Rhi. She/Her. Queer. 30s.
Australia (Always Was, Always Will Be).
I believe in the transformative power of fanworks and have been reading and writing fanfic since I was twelve. It's all escapism, creation, and warm magic vibes here, my dudes.
Requests for drabble are open. I love to hear your ideas for my current series. Taglists are always open, as is my inbox or DMs. If you need a friend or someone with a degree in Psychology, I'm both.
Find me on AO3 (boyfriend-shaped Eddie Munson, obviously, but bonus Bucky Barnes) and Instagram.
🖤 Full Eddie Munson x Reader one shot and series masterlist
🖤 Eddie headcanons (some Eddie x Reader)
🖤 Eddie drabbles
_______001: Long Sleeves
_______002: Metallica Pt. 1
_______003: Metallica Pt. 2
_______004: Eddie the Massage Therapist
_______005: Introducing Eddie to Sub/Dom
🖤 Note: all my work is Fem!Reader; other characteristics are left as vague as possible, unless stated in the synopsis
honestly one of my favorite things about fanfic is when you can see the canon influences come out in really subtle ways. like a canon line thats mentioned once as a throwaway is suddenly the entire premise for a fic or it influences the characterization or something. its just so cool to see how people weave their ideas around a source material, especially if its not a detail i'd thought about before
Summary: Eddie Munson has become an Urban Legend: the Devil of Hawkins. You are new to town, but can’t seem to believe the rumors about the man that lives in the trailer across the street. Based on the song of the same title by Molly Frances.
Contains: agoraphobic!Eddie, shy!reader, rumors of Eddie being a serial killer, depictions of anxiety, panic and fear, mentions of pepper spray, minor self harm, controlling and toxic father figure, mentions of being held at knife point, alcohol use, use of over the counter medication, confrontations
Series Masterlist
Sunday morning a loud knock sounded at your door. It was 9 am, much too early for anyone you would expect to be dropping by, so you made sure to grab the pepper spray Steve had dropped off before you unlocked the door.
Out of all the things you could have pictured, all of the worst case scenarios you could have come up with, nothing could have been as bad as what stood before you.
“You want to explain this?”
Your father stood on the top step, nearly already crossing the threshold. He held out a printed police report up to your face, nearly blocking your view of him entirely. Even if you hadn’t seen a glimpse of his face, the anger in his voice was identifying enough.
“Dad?” You were caught completely off guard, unable to process his appearance or his demands. You thought for a moment that it was a nightmare, even tried pressing your nails into the flesh of your palms as you balled your hands into fists. The sharp pain alerted you that this was real.
“A man nearly stabbed you and you just never thought to tell us?”
Your breath caught in your throat but you kept composure.
“Sir, I assure you it wasn’t as bad as that makes it sound.”
“Really? He held you at knifepoint and that is somehow not a problem? Are you stupid?”
“The knife never left his pocket, I swear.”
“This says you ran home through a forest.”
“Yeah,” you opened your mouth for an excuse but came up with nothing.
“And then you went radio silent for almost a week? What is going through that tiny brain of yours?” He had finally finished his yelling, but his quieter stern tone was just as intimidating.
“I was sick, Sir, I swear.”
“You seem fine to me.”
“That was a week ago, I’m feeling better now,” your voice came out as a whine and he gave you a warning look. You fixed your posture under his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t find another thing to criticize you on.
“You should have called us the second this happened. And you should have called the second your fever went away, if you ever had one. You knew better than to hide this. The moving van will be here Tuesday morning, you better start packing now.”
“No, wait-”
“Are you talking back to me? Want to add that to the list?”
You paused, and when you went to speak again nothing but sputtering came out. It wasn’t the ideal moment for your mother to enter, but you were glad to not be alone with him any longer.
“Mom, please,” you nearly cried, but tried to hold it together. She shot you a sympathetic look, but you knew there was nothing that she could do. And even if there was a way to talk sense into your father, she wouldn’t be the one to do it.
“Don’t plead with her. You dug your own grave out here, and we are here to pull you out of it. You should be grateful.”
“I can’t leave, I like it here.”
“Like it so much that you quit your job? So much that you haven’t left your dingy little trailer for over half a month now?”
“How did you-”
“I know everything. I told you I would be keeping an eye on you, did you not believe me?”
You shut your mouth and just shook your head.
“That’s better. Your mother and I will bring the boxes in. Then we’re going to go find a hotel,” he glanced around the room to add insult to injury, “We will be back tomorrow to make sure you’re on track.”
You considered fighting him further on it, considered finally trying to grow a back bone and chew him out for treating you like a child. But before you could speak, your eye caught the trailer across the street, and your mind began to wander. What did you have to keep you here?
Eddie wasn’t the sole reason you loved Hawkins, but he was the heart of it. If he wasn’t going to let you be a part of his life any more, you weren’t sure your future here was one that you wanted. You imagined Steve would come by less, his friends would become less welcoming. You would become a memory in the rearview mirror, the girl that they almost befriended. Home didn’t sound much better, but at least no one seemed to want you dead there.
You resigned to help them bring in the boxes.
