprawled across your chest like an oversized cat, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while you lazily played with his curls.
This had always been his favorite place to exist, right here, with you.
Even after all these years, he still sought you out instinctively. Every night, somehow ended the same way: his head in your lap, or tucked against your chest, or buried into your neck while he mumbled half-asleep nonsense against your skin. Tonight was no different.
“You know,” Eddie murmured sleepily, eyes closed, “I think Corvina gets scarier every day.”
You smiled softly, carefully winding one silver-threaded curl around your finger. “She is your daughter.”
“Exactly why I’m concerned.”
“You cried when she said she held his hand.”
“I did not cry.”
“You absolutely did.”
Eddie cracked one eye open. “I became emotional.”
“You gasped loud enough to frighten Teddy.”
“That was fatherly grief.”
Your laugh came soft and quiet in the dark. God, he loved that sound.
Eddie tilted his head slightly against you just to hear it again. Then your fingers paused suddenly in his curls, a tiny thing, barely noticeable. But Eddie felt it immediately.
“What?” he murmured.
You said nothing at first. Instead, your fingers carefully separated one curl from the rest, then another. Eddie finally looked up slightly, finding your expression softened by something achingly tender.
“My darling,” you whispered.
“Hm?”
You gently pulled something free: a silver strand, then another.
Eddie blinked once. “Oh,” he said.
There was no fear in his voice, just surprise. You held the strands delicately between your fingers, studying them beneath candlelight like they were precious threads of moonlight themselves.
Eddie suddenly looked sheepish. “Well,” he muttered, “guess I’m getting old.”
You looked almost offended by the statement. “Edward Munson,” you said softly, “you have survived.”
You slid from beneath him carefully, crossing toward the antique vanity near the window while Eddie watched you in sleepy confusion.
Then you reached for the little silver locket resting beside your jewelry tray, the one you wore nearly every day, etched with the letter ‘E’.
Eddie pushed himself upright slightly as you opened it carefully. Inside rested tiny fragments of your life together.
A pressed black rose petal from your wedding bouquet. A piece of the guitar pick Eddie used the first time he played guitar for you. A photograph so faded it barely showed two young people grinning in a cemetery beneath storm clouds.
Eddie went completely still.
You placed the silver strands gently beside them, like they were treasures. Then you closed the locket softly and climbed back into bed.
Eddie stared at you for a long moment after you settled beside him again. “…You kept all that?”
You looked genuinely puzzled. “Of course I did.”
“Baby, there’s literally a piece of an old guitar pick in there.”
“The broken corner because you were nervous while playing for me.”
His expression cracked instantly. “You remember that?”
“You dropped it three times before speaking to me,” you replied calmly. “You were adorable.”
Eddie let out a weak laugh, suddenly overwhelmed in the way only you could overwhelm him. Because no one had ever looked at the broken, embarrassing, vulnerable pieces of him and treated them like sacred things before you.
Your fingers slowly returned to his curls. “You know what I see,” you murmured softly, “when I look at these?”
Eddie shook his head once.
“A life.”
His eyes burned immediately, so you kissed his forehead gently.
“The silver only proves you stayed long enough to grow old with me,” you whispered.
And that nearly destroyed him. Eddie suddenly pulled himself over you completely, burying his face into your neck while holding you tight enough to make you laugh softly again.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled against your skin. “How are you real?”
You stroked your fingers through his curls carefully, silver strands and all. “I might ask you the same thing.”
“No, seriously,” Eddie groaned dramatically. “You put my gray hairs in a locket. That’s insane behavior.”
“You married me willingly.”
“I’d marry you in every lifetime.”
Your expression softened instantly. Eddie lifted his head, then just enough to look at you through the candlelight; older now, yes, lines at the corners of his eyes and silver threading through dark curls.
But still the same boy who fell hopelessly in love with a gothic girl in black lace all those years ago. Still yours, always yours.
“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured sleepily.
“What’s that, mon amour?”
“I still get nervous around you.”
You smiled. Then pulled him down into another kiss while rain whispered softly against the windows of your haunted little home.
AGH I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED ITTT:)))
Hell of a Summer pt.2 is currently in the works, GET EXCITEDDDD YUHHH
I think Eddie would be a girl dad, I want something tooth rotting fluff, play dates, dress up tea parties with Eddie and reader!
Reader is the mother to the girl, and Eddie is the father that stepped up. Sprinkle some angst in there, because reader told her story to Eddie how her baby daddy dipped because, let’s be real he was a man baby.
Then end it with Eddie in bed with reader, sleeping. The little girl who had a bad dream walks into their room, sniffling, and walking up to Eddie to get comfort, and Eddie being the best dad, comforts her with cuddles and sweet words to fall asleep to!
The baby girls name is all up to you!
Have lots of fun,
Dearest Willow 🖤
YESSSSSSSSSSSSS🥹🥹 girl dad eddie has my heart and soul
description: after a messy breakup, being trapped in the upside down with your ex-boyfriend is the last thing you want. unfortunately, almost dying has a funny way of putting things into perspective.
pairing: eddie x ex gf!reader
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, exs to lovers, second chance romance, hurt/comfort, protective eddie, light(ish) post-breakup angst, satisfying fluff, crawl gone wrong, insisting on changing pairs, robin is sick of their bullshit, steve the relationship counselor
TW: violence, severe injury, blood
WC: 7.3k
A/N: based on a request by @enne02 hope you enjoy:)!! this one had me in my feels idk why LOL. reblogs are a writer's best friend<3 (if you know where this title is from, you know ball)
“Alright,” Steve said, pulling his arms tightly together. “Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, the girls will each wear an article of El and Max’s clothing to throw off the Demodogs.”
“They seem to be gunning for the two of them,” Dustin continued. “El for, well, obvious reasons. And Max, because she has dodged Vecna’s curse like, a thousand times. We add some of their blood to make the scent stronger, and some of Nancy and Robin’s to theirs, so the scent is thrown off. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I love being live bait,” Robin says sarcastically, scanning over to you and Nancy.
Nancy just nods in agreement before looking down at you on the couch.
“What about Will?” You ask, nodding over to the next room. He sat with his back to the group, eyes staring out the window ahead, headphones tight around his head. “Won’t their connection just immediately give this whole plan away?”
Jonathan sighs and closes the door, “He won’t be coming with us. He’s gonna stay at the squawk with my mom and Lucas in case Vecna’s spying. He won’t even be in communication with us.”
You nod once, flashing him a quick sympathetic smile.
“Alright!” Dustin claps his hands together. “Meet at Lover’s Lake gate sunrise tomorrow.”
The room filled with the sound of shifting bodies and tired sighs as everyone slowly stood from their spots around the Byers' living room.
Robin immediately groaned. “Awesome. Another sunrise meetup. Love that for us.”
“You complain every single time,” Steve muttered, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table.
“Because every single time we almost die, Steve.”
“Fair.”
Nancy was already gathering scattered papers from the table, slipping them into her bag with practiced efficiency. Jonathan disappeared toward the kitchen, mumbling something about coffee, while Dustin launched himself into explaining some other part of the plan to Mike for the third time that night.
You pushed yourself up from the couch slowly, exhaustion heavy in your bones. And unfortunately, your eyes caught Eddie’s from across the room.
He stood near the hallway entrance, arms crossed tightly over his chest, fingers tapping nervously against his forearm. His eyes flicked over you for barely a second before looking away just as quickly. Still couldn’t look at each other normally.
Cool. Normal. Totally fine.
You moved first, grabbing your jacket off the arm of the couch. “I’m gonna head out.”
“I’ll walk you,” Nancy offered immediately.
Before you could answer, Eddie suddenly pushed himself off the wall.
“I got it.”
The room went weirdly quiet for half a second. Robin’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline while Steve looked physically exhausted by the tension.
You stared at Eddie. “I think I can make it to the front door alone.”
“Wasn’t saying you couldn’t,” he muttered.
God. There it was, that sharp edge the two of you had been dancing around for months now.
Nancy glanced between the two of you carefully before stepping back. “Okay then.”
You brushed past Eddie toward the door, hearing his boots follow a second later.
The cold night air hit immediately once the front door opened, damp and sharp against your skin. Crickets buzzed faintly somewhere in the distance while the porch light flickered overhead.
You descended the steps first, and Eddie lingered behind you awkwardly.
“You really think this plan’s gonna work?” you asked quietly.
Eddie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Nope.”
You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, and his mouth twitched faintly at the sound.
“But,” he added, softer, “it’s the best shot we got.”
You hated how easy it still was to stand beside him. Hated how your body still recognized him instantly. The smell of cigarettes and leather and that stupid cologne you bought him lingered in the cold air between you.
“You should probably get some sleep,” he said finally.
You glanced over at him. “You too.”
There was a moment of hesitation between you, then Eddie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, curls falling into his face.
“Listen, about tomorrow—”
“We’ll figure it out. Night,” you said quickly, opening your car door and closing it just as fast.
