My name is C.J! Writing is my #1 passion in life, and I love that Tumblr and writing fic gives me the opportunity to explore and experiment with my writing. I've been on this app for a while, and if you scroll back far enough you'll definitely find some not so perfectly written Harry Styles fanfiction.
Joe Keery has taken over my life however, and I really enjoy writing about him and all of his amazing characters. I have quite a few things in the works (some listed below) and I can't wait to get everything uploaded! I am currently not taking requests because I would like to focus on the few projects I've started, but I will open them up as soon as I get into a good posting schedule!
Always feel free to stop into my inbox to say hi or just to chat!
I do want to let everyone know that this is an 18+ blog so please do not continue reading if you are underage!!!
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Piece of Heaven
Joe and his assistant have always been just that, but lately Joe is starting to notice her in a different light. The more he tries to get to know her, the more she tries to hide from him. Joe's determined to become her friend, but in search of friendship, they both find that their feelings towards each other are anything but friendly.
Masterlist
Stand Alone:
Lipstick Stain
Always
Steve Harrington Masterlist:
Heat of The Moment Series - Coming Soon!
My stranger things rewrite about a girl named Andie who moves to Hawkins with her parents after they take a new job at Hawkins Lab. The first person Andie meets when moving to Hawkins is Steve Harrington, a boy everyone warns her to stay away from, but Andie finds that Steve understands her on a level that most people don't. The two end up creating a friendship that survives monsters, ex-girlfriends, and seriously bad perms, and feelings that might not be as platonic as they believe
The Promise - Coming Soon!
Anastasia has lived her entire life on the east coast, but her small coastal hometown has no more to offer her after she finds her fiance cheating on her with her best friend. After seeing an ad in the paper for a town recently devastated by a natural disaster seeking new teachers and staff, she packs her bag and makes her way to Hawkins. Only halfway there she meets an interesting man in a motel, one with kind eyes and a lonely smile. Funny enough, she runs into him again on her first day at work as the new school librarian. Steve Harrington is completely enamored by the girl from the motel, calling his best friend to fill her in immediately. After watching her drive away, he's worried that he'll never see her again, but it only takes fate a few days to reunite the two lonely souls. Annie is hesitant to jump into a relationship, and Steve is terrified to lose the woman he calls his soulmate, but neither of them wants to let their past get in the way of the future that lies ahead.
Gator Tillman
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My Girl (coming soon)
Gator Tillman is just trying to get by. After his father's arrest and his much needed time in court mandated therapy, Gator is doing his best to make amends with the people he's hurt. His number one priority is doing his best to grow and learn as a person, but he realizes as he learns more about himself that he's a little lonely. Emerson and her daughter Clara have just moved to town, running from a past that looms over them like a rain cloud. Emerson is determined to give her daughter the best childhood she can, but it isn't always easy when she's constantly looking over her shoulder, looking for a ghost. When Emerson has to call her new mom friend Dot for help, she didn't expect that she would show up with the Deputy Officer Gator Tillman. Gator knows that Emerson has something to hide, but at the end of the day, he can't find it himself to care when he's so caught up. He finds himself looking for reason to see Emerson, even if that means entertaining her rambunctious 5 year old who seems to be obsessed with Gator's job, all things Nancy Drew, and mystery.
hi, i hope this is ok to request a kind of self indulgent fic of travis and lonely reader. can they be coworkers and he has a huge crush on her and one day she comes into work and she isn't as happy as usual and he finally gets her to tell him and it's because she doesn't have any friends and she's just feeling very lonely. and he's confused because she's cool and he doesn't understand why no one would want to be her friend and he comforts her.
thank you
Of course! This was something I really resonated with and put some of my own experiences into so I hope that's okay. You can always reach out if you're feeling lonely, and I hope you're okay 🖤 dividers by @kodaswrld
Travis Teacake Meacham x Fem!Reader
wc-2.3k
cw- lonely!reader, as in, reader doesn't have friends, and describes her feelings in depth, crying and a lil kiss at the end, that's all!
