Hey do you take requests right now? Really like the stuff you've been writing :))
I had this idea in my mind for a while where Eddie and Reader are best friends, but in love with each other. Eddie just does not get up the courage to ask reader out, even tho several opportunities present themselves (you can write out this part if you want also :)). Then there is a party somewhere and they playing truth or dare with a bigger group of people. And Eddie gets dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room and ofc he wants to kiss the reader, but he doesn't want her to reject him in front of everyone, bc he's sure she'll be disgusted by it. So after a lot of hesitation he just kisses a random other girl (maybe a friend of a friend from out of town or something that he doesn't even know). Bonus points if she's the total opposite of reader, lookswise. And reader can barely keep it together and eventually leaves to get a good cry in one of the bedrooms where someone from the gang finds her and encourages Eddie to go comfort her. Then Fluff!!! I hopw you like the idea, thank you in advance🥰🥰🥰
Thank you so much for this request!! This week has been kind of hellish and writing this was like a respite ;) I hope you like it 💗!!
A Spark (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)
Word count: 2.8k
Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (Eddie is tipsy at the end; Reader does not partake), angst angst angst, some fluff, insecurities, kissing, so many curse words oh my god (I think that’s all, but please let me know if I missed anything!)
I do not consent to my work being uploaded on any other platforms, translated, nor copied.
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“Doesn’t it ever bother you,” you ask, “how every winter here is the same?”
For Eddie, every winter meant this. It meant you curled into him for warmth, playing absentmindedly with the frayed ends of his sweater.
Eddie would spend the rest of his winters — every single one until he was gone — like this if he could.
But he hummed in agreement, anyway, because a winter that didn’t lay two feet of snow on the trailer’s roof or freeze him to his frail bones would be nice.
You continued, “If you could change one thing, what would it be?”
The entire night, he had been wishing that you would be curled up to him and mean it. That he could kiss you like his lips longed to. That you would stay the night and let him wake up to you the next morning, if only to begin the day with your eyes.
He could tell you all of that now as you look up at him with your tired eyes and your soft smile. He could tell you.
But instead, what comes out of his smirking mouth is “I would get you some real sweaters so you stop stealing all of mine,” because he can’t risk losing you. (But for the most part, he just wants to hear your laugh.)
And you do. You nuzzle your head into his shoulder, letting him feel your warm breath against his neck as you laugh. He laughs with you, into your hair, as he strokes your back, discretely bringing you nearer.
Yeah, he would have to be an exceptional fool to risk this. To risk you.
Your laughter teeters away into small giggles, but in Eddie’s chest was a spark, aching to make you laugh again, to become a fire. So he digs his fingers into your waist, and you screech.
He keeps going and going, though, tickling you until tears spilled onto your cheeks.
“Please, stop!” You scream, laughing. You try to push him away, but your hands are weak against him. “Eddie!”
You laughed and laughed, and Eddie’s chest felt full.
It was a fire that swallowed him whole, loving you. It was a fire that he happily let engulf him.
He finally stopped his tickling when he was hovering over you, his knee planted between your legs and his hands coming to rest beside your head to support his weight. He can feel your chest against his as it rose with your catching breath.
You smile up at him like you always do, like it’s the first time in your whole damn life that you’ve ever smiled. He smiles back, wide and dazed.
He brings his fingers to your cheek, wiping a few residual tears that spilled from your fluttering eyes. Your skin was as warm as them. If he didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought they were flushed.
He kept his hand there, letting his palm cup your cheek. His breath caught as you leaned into his touch, only slightly.
For a long time, he could only hear his quickening heartbeat and your bated breath, and he just kept starting at you, doing nothing. Because you would run as fast as your feet could take you from him if you knew the truth. You would kill him.
But he wanted so much.
“Eds?” you whisper quietly, as if you’re scared to break the moment.
It shook him from his thoughts, and he realized how uncomfortable you must be in this position. Him, hovering over you, this damn close. You weren’t his. He can’t look at you like that.
He clears his throat and lifts himself from you. He ignores the aching hollowness in his chest.
He didn’t see how you chased after his touch, or how you quickly righted yourself, biting your cheek at the hollowness carving inside of you, too.
You both sat rigid. You didn’t look at each other. Didn’t say anything.
The silence was painfully loud.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled eventually. He hung his head in his hands, embarrassed. “I—”
“I should go,” you said, a bitterness on your tongue. You stood, gathering your things so quickly that Eddie was dizzy from watching you.
“I thought you were going to stay until Wayne got back.” He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward and quiet. “It’s colder when you’re not around.”
You shook your head as you put your coat on. “Sorry. I, uhm, remembered that I was supposed to call Robin later. She needed help with . . . uh, something.”
Shit.
He shouldn’t have stared for as long as he did. He shouldn’t have been greedy, trying to make you laugh like that. You’re weirded out. You’re running.
He was too risky.
He’s going to let you run for now, just until you forget any of it ever happened. That he ever looked at you like that. Touched your cheek.