“Night,” he muttered to himself, tapping the hood of your car once.
The Upside Down always felt wrong immediately.
The air was thicker here. Wet, heavy with rot and ash and something metallic that clung to the back of your throat every time you breathed too deeply.
The sky stretched above the group in angry shades of red and black lightning, spores drifting lazily through the air like toxic snow, every step squelching beneath your boots.
“God,” Robin muttered, pulling the sleeves of Max’s sweatshirt farther over her hands. “I seriously forgot how much this place smells like a dead animal’s asshole.”
“That is… unbelievably specific,” Nancy replied.
“It’s accurate, though.”
Steve ignored them, flashlight tucked beneath his arm as he unfolded the rough map Jonathan had drawn the night before.
“The crawlspace splits about a mile ahead,” Steve continued. “We cover more ground if we break into pairs.”
“Cool,” Robin nodded. “Dibs on not dying.”
Steve pointed around the group. “Nancy, you’re with Johnathan. Robin, you’re with Dustin and me—” He paused briefly. “Eddie, you and...”
“No.”
The answer left your mouth immediately. Sharp enough that even the distant growls echoing through the Upside Down suddenly felt quieter. Eddie’s head turned toward you instantly.
Steve blinked. “What?”
“I said no.”
You adjusted the shotgun strap harsher than necessary across your shoulder before looking anywhere except Eddie.
“What about Nancy?” you asked. “I’ll go with her.”
Steve shook his head immediately. “Nope. Both sharpshooters can’t be together.”
“Robin then.”
“Also no,” he replied. “You and Robin both have El's blood scent on you. Two El's means a dead giveaway.”
You clenched your jaw. Of course, there was a reason for everything; of course, it made sense. But still...
“No,” you repeated more quietly this time.
Steve sighed heavily like a tired father of six. “Seriously?”
You finally looked at Eddie, and big mistake. Because he looked just as frustrated as you felt, maybe even a little more exhausted from the situation than you were.
“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered under her breath. “They’re divorced.”
“We were never married,” you snapped instantly.
“Yet,” Dustin mumbled.
You whipped around. “Whatever. Come on, Dustin.”
The kid blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“Uh—”
“Dustin. Let’s go.”
Your voice cracked through the air hard enough that nearby spores trembled slightly as you shoved past the group toward the forest line. Dustin looked between you and Eddie like a hostage negotiator trying not to die.
Steve slowly lifted both hands. “Hey, Henderson?”
“Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t argue with an angry girl holding a shotgun.”
Dustin nodded immediately. “Excellent point.”
“Seriously?” Eddie muttered.
Dustin pointed apologetically at himself before jogging after you. “Sorry, man! Self-preservation!”
Robin watched the two of you disappear into the foggy tree line before glancing sideways at Eddie. “…So how bad was the breakup exactly?”
Eddie stared after you quietly for a long moment. “Bad enough,” he said finally, “that she’d rather walk into monster-infested hell with a fifteen-year-old.”
The three of them moved carefully through the wreckage of downtown Hawkins, flashlights cutting through the thick haze drifting between abandoned cars and crumbling storefronts.
Somewhere in the distance, something screeched. Robin immediately tightened her grip on the flare gun in her hands.
“Mm. Hate that sound. Really hate that sound.”
“Pretty sure that’s the point,” Steve muttered from the front.
Store signs flickered weakly overhead, vines pulsing slowly up the sides of buildings like veins beneath skin.
Eddie barely noticed any of it. Because every few seconds, his eyes kept drifting back toward the tree line where you and Dustin had disappeared twenty minutes ago.
“You know,” she said casually, “if you stare any harder, I think you might actually burn a hole right through the fog.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously,” Steve added. “It’s getting pathetic.”
“I’m literally just walking.”
“You basically broke your neck turning around five seconds ago.”
Eddie scoffed softly and adjusted the strap of the spear against his shoulder. “She’s fine.”
Steve hummed knowingly. “Uh huh.”
The group ducked beneath a collapsed power line before continuing down the street.
Robin glanced between the two boys. “Wait, hold on. I actually don’t know what happened between you two.”
Eddie groaned immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “We’re in hell dimension therapy hour. Spill.”
Eddie kept walking.
“Munson.”
“No.”
“Eddie.”
He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “It was stupid.”
“That means it was definitely your fault,” Robin replied instantly.
“One-hundred percent,” Steve nodded.
Eddie shot both of them a glare before finally relenting. “Chrissy needed a ride home after a game one night.”
Robin blinked. “That’s it?”
“I didn’t tell her beforehand,” Eddie admitted.
Steve already looked exhausted. “Oh, my God.”
“I was going to!”
“But you didn’t,” Robin pointed out.
Eddie groaned louder. “Okay, yes, thank you, I gathered that much.”
Steve shoved aside a hanging vine as they entered the shell of an old grocery store. “So she saw you?”
“Yeah.”
Robin winced. “Oh, that’s brutal.”
“It wasn’t even like that,” Eddie argued quietly. “Chrissy was upset. Jason was being a dick. I just drove her home.”
“But from her perspective?” Steve replied. “Her boyfriend disappears for half the night with the prettiest girl in school.”
Eddie looked genuinely offended. “Why does everyone keep calling Chrissy the prettiest girl in school? That's not even half-accurate.”
Robin deadpanned. "Oh."
“You still love her,” Steve said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather.
Eddie kept his eyes ahead, flashlight shaking faintly in his grip. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Kinda does when you look one bad day away from throwing up every time she talks to another guy.”
Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well. She’s still pissed.”
Steve crawled up beside him slightly. “Did you ever actually apologize?”
“Shut up,” Eddie snapped, ears turning red beneath his curls.
Robin gasped dramatically. “Wait, wait, wait— is that why she’s so pissed? Because she thinks something happened with Chrissy?”
Eddie’s expression tightened slightly. Because yeah, that was part of it. But not all of it, not the real part.
The real part was that instead of fighting harder for you, instead of explaining, instead of chasing after you when you stormed away crying…He let you go.
And he’d regretted it every single day since.
Meanwhile, somewhere deeper in the woods of the Upside Down, you and Dustin trudged through layers of ash and rotting vines in tense silence. Well, mostly tense silence. Because Dustin physically could not stop talking if he tried.
“I’m just saying,” he continued carefully, trying to keep up with your pace, “from an outside perspective, I really don’t think Eddie cheated on you.”
You climbed over a fallen tree branch without looking at him. “Congratulations.”
“I’m serious!”
“Dustin.”
“No, because you weren’t there after, okay? He was literally miserable.”
You snorted softly. “Please.”
“I’m not kidding!” Dustin insisted. “The guy looked like someone kicked his puppy for, like… three months straight.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“He started listening to sad music.”
You glanced back at him dryly. “He already listens to sad music.”
“Okay, fair.”
Dustin ducked beneath a low-hanging vine before continuing. “But seriously, he didn’t do anything with Chrissy.”
You tightened your grip around the shotgun because it still stung hearing her name, even now. Especially now. Because logically? You knew Eddie probably hadn’t cheated. But emotionally, that night still replayed in your head perfectly.
Waiting for him, watching the clock, then seeing his van pull into the trailer park with Chrissy Cunningham in the passenger seat, laughing at something he said. And Eddie, sweet, oblivious, Eddie, looking happier with her than he had with you in weeks.
“You didn’t see them,” you muttered quietly.
Dustin sighed. “I saw him after.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“It should.”
You stopped walking suddenly, sending Dustin nearly crashing into your back.
“You know what the worst part was?” you asked, voice strangely calm.
The spores drifting through the air caught in your hair as you turned toward him.
“I would’ve understood if he just told me.”
Dustin’s expression softened slightly. “He always thought you were too good for him,” he admitted quietly.
That one hit harder than you expected, because yeah. You knew that already, too. Knew it every time Eddie got weird when boys looked at you too long. Every time he joked about you “slumming it” with him. Every time, he acted as if your love for him had an expiration date.
Your chest tightened unpleasantly, but before you could answer, something screeched in the distance. Both of you froze instantly.
Dustin’s face paled. “Uh…” Another screech, but closer this time. Wet. Animalistic.
You slowly lifted the shotgun. The woods around you suddenly felt very, very quiet. Then, movement, fast shadows darting between the trees. One. Two. Three—
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dustin whispered.
Demodogs, at least five of them. Their slick bodies slithered between the vines surrounding you both, snarling lowly as their flower-like mouths slowly opened.
You grabbed Dustin’s jacket instantly, shoving him backward. “Run.”
“You know what your problem is?” Steve asked as the three of them pushed through the hollow remains of Family Video.
Eddie sighed heavily. “Please enlighten me, Harrington.”
“You think if you screw something up once, that’s it.”
Robin nodded immediately. “Oh my God, yes. That’s exactly his problem.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “You two done psychoanalyzing me?”
“No,” Steve replied simply.
They stepped over collapsed shelves, boots crunching through broken VHS tapes scattered across the floor. Outside, thunder rumbled through the red sky.