The way your bag hit the chair was different than normal, Travis’ eyes lifted from his book, watching as the slouchy shoulder bag folded into the plastic chair with more carelessness than it usually did, the pins scratching against the backrest. He looked up at you, the careless way you had thrown your hair up, your glasses sliding down your nose, trying to hide the lack of makeup, and the new presence of blue-ish, half-circles under your eyes. Your eyelids themselves were red, not as if you had only just stopped crying, but in a way that betrayed that you had cried recently. Your uniform was covered with a baggy grey sweatshirt, and your earphones dangled from your ears. That was the first thing that Travis had spoken to you about when you’d been put together on a night shift for the first time. The fact that you both still wore wired earphones. Travis had thought it was some kind of fate taking place, but then again, he thought everything he had in common with you had to be fate.
The main thing he noticed, however, was that you hadn’t looked at him. He could be making it up, projecting something onto you, but he swore, whenever you entered the office and saw that it was him you were working with, your smile brightened just a little more. But there was no smile today as you unpacked your dinner, placing it into the fridge with hands that were usually more delicate. He folded the corner of the page he was reading, so as to not lose his place, and leaned forward, trying to catch your eyes as they pointedly averted him.
“Hey.” He said, his voice was gentle, as if you were a wild animal he was trying not to startle. He noticed you glance in his direction and pull out one of your earphones, leaving it to dangle against your chest.
“Hey.” You mumbled, your voice cracked on the word, and you had to clear your throat as Travis watched you pull out a chair and sink into it. Your forearms rested against the desk, and your eyes locked onto your hands as you began to pick at the skin around your nails, leaving the flesh raw and tender. Travis’ eyes widened slightly when he saw the reddened skin, but chose not to comment.
“Everythin’ okay?” He asked, his own fingers fidgeting with the pocket at his thigh, fastening and unfastening the popper as he waited for your response. It was strange to see you like this, Travis was used to your cheerful demeanor, as if you were sunshine personified. It was something he had instantly fallen for, your kindness. On your third shift together, you found a mouse crawling around one of the hallways, and had taken it upon yourself to care for it for the night, feeding it, giving it water, before releasing it into the nearby woodland on your way home that morning. He had watched your thumb gently stroke the creature’s fur, how you had used your own sweater as a bed for it, and felt his chest leap and his stomach lurch. He was pretty sure that that was the night he fell in love with you, and every shift since then had made it worse, or better. He couldn't decide. But seeing you so deflated, staring down at your hands and staying silent instead of telling him about whatever side quest you’d completed that day, it made his stomach twist for an entirely different reason.
“Mhm.” You hummed, giving him a half-hearted nod, not looking up from your hands as you picked at a stubborn piece of skin by your thumb. Travis watched you for a moment before slowly lifting his hand, and placing it over yours. His skin was warm, a little clammy but not uncomfortable. The feeling of his skin against yours sent a tingle through your arm as his fingers gently pried yours away from your other hand. You let go of your thumb and sat back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Travis’s chest panged at the loss of contact, but he sat back again too, still watching you as you refused to meet his gaze.
“You can talk to me. Y’know?” He prompted, his voice tender, not at his usual excitable tone. “I mean, y’dont have to, but I’m a pretty good listener.” He continued, not taking his eyes off you. “S’what the big ears are for.” He gestured upwards towards his ear before shaking his head at his cheap attempt at a self-depricating joke. The short burst of air that you exhaled lightened his eyes a little, relieved that it was good for something. “My therapist keeps sayin’ I should stop talkin’ so bad about myself really.”
“And how’s that going for you?” You muttered, not lifting your eyes from where you were staring at your shoe. Travis smiled when you engaged with him, feeling one step closer to figuring out what had you so distant.
“Oh yeah, really well.” He answered, his tone taking a sarcastic edge. This time when you exhaled sharply, the corner of your mouth lifted ever so slightly. Progress. A moment of silence settled between you, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you chewed on your bottom lip, clearly in the midst of an internal debate, for once, he didn’t involve himself, he just sat with you in the silence as you figured it out yourself.