He did that a lot, pretending that he wasn’t always on the verge of pouring his heart out. He got this close once before, after a Hellfire session, you sat on his throne as you watched him clean up.
“A lot of help you are,” he teased.
You giggled, his heart skipped a beat.
“Shut up. You love me.”
He smiled fondly at you. “Yeah, I do,” he said without much thought.
And then he hated himself.
Your eyes widened. Your grin faltered. “What?” you asked.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Well. You know. I-I love all of my Hellfire sheepies.”
He missed the way you caved into yourself. “Oh.” you said, and he was in the clear. He let out a bellowing sigh of relief.
It’s moments like that, where you’re on the verge of rejecting him, your eyes wide with fear, that keep him up at night. That keep him from ever telling you.
He may never forget moments like those. But he can pretend they never happened.
“Tell Robin I said good luck with her ‘something,’” he mutters, watching sadly as you stumbled trying to put your shoes on.
“Yeah, okay.” You couldn’t even look at him.
You’re pushing open the door when he rushes to ask you, “What would you change?”
You stop in the doorway, a gust of cold wind hitting your cheeks.
With all the strength you can muster, you say, “Not a lot, Eddie. Forget it. It was just wishful thinking.”
You’re halfway down the steps of his trailer before he can ask what you mean.
He turns to look out his window, watching you walk to your car. On a normal night - a night that he didn’t fuck everything up - he would’ve walked you out there, but he didn’t want to overstep more than he already had.
He could have sworn he saw you wipe a tear as you drove away, but he was probably imagining things.
Turning back to his living room, Eddie placed his palm on his side, clinging to your lingering warmth. It was quickly growing colder.
***
Eddie hates this stupid fucking game.
It doesn’t help that the room is spinning from how many drinks he’s had, but seeing you tonight, looking so fucking beautiful, was too much to take sober. Even then, though, Eddie would be just as sick.
He knew this would happen, too. He told Gareth No, get off my ass a million times. He didn’t want to play.
But then, Gareth told him, “Listen, I don’t care what you do, but she’s the one that asked me to come and find you. She wants you to play.”
That’s when Eddie’s heart stuttered. “She does?” he asked.
“Dude, seriously. You aren’t even this helpless in Mr. Olsen’s class and you’ve flunked it three times.”
Eddie flicked Gareth’s forehead.
He looks to the other side of the room, to the circle where you sat, waiting for the game to start. You were nodding along to Robin’s story, your brows cinched and your lips in a small grin.
His chest burns.
With a sigh, Eddie said, “Fine. I’m in.”
When he sat down next to you, clueless to the catastrophic mistake he was making, he felt so grounded yet so light. He felt so much around you.
You had leaned into him, whispering, “I’m sorry. I know you hate stuff like this, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t make you admit to knowing all the words to Like A Prayer.”
He felt so warm, and he knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol. You were hazy in his unfocused eyes, but he could still see you. That’s all that ever mattered.
“Uh, yeah. Because you play it on a relentless loop in the van.” He laughed. “You have such little concern for my bleeding ears.”
“Fine. Then I’ll get you to admit that you actually do like a few Tears for Fears songs. And I hardly ever play those.”
He hummed. “You’re real hellbent, little devil, but I only pick dare.” He nudged your arm with his, falling slightly into you. “Only you’ll ever know all my secrets,” he said.
You smiled at him, and everything was right. Everything was good. Everything was perfect.
But you weren’t smiling anymore.
Gareth stares at Eddie expectantly, almost like he’s doing him a favor with this dare.
“Kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” Gareth dared him, a snarky grin stretched across his cheeks.
Eddie wants to kill him.
Eddie looks over at you, naturally, without a second thought. Of course you’re the prettiest girl in the room. To him, you’re everything.
When he meets your eyes, there’s that spark in his chest, crying out again. You’re wide-eyed and almost scared. You’re just as petrified as he was, but he’s not sure why.
He almost leans in. His hand twitches with the urge to cup your jaw. His lips part as he runs his tongue over them.
No.
He can’t risk you. He just can’t.
His heart aches as he turns away from you, it aches and it flares and it sizzles. His eyes find the girl to his other side, and they stay there. She grins and he misses your smile.
She is everything you aren’t, so she was nothing Eddie wanted.
Yet he kisses her.
She tastes of bubblegum candy drowned by cheap drinks and he hates it. He resists cringing.
He shuts his eyes tightly as he keeps kissing her, willing himself to be anywhere but here. He envisions that he’s back with you, you in his arms. That everything was okay again.
He opened his eyes, and the room was so quiet that Eddie could only hear his regret.
Gareth stared at him as if he had just told him that Ozzy died, and when he turned to find you, you were gone. You’d ran away.
Eddie feels all of the eyes on him as he stands, his balance still wavering, walking hurriedly through the house.
He didn’t risk anything.
He didn’t kiss you.
He didn’t risk anything.
He can’t find you and everything is still spinning.