They left within the hour, and you still had trouble accepting that their presence hadn’t been a bad dream.The stack of flattened boxes in your living room were the sole physical reminder that it had truly happened. You felt sick to your stomach packing all night, but you knew it had to be done.
You had collected a small stash of alcohol during your stay in Hawkins, something your father would frown over. So instead of packing it up, you drank it. The buzz helped the sorrow subside while you packed your memories, old and new, into the freshly taped up boxes.
You woke up at 10 am the next morning to your first hangover. You had always taken care to drink plenty of water when you drank in the past. When you lived at home, it was just to make sure your parents never caught on, but the habit stuck. Your care had left you while packing though, and you had betrayed yourself.
You dug through your medicine cabinet, searching for the bottle of pills that Eddie had been so adamant about you being careful with. You grimaced at the memory before popping two into your mouth.
The headache had barely begun to subside before a knock sounded at the door. You dreaded your father seeing you like this, you knew that the second you opened the door he would smell it on you. You tried your best to stand tall and act as if your head wasn’t splitting and your stomach wasn’t in knots as you opened the door.
You lost all composure when you opened the door. At first you were only relieved to not be met by your father, but Eddie stood on your doorstep with that kicked puppy look, and you suddenly remembered where you two stood. It had felt a little less all consuming, met with the threat of moving home.
“Eddie?” You asked breathlessly, it had been completely knocked out of you the second you met his eyes.
“Hey, can I talk to you?”
He smiled down at you for a moment, but the expression left his face when he read yours. You looked like you had been through Hell and back, dark circles under your glassy eyes and color barely in your cheeks. He almost wondered if you were still sick, but you looked perfectly healthy when he saw you taking out the trash the other day. This was something new.
You thought for a moment before letting him in. You knew the second he entered your trailer, he would know you were leaving. You weren’t sure if that would be an issue though. You desperately wanted it to be, but you worried he would be relieved.
You stepped aside and opened the door just enough for him to enter. You saw his shoulders drop as he looked around the room.
“Y/n, what is all this?” His eyes scanned the room twice before landing back on you. You shied away from him, not knowing what to say. “Are you leaving?”
He wanted to reach out and grab you. He wanted to force you to look him in the eye and tell him what was going on. He wanted to plead with you to stay, get down on his hands and knees and beg you to forget everything he had said.
But he just stayed frozen.
“What were you wanting to talk about?”
“Please, don’t do that. Don’t just ignore the situation. Why are you packing?”
You finally looked up to see the pure panic in his eyes and part of you felt relieved. You hated how selfish that made you feel.
“My dad showed up yesterday. He’s moving me back home.”
You sounded so small, it knocked the wind out of him.
“But why wou… why would you let him do that?”
“Didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, he heard about the whole-” you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, realizing you still hadn’t told him the details of what had happened to you.
“The Hunter thing?”
You shot him a look of surprise but it was quickly replaced with betrayal. “Steve told you?”
“Wasn’t his fault, Robin let it slip.”
“Right, well he showed up with the police report, and I didn’t have much left to keep me here. Didn’t really feel worth trying to fight it,” you shrugged, shrinking in on yourself again. You turned away from him and tried to finish packing up the decor from the living room. The moment you put the first item in the box, he finally snapped out of it and moved towards you.
“No, you can’t leave,” he grabbed your hand before you could put the picture frame you were holding in the box between you. You looked up at him, and he released your hand when he saw the look of hurt in your eyes.
“Eddie, I appreciate you looking out for me, but this is what’s best.”
“Well, what about your job? That’s a reason to stay.”
“I quit earlier this week.”
“What? Why didn’t-” he had to stop himself before he could finish the question. Of course you wouldn't have told him, he had done that to himself. “Ok, fine, what about Steve?”
“What about Steve?” you chuckled.
“I mean, you two have gotten so close. You shouldn’t just throw that away. He’s a good guy.”
You furrowed your brow and paused your movements. “Do you think I’m interested in Steve?”
Steve was handsome, caring, and a good friend, but that was all he had been to you.
“I mean, I don’t know. Can’t really imagine many girls not being into him,” he shied under your gaze, suddenly realizing how stupid his jealousy had been.
“Well I can assure you that the thought never crossed my mind.”
He breathed a sigh of relief before he remembered the conversation at hand. “Well there has to be something.”
You looked into his eyes for a moment and you almost said it. Your breathing grew shallow for a fleeting moment as you pleaded with your eyes for him to see it. But he didn’t acknowledge it, and you thought maybe it would be better off that way.
“My dad will be here any minute. You should really go.”
“Y/n-”
“Oh, right, you wanted to talk about something. Make it fast.”
Your tone was polite, you weren’t dismissing him, you were allowing him a moment to speak. Possibly the last of its kind. He wasn’t sure if he should take it.
You allowed him to think while you worked, taking items off the shelves and walls and packing them neatly into scattered boxes. He watched as you moved, and tried to hype himself up again. He had spent the last three days trying to figure out what to say to you after his heart to heart with Robin. He thought he had gone over every scenario, every possible thing you could have said to him, but this hadn’t been in the cards.