“I don’t know,” You started, leaning forward to reposition yourself in your chair before leaning back against the backrest again. “I was out with some people last night, and it was just…” You shook your head, glancing to your side before your head tilted, bringing your eyes back down to your shoe. “I was always… left out.” Travis’ eyebrows furrowed slightly as you talked, managing to keep his mouth shut for you to explain what had been plaguing your mind all day. “I was always walking behind everyone else, and no one asked me anything, it was like I wasn't even there. And… I don’t know, I just…” You paused, rubbing at your eye under your glasses. Travis watched, his heart pulsing at the quiver in your voice, the dejected tone that your whole body was projecting. “It just felt like they were all friends and I was just… there.” You said, gesturing with your hands as you continued to stare at your foot. “And the whole night I was just thinking, like… I’ve never been anyone’s best friend.” You said, pausing as the familiar well of emotion bubbled in your chest, biting on the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from spilling over. “I’ve had best friends, but I've never had anyone consider me as theirs… y’know?” You cleared your throat, shifting in your chair and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
Travis didn’t say anything, his eyes dropped to your bag, recalling all the times you’d left your phone out during your shift and it would never buzz, or all the times he asked you what you were going to do after work and you’d just shrugged. His eyes lifted as you wiped your nose on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “I don't know. I’m just in my head a little.” You shrugged, the movement broke Travis’ heart, as if you were trying to play it off, as if it didn’t really matter. He could see it in your face, hear it in your voice that even now, talking to him, you felt like you were bothering him. As if your presence was an inconvenience. He nodded even though you weren’t looking, not wanting to interrupt if you felt like saying more. “Like, if I were to get married I wouldn’t have any bridesmaids… or anyone to come to a bachelorette party or anything.” You mumbled, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands and wiping your nose again as the tears betrayed your instincts and fell over, splashing onto your cheeks. “And I- I just feel like a little kid again wondering why no one wants to be my friend. Why I was always paired with the teacher, or why the other kids only played games where they could run away from me.” The words spilled out of you like an unstoppable damn, like now the sticks were falling away piece by piece. You dropped your elbows to your knees and buried your face in your hands. Travis was out of his seat quicker than he had ever moved in his life, rounding the desk and dropping to his knees by your side. His hand hesitantly lay on your shaking shoulder as you quietly cried, unsure as to whether contact would make things better or worse. It felt so unnatural to see you in this state. You were the one who brought the sunlight into every room you entered, you were the one who could pull him out of his head by giving him silly, random facts that you had found out that day. His hand held onto your shoulder firmer when you didn’t move away. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Your whispered statement had him swallowing hard around a lump in his throat. How could the kindest, most wonderful, brightest person he knew, feel this way about themselves? His thumb pressed into your shoulder softly, massaging slowly as he tried to ground you, to bring you back into the moment, hoping to help you out of your thoughts.
“Hey,” He said gently, his hand sliding up from your shoulder to brush his fingers against your jaw. You lifted your head, and his eyes flicked over your face, over your tired, bloodshot eyes, over your damp cheeks, the way your hair was falling out of the bun you had haphazardly thrown it into. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He said softly, watching your eyes roll and your mouth open to protest. His hand moved up to the side of your neck, his palm against your skin, cutting off whatever you were about to say, and making you take in a sharp breath instead. “You are the coolest person I’ve ever met.” He said, a sincerity bleeding into his tone that you had never heard from him before. “Seriously,” he laughed softly when you tried to turn away, “who else do I know that’ll sit and listen to me talk for hours, and hours, and hours, and-”
“Travis.”
He smiled, but it was something softer than his usual cheeky grin as his eyes wandered over your face again. “You’re kind, and you’re like, super smart. And you bite back at me when I’m getting on your nerves.” He said, his thumb absent-mindedly trailing along your jaw as his eyes flicked between yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you complain, and there’s like… a lot of shit you could complain about here.” His smile returned as you let out another amused exhale, this time while ducking your head, the corners of your mouth lifting, his eyes dropped to your smile, not for the first time, but there was something new about this smile, something easier. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He repeated, his voice dipping a little lower as he caught your eyes again. “You’re the best of the best. Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”
You swallowed thickly, your eyes playing a game of connect-the-dots with his moles as you looked over his face, finally landing on his eyes. “You don’t think I’m weird?” You asked, your voice sounding smaller and more timid than you’d like.
“Obviously I think you’re weird, that's the best thing about you.” He replied, almost having the wind knocked out of his chest by your laugh. It was a sound he had never gotten used to, melodic and loud, and perfect. His eyes dropped to your mouth, he couldn’t help it when you had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, this time though, you caught him. Travis looked back up into your eyes, his cheeks flushing with being caught staring at your lips, but he didn’t look away. His hand stayed against your neck. All the air rushed out of his lungs when your eyes dropped to his mouth too, his tongue instinctively running over his bottom lip. He tentatively leaned in, acting on the impulse he had had since he met you, he watched your eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth and decided it was now or never. His lips met yours faster than you were expecting, you inhaled sharply from the shock, and for one split second, Travis thought he had gotten it all wrong.