Steve adjusted the nail bat over his shoulder before glancing back at Eddie again. “So...did you ever actually apologize?”
Eddie’s jaw tightened. “…Not really.”
Robin looked horrified. “EDDIE.”
“What?” he defended instantly. “Things got heated!”
“She cried and dumped you, and you just let her walk away!” Robin whisper-yelled.
Eddie scrubbed both hands down his face in frustration. “I didn’t know what to say!”
Steve laughed dryly. “Well, there’s your first issue.”
“I figured if she wanted to talk to me, she would’ve.”
Robin stared at him for a long moment. “Men are genuinely stupid.”
Eddie ignored her. “She looked at me like she hated me.”
“Because she was hurt,” Robin shot back. “There’s a difference.”
Eddie went quiet at that, because deep down? He knew. Knew every sharp comment and glare from you over the last few months felt more like woundedness than hatred.
Steve slowed slightly, expression softening just a bit. “Dude.”
Eddie glanced over.
“When this is over…” Steve shrugged. “Just apologize.”
Robin pointed at him enthusiastically. “YES. Exactly. Thank you.”
“Like a real apology,” Steve continued. “Not one of your weird little jokes where you deflect halfway through.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You absolutely do that,” Robin replied.
Eddie opened his mouth to argue, but static suddenly exploded through Steve’s walkie. All three of them froze instantly. A burst of panicked breathing crackled through the speaker. Then:
“STEVE?!” Dustin, terrified.
Steve grabbed the walkie immediately. “Dustin? What happened?”
More static, heavy footsteps, and your voice somewhere in the background, shouting something muffled. Then Dustin again:
“There’s— Jesus Christ— there’s like FIVE OF THEM!” A deafening screech echoed through the radio.
Robin’s face went white instantly. “Oh, my God.”
“We’re headed east through the woods!” Dustin yelled breathlessly. “They’re right behind us!”
Steve already started moving. “Stay moving. We’re coming to you.”
The radio crackled violently. Then your voice cut through this time, sharp and panicked.
“Dustin RUN!”
Eddie’s stomach dropped instantly. A loud gunshot exploded through the walkie. Then another, then static.
Branches snapped violently beneath your boots as you and Dustin tore through the woods.
The Upside Down blurred around you in flashes of red lightning and black vines, spores whipping through the air every time you shoved past another rotting tree. Behind you, there was screeching.
“LEFT!” Dustin yelled breathlessly.
You grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him sideways just as a Demodog launched from the trees where he’d been standing half a second before. It hit the ground hard with a wet snarl. You spun instantly:
BOOM!
The shotgun blast echoed through the forest, the flare shell exploding directly into the creature’s chest. Fire burst outward, orange flames illuminating the dark woods as the Demodog shrieked and convulsed on the ground.
“Holy shit!” Dustin yelled.
“No time!” you shouted back. “MOVE!”
The two of you sprinted again. Your lungs burned as another screech split the air, then another. Then three more answered.
Dustin looked back once and immediately paled. “Oh, that is SO many.”
Shapes darted through the fog behind you. Fast, crawling over trees and vines with horrifying speed. One leaped from the side, and you reacted instantly, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and throwing him down as the creature flew over both your heads.
You hit the ground hard beside him. The Demodog spun immediately, flower-mouth peeling open with a shriek. Dustin scrambled backward, fumbling desperately inside his bag.
“SHIT! SHIT! SHIT—”
The creature lunged, and a Molotov cocktail smashed against its face, fire erupting instantly. The thing screamed horribly, thrashing against the dirt while Dustin stared wide-eyed at the flaming bottle in his hand.
“…That was awesome.”
“Dustin!”
“RIGHT. MOVING!”
You hauled him upright again just as another creature burst from the trees, then another, and another.
Your stomach dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Because behind the Demodogs, towering above them in the fog…Demogorgons; at least two. Their massive silhouettes moved slowly through the trees, petals twitching open as they tracked the scent of blood soaking into the girls’ borrowed clothes.
“Okay,” Dustin said faintly. “I officially hate this plan.”
One of the Demodogs lunged. Boom. Another flare shell exploded through its jaw. The recoil nearly knocked your shoulder backward as you kept firing. One. Two. Three blasts. Fire illuminated snapping teeth and writhing vines while Dustin hurled another Molotov into the pack.
Glass shattered, and flames erupted across the forest floor. Still, more kept coming.
“Why are there SO MANY?!” Dustin yelled.
“I don’t know!”
A Demodog tackled you from the side before you could reload. You hit the ground hard enough to lose the shotgun entirely. The creature screeched directly in your face, claws slashing wildly as you shoved against its throat desperately, its teeth snapped inches from your face.
“GET OFF!”
You grabbed the knife from your belt and drove it upward into the creature’s neck. Black blood sprayed across your hands as the thing convulsed violently before collapsing on top of you. For one horrible second, you couldn’t breathe.
Then Dustin was there immediately, dragging the body off you. “COME ON!”
The trees ahead suddenly exploded with flashlight beams. Voices.
“THIS WAY!”
Steve. Robin. And then, your heart betrayed you instantly at the sound of his voice. He yelled for you, panicked and terrified; closer now. You turned toward the sound just as one of the Demogorgons burst through the trees.
“LOOK OUT!” Dustin screamed. You barely had time to move.
One massive claw swung forward, and white-hot pain exploded across your side. The force sent you flying backward violently into the dirt.
For a second, everything went silent. No sound. No air. Nothing.
Then warmth poured down your waist, and your hands instinctively grabbed at your sides. Blood, so much blood. Somewhere nearby, Dustin was screaming your name.
And across the clearing, Eddie stopped dead. Because you were on the ground, not moving.
“OH MY GOD—” Dustin’s voice cracked somewhere nearby as the others charged into the clearing.
Steve and Robin immediately started firing at the creatures still circling through the trees, gunshots and screeches echoing violently through the forest while flames spread across the ground from the broken Molotovs.
But Eddie? Eddie only saw you.
Blood soaked through your shirt in horrifying amounts, spilling between your fingers where you clutched desperately at your side. Your breathing came in sharp, uneven breaths against the dirt beneath you.
His stomach dropped so hard it physically hurt. “No no no no—”
He was beside you instantly, collapsing to his knees hard enough to draw blood. Your eyes fluttered toward him hazily, still conscious. Thank fucking God.
“Hey,” he breathed shakily. “Hey, stay with me, alright?”
You grimaced as another cough wracked through your body. Blood splattered across your chin, and Eddie visibly went pale.
“Jesus Christ,” Robin whispered somewhere behind him.
You sucked in a painful breath, immediately trying to push yourself upright. “I’m fine.”
Eddie stared at you in disbelief. “Are you insane?”
“I can still move.”
“You are literally coughing up blood!”
Another wet cough interrupted you immediately, like your body itself was trying to prove his point. You glared weakly at him afterward anyway.
“Don’t,” you rasped.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
Eddie’s face crumpled for half a second before he could stop it. Like that.
Like he was terrified, like seeing you hurt was physically ripping him apart from the inside out.
The sounds of fighting still echoed around the clearing. Steve yelling. Gunshots. Demogorgons screeching somewhere deeper in the woods.
But Eddie barely registered any of it as he pressed, shaking hands harder against the wound in your side. Blood immediately soaked through to his palms.
“You need pressure on this,” he said quickly, voice uneven. “Can you hold this?”
“I can walk.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You got launched ten feet through the air!”
You tried to sit up again anyway, and immediately regretted it. Pain tore through your side hard enough that a broken sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.
Eddie caught you before you could fall back completely, one arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.
“There she is,” he whispered shakily. “That’s the stubborn girl I know.”
You clenched your jaw hard, humiliated tears burning behind your eyes. Not now, you refused to cry right now.
“I’m not dying in front of you,” you muttered weakly.
Something about that sentence completely shattered whatever composure Eddie had left. His eyes went glossy instantly.
“Hey,” he said softly, almost pleading. “Hey, don’t talk like that.”
Another scream echoed through the woods. Steve suddenly appeared beside them, blood splattered across his bat. “We need to move. Now.”
“Can she walk?” Robin asked urgently.
You opened your mouth immediately. “Yes.”
“No,” Eddie answered at the exact same time.
“I said I can—”
The second you tried to move again, your entire body folded from the pain, and a horrible gasp tore from your chest. And Eddie finally snapped.
“Jesus Christ, would you stop trying to be tough for five seconds?!”
The clearing went quiet for a second, and even you looked startled. Eddie’s breathing shook violently as he stared down at you, terrified and furious and heartbroken all at once.
“Please.”
That one word hurt worse than the injury. Before you could argue again, Eddie slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back.
You instinctively grabbed onto his jacket as he lifted you carefully against his chest. Pain exploded through your side immediately, making you gasp sharply into his shoulder.
“I know,” he whispered quickly. “I know, sweetheart, I got you.”
Sweetheart, your eyes shut briefly at the nickname, because he hadn’t called you that in months.