Robin's last words rang in his head “Interdimensional beings or not, sometimes you just have to do scary things for the people you love.” And though he had been through so much worse, had seen things you would never begin to be able to comprehend, he still thought this may have been the most afraid he had ever been. He would have rather gone through it all again if it meant not having to lose you.
He finally opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off before a word left his lips. Your head shot up at the sound of a car approaching, and the sheer terror in your eyes strangled his heart.
“Save that thought,” you offered a frightened smile, and rushed off to the kitchen. You tied off your trash bag and rushed back over to Eddie. “It’s a little too late for him not to see you, but he can’t see this. Can you take it out for me?”
He looked down at the bag you had thrust towards him. It was filled with a couple liquor bottles, some crushed cans of beer, and a few empty bottles of wine coolers. “Did you drink all this last night?” He looked from the bag to your face with worry, finally understanding why you looked as rough as you did that morning.
“Please, Eddie,” you urged. He sighed before walking out the door to rush to your trash can. Your father was too distracted by the man leaving your trailer to notice what the bag he was holding was full of. You exited the trailer a few steps behind, knowing full well how your plan would go.
“Who the fuck is that?” your father bellowed, pointing at Eddie as he rounded the corner back towards you.
“This is my neighbor Eddie. He just came by to help me pack,” you smiled sweetly at your father, trying to act as if there was no issue.
“You must be y/n’s father, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things,” Eddie tried to approach with an outstretched hand, knowing full well that it may be slapped away, and that everything he said had been a lie.
Your father scowled as he squeezed Eddie’s hand, and grew more frustrated when Eddie didn’t shy away from his strong grip. “We don’t need any more help, you can scurry on back home.”
“Dad-” you tried to reason with him but he stopped you immediately.
“Uh-uh, you’ve got enough help between your mother and I. This is the whole reason we’re here in the first place. We should have known you’d make poor decisions the second you were out of our line of sight. And this,” he gestured to Eddie without acknowledging that he could hear him, “Is probably your worst decision yet. Now say goodbye.”
Your heart broke with his words, but not for yourself. Eddie had spent his entire life being made to feel like he wasn’t enough, like he didn’t belong in any room he entered. You wanted so desperately to take that from him, but here you were adding to it. He looked up at you, and you could see that he was masking how much the words had hurt him. You were proud of him for seeming to stand his ground, with a stranger no less, but you didn’t want him to have to.
You smiled at him as you tried to hold back your tears. “You can go home,” you reassured him. It wasn’t supposed to be goodbye, it was supposed to be reassurance that you could handle this on your own, that he didn’t have to go through this. But after your father’s demand, it felt so much deeper.
“Y/n-”
“It’s ok Ed. I’ll, uhm, stop by on my way out of town tomorrow to say bye. I promise.”
He could hear you choke over your words, he knew that this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. His mind was spiraling, but he didn’t have a care for the strangers standing near him, he only wanted you.
“Sir,” he turned to your father and you nearly jumped between them, “May I please have a moment with your daughter? Just to properly say goodbye?”
You froze as your father deliberated. For the first time in years, your father looked at you and saw the sorrow in your eyes, and he actually cared to alleviate it.
“You have 5 minutes. And I will be watching from the living room window, got it?”
“Of course,” Eddie smiled politely. You stepped out of the way for your parents to enter your home, but you couldn’t find the strength to cross the extra six feet to meet Eddie. He went to you instead.
“Are you ok?” he asked as he approached. It took everything in him to not pull you into him and hold you there. He knew that would cause your father to storm out.
“I’m so sorry, he shouldn’t have said that about you,” the sorrow in your voice was palpable but Eddie still chuckled at it incredulously.
“Is that really what you’re worried about right now? It’s ok, I’ve heard so much worse.”
“You don’t deserve to be talked to like that.”
He sighed and took a seat on the second step leading up to your front door. After a moment, you followed his movements and sat next to him.
“You can’t leave,” he said, barely above a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.
“Eddie-”
“There’s no way that you actually think this is a good idea. I’ve seen the way the light leaves your eyes when he calls, how scared you look. You can’t go back there.”
“Eddie, it’s fine. I’ll be ok,” you actually sounded sure of yourself. You may not have truly wanted it, but you knew you could learn to live with it, and you didn’t want Eddie to worry. “Besides, I kinda figured you’d be relieved.”
It was a poor attempt at lightening the mood, which you learned when the look of horror came over his face.
“Why would you think that?”
“Come on, really? It’s a lot easier to steer clear of each other if we’re in different cities.”
“No, y/n, I fucked up. I didn’t mean it. That’s…” he paused and waited for you to make eye contact with him, “That’s what I came over here to talk to you about.”
“It’s a little late now, isn’t it?” You didn’t sound angry, the best way he could describe it was devastation. It matched how he felt.
“Please, don’t do this. I want- I need you to stay. Please, I want to be the reason you stay.”
“What do you mean?” You asked in confusion, not letting yourself assume what you thought it meant. It couldn’t mean that. There was no way.
“I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I-I miss you,” he paused, and for a moment you thought he would stop there. But he was just struggling to say what came next. “Please, I need you.”
You froze completely, your body felt numb. You didn’t notice the way your breath had stalled, but the way Eddie breathlessly whispered your name kickstarted it again.