He didn’t risk anything.
So why does it feel like everything has changed?
A hand wraps around his forearm, tugging Eddie into the hallway. He grunts as his back meets a wall but he’s quickly silenced by Robin’s heated stare.
“You’ve been making her cry a lot recently, Munson,” she says, venomous.
His brows scrunch together. “What are you—?”
“I truly have no clue how you’ve managed to survive this long.” She huffed. “Just stop being a dingus, dingus. I’m serious. Go in there before I claw your eyes out. And then mine.”
She takes him by the shoulders and spins him around. He thinks he may never drink again. He heard Robin walk away as he stares at the closed door now in front of him. He can hear you quietly through the door. You’re crying softly.
He swallows. Hard.
He brings his hand to wrap around the doorknob, and it’s shaking.
Everything is changing, and Eddie can’t understand why.
Maybe you had the answer.
The door opens with a creek as he steps gently inside. You look up from your place on the edge of a bed when he closes it, your sniffles ceasing.
The moonlight from the window pours onto your tears, and your eyes light up with them. Fuck, your eyes.
He’s not sure what comes over him when he asks, his voice just quiet enough so that if this goes wrong, he can pretend like he never said it, “. . .Who should I have kissed out there?”
You hear him, anyway. You laugh wetly, neither of you are sure exactly why. Your gaze turns to the floor. He misses your eyes immediately.
“Last night,” you say, disregarding his question, “you had this look, like. . . like you were going to do something.”
He smiles at the memory of your laughter. Everything was okay last night.
“I did do something. I think I almost made your lungs collapse—”
“No, Eddie.” There’s a coldness to your tone. A sharpness. “I thought—” You sighed, a new wave of tears roaring onto your cheeks. “I thought you were going to kiss me last night.”
“Should I have kissed you?”
“Did you want to?”
He scoffs lightly. Slowly — carefully — he steps closer to you, sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. He’s so close that his thigh presses to yours.
He can feel the spark in his chest again.
“Of course I wanted to kiss you.” His voice is as shaky as his hands. He almost wants to sew his lips shut, but he takes another look at your tears and he can’t hold it back anymore.
“But, fuck, sweetheart,” he continues. “What if— What if it changes everything? I have everything I want. I mean, Jesus H. Christ. I have you.”
He didn’t really know what he was saying, but he knew it was going to change everything. But what could he do? He was a little bit drunk and he was so in love with you. God, he’s so in love with you.
“Everything is perfect how it is,” he says, “even if it’s painful. Because it’s. . . it’s you.”
You smile sadly. “You’re not making much sense, Eds.”
“Yeah? Well, you tend to do that to me.” He brings his fingers to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Make me all stupid so I make an ass out of myself.”
“You do that yourself,” you tease.
“No way, sweetheart.” He laughs. “You torment me. Make me play Truth or Dare and make me listen to Madonna. I mean, fucking Madonna. Christ.”
You laugh with him. His jaw drops, feigning shock. “And you enjoy doing torturing me, apparently,” he says.
He gestures to your agreeing smile. But he sees it tinge with something sadder. You both stop laughing, but your smiles stay.
You put your hand in his and say, “You know, you’re not going to lose me. Even when everything changes.” You intertwine your fingers with his, and he releases a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He didn’t know that. If he’d known that, he would’ve made things different a long time ago.
“I should’ve kissed you,” he says.
You tsk. “Because you actually wanted to kiss me or because I’m crying and now you’re pitying me?”
He doesn’t even have to think about it: “Because you’re the prettiest girl in every room, and I always want to kiss you.”
He hears your breath hitch, and he thinks it might be his new favorite sound. You smile up at him, and Eddie’s chest is blazing.
“Can you wait a little longer?” you ask.
His mouth grows a confused grin. “Why would I when I have you here all to myself?”
“Because that sounds super creepy, creep.” You giggle. “And because you’re tipsy.”
“Fine, fine,” he says. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
And he would. He really would.
A few moments later, you can’t help yourself, and you quietly mumble, “And because we should wait until your breath doesn’t smell like that other girl’s lipstick.”
Eddie groans and throws himself backwards onto the bed, covering his face in shame. “Ah, she’s gonna make me grovel. My confessions of years pain and suffering weren’t enough to woo her.”
“Shut up,” you scold lovingly, pushing him half heartedly. “You love me.”
“Yeah,” he says, meaning it. “I do.”
He gently tugs you to lay down with him and brings his arm around your shoulders, guiding you into his chest. You rest your head there, closing your eyes.
In his chest, the spark becomes a flame, the flame becomes a wildfire, and he is once again engulfed.
His fire swallows you, too. And you let it. You burn together as he kisses your forehead, letting his lips rest there for awhile.
And when he wakes up to your eyes the next morning, in his bed, in his trailer, in the middle of another cold, unchanging winter, he kisses you with a soft, half asleep hunger, and he knows he would risk it all — let everything change — if it meant this. If it meant you.