Eddie adjusted his grip tighter around you before looking toward the others. “Move.”
Nancy’s house in the Upside Down looked even worse from the inside.
The wallpaper peeled in blackened strips from the walls, vines crawling through cracks in the ceiling while spores drifted lazily through the stale air. The entire place creaked softly around them as if it were breathing.
Steve slammed the front door shut behind them while Robin shoved an overturned bookshelf against it.
“Are they following us?” she asked breathlessly.
“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “I don’t hear them.”
Eddie barely registered the conversation. The second they got inside, he lowered you carefully onto the couch and immediately dropped to his knees in front of you again. Your blood stained almost everything now.
The couch. His hands. Your shirt. The floor beneath your boots. It just kept coming.
“Okay,” Robin said quickly, trying to stay calm. “Okay, okay. Nancy keeps medical supplies upstairs, right?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded immediately. “Bathroom closet.”
The two of them disappeared upstairs instantly. Dustin crouched nearby, frantic fingers fumbling with his walkie.
“Nancy? Jonathan? Come in!” Static answered him.
Your breathing hitched painfully again, and Eddie’s head snapped back toward you immediately.
“Stay with me,” he whispered.
You leaned weakly against the couch cushions, face pale beneath the layer of grime and blood smeared across your skin. Every breath looked harder than the last. Still, you forced out a weak, sarcastic smile.
“Pretty sure… this ruins the mission.”
Eddie let out something halfway between a laugh and a broken sound. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, sweetheart, kinda.”
Your eyes flicked toward the blood covering his hands, then back to him. He looked terrified, like absolutely terrified.
And it hit you suddenly that Eddie Munson looked like he was watching the worst thing that had ever happened to him unfold in real time.
“You can stop looking at me like I’m dying,” you muttered weakly.
The second the words left your mouth, Eddie’s face crumpled completely. “No,” he whispered instantly. Your chest ached at the sound.
Eddie pressed both shaking hands harder against the wound in your side, trying desperately to slow the bleeding.
“You can hate me later,” he said shakily. “Just don’t leave me first.”
Something in your expression broke, because he sounded serious. His eyes glistened under the dim flickering light, curls stuck damply against his forehead, while blood soaked through his rings and sleeves.
And suddenly, all you could think about was Dustin’s voice earlier.
"He always thought you were too good for him."
Your vision blurred slightly. “Eddie…”
“Don’t,” he interrupted immediately, voice cracking. “Please don’t do the thing where people start talking all soft because they think they’re dying, okay? I can’t—”
His breath hitched sharply. Then…Oh. Oh God. Eddie was crying.
Not loud or dramatic, just silent tears slipping down his face while he tried desperately to keep pressure against your side.
You weakly grabbed at his wrist. Instantly, his other hand wrapped around yours.
“I’m here,” he whispered quickly. “I’m here.”
Upstairs, cabinets slammed open while Robin shouted something about peroxide. Dustin was still trying the walkies. But for a second, the rest of the world faded out entirely. It was just Eddie, holding your hand like letting go would kill you.
Your thumb brushed weakly across his knuckles.
“I don’t hate you,” you admitted quietly.
Eddie froze. His watery eyes snapped up to yours so fast it almost hurt to look at. “What?”
You swallowed painfully. “I tried to,” you whispered. “But I don’t.”
Eddie stared at you like the words physically knocked the air from his lungs. Then suddenly, the house went strangely quiet.
Dustin slowly lowered the walkie. “…Wait.”
Steve reappeared at the top of the stairs with Robin right behind him, carrying supplies.
“What?” Robin asked.
Dustin frowned toward the windows. “Do you guys hear that?”
Everyone went still, and there was nothing. No screeching. No snarling. No pounding footsteps outside. The Demodogs were gone.
Steve moved cautiously toward the window, peeling back the curtain slightly. “…Holy shit.”
“What?” Eddie snapped immediately without taking his eyes off you.
Steve looked back slowly. “They stopped.”
Robin blinked. “Stopped what?”
“Following us.”
Everyone went quiet, then Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”
Robin looked at him. “‘Oh shit’, what?”
Dustin pointed toward you carefully. “The blood.”
Eddie frowned slightly, and then realization hit all at once. The creatures weren’t tracking El’s scent anymore, not Max’s either. Your blood threw them back to tracking the real deal.
“Oh, that is dark,” Robin muttered quietly.
Steve looked back out the window one more time before letting the curtain fall shut again. “Doesn’t matter. We still gotta move.”
Eddie’s head snapped up immediately. “She can’t move.”
As if on cue, another painful cough tore through your chest. Blood stained the corner of your mouth again, and Eddie visibly flinched.
Robin quickly knelt beside the couch with the medical supplies, hands moving fast as she peeled back the blood-soaked fabric around your side.
“…Oh.”
Steve’s face tightened instantly. “Bad?”
Robin looked a little pale now, too. “Very.”
You glanced downward weakly. Honestly, you kinda wished you hadn’t.
The slash across your side was deep, way deeper than you originally thought. Blackened blood smeared across torn skin while the edges of the wound pulsed faintly with Upside Down spores and grime.
Robin pressed fresh gauze against it carefully, and you hissed sharply through your teeth.
“Sorry,” she muttered quickly.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Eddie said immediately, everyone turning to look at him.
He was still kneeling in front of you, one hand locked tightly around yours like he physically couldn’t let go. And somehow he still looked angry at himself, like this was his fault too.
Steve crouched beside Dustin near the walkie.
“We need everyone back here. Now.”
Dustin nodded immediately, adjusting the frequency with shaky hands. “Nancy, Jonathan, Mike— anybody copy?”
Static crackled loudly, then Jonathan’s voice finally pushed through.
“Dustin?”
“Get back to Wheeler’s house now,” Steve ordered quickly. “We have a situation.”
“What happened?”
Steve hesitated briefly, but Eddie didn’t. “She’s hurt.”
Jonathan swore immediately. “How bad?”
Nobody answered fast enough, and that was answer enough. Dustin swallowed hard before grabbing the walkie again. “Guys, seriously, we need everyone here now.”
Robin kept trying to wrap the wound tighter, but every fresh layer of bandages turned red almost instantly. Steve’s expression shifted subtly from worried to straight-up scared.
“Hey,” he said carefully, crouching closer to you now. “Stay with us, okay?”
You let out a weak laugh. “Everybody keeps saying that.”
“Because you look like shit,” Robin replied automatically.
“Robin,” Steve hissed.
“What? I’m motivating her.”
Your eyelids suddenly felt heavy, and your head tipped slightly against the couch cushions.
Instantly, Eddie tightened his grip on your hand. “Hey.”
“I’m awake.”
“No sleeping.”
“I’m literally just resting my eyes.”
“Absolutely not.”
You would’ve laughed if breathing didn’t hurt so badly. Robin exchanged a quick glance with Steve. Then, he stood abruptly.
“We’re getting out of here.”
Eddie looked up sharply. “What?”
“She needs a hospital.”
“In the real world,” Robin added quickly. “Like yesterday.”
Steve nodded toward the ceiling. “Nearest gate’s at the trailer park. We move fast, we can make it.”
“And if the Demogorgons come back?” Dustin asked nervously.
Steve tightened his grip around the nail bat. “Then we fight.”
Eddie looked back down at you again. You looked exhausted now; blood loss had drained almost all the color from your face.
“Okay,” he whispered shakily. “Okay, we’re moving.”
Then softer, mostly to himself as he brushed blood-matted hair carefully from your face, “You’re not dying here.”
The trip back to the trailer park was brutal; every movement hurt. Every step Eddie took with you in his arms jolted painfully through your side, forcing weak gasps from your throat, no matter how hard you tried to hide them.
“You still with me?” he asked quietly after a while.
You hummed weakly against his shoulder.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“…Unfortunately.”
That earned the tiniest huff of laughter from him. Good. You liked hearing him laugh, even now.
Especially now.
The trailer park gates finally came into view ahead through the fog, and relief instantly loosened the group.
“We’re close,” Steve called quietly. “Gate’s right up—”
A screech exploded overhead, and everyone froze. Eddie’s entire body locked up beneath you instantly. Because he knew that sound, all too well. Demobats.
Robin looked upward first. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The sky above them suddenly erupted with movement. Dark shapes poured through the red clouds in violent shrieking swarms. Dozens, maybe more.
“No, no, no,” Dustin whispered.
Eddie visibly went pale; you could feel it immediately. The way his arms tightened around you, the way his breathing changed to sharp, uneven, panicked. Because last time, these things nearly killed him.
“MOVE!” Steve shouted.
The swarm dove all at once, and chaos erupted instantly. Robin started firing upward while Steve swung the bat wildly at the creatures swooping down around them. Dustin hurled another Molotov skyward, flames bursting violently across the dark sky.
Still, more kept coming. One of the bats shrieked directly beside Eddie’s head. He ducked sharply, nearly dropping you. Another latched briefly onto his jacket, and suddenly he wasn’t here anymore, not fully.