“Eddie,” your words caught in your throat, breath hitching and jaw trembling, but he didn’t rush you to finish your thought, “Why are you telling me this now? I’m already half packed and I… Eds, I can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“I mean I quit my job, and what am I supposed to do? Go in there and just tell my dad to shove it?”
“We can find you another job, or hell, I’ll even get one to help you make ends meet, and make sure no one fucks with you again. I don’t care, I’d face anyone in this town if it meant not losing you.”
“No you wouldn’t,” you giggled, but continued before he could speak again, “And that’s ok. I would never expect that of you.”
He just stared at you, letting your gears turn. He said everything he needed to say, and he knew you understood him. It was up to you now.
“I think you broke my heart for a minute there,” you tried not to cry as you admitted it, but he heard the tremor in your voice.
“I know, I’m so sorry. Please don’t let that be how this ends. I need to make it up to you. And if you stay I promise I will.”
You took a deep, shaky breath as you stared at him. You didn’t want it to end this way either.
“How do I get out of this?
“Of this? I can go if that’s what you really-”
“No,” you stopped him as if his words physically pained you, “Not that. Eddie, I don’t want to leave.” Your voice cracked, a tear slipped, and he had to hold himself back from comforting you. He knew your father was watching, he could feel his gaze on his back.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re not a kid anymore, he can’t make you.”
“I’m scared.”
“Let me talk to him with you then.”
“No, that’s really sweet but you don’t need to.”
“I want to. Please let me help you with this.”
“I don’t want him to talk down to you again, Ed.”
His hand finally inched towards yours, linking your pinky fingers together between your bodies so it would be hidden from prying eyes.
“I can handle anything he throws at me. I’m being serious, I would do anything to not lose you.”
Before you could formulate any kind of plan, with or without Eddie, your father opened the door.
“OK, times up. We need to get back to packing.”
You barely turned your head to see your father in your doorway, your eyes rested on Eddie. He watched as your face grew pale, and tightened his pinkies grip on yours for a moment before letting it go.
“It’s ok,” he whispered, trying to do anything he could to encourage you. You gave him one nervous nod before standing.
“Dad,” you squeaked out, too cowardly to meet his gaze, “I don’t want to go home with you.”
Eddie turned his body to look up at you, but stayed seated on the step. You may have looked afraid, but he was still in awe of how brave you were being.
“Well it wasn’t a question. Send your friend home and get inside.”
“No.”
“Ok, son, I don’t know what kind of filth you’re feeding my daughter, but I don’t appreciate you turning her against me. You better get-”
“Don’t talk to him like that,” your jaw tightened, but the tears still threatened to spill. Your face grew hot both from anger and fear.
“Excuse me?”
“I said don’t talk to him like that,” you raised your chin to look him in the eye, hoping he wouldn’t sense your nerves.
“Young lady, get inside this house right now.”
“You mean my house? Y-you’re not the boss of me here,” your stutter gave you away, but you persisted, “You and mom should go home. I promise I’m fine out here.”
Your father glanced down at Eddie, jaw tight, as he calculated his response.
“I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Dad,” you choked as you began, and Eddie finally rose to his feet to stand behind you, “I’ve been an adult for years now, and you’re still treating me like a child. You have to let me grow up at some point.”
“I would if I thought you were capable.”
It pained you to hear but you couldn’t let it stop you.
“You may not approve of how I’ve been living out here, but I’m happier here than I ever was at home. And I wish that was something you wanted for me.”
Eddie brought a hand to rest on your back, which came at the perfect time to keep you steady on your feet. Confronting anyone was hard for you, but doing it to your father was a nightmare.
Before he had a chance to reply, your mother approached him from behind, mirroring Eddie’s position with you.
“Honey, she’s right. She has to grow up at some point,” she spoke sweetly. Eddie noted the same fearfully polite tone that you had used over the phone.
It took him a moment, but your father’s shoulders lost their tension, though his nostrils remained flared. “You hid so much from us, how can we trust you being out here on your own?”
“I’m not on my own.”
You knew it was probably the last thing your father wanted to hear, but it was exactly what Eddie needed. He tried to remain stoic through the conversation.
“If we leave you out here, I still expect you to check in with us every day.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Eddie spoke up from behind you. You glanced at him, but his eyes remained on your father.
“Excuse me?”
“Your daughter is responsible and careful and incredibly smart. She doesn’t need someone to babysit her, even over the phone. She’ll call when she feels like it, which would be a lot more often if you would just lighten up.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You were grateful that your father was hearing it, but you knew it wasn’t going to end well.
“And what makes you think you can speak for her?”
“No, dad, he’s right,” you jumped in, “I’ll call when I can. But I’m staying and that’s that. You’d have to kidnap me to get me back there.”
“Come on, Honey,” Your mother shot you a smile before smiling brighter at your father, “She’s going to be fine. It’s time to let her go.”
Your father opened his mouth to speak, but you could see the defeat wash over him. He was outnumbered, and he knew there was no winning this fight. You had finally made him feel how you had felt all those years.
“Fine,” he aggressively grabbed his keys and shoved his arms in his coat, “But I’m not afraid to come back out here.”
He stormed down your steps, nearly knocking you over, but Eddie steadied you. Your mother walked down much slower, and paused next to you, waiting for your father to slam the driver's side door.
“It was nice seeing you sweetheart,” she smiled and hugged you, “And for what it’s worth, I like your boyfriend.”
“Oh, he’s not-” you began to correct her, but she had quickly moved from you to hug Eddie too, which caught him completely off guard. He smiled at her before she left, and shot a confused look at you. You answered him with a shrug, and waved after your mother as the car drove off.
“Want some help unpacking?”
He sounded humorous, but you weren’t in a joking mood.
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Your face grew pale and it knocked the smile off his face. He reached out to grab your arm to steady and reassure you. “You’re ok. Wanna go inside?”
You simply nodded.
He led you to your couch and sat a few feet away from you, but you weren’t having it. You scooted towards him and wrapped your arms around his torso tightly. You hid your face against his chest and did your best not to cry, but failed to keep your composure.
“Hey, it’s ok,” his arms shot up to hold you tightly, “You’re safe, you’re not in trouble.”
‘That was fucking terrifying,” you let out a watery laugh against him.
“And you were really brave. Quite the inspiration.”
“He’s gonna be mad for like a decade.”
“Let him.”
“Eds, you don’t get it, he’s gonna-”
“Hey,” he pried your face away from his chest and guided your chin to look up at him, “It doesn’t matter anymore. He can’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”
“And what if he comes back?”
“I’ll beat him up.”
“Eddie,” you laughed and slapped him lightly on the chest, which only made him smile.
“I’ll be here if he comes back, and we can tell him off again until he gets the hint. He doesn’t have power over you anymore, and he needs to get used to it.”
You nodded, though you didn’t truly believe his words. Your father would always have some sense of power over you, his control had woven its way into every fiber of your being, but Eddie was still right in one way. Your father couldn’t make you leave him.
“So are you over the whole keeping out of my hair thing now?” you pouted and his entire demeanor softened.
“Yes, Sweetheart, of course I am.”
“What’d you just call me?” you blushed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“No, it’s ok.”
“Ok, good,” he paused to look at you, “Can I ask you something?”
You nodded.
“Would you want to come over for dinner tonight? Just you and me this time. You can let me make up for being an idiot the past couple weeks.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Is that a yes?”
You paused, but not to think, you just wanted to soak in the sight of his pleading eyes.
“Yeah, ok.”
A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one! I have been having a really rough go lately and I appreciate the patience! One more chapter of this and I have another Steve request in the wings. I may take a little time away once those are posted, just to try to really figure some stuff out, but I will be back with PLENTY more if do!
Judas Priest poster, 1978 Death Watch poster, random yoyo, q-tips, cigars, heavy metal magazine, Archer ‘color’ tv tuner cleaner, random Halloween mask lol, bullet shells, beer can, band poster for a live show, Liege Lord poster, Barbasol shaving cream, random pepper shaker??, folding ice bag in it’s box
Summary: You go on a weekend getaway with Eddie and he is enlightened by the joy that is a free hotel breakfast.
Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader
Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Vacation/Travel, Fluff, Food/Eating, Philosophical Themes, Humor, personal AU where Eddie's mom lives til he's 9 or 10 and dates Rick after Al goes to jail.
Note: I started working on this one after going on a trip where they didn't have hotel breakfast, and now am finishing it on a trip where I'm barely able to have breakfast because I'm getting up so fucking early. ALL I WANT is to have my continental breakfast so this is partways a wish and partways my love for stupid free hotel breakfast.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
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"Why don't we pay for a nicer hotel this time?"
It was whispered softly and sensually, lips caressing ever so gently over the shell of your ear, with the slightest hint of mischievousness. The way a lover would ask if you wanted to make your way to the bedroom.
But with Eddie, you came to learn that this was how he asked for anything he really wanted.
"Why don't we go bowling on Saturday?"
"Why don't we get cheese fries on the way home?"
"Why don’t I do the laundry for the whole month…if you snake out the drain in the shower?"
Of course the last one was the worst deal you’d ever made. But he was pretty good at the laundry, so you would gladly suffer the 20 minutes of pulling his ridiculous soap-scummed hair clumps for a months worth of empty hampers and perfectly folded socks.
In the end, all of his "deals" were worth it, actually. So it did you well to listen to his tempting little whispers.
This time was no different.
You didn't always opt to travel with Eddie and the guys when they went to do out of town gigs. There were only so many days you could take off, so many weekends you could let obligations fall to the wayside. But you were used to roadside motels and campgrounds. So when Eddie presented the ad that the fest organizers had sent along with the schedule, it sounded too good to be true.
"Inn and Suites" he said, tapping header excitedly. "King size beds and free breakfast. We're practically famous."
And it certainly felt that way.
You and Eddie had gotten your own room this time, blessedly. After a long drive, all you wanted was the chance to sleep in with your boyfriend. Soft pillows, soft mattress, air conditioning set as low as it could because your window unit at home definitely didn’t get cold enough. As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you entered a cocoon made of high-thread count sheets and fluffy pillows and your limbs entangled until you became one mass of comfort and bliss.