I think I could’ve done a bit more for this, but I’m actually kind of proud of it. (That might be the first time I’ve ever said that.) Again, thank you so much for this request. It was so fun to write 💗
Eddie fluff idea: Eddie keeps trying to convince Dustin to let him date his sister (Dustin is an over protective little brother)
i love this! after chemistry i was thinking about writing a henderson!sister series bc omg the possibilities are endless, but alas bestie, your wish is my command.
---------------------
"Dusty, c'mon we gotta get going," you called out from the corner of the drama room. It was 5:30 and the sun was starting to set.
You'd done some studying for your algebra 2 and US history classes in the library while waiting for Dustin to finish at Hellfire Club.
"Dusty," some of the other boys snickered.
You walked further into the room, letting the stage lights fall upon your skin. As soon as the other boys saw you, they shut their mouths. It was all fun and games to tease Dustin for the dorky nickname his family had for him, until they saw it come out of the mouth of his hot older sister.
You jut your hip to the side and swiveled your keychain around your finger, "Playtime's over buddy, c'mon."
Dustin scoffed, "Ugh, Y/N we're in the middle of something."
From the head of the table, Eddie sat on his throne and cleared his throat, "Gentlemen."
He scanned his gaze across the myriad of boys seated across the table before landing on you.
"The lady is right. I implore we call for a recess. The game shall reconvine at a later date."
"A recess?" "What?" "Ugh." Are a few of the comments that erupt from across the table.
You sweetly smiled at Eddie, "Thanks Eddie."
Eddie softly smiled and gave you a curt nod.
"C'mon Dusty, let's go."
****
"Dude your sister seriously ruined Hellfire Club yesterday," Gareth glares at Dustin at lunch the next day.
Dustin shrugs and shakes his head, "I know, but she's my only ride man."
"Eddie can just take you home, right Eddie?"
Dustin looks over to Eddie curiously.
Eddie is lost in thought, gazing out onto the rows of tables along the cafeteria. Searching until his eyes land on her. He fidgets with the handle of the little black tackle box as a variety of imaginary scenarios with her runs through his mind
"Eddie," Dustin shouts. He glares at him and claps his hands together.
Eddie shakes his head, "Huh."
"Could you give me a ride home? On days we have Hellfire Club?" Dustin sassily demands.
Eddie scrunches his face. "Why?"
Number 1, Eddie was no ones chauffer, and number 2, Dustin's sister only ever came over when she was about to take Dustin home.
"Because if I get a ride from my sister then I can't stay as long."
Eddie almost wants to decline the offer. No way would he pass up the opportunity to see Lady Henderson, even if it's only for a few minutes a week.
But then a lightbulb goes off in his head.
"You know what Henderson? I'll do you one even better. I'll give you a ride whenever you want," Eddie offers.
Dustin's eyes brighten and he smiles from ear to ear, "Really?"
"Really," Eddie nods sarcastically. "Anytime, anywhere. If..."
"Whatever you want man," Dustin smiles, elated at having his own reliable car service that wasn't his sister or Steve.
"You said it," Eddie grins devilishly at Dustin.
"Wait," Dustin asks, thrown off by Eddie's grin. "What do you want?"
"Oh, I think you know what I want," Eddie smirks.
"Oh no. No. No, Eddie. A million times no. Over my dead body," Dustin slams the table with open palms.
"C'mon, Henderson. What's the harm?"
"She's my sister," Dustin shivers.
"Just one date," Eddie coyly pleads.
"No way man, I'm not prostituting my sister."
Michael shoves Dustin, "Oh, but when it's your sister its not so easy to prostitute her then, huh?'
"What are you talking about Mike?"
"Remember Keith, from the arcade?"
"You're still not over that?" Dustin rolls his eyes.
"I'm just saying," Mike shrugs.
"Dude, c'mon take it as a compliment," Eddie reasons, "Your sister is really cool and smoking hot."
Dustin shrieks, momentarily earning glances from students at nearby tables, "Noooo. No way. Gross, that is my sister you're talking about. No way in hell."
****
"Hey mom, a few friends and I are going to the movies this weekend," Dustin calls out to his mom later that night.
"Oh that's sweet. What movie are you boy going to watch," Dustin's mom asks as she lays his dinner plate in front of him.
"Nightmare on Elm Street 2," Dustin says cheerfully.
You look at him across the table with a quirked up eyebrow. That's a rated-R movie. No doubt him and the Hellfire Club will try sneaking in to watch it.
"Oh, that sounds like a scary movie," Dustin's mom chirps as she serves your plate next.
"Yeah, but I can handle it," Dustin says confidently.
"Who else is going?'
"Well, so far it's me, Mike, Jeff, and Eddie."
"I see, well, maybe your sister should tag along too."
You nearly choke on your water. You look up at your mom, "What?"
"Yeah, I don't know if it's such a good idea that he goes alone to see such a scary movie."
"Mom, I'm in high school now and I'm going with like five other people."