Your stomach twisted painfully as you watched it happen in real time. The fear. The memory. His eyes looked exactly like they had that night in the Upside Down trailer. Terrified. Overwhelmed.
A bat swooped downward fast.
“EDDIE!” you shouted weakly. Too late.
The creature slammed directly into him, and the impact knocked both of you sideways violently, causing you to slip from his grasp. Pain exploded through your body as you hit the ground hard, tumbling through ash and dead vines.
Your vision blurred immediately, and everything spun. For one horrible second, you almost blacked out. Then you heard Eddie release an agonizing scream. Your head snapped upward weakly.
The bats swarmed him instantly, exactly like before. Clawing. Shrieking. Dragging him toward the ground while Steve and Robin tried desperately to fight them off. And suddenly, you weren’t in the present Upside Down anymore. You were back there, watching Eddie nearly die.
Watching him bleed out while everyone screamed. Watching his body go limp in your arms. No, absolutely fucking not.
Adrenaline slammed through your body so violently it almost made you nauseous.
You forced yourself upward with a broken gasp, fingers scrambling desperately through the dirt until they found the shotgun lying nearby. Your side screamed in protest, but it didn’t matter. You cocked the gun shakily.
One of the bats wrapped around Eddie’s throat while another clawed at his back. His eyes met yours across the chaos, terrified. And that? That did it.
BOOM
The flare shell exploded directly into the swarm, and fire erupted violently across the sky. Shrieking filled the air as the Demo-bats ignited all at once, peeling away from Eddie in flaming screeches. Another shot, then another.
Explosions of orange fire illuminated the dark woods around you while burning creatures dropped from the sky one after another.
Steve grabbed Eddie immediately, hauling him backward. “MOVE MOVE MOVE!”
Robin ran toward you instantly. “Jesus Christ!”
Your arms finally gave out. The shotgun slipped from your fingers as the adrenaline vanished just as quickly as it came. Everything tilted sideways, and Eddie reached you before you hit the ground again.
His hands grabbed your face carefully. “Hey,” he breathed frantically. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”
Your vision blurred around the edges, but you still managed the weakest smile.
“Told you,” you whispered faintly. “Not letting you die.” Eddie looked absolutely wrecked by that sentence.
The first thing you noticed was the beeping, soft and steady. Then the smell of antiseptic hit next, clean hospital air replacing the rot and ash of the Upside Down.
Your body felt heavy and warm, and pain throbbed dully through your side the second you tried to move.
A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. Immediately, a chair scraped harshly beside you.
“Hey.”
Your eyes blinked open slowly. Hospital room. Dim lighting. And Eddie, kneeling beside your bed so fast it almost looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. Because honestly? He probably hadn’t.
His curls were a mess, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, while dried scratches still marked his neck and jaw from the bats. One of his hands clutched yours tightly enough to hurt a little.
“Oh, thank God,” he breathed shakily.
Your throat felt raw. “You look terrible.”
A watery laugh escaped him instantly. “Thanks.”
You smiled weakly. Eddie immediately leaned forward in the chair, still gripping your hand like he thought you might disappear if he let go.
“You scared the absolute shit out of me,” he admitted quietly.
“How long was I out?”
“Day and a half.”
Your eyebrows lifted weakly. “Seriously?”
“Mhm.”
“Wow. Kinda dramatic of me.”
Eddie let out another broken laugh, but this one dissolved quickly. You glanced down at your intertwined hands, noticing how he still hadn’t let go.
“…You stayed?”
Eddie looked almost offended. “Obviously, I stayed.”
Something warm twisted painfully in your chest. You swallowed carefully. “The others okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. “Everyone’s okay. Couple scratches, Henderson won’t stop bragging about his Molotovs, Robin cried for like twenty minutes after you passed out—”
“Robin cried?”
“She threatened Steve when he laughed about it, too.”
That earned a small laugh out of you. God, he’d missed that sound.
Eddie stared at you for a second too long afterward, like he was making sure you were real, and alive.
His expression slowly crumbled again. “Listen,” he started quietly.
You already knew from his tone that this was gonna hurt. Eddie rubbed shakily at his eyes with his free hand before looking back at you.
“I am so sorry.”
Your chest tightened immediately.
“I should’ve told you about Chrissy,” he continued, voice uneven now. “I should’ve explained, and I should’ve come after you that night instead of letting you walk away.”
Tears burned visibly in his eyes again. “But honestly?” He laughed weakly at himself. “I think I was just waiting for you to realize you were too good for me.”
Your face softened instantly. “Eddie—”
“No, let me say it.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because I need you to know.”
His thumb brushed carefully across your knuckles.
“You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he whispered shakily. “Like… stupid beautiful. And smart, and funny, and everybody loves you, and I just kept thinking eventually you’d wake up and realize you didn’t wanna be stuck with some freak in a trailer forever.”
Your eyes immediately stung.
“And then when you saw me with Chrissy…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Part of me almost figured maybe this was it. Like maybe I finally ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Silence filled the room softly. Then finally, “You idiot.”
Eddie blinked, and you squeezed his hand weakly. “I never cared about any of that.”
His face crumpled all over again. “I know that now,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry too.”
Eddie frowned immediately. “For what?”
“I should’ve listened.”
“No, sweetheart—”
“I was hurt,” you admitted softly. “But I think part of me already knew you didn’t cheat.”
Eddie’s eyes went glossy again instantly.
You sighed weakly. “You’re too obsessed with me to cheat on me.”
That startled a laugh out of him so suddenly he actually snorted.
“Well, yeah,” he whispered again.
You smiled faintly. Then after a small pause, “So…” you murmured. “What now?”
Eddie looked at you carefully, like he was scared to answer wrong.
Then slowly, he brought your hand carefully to his lips and pressed the softest kiss against your knuckles.
“Whatever you want,” he whispered.
Your heart melted a little. “…I think,” you admitted quietly, “I’d like my boyfriend back.”
Eddie actually stopped breathing. “You mean that?”
You nodded once, and that was all it took.
Eddie surged forward carefully, terrified of hurting you, one hand cradling your face while he kissed you like he’d been dying to do it for months.
Soft at first, shaky. Then emotional enough that you felt tears hit your cheeks before realizing they were his. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered immediately. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”
You laughed softly. “I love you too, you idiot.”
Neither of you noticed the door cracking open. At least, not until:
“Oh, thank fucking God.”
You both startled apart immediately. Robin stood frozen in the doorway holding two vending machine coffees and an open bag of chips, staring at the two of you with pure exhausted relief on her face.
Behind her, Steve physically sagged against the doorframe.
“FINALLY,” he groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”
Your face burned hot instantly while Eddie still hovered halfway over you, one hand on your waist. Robin pointed between the two of you accusingly. “Do you understand how insufferable you both have been?”
“Robin—” Eddie started.
“No. No, I’m serious.” She walked fully into the room now, setting the coffees down aggressively on the bedside table. “The sexual tension alone almost killed me before the interdimensional monsters even got the chance.”
Eddie groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Can we have like… one emotional moment? Alone?”
“No,” Steve answered immediately.
Robin nodded. “Absolutely not.”
Then her expression softened slightly as she looked toward you lying in the hospital bed. “You scared the hell out of us, by the way.”
Your smile faded a little. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Steve said quickly, pushing off the doorway. “Just stop getting mauled by alternate dimension creatures. It’s becoming a weird habit in this group.”
“You first,” you shot back weakly.
Robin’s eyes flicked back and forth between you and Eddie again before narrowing suspiciously.
“So…” she dragged out slowly. “Are we all emotionally repaired now or what?”
Eddie looked toward you, and you smiled faintly before intertwining your fingers with his again.
Robin gasped dramatically. “OH, my GOD.”
Steve pointed immediately. “I knew it.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, actually...no. More like beaming at the fact that your fingers were laced with his.
description: you grew up alongside the winchester boys, usually stuck babysitting them while your dads were off hunting. sam was sweet, dean was a menace, and somehow you survived both. years later, bobby calls you in to help with a case...and dean winchester is still just as much trouble as you remember.
pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader (fem!reader)
tags: dean winchester x you, no y/n, childhood friends to lovers, shared history, childhood crush, sexual tension, bickering as a love language, backseat of the impala, hunter family lore, "our dads thought we'd get married", fluff and smut, season 1-3 vibes, comfort fic, bobby singer saw this coming YEARS ago
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, unprotected, drinking
WC: 5.0k
A/N: requested by my love @bitterestwillow i hope you enjoyyyy:)))
reblogs are a writer's best friend<3
please! let me know if you want more supernatural fics, i lowkey am obsessed with writing sam and dean...dean gives like au eddie vibes
also, ofc i had to use a wendigo episode picture of dean, like COME ON
Bobby’s kitchen smelled like coffee grounds, motor oil, and something burnt that Dean had sworn twenty minutes ago was “still edible.” It wasn’t.