But then you melted into him, your eyes fluttered closed, your lips slotted between his, and your hand came to rest on his shoulder. He sighed in half-relief, half-pleasure as his hand slid around the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your loosely-tied hair. His lips were softer than they had looked, and he moved them gently, his nose pressing against your cheek as he kissed you. After a moment, he remembered where he was, and pulled back a few inches, still staying closer than co-workers should, but enough that it could be explained if a manager or customer were to turn up. He watched your eyes flicker open, and your teeth catch your lower lip as his hand dropped from your neck back to his thigh.
“Um… Are you free on Friday?” He asked, his voice still nervous as if you hadn’t kissed him back. You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear as your eyes flicked to the monitor screens to check for anyone who might have turned up. “Great… I’ll, uh… It's a date.” He nodded, as if confirming that this was real to himself, before clearing his throat and stepping back, scratching the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now he had landed a date with the coolest girl he’d ever met.
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 hope we get a very smutty update soon of Piece of Heaven you're fic is my current favorite rn i can't wait for update! how many chapters do you think we will have? :)
I started this chapter intending there to be smut and it turned out sad 😅 it’s in phase one though and I haven’t it run it through the editing stage yet, so that might change! Also I’m not entirely sure because I’m really winging it with this one, I’m hoping 10, but there might be a few more than that!
(Also I lowkey want to rewrite this whole thing, but that might be something that happens down the road 😅)
Author's Note: This is the longest work I've ever written. Proceed with caution.
Your whole life, you've ran.
And when you finally think you've found somewhere to call home, you run from there too.
You're lucky to have a nice family who took you in, but sometimes you need to get away from everything.
So, you settle with a random boathouse near what they call Lover's Lake.
The name fills you with sadness everytime you think about it.
You've barely heard the word love all your life.
Amidst your thoughts, you hear a small crack of movement coming from underneath the blue tarp.
Something or someone lunges at you. You hardly have time to process it because it's fast.
Your hand flashes up in an instant, holding back whatever was charging at you.
You take this opportunity to look at what you've caught.
He's tall and slim with a curly mane and brown eyes. Brown scared eyes. He's holding a broken glass bottle.
You keep your distance with him when you remove your psychic force, and he thuds lightly to the floor.
"What the fuck was that?" Eddie pants.
You wipe the blood from your nose.
"Don't come any closer."
"I couldn't move! What the hell? Are you the one going around doing this because I swear to-"
Eddie retreats at your frightened expression. He realizes he's only being what the town thinks he is. He drops the bottle, and slumps down to the floor.
"I'm sorry, I'm- shit. Just on edge right now. You've probably seen me. On the news or something."
"They think you killed that girl?"
"Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham. Everyone's out to get me. Even her boyfriend, probably. If he ever gave a shit about her. I'm sorry for threatening you, it just seems I'm the most wanted man in town right now."
You slowly walk and kneel in front of Eddie, and pull up your sleeve to show him your tattoo.
003
Eddie looks at it and grins before showing off his.
"You've got to do alot better than that, power girl."
You huff.
"Mine is from a lab. Hawkins Laboratory."
Eddie's brow raises. "I don't follow?"
"My sister was right, boys are stupid."
"Hey-"
"No. The one causing all these murders isn't you. It's... my brother."
"...What?"
"At Hawkins Lab, there's a man we call Papa. He trains us...teaches us how to use our powers. Henry..was first. And he felt tired of being erased amongst the other children. Papa lied and said he didn't exist. Henry is somewhere...committing these crimes. The one's you're being held responsible for."
"Jesus Christ-"
"Don't panic. We will find and exterminate this... monster. And avenge Chrissy."
"You make it sound easy."
You and Eddie both flinch at the sound of a car pulling up. He exclaims from surprise when you lift him and put him under the tarp again. You wipe the blood from your nose again and wait.
The door opens to reveal 5 people who are startled by you.
"Get out."
"Whoa, whoa, we don't want any trouble." Steve says.
"We're here for Eddie. Have you seen him?" Dustin asks.
"Why should I tell any of you?"
"Because we need Eddie to know that we believe he's innocent."
"Name."
"Dustin Henderson."
"Um, Eddie? There's a... Dustin here. And a few others."
Eddie bashfully comes out of the tarp.
"Hey, knucklehead." He noogies Dustin's hair. The others are looking at you with curiosity.