"I know Dusty Bun, but I worry about you. It'll give me peace of mind if your sister goes with you."
"Mom, Dustin's right, he's a little too old for a babysitter, don't you think?"
"Y/N, you're going with your brother, that's final."
****
"Dustin, my car my music, remember?"
You whined as you changed the radio station from the brash rock one to the bright top 40 one.
"Y/N that music is garbage and you know it," Dustin complains as you drive along main street.
"Well then I happen to like garbage, thank you very much. And you used to like it too. What happened? Did Hellfire Club teach you to hate good music?"
Dustin scoffs, "I'm just saying, there's way better music out there."
"Oh yeah, says who?" You comment and reach a hand out to ruffle Dustin's curls.
"Hands off the mane please," Dustin whines, "And Eddie Munson says that's who."
You roll your eyes. "Well I beg to differ."
You want to argue further, but you've just arrived at the megaplex movie theater. You already regret coming and you haven't even managed to sneak into the viewing yet.
You park the car and see a few of the boys already gathered in front of the movie theater.
You and Dustin climb out of the car and head over.
The boys are laughing and lost in conversation till Eddie spots you and nearly does a double take.
He plays it cool and says, "Do my eyes deceive me or am I seeing double the Henderson today?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't cream your pants," you annoyedly respond.
"Ooh," the other boys taunt Eddie, making an ever so subtle blush appear on his cheeks.
"My mom made me bring her," Dustin sullenly explains.
"Uh, I was the one bringing you here, Dustin, don't forget it."
"How can I?" Dustin rolls his eyes.
Eddie carefully eyes Dustin and you. He was shocked to see you here, but now, it's like the universe is on his side. No way does this count as a date, but he'll never pass up time to spend with you.
"What do you say sweetheart? Shall we," Eddie grins.
You roll your eyes and hide the smile threatening to form on your lips.
"Yeah," you nod and start heading inside, grateful none of the other boys witnessed the interaction.
The plan was to buy tickets for a different, not R-rated movie that was playing and then actually go to the theater playing Nightmare on Elm Street 2.
So, you paid for your and Dustin's tickets while the other boys paid for theirs.
The group of you gathered in line for the concession stand, nearly clearing them out for all the popcorn, candy, and soda they had.
When it was time to head to the ticket stand, the young boy around your age checking tickets nearly froze when he saw you. The tips of his ears began turning red and he struggled to move his facial muscles to form a shy smile.
"Hi," you smiled and greeted nonchalantly. "We're here to see, um, Rocky IV?"
The young boy nodded and blinked profusely, beads of sweat starting to form at the nape of his neck.
"G-g-go on ahead," he word vomitted.
You gave him your flirtiest smile, "Thanks."
You ushered the boys to go ahead of you, leaving Eddie by your side behind the group. making your way to the theater.
"I think you practically gave that kid a boner," Eddie whispered to you.
"What," you squealed, feeling a blush creep onto your own cheeks. "What hell dude? Gross."
Eddie laughs, "Seriously, you could've told him we were watching any movie and I think he would've let you through."
"Well we're in the clear now, aren't we Munson?"
Eddie's heart practically beams at you calling him by his last name. And he feels like the luckiest boy in the room getting to sit next to you in the crowded theater, with Dustin on the other edge of the row.
You have to admit, you found Eddie to be attractive. You have even before Dustin became friends with him. But once that happened, you had no choice but to see him as your baby brother's best friend and were sure he only saw you as his best friend's sister.
But it didn't hurt hear Eddie's husky voice or getting to look into his pretty brown eyes.
And it was an unexpected by welcomed heat in your belly when Eddie would lean over and whisper into your ear during certain parts of the movie to make a comment or joke.
And much to Eddie's enjoyment, anytime there was an especially scary part, you instinctively would hide your head into his shoulder.
"Sorry," you apologized the first time it happened. "That scene was just--"
"It's okay," Eddie warmly smiled at you. "You don't have to be scared with me."
"I'm not... scared, " you lied and Eddie could see right through you, but he let you save face.
"Sure, but if you ever do get scared--"
You shrieked at the next scene hid your face in his shoulder again, this time, placing a soft hand to his chest.
You looked up at him, the light of the screen illuminating his warm eyes.
He smiled back at you, "It's okay."
You nodded and right as you turned to face forward and watch the movie, Eddie snaked his arm around you, letting his hand rest along your shoulder.
You bit your lip, but couldn't resist the temptation to lean into his touch, slightly snuggling into the warmth of his body.
Eddie looks down at the crown of your head. He smiles to himself and feels a warmth in his chest.
If things keep going like this, he doesn't think he'll have to worry about asking Dustin if he can date his sister for much longer.