Sam sat at the table with a lore book spread open in front of him while Dean leaned back in his chair, boots hooked on another seat, flipping a knife through his fingers.
“So let me get this straight,” Dean said slowly. “This thing can mimic voices, disappear, and apparently rip a guy’s jaw clean off?”
“Not apparently,” Sam muttered, eyes scanning the page. “It did.”
Dean grimaced. “Awesome. Love that.”
Bobby shuffled past them, carrying another stack of books. “You two done bitchin’ or you wanna actually solve the case?”
Dean pointed his knife toward him. “I’m solving. Aggressively.”
“Yeah, well, aggressive ain’t helping when none of us know what the hell this thing is.” Bobby dropped the books onto the table with a heavy thud, sending dust puffing into the air. “Closest thing I found was some old Men of Letters mention from the seventies.”
Sam frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Dean sighed dramatically. “Great. So we’re screwed.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Not entirely. I called somebody.”
Dean perked up a little. “Oh yeah? Who?”
“Lafontaine.”
Dean blinked, and Sam’s eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition.
And immediately, Dean barked out a laugh. “No way. Old man Lafontaine’s still alive?”
Bobby gave him a look. “Barely.”
“Man,” Dean chuckled, sitting forward now, “that guy used to scare the hell outta me.”
“Yeah,” Sam said dryly, “because you tried stealing his truck when you were twelve.”
“I was borrowing it.”
“You drove it into a ditch.”
Dean pointed at Sam. “Allegedly.”
Bobby snorted. “Well, he knows more about weird occult crap than anybody I trust. Said he’d send over everything he had.”
Dean nodded. “Alright. Cool.”
“Wait,” Dean said slowly. “Did he say he was comin’ himself?”
Before Bobby could answer, there was a knock at the door, three sharp taps. Bobby jerked his chin toward Dean. “Get that.”
Dean stood, stretching as he crossed the room. “If this guy’s still wearing those creepy snake skin boots, I’m leavin’.”
He swung the door open casually and froze. You stood on the porch with a duffel bag slung over your shoulder and a folder tucked under your arm. Older, definitely. But not by much.
Still wearing that same unimpressed expression you used to give him when he mouthed off as a teenager. Your eyes flicked over him once, then twice. And your mouth slowly pulled into a smirk.
“Well,” you said. “If it isn’t the pain in my ass.”
Dean stared, like actually stared. Because there was just absolutely no way. No friggin’ way.
The girl who used to force him and Sam to brush their teeth before bed while your dads were out hunting was standing on Bobby Singer’s porch looking like that. Behind him, Sam nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Dean finally found his voice. “Ain’t no way.”
You tilted your head. “That bad, huh?”
Dean looked you up and down again, almost offended by the universe itself.
“No,” he said immediately. “No, it’s— What the hell happened to you?”
You scoffed, brushing past him into the house. “Puberty. You should try it.”
Sam outright laughed this time.
Dean turned slowly toward his brother. “Did you know?”
Sam lifted both hands innocently. “I had a suspicion.”
Bobby already looked deeply entertained by the entire thing. “Good. Everybody’s here. Sit down.”
You dropped your duffel beside the table before pulling out a thick journal absolutely covered in sticky notes, while Dean couldn’t stop staring.
“What?” you asked flatly.
Dean blinked. “You’re—”
“Careful.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Still bossy.”
“And you’re still annoying.” You opened the journal. “Nice to see nothing’s changed.”
Dean let out a breathy laugh through his nose. God, you sounded exactly the same. Which was somehow worse.
“You know,” you continued while flipping pages, “most people say hello before staring at somebody like they just rose from the dead.”
Dean leaned against the table. “I’m processing.”
“Slowly, apparently.”
Sam looked between the two of you with growing amusement. “Wow. This is exactly how I remember you guys.”
Dean pointed at you without looking away. “She used to bully me.”
You gasped theatrically. “I kept you alive.”
“You handcuffed me to a motel bed one time!”
“You tried to follow our dads on a vamp nest run!”
“I was thirteen!”
“And stupid!”
Dean looked at Bobby incredulously. “See? This. This is what I dealt with.”
You looked over finally, eyes glittering with amusement now. “Funny. I remember you following me around like a lost puppy.”
Dean barked out a laugh. “Please.”
“You cried when I left for a hunt once.”
Sam covered his mouth immediately.
Dean whipped around. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” Sam said.
“I was like nine!”
You grinned for the first time fully, and Dean honestly forgot what Bobby had even been saying before you walked in. Because this was not the awkward pigtailed girl who used to shove him away from cursed objects and yell at him to wear a jacket. This was—
“Well?” you asked, catching him staring again.
Dean cleared his throat immediately. “You got info on the monster, or you just come here to psychologically torture me?”
Your smile sharpened. “Oh, Dean,” you said. “Why not both?”
You flipped open the journal, all business now. “Okay,” you said, pushing a page toward Sam. “Your victims weren’t dealing with a ghost.”
Sam adjusted in his chair immediately, scanning the symbols scribbled across the paper. “Then what is it?”
“A Veskar.”
Dean frowned. “A what now?”
You pointed toward one of the sketches. “Old parasitic entity. Mostly Eastern European folklore. They attach themselves to abandoned places, feed on paranoia, fear, isolation— all the fun stuff.”
“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “And the jaw-ripping thing?”
“They hunt through sound mimicry. Lure prey deeper in, disorient them, then attack.”
Dean grimaced. “Still hate that.”
“They’re rare,” you continued. “Mostly because hunters usually die before figuring out what they are.”
“Comforting,” Sam muttered.
You ignored him.
“The important thing is they can’t fully manifest unless they anchor themselves to something physical.”
Bobby nodded slightly from the kitchen counter like he already knew where you were going.
“So what’s the anchor?” he asked.
You tapped the page. “Silver.”
Dean blinked. “Silver?”
“Not pure silver. Melted-down religious objects usually. Crosses, rosaries, grave ornaments. They create nests with it.” You looked at Sam. “The abandoned church near the mill?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s your spot.”
Dean leaned forward now, focused despite himself. “So what kills it?”
You hesitated for half a second.
“Fire works temporarily. Silver blades can wound it.” Then your expression flattened. “Decapitation’s the only permanent kill.”
Dean snorted softly. “Of course it is.”
“You asked.”
Sam flipped another page in the journal. “These symbols…”
“Containment marks,” you answered. “If we can pin it long enough, it can’t phase.”
Bobby pointed toward Dean with a beer bottle. “Hear that? Means you actually gotta use your brain tomorrow.”
Dean scoffed. “I always use my brain.”
You and Sam both looked at him.
Dean frowned. “Rude.”
You started organizing papers across the table. “Alright. Sam and I can work the lore angle tonight, narrow down nesting habits. Dean—”
Dean immediately pointed at himself. “Why do I feel like I’m getting the dumb task?”
“Because you usually do.”
Bobby barked out another laugh, and Dean looked personally betrayed. “Bobby, you hearing this disrespect?”
“Deserved.”
You continued without missing a beat. “You and Bobby hit the church at dawn. Look for silver deposits, religious artifacts, signs of nesting.”
Dean crossed his arms. “And what’re you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t accidentally get yourselves killed.”
“Aw,” Dean said mockingly. “You still care about me.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was practically affectionate. “Please. I care about Sam more.”
Dean placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “That’s evil.”
Bobby moved around the kitchen, already pulling mugs down from the cabinets. “You stayin’ here tonight?”
You looked up. “If that’s okay.”
Bobby stared at you as if the question itself offended him. “Kid,” he said softly, “you always got a place here.”
The room quieted for just a second. Dean noticed the tiny shift in your expression immediately, the way your shoulders loosened a little, how your face softened in a way he hadn’t seen yet tonight.
“Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”
There it was. Uncle Bobby.
Dean remembered hearing it a thousand times growing up. Usually, right before Bobby patched up your scraped knees or yelled at all three of you for roughhousing near weapons. Bobby grunted like he was pretending the affection embarrassed him.
“You eat yet?”
“Gas station peanuts count?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“Jesus,” Bobby muttered, already moving toward the fridge. “Hunters are hopeless.”
You smiled faintly. Dean watched as Bobby checked your shoulder for injuries, absentmindedly. The way he automatically grabbed your favorite whiskey from the cabinet without asking, like muscle memory. It did something weird to Dean’s chest.
Before he could think too hard about it, you stood and walked toward the liquor cabinet yourself.
“You still keep the good stuff hidden?” you asked.
“From Dean? Damn right.”
“Seriously?” Dean called from the living room.
You grabbed the bottle with a victorious hum anyway and poured yourself a glass, then another smaller one. You slid it across the counter toward Bobby, and his face softened immediately.
“Well,” he muttered. “Ain’t you sweet.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Dean watched you lean back against the counter, whiskey glass in hand, talking quietly with Bobby while Sam reread the lore. And honestly? It was screwing with him a little. Because in his head, you were still sixteen years old, yelling at him for teaching Sam curse words.