And you would’ve stayed that way until the very moment that Eddie needed to get ready for the gig.
Except when your body naturally woke you up the next morning, you found yourself alone. Still carefully tucked into your cozy cloud of comfort. But no sign of your boyfriend whatsoever.
Your hand slid to his pillow, head-shape still indented in it, but cold.
“Ed?” You called out, thinking he might be in the bathroom. “Eddie?”
You push yourself onto your elbows and glance at the glowing red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand. Still early. Stupidly early, earlier than you would've even gotten up for work.
You begrudgingly hauled yourself out of the bed--cue the internal waterworks at leaving it behind--and walked to the door connecting to the adjoining room that the other members of Corroded Coffin occupied. You knocked and waited, and eventually Jeff answered.
"What?" he groaned, rubbing one eye sleepily.
"Is Eddie with you guys?" you questioned.
"Does it look like he's with us?" came Gareth's groaning response from further in the room.
You poked your head in and saw him and Dave all snuggled into the King bed together. Or, more accurately, you saw the mountain of pristine white duvets and pillows where the two of them would be, and the small, turned over corner where Jeff had crawled out.
If you hadn't been there, you had no doubt that Eddie would also be partaking in that, the four of them like baby bunnies in their den. But you were there and Eddie, curiously, was missing out on both opportunities for the perfect sleep.
"Well then where the hell is he?"
Cue the four of you standing in the little dinette off the lobby, in all of your bed-headed and pajama’d glory, watching notorious morning hater Edward J. Munson whistle happily as he poured batter into the waffle maker and dish himself a scoop of scrambled eggs.
“Oh hey guys,” he beamed when he saw you. "I was just wondering when you’d be down.”
The other boys groaned about how early it was and then turned on their heel and headed back to their room. Meanwhile, you trudged across the little dinette and plopped a seat at the only occupied table--Eddie's--and rested your head in your hand.
You took it all in. Dark wood cabinets and a marble countertop that was laden with covered buffet trays full of food. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, little omelets, and breakfast potatoes. All being kept warm with sterno containers. There was a lovely tiered tray with baked goods and pasties, and even dispensers full of cereal. Cheerios, frosted flakes, and froot loops for the kids, which was why your boyfriend was helping himself to a heaping bowl of the colorful o's.
Eddie Munson was a self-proclaimed night owl, he told you so when you first started dating. Made sure you weren't going to be the type of person to wake up before 9am--"the ass crack of dawn" according to him--bright eyed and ready to go. He liked to sleep in, he liked to know that the night was right around the corner with all of its adventures. And, of course, seeing as you were still dating, you obviously met that criteria.
So it was ironic that he was up now, as excited and energetic as all get out because of breakfast.
"It's free breakfast, sweetheart," he explained as he dropped into his seat across from you, as though he could read your mind. "I've already had one helping and I'm on my second. You need to catch up. I don't know why the guys fucked off back to bed. We have to take advantage of it to get our money's worth for staying here."
"You sure you're Al Munson's son?" you asked. "Because that seems like such a Wayne thing to say."
"Good old Wayne! He raised me well." Eddie grinned. "Besides, we gotta start early to get all the fresh stuff before everyone else staying at this hotel comes and slobbers all over it."
"Like you're doing right now."
He ignored the jab and clapped his hands together. "Now, are you gonna let me make you breakfast? Chef Eddie is feeling a tad adventurous now that he's gotten a handle on how to use the waffle maker. May I tempt you with a delicious, golden disk of sugar?"
"Can you make me a coffee too?" you asked and nodded over to the carafes.
"I'll do you one better." He stood up and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll get you a coffee and an apple juice."
"Oh, what a gentleman you are."
Once your beverages were served, you were treated to a performance the likes of which seemed to put Eddie's career as a musician to shame. He was energetic on stage, but in this dinette, he was effervescent. Bouncing around, spinning, making little ding and chonk noises along with the small appliances as he used them.
He ground up a handful of froot loops and made you both little froot-loop speckled waffles. He went on a minutes-long monologue about the tray of scrambled eggs as he dished out a scoop of them for you.
"You know what, I almost prefer the powdered eggs," he nodded. "You know your cheesy scrambled eggs are my favorite, don't get me wrong. But there's just something to be said about consistency. When you get a powdered egg, you know what you're gonna get."
He made a beautiful breakfast sandwich with toast and cheese and strips of bacon that he'd latticed together.
"It's not the best bacon," he said judgementally. "But beggars can't be choosers."
And when all was said and done, your table was absolutely covered with plates of food.
And you talked and ate.
About everything and nothing at all.
He expected critiques of all your little creations. Which you gave, happily. On a one-to-five cherry danish scale.
"Why cherry danish?" you laughed.
"Because it is the best thing I've eaten this morning." He got up from his chair and approached the little pastry stand. "Let me get you one."
Then he told you a story as you ate.
"You know," he started. "I know you made the joke about my dad and Wayne, but breakfast was really one of my mom's favorite things."
Your heart ached in your chest for a second; Eddie rarely talked about his mom, and when he did share, it was always such a delicate and important moment. The longer you'd been dating, the more you got out of him and the easier it was for him to talk about her. But it was still rare and special.