1. eddie-bears bc it sounds like teddy bear and it’s so cute and slay
2. munson-burners which only works if you know what a bunsen burner is but it gives woman in stem which i am and it’s fun (i’ve also received a vote for this one already)
3. eddelicious that goes without saying bc i want to bite him 😋
the simplicity and loveliness of laying with eddie <333
*could be read as an alternative ending to this blurb
***
the moon hangs full and bright in the sky, you have a perfect view of it’s sparkling face through the half open curtain in eddie’s room. it’s quiet except for the hum of crickets just outside—singing their nighttime song in the overgrown grass—and the gentle, wonderful thump of eddie’s heart beating in his chest. everything in his room glows a delightful, warm orange from the christmas lights you’d helped him—ogled at him while he hung them himself, really—string up in his room earlier in the day.
there’s also the slight flickering light of the scented candle he lit on his bedside table; the room smells of warm cookies. he’d insisted on lighting it to rid the room of the scent of cigarettes and weed and also because it’s kinda romantic, too, isn’t it? because despite appearances, eddie is a softie and the biggest romantic you’ve ever met.
you play with his hand that lays on his naked chest while your head rests right above his heart. the sound of his beating heart is still such a relief to you, such a comfort, even after so long. you don’t want to think about why that is though, so you focus on his hands. eddie has such nice hands and they look so pretty when he paints his nails. well, actually, you painted them today—a dark blue colour, and you’re rather proud of how clean they look; no smudging around his skin or cuticles.
it’s late november and wayne hasn’t gotten around to fixing the heater yet, but eddie acts as your own personal furnace as you curl closer to him, and he pulls you closer still by the arm he has around your shoulders.
this is the most perfect moment, you think. the second you do, you feel a little silly because there’s nothing inherently special about this specific moment. but for some reason it’s just special in its own right; maybe because you’re with your favourite person in the whole world, and you’re laying with him, and things feel so simple and so easy.
neither of you have spoken for several minutes, in a post-coital state of sleepiness; not so much that you’re exhausted enough to fall asleep, but enough that you feel relaxed and maybe a tad giddy. but suddenly, you feel the desire to express some sort of gratitude or love for him because being here with eddie right now feels ridiculously lovely.
“would it-would it be corny of me to say that i wish we could stay in this moment forever?” you say, tracing soft patterns over his stomach.
eddie huffs a quiet laugh through his nose and thumbs at your chin so you meet his eyes.
“it would be very corny,” eddie decides, smiling like you’ve said what he was thinking. “but you haven’t really said it yet, so it doesn’t count.”
“oh, those are the rules now?” you tease, probably with the most lovesick look on your face.
“those are the rules now,” eddie repeats definitively, a certain cadence to the sentence present that indicates that he’s saying silly things just to say silly things.
“okay.”
a beat of silence marked by a loud whoosh of wind outside that rustles the trees, and then:
“i wish we could stay in this moment forever,” he says, his tone genuine.
you nuzzle further into his chest, smiling to yourself. a joyful, completely happy feeling rises in your chest because it’s always such a wonderful thing to be reminded that your love for him is reciprocated in near exact amounts—though eddie claims he loves you more quite adamantly when you tell him you love him.
“you’re right,” you agree. “that was corny.”
eddie laughs shortly again, then gently pulls you into the sweetest kiss; not too chaste that you can’t enjoy it for a moment—in fact, you hear yourself involuntarily sigh into his mouth—and just enough passion that it makes you a little dizzy in the best way.
that kiss snuffed out any teasing left on your tongue, as you blink blearily up at him and confess, “i love you, eddie”
the smallest smile plays on his lips before he says, “i love you more.”
Hi I loved your pint of view one shot!! I don’t know if you take suggestions or requests.
But I was wondering if you’d write another one like that except it’s like the 5 times Hermione witnessed Draco and the reader… doing some type of yk. Like in 7th year in the hallway in point of view ??
hi sweet anon! i really appreciate your ask, however, i don’t think i’d be able to do your request. i’ve unfortunately been in a bit of a writing slump and i don’t see my self writing for draco again any time soon (unless i spontaneously decide to pick up one of the WIPS i have at the moment). i don’t want to say never, but i would hate to have you get your hopes up just for me to leave your request in the dust (because that is what will most likely happen). i’m really sorry :(
☆ Summary: The moment you share together, snuggled between the bedsheets and wrapped up in each other’s early morning affections, is light and warm and everything Christmas morning is supposed to be
☆ Warnings: mentions of food (hot chocolate) alluded to pregnancy, reader and draco celebrate christmas
☆ Summary: The moment you share together, snuggled between the bedsheets and wrapped up in each other’s early morning affections, is light and warm and everything Christmas morning is supposed to be
☆ Warnings: mentions of food (hot chocolate) alluded to pregnancy, reader and draco celebrate christmas
☆ Summary: The moment you share together, snuggled between the bedsheets and wrapped up in each other’s early morning affections, is light and warm and everything Christmas morning is supposed to be
☆ Warnings: mentions of food (hot chocolate) alluded to pregnancy, reader and draco celebrate christmas
Soft flurries of snow are falling from the winter sky, dancing in the wind and landing delicately on the ground outside of the Malfoy’s apartment on Christmas morning. Draco wakes up gradually, the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair lulls him out of his slumber, and he turns his head towards you, grey eyes still droopy and a lazy smile pulling at his lips.
You giggle, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on his lips before you pull away, still stroking his silky locks and brushing them away from his face. “Merry Christmas, handsome.”
Draco gives a content sigh, nuzzling into your embrace for a moment longer, and begins to pepper kisses up the expanse of your arm until he arrives at your cheek and whispers against the rosy skin, “Merry Christmas, my love.”
Your smile is beaming, and the moment you share together, snuggled between the bedsheets and wrapped up in each other’s early morning affections, is light and warm and everything Christmas morning is supposed to be.
Draco gets up first, rolling out of bed and shuffling around the room as he shrugs on a clean button-up. He looks over to you — his wife — who is still laying in bed, and sends a cheeky wink when he catches you watching him get dressed.
“Want me to wake him up?” He asks, still doing up the buttons on his shirt while giving you a knowing look.
Immediately, you groan, bringing your hands to your face, and fall back into the plush pillows behind you. “Yes please,” you mumble from behind your hands and peek between your fingers to see Draco laughing and walking over to your side of the bed before he leans down and presses another kiss to your head. You bring your hands down and cross them in front of your chest, staring at your husband with a pout on your lips. “He never makes a fuss with you, I don’t get it.”
Draco only laughs harder, pulling away with a smug grin on his face, and makes his way to the door. “I can’t help that he likes me better,” he says from the doorway with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He receives a whine in response, and he sends you one last smile before he leaves the room and walks down the hall in sock-clad feet.
He’s quiet as he approaches the nursery, opening the door slowly, and padders over to the crib. He ducks his head under the mobile and is met with the sight of his sleepy little baby, blond hair askew at the top of his head and a tiny thumb sucked into his mouth. Draco wants to take a second to admire him, let him sleep peacefully for a little while longer; but it’s Christmas Day and there are presents underneath the tree, and he just can’t wait to spoil his favourite boy.
He brings his hand down, fingers gingerly brushing against the fabric of the infant’s pyjamas and tickling his tummy. A gurgle escapes from the back of his son’s throat before he wakes up, eyes fluttering open and little mouth parting to release his first cry of the day.
But then he sees Draco, baby blue eyes meeting sterling silver, and instead of crying, he lets out a happy squeal, kicking his feet under his blanket, and flashes his daddy a very gummy smile.
“Hey Scorp,” Draco grins down at him, scooping him up in the air and holding him out at arm’s length.
Drool is already beginning to collect at Scorpius’s mouth as he continues to babble nonsense, and Draco takes the time to look him over, finally noticing the attire you had chosen to dress him in the previous night. “What in Salazar’s name was she thinking,” he grumbles, already walking towards the changing table with the baby still in his arms.
“Da!” Scorpius squirms in his hold, reaching out and making grabbing motions with his fists in an attempt to snuggle up against his father, but before he even gets close, Draco has him lying down on the table, a set of more appropriate jammies in his hand.
When he finishes changing the baby, he holds him up again, admiring his work, and then Scorpius is at it again, closing and reopening his fists and calling out to his father. “Dada! Dada!”
And it warms Draco’s heart really, how much Scorpius loves him. He wants to shower him in all of the love he never knew when he was a child, the love that only his wife, his soulmate could show him existed. Draco smiles warmly down at the babe once more, giving in to his insistent requests, and cradles his body against his chest, tucking his little blond head into his neck.
Walking out of the nursery is easy, Scorpius is quiet and content in his daddy’s embrace, and Draco holds him tightly as he makes his way to the family room where the fireplace is roaring, the Christmas lights are twinkling, and the crystal ornament shining in glittering letters of ‘baby’s first Christmas’ is hanging from the tree.
“What is he wearing?” You walk into the room, brows furrowed and holding two mugs of marshmallow hot chocolate in your hands as you take in your sleepy son, little arms and little legs all bundled up in a dark green onesie.
Draco cranes his neck to look down at Scorpius, and when he’s met with a very happy baby smiling back at him, he leans down to press little kisses to the crown of his head before he looks back at you and answers, simply, “Pyjamas.”
You scoff, bending down to put the mugs on the table, and come back up, eyes narrowed sceptically and hands resting on your hips. “What happened to the ones I dressed him in last night?”
“The red and gold ones?” Draco waves you off. “They were ghastly, surely you didn’t think I was going to let our son frolic around on Christmas morning dressed as a bloody Gryffindor.”
“They weren’t Gryffindor related! They were festive!” You squeak, and Scorpius has taken to teething on the collar of Draco’s shirt.
“Well, these are festive too,“ he gestures to the green cotton onesie. “And if you ask me, I think the green suits him more anyways.”
Scorpius makes a sound of agreement, humming around the fabric in his mouth, and your expression softens as you walk over to your little family, cupping your husband’s cheek and stroking his skin softly. “You’re very lucky I love you.” And then you’re pulling the baby out of Draco’s grasp, shushing him soothingly when he makes a wail of protest.
“I know my sweet boy, I know,” you cradle him just as Draco had been doing before, “It’s still early for you, I know, but it’s your first Christmas, and mummy and daddy have so many presents for you.”
There’s a pout resting on Draco’s lips as he watches you take the baby, and he chases after you, trailing behind like a lost puppy as you head toward the tree. “I hope you don’t plan on hogging him all day,” he plops down on the floor, right amongst the sea of gifts, “He’s my son too, you kn—“
You plant yourself right in his lap, snuggling into his chest and bouncing Scorpius in your arms. He goes soft immediately, his own arms snaking around your waist and peering over your shoulder to look at your little bundle of joy, giggling and squealing with delight. You lean back, angling your head to look up at him, “Better?” You ask.
He nods, agreeing, “Better,” and gives you a kiss on the cheek.
It isn’t even an hour later when wrapping paper is littering the floor, new toys are flooding the room, and a bright green dragon, plush and bigger than Scorpius’ little body is clutched between his chubby hands.
You’ve left the room, gone to fetch “just a little surprise” for Draco, who is currently lying on the floor, squeezing and tickling his son’s little clothed feet. When you come back in, you’re holding a small, lidded box, all wrapped up in a sparkling fennel bow. He takes it from you curiously, one of his fine brows arched as he looks back and forth between the small parcel in his hand and the woman standing across from him.
“I thought we said no gifts…?”
Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you bring clasped hands up to your mouth to hide your excitement. “I know,” you say gently, “but this one didn’t cost a thing.”
And under any other circumstance, he’s sure he wouldn’t open it, too filled with pride to accept a present from his wife when he himself is empty-handed. But as you stare at him expectantly, eyes shining brighter than the star at the top of the tree, he realizes he doesn’t feel guilt at all. All he feels is love.
Shooting you one last glance to which you nod her head encouragingly, he begins to pull at the ribbon, unravelling the bow completely before he moves on to the lid of the box. He’s not really sure what he’s expecting, but when his eyes make contact with the white stick sitting atop the plush tissue paper, he all but freezes into place because two pink lines are staring at Draco Malfoy right in his perfectly sculpted face.
There’s a pregnant pause, and though it's cliche, no other word could describe it so perfectly. Draco’s mouth is parted with awe when he looks up and there are already tears in your eyes as you kneel to the floor in front of him, Scorpius pulled into your lap, and a bashful grin stretching across your cheeks.
“You’re pregnant?” It comes out choked, his bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly.
After transferring Scorpius to one arm and using the other to brush Draco’s unruly bangs from his face, you laugh happily. “Yeah, baby,” you breathe, tucking his blond strands behind his ear. “I’m pregnant.”
There’s a storm outside and yet Draco is sure he’s never felt warmer.
He sits on the floor, his son in his arms, and the promise of a lifetime with the love of his life resting in his palm. He is quite literally holding his world in his hands, and it occurs to him, then and there, that it truly is exceptionally lovely being Draco Malfoy.
No Happy Endings (Unless Fairy Tales Come True).⁺˚*･☾
Pairing | Eddie Munson x reader
Warnings | 18+ only, minors DNI. Porn with smatterings of a plot. Cheating (reader cheats with Eddie as do others), oral (female receiving), protected P in V sex, kinda sad Eddie but only for a bit, brief mention of uncomfortable sexual situations, readers first orgasm, little bit of Eddie with somebody else. Some generalisations about gender and sex for plot reasons.
Word Count | ~9,300
Request | Once upon a time I made an offhand comment in the tags of an ask saying it’s possible Eddie’s fucking lots of cheerleaders behind their boyfriend’s backs. Then an anon threw it right back at me and it’s haunted my thoughts ever since.
A/N | The initial comment was offhand. Reader is not a cheerleader, she’s just pals with cheerleaders. Also cheating is bad etc etc. I also don’t really think Eddie would do this, but I’m taking my Eddie just wants to be loved thing to its logical endpoint; Eddie is become slut, destroyer of pussy.
.⋆｡⋆✮˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
Can we-,” she groans softly, biting her shiny lip as she looks at him over her shoulder. “Can we, uh uh, turn the music off?”
Eddie’s gaze shifts from watching himself disappear inside her to the flushed cheeks of her face, her long fluttering eyelashes.
“No, we can’t.“
"But-” Eddie grasps her cheerleader ponytail, silky in his fist, and pushes her face forward into the mattress, whatever she was going to say now muffled by his sheets.
She doesn’t seem to mind. That little squeak she makes when she’s close starts picking up when Eddie grinds a little rougher into her, liking what was supposed to be a silent punishment for her request
Eddie has to hold back a scoff, has to stop himself from leaning over to turn the dial on his stereo as far right as it’ll go, instead.
He likes her, as much as he can like the sexually frustrated popular girls he brings back here. She just ignores him in the halls, instead of overacting disdain for him in front of her jock boyfriend’s face.