Not…Not this. Not grown up. Not pretty enough to make him forget what conversation he was in halfway through.
You caught him staring again from across the room, your eyebrow lifting slowly. Dean immediately looked away and grabbed a beer while Sam smirked into his book. Dean kicked his chair hard enough to make him glare.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinkin’ it loud.”
A couple of hours later, Bobby finally shoved himself up from his chair with a groan loud enough to rival the pipes in the house.
“I’m too old for this crap,” he muttered, pointing a finger between the three of you. “Don’t stay up all night bein’ idiots.”
“No promises,” Dean said immediately.
“Especially you.”
Dean grinned.
Bobby paused beside you on his way out, squeezing your shoulder once. “Night, kid.”
Your expression softened again. “Night, Uncle Bobby.”
Then he disappeared down the hall, bedroom door creaking shut a few seconds later. The TV played quietly in the background. Some old western Bobby definitely fell asleep watching earlier. You swirled the whiskey in your glass lazily before taking another sip.
“So,” Sam said carefully, leaning back in his chair. “How’s your dad?”
You snorted softly. “Still alive somehow. Complains about his knees every five minutes now.”
Dean grinned into his beer. “Good. Means karma’s finally hitting him.”
“You say that like your dad wasn’t just as bad.”
Dean pointed at you. “My father never made us run five miles because we ‘looked energetic.’”
You nearly choked laughing. “Yes, he did.”
“That was one time.”
Sam deadpanned from beside him. “It was not one time.”
You laughed harder at that, head tipping back slightly, and Dean found himself staring again before he could stop it. God, that laugh was exactly the same. Maybe a little lower now. But still the same laugh that used to echo through crappy motel rooms while the four of you survived off takeout and stolen cable.
“You know,” Sam said, smiling faintly, “those were actually some of the most normal parts of our childhood.”
You looked at him softer then. “Yeah?”
Sam nodded. “Seriously. Whenever your dad and ours hunted together…” He shrugged lightly. “It felt normal.”
Dean scoffed. “Speak for yourself. She ran that house like a tiny dictator.”
You gasped. “Excuse me? I kept you both alive.”
“You made schedules.”
“You needed schedules!”
Dean pointed accusingly. “You grounded me once!”
“You snuck out to steal a Playboy from the motel lobby.”
“I was curious!”
“You were fifteen!”
Sam laughed quietly into his drink. Dean turned toward him immediately. “Don’t act innocent. You were her favorite.”
Sam smirked. “Because I listened.”
“Because you were adorable,” you corrected.
Dean looked horrified. “I was adorable.”
“No,” you said instantly. “You were a menace.”
Sam outright snorted. You pointed toward Dean with your whiskey glass. “You wanna know what he used to do?”
Dean narrowed his eyes immediately. “No.”
“He would wait until I fell asleep—”
“Okay, no—”
“—and then put fake spiders in my shoes because he thought that was good pay-back for grounding him.”
Sam burst out laughing while Dean defended himself immediately. “IT WAS FUNNY.”
“You are literally evil.”
Dean grinned shamelessly. “Yeah, and then you chased me around a motel parking lot with a tire iron.”
Your mouth twitched. “Deserved.”
Sam shook his head fondly. “You guys were insane together.”
That made you laugh quietly into your drink. “God,” you muttered. “Our dads used to hate leaving us alone together.”
Dean barked a laugh. “No, they didn’t. They thought it was hilarious.”
You groaned immediately. “Don’t remind me.”
Sam looked between you both curiously. “Wait… are you talking about the marriage thing?”
Dean immediately covered his face with one hand. “Oh, my God.”
You looked equally mortified. “Absolutely not.”
Sam started laughing before either of you could stop him.
Dean pointed at him. “You are enjoying this way too much.”
“I forgot about that!” Sam wheezed.
“Because it was traumatic,” you muttered.
Dean groaned dramatically. “Every damn time we got in trouble—”
You pointed at him, already laughing. “‘One day you two are gonna get married and terrorize some poor town together.’”
Dean dropped his head against the back of the chair. “I can literally hear Bobby saying it.”
“And my dad!” you laughed. “‘Look at ‘em. Already acting like an old married couple.’”
Sam was losing it now. Dean shook his head hard. “No, because they were insane. We were constantly trying to kill each other.”
“Exactly,” you said.
“You broke my nose once.”
“You deserved it.”
“You bent my butterfly knife!”
“You called me bossy!”
“You are bossy!”
You both stopped at the exact same time. Silence.
Then Sam quietly muttered into his drink, “Yeah. You’re definitely getting married.”
Dean grabbed a pretzel off the table and launched it at his forehead immediately, which made Sam laugh harder. And you were smiling at Dean in that same old way you used to when you were kids. All sharp edges and challenges, like every fight between you, had always secretly been fun.
Dean stared for half a second too long again. Your smile faded into something smaller, slightly leaning towards curious. And Dean suddenly became very interested in his beer bottle.
Sam eventually stood with a long stretch, groaning as his back cracked.
“Alright,” he muttered. “I’m done reliving Dean’s humiliating childhood stories for one night.”
Dean pointed at him immediately. “You were there too, jackass.”
“Yeah, but nobody handcuffed me to a motel sink because I ‘chewed too loud.’”
You looked entirely unapologetic. “You did chew too loud.”
Sam laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his book. “Night, you two.”
“Night, Sammy.”
“Goodnight.”
Then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving the living room oddly quiet. The TV murmured softly in the background while rain tapped lightly against the junkyard windows outside. You took another sip of whiskey, and Dean watched your fingers turn the glass slowly against your knee.
“Y’know,” he said after a minute, voice quieter now, “I always figured you’d get out.”
Your eyes flicked toward him. “Hunting?”
Dean nodded. “You used to talk about it all the time.” He shrugged lightly. “College. Apartment somewhere. Normal life.”
You smiled faintly at that. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
You looked down into your drink for a second before answering. “The same thing that happened to you, probably.”
Dean didn’t say anything, so you leaned back deeper into the couch cushions.
“The hunter lifestyle never really leaves you,” you said softly. “Even when you try to walk away from it.”
Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, because yeah. He knew exactly what you meant.
You continued after a beat. “I tried once.”
Dean looked over fully now. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“What, like… serious tried?”
You nodded slowly. “Couple years.” A tiny laugh left you. “Waitressed in Nebraska.”
Dean blinked. “Nebraska?”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You are failing.”
Dean grinned a little into his beer bottle.
You shook your head. “I had an apartment. Plants.” You looked genuinely offended by the memory. “Dean, I kept killing every damn one.”
He laughed softly.
“Couldn’t sleep right,” you admitted after a second. “Every noise sounded wrong. Every town felt temporary.” Your eyes lifted toward him again. “Eventually I heard about a hunt nearby and…”
“You went.”
“Yeah.”
Dean nodded once like he understood perfectly, probably because he did.
“You?” you asked. “You ever really try?”
Dean stared at the label peeling off his beer bottle. “Once or twice.”
Lisa flickered through his head for half a second before he shoved it away. You must’ve seen something on his face because your expression softened slightly.
“That bad, huh?”
Dean huffed a quiet laugh. “Something like that.” Then Dean glanced sideways at you, something mischievous slowly creeping into his expression.
“Oh, my God.”
You immediately narrowed your eyes. “What?”
“Do you remember—”
“No.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“I know that look. The answer’s still no.”
Dean laughed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “The Impala.”
You physically groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Dean grinned wider immediately. “You remember.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
You covered your face briefly with one hand. “We were teenagers.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Teenagers makin’ excellent decisions.”
You pointed at him. “Your father was twenty feet away.”
“At a bar.”
“Nearby.”
Dean shrugged. “Still counts.”
You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. God, Dean remembered that night vividly. Rainstorm outside. The backseat of the Impala. You whisper-yelling at him to stop laughing because someone would hear.
Dean smirked into his drink. “You kissed me first.”
Your jaw dropped immediately. “I absolutely did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“You flirted with me for like six straight months!”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
You rolled your eyes hard, but you were smiling now. Dean noticed, and then noticed how close you were sitting suddenly. At some point during the conversation, you’d both drifted toward the middle cushion without realizing it, to where your knees were almost touching.
Dean’s gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before he could stop himself, and your smile faded just slightly when you caught it. But neither of you looked away.
“You know,” you said softly, “you were kind of an ass back then.”
Dean snorted. “Back then?”
You laughed under your breath, then Dean leaned a little closer.
“So were you.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“You drove me insane.”
“You drove me insane first.”
Dean’s eyes flicked between yours. God, there it was again. That same tension you used to dance around when you were younger, before life got messy and bloody and complicated. Only now, neither of you was sixteen anymore. Neither of you was pretending not to notice it.
“You still do,” Dean admitted quietly.
Your breath caught a little, just enough for him to notice. And then, you kissed him. Quick at first, like maybe you were testing if it was a bad idea. Dean answered immediately, one hand coming up to your jaw instinctively as he kissed you back harder.