"She always made sure breakfast was on the table," he said. "First meal of the day was so important. Even if she was just making me a piece of peanut butter toast before I went off to school. It was never such a big spread, she didn't have time for it. But she always said "the hungriest you ever are is always in the morning." And that always stuck with me.
"On birthdays, we always, always went to Benny's. She worked there, she could get breakfast for free, but she wasn't greedy about it. Said that Ben made the best oatmeal ever. But on birthdays, she always got the biggest, juiciest omelette with ham and cheese and mushrooms and I could order anything I wanted. And a big old pancake for us to share. And once my dad was in jail, she made Wayne tag along, then Rick when they started dating.
"And I think she would've liked this." He looked around at the different food spread out all around you. "She would've liked it if she got to tag along with us and I guess I would've let her sleep in if she would've wanted. But in my heart, I think that she would've been right on down here with me, bright and early, and I think she would've had to try everything this free breakfast had to offer."
There was a beat of silence and he looked into his coffee cup, then took a sip.
You hadn't realized when, but you had put your fork down. You sat back in your seat for a second before you got up and rounded the table to you could pull him into a big hug.
"I think she would've too," you muttered into the top of his head.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, only parting when someone else finally made it down to get food. You returned to your seat and your previous, inconsequential conversation as other guests started filtering in, including Eddie's bandmates.
"Why does she get a special breakfast and we don't," Gareth whined. "We've known you for longer."
"Because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," Eddie grunted at him.
"You wouldn't know how to be a gentleman if a gentleman but you and gave you mutant gentleman powers," Jeff laughed.
"Says the chronically single asshole."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
They got their food and ate, and then you all headed back to your rooms so you could get ready for their gig.
"So," Eddie looked at you expectantly as you got into the elevator, "same time tomorrow? Or did you want to sleep in?"
You reached down and took his still-slightly-syrup-sticky hand in yours.
Okay, I GET it though. The first time I stayed in a hotel with a buffet breakfast, I felt so fucking rich and fancy. THE PANCAKE MACHINES? Insane. It's like being in a whole different world. I get ittttt.
Summary: You have a stomach ache and your boyfriend makes you feel better.
Word Count: 1.4k
Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x Reader
Themes/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Established Relationship, Stomach ache and associated symptoms, Probably a Fart/Vomit/Poop mention in association with previous stomach ache, Humor, Reader is too old to be Eddie The Iron Stomach's foodie Ride or Die anymore, I write these fucking tags before I write the fic if you didn't know
Note: Happy Sunday night (when I started writing this fic, and but not when I'm posting it) from my bathroom where I haven’t moved for the past 20 minutes (when I started writing). This is gonna be a quick one as I distract myself from the actual demon I’m exorcising from my body tonight. What’s a girl to do with no other cure but pepto and fanfiction?
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact unless you’re 18+.
Enjoy!
—
There's something about getting older where you can no longer digest food the same way you used to.
For the longest time, you believed that you would never reach that point.
What brought about a swift end to your perceived invincibility would be your boyfriend with a bottomless pit of a stomach: Edward J. Munson. He ordered extra, extra pepperoni on his pizza. Extra, extra cheese too. He made sandwiches with all sorts of condiments and spicy peppers and pickled vegetables. One time, he even said he would buy ice cream with extra lactose if he could, for the richness.
And still somehow, aside from the occasional appearance of the most rancid farts known to man, he was fine. You, unfortunately, were the unsuspecting bystander (read: victim, in more ways than one) along for the ride.
You tried to mitigate the effects. First, it was the travel size bottle of tums that you kept in the glovebox of your car. Next it was the bottle of pepto that you kept in the kitchen, in addition to the one in the medicine cabinet, just in case.
Then, one day, came the end. And, oh boy, did you think it was Capital-The, Capital-End.
Heartburn, the likes of which you'd never experienced before, took you by surprise. You were innocently sitting at your desk at work when it started. A hot sensation in your chest that slowly overtook your abdomen. Just a constant, searing feeling that practically took your breath away after enough time passed. You thought it would just go away; you figured a handful of tums and you'd be fine. Until you weren't. Until you were sitting through a meeting wondering if you were actually having a heart attack. Until you excused yourself and belched obnoxiously as soon as you crossed the threshold into the bathroom.
You could taste the taco pasta bake Eddie insisted on making the night before. Layers of cheese, meat, beans, sour cream and extra, extra pickled jalapeños on top. It was rich and decadent. Delicious.
And it was going to be the thing that killed you.
Your boss, thankfully, saw how miserable you were and sent you home. But home offered no respite.
You dropped your work bag haphazardly by the door, and you stripped down to your underwear; the tight waistband of your pants was doing you no favors. You had the foresight to grab a glass of ice water and place it within arms reach on the edge of the coffee table, before you fell into the squishy cushions of the couch. As you settled into the most comfortable position you could find, the heartburn subsided and the mother of all stomach aches began.
Time passed with only three certain facts: You were gonna puke. You were gonna poop your pants. And then you were going to die.
"Honey, I'm home!" Eddie's voice cut through your agony, and you slowly cracked your eyes open to stare at the ceiling. "I saw your car outside. And your clothes on the floor? You home early as a surprise? Are you naked in bed?"
No, you obviously forgot one certain fact; you were going to kill him.
But as you opened your mouth to yell, your stomach cramped painfully and you let out the most pitiful groan.
"Babe?" The playfulness in his voice was gone, replaced by concern. "You ok?"
"I'm dying," you muttered weakly.
He scoffed immediately, concern vanishing. You both had an understanding: if you were feeling good enough to be dramatic, you were feeling good enough. Typically, it applied to Eddie more than it did to you—he was the biggest baby when he was sick—but you had your moments. Regardless, he took pity on you as he dropped to his knees in front of the couch.
“Alright, the doctor is in,” he joked. “What’s the preliminary diagnosis? Terminal illness? A parasite? Do we need to amputate?”
His fingers reached your bare side and he tickled you gently, wincing as your instinctive laughter turned into another groan.
"Ah, I see." He stroked his invisible beard with one hand and flattened the other so he could rub over your sore belly with the utmost care. "Any other pain? Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and dare I ask, diarrhea?"
"I took some pepto earlier," you explained. "Didn't help."
"Well of course it didn't." He now put on an invisible stethoscope. "You didn't have a proper examination."
"It's just a stomach ache," you deadpanned as he started to lean down and inspect you. "You put too much sour cream in the taco bake."
“Nonsense, there’s no such thing as too much sour cream!” He curled his fingers into his palm, and then kneaded your belly in a way not unlike a cat. Of course, a little too much pressure caused a very gentle toot to inadvertently escape you. He wrinkled his nose and you covered your face in embarrassment. “Ok, maybe in this case I was a little heavy-handed.”
He went back to gentle rubbing and then adjusted his invisible stethoscope.
“Let’a give it a listen shall we?”
He leaned his head down and gently placed his ear against your abdomen, readjusting his head a few times before he hummed.
“Ah, well well well.” He lifted his head for a moment. “Seems I found an extra terrestrial creature.” You rolled your eyes as he went back down. “Chest burster? Giant worm of some sort? We’ll get you the bottom of this. You’re lucky I’m a xenoglot. I’ll translate.”
Your stomach, clearly working with Eddie on this comedy act, suddenly made the most embarrassing sound. It was wet and bubbly, and you felt it rumble right below his ear. What did he do in return?
“Gur-gur-gur, blblblbl.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he mumbled stomach noises and resumed kneading and rubbing. He looked up at you, utterly serious, and shushed you. “I’ve made contact. I need concentration if I’m gonna make a proper diagnosis.”
Despite your condition, and the fact that said condition was his fault, you couldn’t help but look at him and be overwhelmed by all the love you felt. From the way he dropped everything to check on you as soon as he got home, to now when he couldn’t help but make you smile as you felt miserable. This idiot—your idiot—had charmed you beyond your wildest imagination, and you didn’t want him to stop.
“Alright Dr. McCoy,” you joked and rested a hand atop his head, giving him an appreciative little scratch. “Or are you Uhura? Communications officer?”
“My legs would look good in that dress.” Your stomach grumbled again. “It agrees. Now shut up. I need to do an advanced procedure. Very delicate.”
You thought his kneading was as far as he was gonna take it. But leave it to Eddie to commit to the bit. He straightened up, shook out his arms, cracked his neck. Then he leaned down and blew the biggest raspberry on your stomach, and in turn you couldn’t help but laugh. You also couldn’t help but pass gas through your poor, unsuspecting ass.
Oh, so you were gonna have the hot poops later. Take back everything you thought about loving him, this was not gonna be fun.
"See, gastrilitis superioris." Eddie nodded sagely, still touting some fake-doctor bullshit. "Also known as a stomach ache. Or, as I like to call it, a case of the Gurgles.”
Of course he had a cute little name for it.
“What’s the treatment doc?” You questioned. “Aside from never letting you cook again?”
“The treatment is 50cc’s of ginger ale,” he ignored your comment, “and letting me feed you saltines as I continue rubbing your tummy for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”
It sounded perfect.
“I think you’re missing something,” you lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie.
“I am?” Eddie frowned, and straightened his spine. He looked around the apartment as though he expected to find the answer lying about. He saw the telltale pink bottle on the counter in the kitchen and his brows jumped. "Pepto? Because babe, I will pour that pink crap down your throat all night if you need it."
You rolled your eyes and forced yourself upright, just so you could gently cup his face in your hands.
"I hate to ask, doc, but I think the usual treatment also includes 10ccs of smooches."
It was a lightbulb moment, and you were sure that you saw hears in his eyes. His arms snaked around you.
"You already have a prescription for that, sweetheart. Endless refills," he muttered and leaned forward to press his lips to yours.
And you melted into him.
Until you felt your esophagus quiver with an impending burp. You pulled away to try and spare him, only to belch loudly right in Eddie's face.
"Ok," he winced. "Now that was pretty gross."
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Tagging my WIP Weekenders for getting me to finish this: @sidereustales @rebelfell and an anon 👀 thank you guys