"I just came here to blow off some steam. We tried to kill each other." You shrug.
"Power girl here knows the killer."
"No way." Dustin examines you. "Do you know where he is?"
"No. But I know what he's capable of."
You show everyone your tattoo.
"Holy shit. You're like El."
"El?"
"Long story."
"Papa hasn't stopped...has he?"
Everyone exchanges empathetic looks amongst each other.
"Eddie and I will tell you everything we know."
"Since I'm the man of the hour, I guess I'll start, huh?" Eddie's joke doesn't quite reach him truly. His eyes fall to the floor. He sits down on something and clears his throat.
"Chrissy came over to me after school for a drug deal. I could tell she wasn't normal. She...asked me if I ever felt like I was losing my mind. Then she asked me for...'something stronger'. I didn't have it on me so I brought her back to my place. I left to go look for something I thought would help her. And when I came back she was just... Standing there. It was like something was pulling her head from the inside. I tried to wake her, but she...she was unresponsive. And then, God...her limbs." He shudders. "They...they snapped. No one was even there. And I... I didn't know what to do so I... I ran."
Max looks down at her feet. "I've seen him. He looks... inhuman. He...messes with your mind."
You sit next to Eddie to show him nonverbal support, and you can't help but notice he looks a bit surprised.
"Have you and Eddie had... Visions?"
Eddie shakes his head and runs his palms along his hair.
"I have. And I've been having headaches...lack of sleep...nosebleeds. A totally healthy trio, huh?"
"I could go into you and Eddie's minds. I just need-"
"White noise?" Dustin smiles. "El uses it, too. Or a sensory deprivation tank sometimes."
Dustin reaches into his bag and the others help him set you up with a radio and blindfold.
"Max, I'll do yours first. I want you to close your eyes, and focus. And Eddie? I'll need you to do the same."
Eddie nods, seemingly interested in your abilities.
You close your eyes underneath the blindfold, and tune in to Max's conscious. You see her memories of her at a skate park, even memories of her with her parents.
"Max." You say to yourself, finally uncovering her name.
You tune in to her memories of Billy. You begin to hyperventilate slightly over the memories of him breaking out of the sauna. You switch to her more recent memories, her visions of Vecna.
Your brother doesn't look human anymore. He now looks as monstrous on the outside as he is on the inside. When he inches towards you in Max's memories, your breath hitches.
"Turn it off." You mumble weakly.
Dustin turns it off, and you remove your blindfold.
"I just...need a minute. He didn't look like that the last time I saw him. He looked human. Now he's... Connected to the Upside Down. Those tentacles."
"The Hive Mind. Everything's connected." Robin adds.
"Yes." You finally wipe your nose. Your focus turns to Eddie. "I need to go into your mind, now. I want you to relax. I'm not an intruder. You and I are one. Remember that when you feel me."
Eddie nods in understanding, and closes his eyes.
"I want you to think of happy things, first. It'll ease the process."
You close your eyes once again, and see small Eddie dancing with his mother. Seeing him without a mane makes you smile fondly in adoration.
But as quickly as the happy memories started, they ended.
You witness:
•Eddie dealing with the loss of his mother at such a young age.
•Eddie telling someone who seems to be his father, that he's never around.
•The day that Eddie is dropped off at his uncle's doorstep.
Eddie's memories makes you realize the pure layers he has to him. The way he feels his emotions.
"I need you to think about the last day you saw Chrissy."
Eddie's breathing shudders as if he's going to panic.
"I'm right here. I've got you."
Eddie relaxes as much as he can, and you see everything through his eyes.
"You have a very messy room."
Dustin guffaws until Steve nudges him in his side.
You take note of Eddie's guitar.
"Cool."
You can't see it but Eddie smiles.
Something feels so intimate about reading Eddie's mind. Seeing him in ways others haven't.
You watch him go through multiple drawers, one of them having a Playboy magazine in it. Eddie gulps.
"Really?"
"Forget you saw that-"
Dustin edges on his curiosity. "What did you see?"
"Henderson, I swear-"
"It was a-" you start.
"Nope, nope-" Eddie cuts off.
"APlayboyMagazine-"
Dustin's laugh rings through the boathouse.
"Real smooth, Munson." Robin adds.
You continue through Eddie's memories, and your playful facade changes when you see Chrissy standing there in a trance.
"Chrissy, wake up now!"
Your heart beat pounds. He tried to wake her.
You see her lift off the floor, and the lights of the house flash around her.
Then, comes each nauseating snap of her jaw, limbs, and eventually the bursting of her eyes. You watch Eddie fleeing in fear to his van.
You whimper, then rip off the blindfold. Steve turns off the radio and everyone crowds around you to see if you're okay. Routinely, you wipe your nose.
"You're innocent. You ran because you were scared."
Everyone looks at Eddie.
"That's not what the town thinks. To them I'm just some... satanic freak."
"But not to us."
Eddie looks at you.
"We will find a way. We'll kill him." You say determined.
"We just need to prepare." Nancy chimes in.
"And me?" Eddie asks.
"I'll be... Babysitting you?" You arch a brow.
"Hey, I'm perfectly capable of-"
"I don't want you alone."
"Don't you have people waiting for you?"
You nod.
"We'll come back tomorrow night. If my theory is correct, we're sitting near a gate." Dustin crosses his arms with pride.
"Sounds like a plan." Steve assures.
Everyone besides you begins to collect their things for leaving.
Robin leans down.
"Don't think we've properly gotten acquainted. I'm Robin, and the girlfriendless dork over there is Steve."
"I heard that!"
"And that's Nancy."
You give her a bashful smile. "Thanks." You give her your government name, not the tattooed number on your wrist.
"Make sure Munson doesn't do anything dumb, okay?"
Soon you hear the shutting of the door to the boathouse, leaving you and Eddie alone.
"...Hey, thanks. Feels somewhat better to have someone who knows I'm innocent, now."
You fold under the pressure of his eye contact.
"It was uh...nothing."
"What about you? Any memories you hold dear to you?"
You give it some thought.
"I wouldn't say I hold them dear. I've been poked and prodded at more than I can count...tied down... Punished over and over. All by the man I had to call Papa... And he... He tried to get everyone to kill animals, once. A cat. I can't even look at one without feeling sick."
Eddie's expression is disgusted, yet empathetic. When he notices you starting to spiral, his voice cuts through.
"You know you're okay now, right? I won't hurt you."
You nod. "I know."
Something in Eddie's eyes gives you a portal to his vulnerability.
"Can I...see them again? Your tattoos?"
"Weird way to say you just want me to undress."
Your eyes widen. "No I was saying- I meant-"
Eddie's jacket and vest are off now, giving you an opportunity to look at some of his tats. "Gotcha." He smirks.
You whack him with his jacket sleeve.
"Ouch!" He laughs.
You mindlessly run your fingers across his bats tattoos, and his breath hitches.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No! Just- sorry. It feels nice."
He shows you all of his other easy showing tattoos.
The Puppet Master on his right forearm.
The Wyvern on his right upper arm.
The Spider on his left collarbone.
"I would show you the rest, but those are... confidential."
"Why?"
"It's just a demon tat. But I probably would have to take my shirt off to show you."
"Oh! It's okay, you don't have to-"
You avoid eye contact with Eddie once again.
"You're very shy."
"You're very obnoxious."
"I try my best."
Eddie's smile slowly fades.
"You should go. Wouldn't want your family to be left waiting." He heads back towards the tarp.
"Will you be okay?"
He climbs in, peeping at you while the tarp rests on top of his hair.
"I'll be alright. Just gonna get the sleep I tried to before a pretty girl came in and tried to kill me."
Tomorrow eventually arrives, and you're a little early before anyone else.
The night before, you felt anticipation at the thought of seeing him again.
You knock and announce yourself before entering.
"Eddie?"
You look around for him, but he's not there.
You cautiously decide to check under the tarp, but he's not there either.
Your heart rate spikes.
Did someone get him?
You call out his name again, only to be replied to with the silence of the boathouse.
You look around, and notice that the glass bottle is missing.
Maybe he decided to flee.
You hear a knock on the door, accompanied with bickering and chatter.
You open it, and they can already tell you're worried about something.
"What's wrong?" Steve asks.
"Eddie's not here."
"Where could he be?" Dustin looks as worried as you are.
"Maybe he went ahead. But I've looked everywhere."
"You're coming with us." Steve gives you a small smile.
"Let's hurry."
You all head out to Lovers Lake to test Dustin's theory. You can only hope that Eddie is there.
After following the direction of Dustin's compass, he stops and frowns.
"This thing is really out of wack."
"Because your theory is wrong." Steve crosses his arms.
"Well, that's where you're wrong."
"I know one thing. You're a butthead."
"Says you, block head."
You all hear a sudden thud behind you.
"I concur. You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead."
Dustin runs and hugs Eddie.
Eddie looks at you over Dustin's shoulder. When the hug ends he gives you a nod of acknowledgement.
"Sorry, guys. I got ran out of my little penthouse there. Jason and his boyfriends. One of them...Vecna struck again."
Amidst the silence from everyone, you walk up and punch him in the arm.
"Ow!"
"That's for making me worry, you stupid metalhead."
Eddie puts his hands up in mock surrender.
"My apologies, madam."
"Oh! My compass! Come on!" Dustin's already off.
"Uh, Dustin-" Eddie starts off after him, then everyone else.
Everyone can tell it's been a while because by the time you finally reach Lovers Lake, it's dark out.
Eddie grabs a hold of Dustin by placing his hand on his head to stop him.
"So this is it, huh?"
"Let's see if this knucklehead's little theory is true." Steve prepares the boat.
"Someone's going to need to stay with the kid. We need to make sure Dustin doesn't do anything stupid."
"Stay with the kid?? It's my goddamn theory!"
"You wanna be babysitter, Harrington?" Robin asks.
"Are you sick?"
"Of you? Absolutely."
"I can do it." You offer.
"No. Honestly, we need you." Nancy says.
Robin huffs at Steve's avoidant facial expressions.
"I can stay with the little nerd. Don't pee your pants, Harrington."
"Real funny, Robin."
Eddie gets into the boat first, and offers you his hand once you sit down.
You take it and seat yourself next to him.
He hesitates to pull his hand away immediately. You're almost sure he wouldn't have if you didn't do it first.
Nancy and Steve board the boat, and begin rowing until the compass gives them what they're looking for.
"This is where it should be." Nancy states.
"Seeing as we have the coward here, I guess I'm going in." Steve begins taking off his shirt.
You and Nancy stare at Steve's physique.
Eddie notices you staring and takes off his vest before throwing it at Steve.
"For your modesty, dude."
"You want me to get denim wet?"
"Just put your tits away in front of the ladies, man."
Steve throws his shirt at Eddie.
"Alright. I'm going in."
Steve dives in, and everyone just waits for now.
Nancy hears the walkie go off, and tunes in.
"What's going on?" Robin asks.
"Steve's looking for Dustin's theory, and we will update you momentarily."
You're looking down at your hands, and Eddie notices.
"Are you okay?"
"Just can't believe what I'm capable of."
"You've got this. I doubt you'll even have to look at the Upside Down-"
Steve comes back up for air.
"Dustin was right, he's a genius! The gate is huge."
Everyone cheers.
Until something tugs at Steve's leg. Things go quiet again.
Then another tug, and he's underneath the water.
"Steve!" Nancy says.
"Holy shit!" Eddie stumbles back, nearly falling into the water.
Nancy starts taking off her shoes.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"Just wait here!"
"Nononono-"
Nancy's already gone in after Steve.
"Damn it!" Eddie exclaims.
You also start taking off your shoes. Eddie looks up.
"Oh no, you don't-"
"They could be in trouble! I have the power to help. If you don't want to go, then just stay here with the walkie."
Eddie looks at you looking at him through your lashes. The moonlight bounces off your eyes.
"Hey. Just...be careful, alright? Don't make me come get you."
You smile. "I won't."
You dive into the water, and Eddie sits for a bit. He's already beginning to miss and worry about you.
"Don't be a fool, Munson. Control yourself. She's just a pretty girl with powers. And you are a coward. Who is definitely not about to jump into a lake because you're worried about her-"
"You know we can hear you, right?" Robin tunes into the walkie.
"You know what, fine. I am going, but not because you caught me in the act. And totally not because she's going to be stuck there with a shirtless, rich Harrington!"
(this came out of a conversation in the comments on a previous post about an author threatening to stop updating a fic because of lack of engagement)
So there’s this idea that fic writers should write for themselves and not care too much about stats or engagement,
and i totally get the sentiment behind that. if writing becomes entirely about stats and external validation, something important does get lost - creative freedom and joy, conviction in your own writing
but i also think:
“i write for myself, but i post for others.”
because posting fic is not only self-expression. it’s social. ao3 is called an archive, but emotionally it often functions as a community space.
people post for connection, for participation, for others to bear witness to their pain and trauma and grief,
and i don’t think most people are asking to be admired so much as acknowledged. there’s something deeply human about wanting another person to encounter something that mattered to you and go:
“ok, yeah, I see what you were trying to say. I see you.”
especially because fanfic is often people processing very real feelings through fictional characters at a safe distance, one step removed,
and then uploading that deeply personal thing into a shared archive and hoping somebody else might connect with it.
And i think that’s why it hurts so much when you summon up the courage and post a fic into the void and you get nothing back,
Clingy reader and steve where he loves when she's clingy even in front of the party..
I love ur writinggg
Velcro Hearts
Steve Harrington x clingy!reader 700 words
warnings: fluff, clinginess, dependency,
Steve adores the constant need you have for him, especially when everyone else can see it too
Steve never understood why people always complained about clingy girlfriends. What was there to hate about a girl who loves you so much that she sees something in you no one else saw? Maybe it was because no one has really ever clung to Steve before.
Back in high school, girls liked him, or more so the idea of him—the hair, the name, the popularity. Nobody reached for him without thinking, nobody melted into him without a second thought.
Then you came along.
And suddenly, Steve couldn’t go five minutes without feeling some part of you touching him. Your fingers curled into his sleeves to keep a tight hold on him, your head tucked beneath his chin whenever he sat down, your legs draped across his lap during movie night with the party. Half the time Steve couldn’t move around your place without you trailing after him like a shadow.
“Baby,” he laughed under his breath one late night, glancing back to catch you following him. “You know I’m just getting a glass of water, right? Go back to bed.”
You only rubbed your bleary eyes with a pout, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I can’t.” You mumbled into his soft sleep shirt.
“Why not?” Steve asked, furrowing his brows.
“Because the beds cold without you, and I already missed you.”
Steve nearly dropped the glass in his hand. Every single time. Every damn time you said something like that—a simple yet effective soft confession, his chest did this stupid aching thing.
No one ever looked at him like he held the whole world in his hands.
“Jesus, sweetheart.” He sighed affectionately, turning in your arms to pull you against him properly. “C’mere, baby.”
You smiled immediately, burying your face into his chest as you cocooned yourself soundly, Steve lifting you up to carry you back to the bedroom.
And the way you relaxed the second he touched you? It was a huge difference to people that recoiled away from him, like your body trusted him completely.
“Needy girl,” he teased affectionately, rubbing his hands up and down your back in slow motions.
The nickname stuck after that—his needy girl, and you loved it more than anything. Because you wanted to be his needy girl, to show him that you loved him deep enough for your heart to hurt.
“Needy girl, move over.”
“I love you even more, needy girl.”
“You tired, needy girl?”
And the party had no trouble noticing it immediately, especially Dustin.
“This is actually disgusting.” Dustin looked at you two curled up on the wheelers basement couch with a grimace. “You guys are attached at the hip like some kind of parasite from the upside down.”
Steve didn’t even look up from where he was absentmindedly playing with your fingers, rubbing featherlight touches over your knuckles.
“She likes me.”
Dustin rolled his eyes, groaning. “You’re literally holding her hands while she’s asleep.”
“She can’t sleep when she’s alone.” Steve responded, keeping his gaze on you. Your cheek was smudged against his chest as your hand remained clutched in his own.
“Do you hear how you sound right now? That’s crazy!” Dustin pointed out with disbelief.
“Don’t call my girl crazy.” Steve said almost threateningly, finally glancing upwards to glare at the younger boy.
If there was one thing Steve wouldn’t stand for, it was for anyone who shamed your relationship. There was nothing wrong with being attached to him, the truth was—he loved showing you off like this.
Loved when you sought him out first in a room.
Loved when you automatically climbed into his lap like that was your designated seat.
Loved when your hand reached for his without looking.
He loved that you depended on him. Not because you couldn’t do it yourself, but because you chose him constantly. And he used to be a man who felt replaceable every second of his life, but with you, he only knew what feeling permanent meant.
When the party left that night, you were still half asleep while he lazily stroked your hair.
“Stevie?” You asked.
“Hm?”
“Do you care that I’m clingy?”
Steve stared at you for a moment like the answer was the most obvious one in the world. Then he leaned down, pressing the softest of kisses to your forehead.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin. “You could cling to me forever and I still wouldn’t get tired of it.”
Your face flushed instantly, but his response sounded so genuine, relaxing you until your shoulders sagged.