And wow. Yeah. He remembered this, too. The whiskey on your tongue. The way you grabbed his flannel like you were annoyed about wanting him. You pulled back barely an inch, laughing softly against his mouth.
“This is such a bad idea.”
Dean grinned, forehead resting against yours. “Probably.” Then he kissed you again anyway.
He shifted you onto his lap in one quick and eager motion, his hands gripping your hips as your mouths moved together in a slow, heated kiss that had been building for the last twenty minutes. His tongue slid against yours, tasting like whiskey and cheap mint mouthwash. Every time you rocked against him, you felt how hard he already was beneath his jeans.
Dean pulled back just enough to breathe against your lips, green eyes dark with want. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, voice rough and low.
“Been thinking about this since you got here,” he murmured. “Hell, been thinking about it for years.”
Your breath hitched, because of course, the thought had slipped your mind once or twice. The frantic making out, hands under clothes, the way he’d groaned your name like a prayer when you ground down on him. You’d been interrupted by Sam before anything more could happen.
Dean’s lips curved into that cocky smirk, but his eyes were soft. “We’ve got unfinished business, sweetheart. Don’t y’think?”
You didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
He kissed you hard once more, then lifted you off his lap like you weighed nothing. You grabbed jackets and slipped out the back door quietly. Bobby was upstairs snoring, and Sam was out cold in some dusty guest room a few doors down.
The cool night air hit your flushed skin as Dean opened the back door of the Impala and guided you inside. The second the door shut, it was like a dam broke.
Dean pulled you into his lap again, hands sliding under your shirt to cup your breasts as he kissed you deep and filthy. “Been dying to get you back in this car,” he growled against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”
You moaned as he tugged your shirt off, his mouth latching onto one nipple while his hand worked the other. He was rough but attentive, sucking and biting just hard enough to make you arch into him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging the way you knew he liked.
“Dean… please.”
“Look at you,” he breathed, eyes raking over your face. “So fucking perfect. Always have been.”
He lay you back across the wide leather seat, hovering over you. “Been dreaming about this for years,” he growled against your neck, kissing and biting his way down your body. He yanked your jeans and panties down in one rough motion, tossing them aside.
Dean settled between your thighs, pushing your legs wide. He looked up at you with that wicked smirk. “Gonna take my time with you first.”
He didn’t wait. His mouth descended on you, hot and hungry. The first slow lick from your entrance to your clit made your back arch. Dean groaned at your taste, like he’d finally gotten something he’d been craving forever.
“Shit, you taste even better than I imagined,” he muttered, then dove back in.
His tongue worked you expertly; long, flat licks followed by tight circles around your clit. He sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, humming in satisfaction when your hips jerked. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling and stroking that perfect spot while his mouth devoured you. The wet, obscene sounds of him eating you out filled the car.
You moaned loudly, one hand fisting his short hair, the other gripping the edge of the seat. Dean’s free hand pressed down on your lower stomach, holding you in place as he fucked you with his fingers and sucked on your clit.
“Dean—fuck—right there—”
He doubled down, sucking harder, fingers pumping faster. Your thighs started trembling around his head. He looked up at you, eyes locked on yours as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.
“Such attitude, now you’re begging me to please you. Are you close, sweetheart?”
You nodded eagerly, desperately pushing his head down to chase his touch.
He grinned against your center and mufflily ordered, “Come for me, then.”
The orgasm hit you hard. Your back bowed off the seat as you cried out his name, thighs clamping around his head. Dean didn’t stop, licking you through every wave until you were shaking and oversensitive.
Only then did he pull back, lips shiny with your arousal, wearing a proud, filthy grin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue.
“You’re so fucking hot when you come for me,” he murmured, grinding his hard cock against your thigh. “But I’m nowhere near done with you.”
He shoved his jeans down with urgency, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. One hand gripped your hip, the other slid up your back and fisted your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp.
He pushed into you in one deep thrust, bottoming out with a groan. “Fuck, so tight… perfect little pussy.”
Dean set a hard, steady rhythm, hips snapping against your ass, and the car rocked with every thrust. He leaned over you, biting your shoulder as he fucked you deeper.
“You like that? Been waiting years to bend you over in this car and fuck you raw,” he growled, voice low and dirty. “Tell me how good it feels, baby.”
“So good—Dean, harder—”
He gave you what you wanted, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes while his hand reached around to rub your clit. The mix of rough and attentive was dizzying. Every time you moaned his name, he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust or a filthy compliment.
When you got close again, he pulled you up so your back was against his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other still working your clit. He kissed your neck, teeth grazing your skin.
“Come for me again. Wanna feel you squeezing my cock this time.”
You shattered around him, clenching hard as your second orgasm crashed over you. Dean followed right after with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he came.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you catching your breath. Then he pulled out gently and pulled you into his arms. He grabbed the blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around both of you, shifting so you were curled up against his chest in the backseat.
Dean’s hand stroked slowly up and down your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, and your hair. The rough, kinky side was gone, replaced by the gentle, protective Dean only you and Sam ever saw.
“You okay?” he asked softly, voice warm. “Didn’t go too hard?”
“I’m perfect,” you whispered, nuzzling into his neck. “That was, uh… worth the wait.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Damn right it was.”
The smell of coffee was what did it; strong, burnt, unmistakably Bobby Singer coffee. Dean stirred first with a groan, face buried somewhere warm and familiar. You. His arm was heavy around your waist beneath an old quilt Bobby had thrown over the two of you sometime during the night.
At some point after the… backseat incident, you’d stumbled inside half asleep, laughing quietly and stealing blankets from Bobby’s linen closet before collapsing together onto the couch.
Dean vaguely remembered you threatening to kick him if he snored. Now, morning light filtered weakly through the junkyard windows, washing the room gold. Dean blinked sleepily, then immediately tensed.
Because Bobby was standing over the couch, holding a coffee mug and looking deeply unimpressed. “Well,” Bobby said flatly. “Ain’t this cute?”
You made a sleepy noise beside Dean, face still buried against his chest.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “Oh no.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly woke up. “What?”
Then Bobby’s voice registered, and your eyes flew open. “Oh, my God.”
Dean started laughing immediately as you jerked upright so fast the blanket tangled around your legs.
Bobby looked between the two of you. “Seriously?” he asked. “On my couch?”
“Not on the couch,” you defended instantly, hair a complete mess.
Bobby looked between the two of you, then outside to the Impala, then back at Dean. “Well, as long as it ain't on my furniture…”
Dean was still half laughing, arm thrown over his face now.
You pointed accusingly at Bobby. “You knew this was gonna happen eventually.”
Bobby snorted. “Yeah. Didn’t mean I wanted visual confirmation.”
Dean sat up slowly, rubbing his face. “Morning to you, too, sunshine.”
Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. “Boy, I practically watched this girl grow up. You think I enjoy waking up and finding Winchester draped all over her?”
Dean grinned shamelessly. “Draped?”
“Dean,” you hissed, mortified.
He looked over at you and nearly lost it again because your face was bright red while you tried unsuccessfully to fix your hair.
“You’re laughin’ way too hard for somebody who started this,” you muttered.
Dean pointed at himself. “Me?”
“You kissed me back!”
“You kissed me first!”
Bobby made a gagging noise. “Alright, enough. I don’t need the damn play-by-play.”
You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “This is humiliating.”
“Actually,” Dean said, stretching lazily against the couch cushions, “this is probably the best morning I’ve had in months.”
You looked over at him despite yourself. And unfortunately…unfortunately Dean looked very good in the morning. Sleepy voice. Flannel half open. That stupid smug grin.
You rolled your eyes immediately to save yourself. “Shut up.”
Bobby shook his head, muttering something about “kids” despite the two of you being fully grown adults. Then he pointed toward the kitchen with his coffee mug.
“Get up. Case ain’t gonna solve itself.”
Dean groaned dramatically, and you threw the blanket off both of you and stood first, stretching your arms above your head. Dean watched the motion automatically, and Bobby caught him.
“Boy,” Bobby warned.
Dean straightened immediately. “I’m respectful.”
“Bull.”
You snorted loudly while walking toward the kitchen. Dean followed close behind without even thinking about it, and Bobby watched the two of you go with the exhausted expression of a man who had seen this coming for about twenty years.
i actually want to vomit thinking about it. where the fuck has the time gone?!?
it's actually wild too bc i was so pissed that they killed off eddie i fell out of my obsession based on grief alone, but when V5 was coming out i decided to rewatch every season and....the rest is history. maybe it's my period but i'm feeling very emotional and sappy today.
thank you to everyone who has taken precious time out of their day to read my silly little fics. it means the world to me. not to get TOO trauma dumpy, but I started writing Eddie fics as a therapeutic outlet based on experiences from my past as a way to cope and see them in a different light. all of the love and support for my writing and being able to touch so many has given me a new sense of purpose, as stupid as it sounds.
i appreciate you all so much. i mean it.
here's some gifs of our boyfriend to wrap-up this sap fest:
