#Eddie Munson X reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inknopewetrust · 23 hours ago

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Kindness bleeds from your review and I just was so incredibly happy to read it. Thank you for giving it a chance!! There are so so so many Eddie fics out there and I’m so appreciative of the people who read mine.

And oh… they had flashes of a good life 😉

I like to imagine them as having made it in the end too.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 [𝐀 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬]

Summary: Years after Hawkins was saved, Nancy and Steve’s wedding draws everyone back together and with it, you are reminded of the love you lost at the price of fame. [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader; WC: 17.4k] Warnings: language, exes to lovers, mutual pining/yearning, frightened lil beans in love, heavy angst.

A/N: I worked on this for weeks. I am very nervous to post it, and I hope you enjoy it (excuse any errors, it's time consuming loves).

What is it like to be loved?

There was something in that room that made you question it. The palpable, sudden feeling that permeated around it like a fog; a special dance that so many would be able to feel, yet it seemingly evaded you.

Her dress was beautiful. An ivory lace with sleeves that covered her soft skin. The brown of her hair so vibrant against the spring flowers she held as the chapel’s old stones warmed with the feeling reverberated with the words of the priest.

He was tall and stoic; filled with a slight fear that his true colors would show in his dark suit and dotted tie. He was joyous; he was a radiant boy filling his father’s suit and marrying the girl of his dreams.

Nancy and Steve.

For a moment, while the priest held everyone’s attention in a moment of prayer, it was quiet enough to imagine love physically filled the space before you. Head lightly dipped, the bouquet in your hand distracting you from the eyes of every person in the chapel.

A silence was asked for and responded to with grace. The silence of baseless words washing over the room in a wave of down-turned heads and folded hands. However quiet, however peaceful the room had become, that floating feeling hung from the rafters. You felt your heart sink. That heaviness of sorrow that plagued beautiful moments from a pain buried in your bones that you weren’t even sure really existed. Love. A tragic thing.

All you could ask was:

What is it liked to be loved?

Maybe it was the wedding that made you teary-eyed and soft hearted. You weren’t a hopeless romantic. You weren’t searching constantly for Mr. Right because he didn’t exist. They had shown you that, he had shown you that. Not some Marilyn Monroe waiting for the next man to sweep you off your feet and carry you into a raging bloody sunset in Los Angeles. No. The cards were dealt with precision and meaning; each turned over when the time allowed and burned when the bells tolled.

Love brewed and bubbled; love ached and pained; love existed and diminished; love stood in front of you screaming to break free but the cries fell silent—dead on the cold, stone floor.

Steve’s eyes called to Nancy like a ship lost at sea. The tears that brimmed at the corners whispered to fall after years of trauma and resolution. But they were relieved and elated and somehow, Nancy returned the sentiments with eyes elated. And it hurt to see your closest friends happy when you couldn’t be.

‘And from this day forward they would walk hand and hand into everything that You have destined them to be.’

The words echoed and echoed. The priest as happy to say them as Ted and Karen Wheeler nodded as if it were true from the pews. Steve’s parents had actually shown up too, along with hundreds of other people. Friends, coworkers, and the guests each of them brought.

‘We give our hearts and beings to You now in adoration.’

People like you didn’t give their hearts willingly. Not like Robin, not like Nancy. You weren’t sure about Max or Eleven, but perhaps they gave theirs willingly enough too as they stood beside you up on the alter. And you wanted that. You wanted to give it willingly. As their heads hung and their eyes diverted from above, there was a calling. Probably not from some higher God you weren’t sure even existed, but something—a gut feeling. One that simmered and bristled against negativity and anxiety; the same one that painfully squeezed that arduous organ in your chest. That feeling told you not to bow your head. It told you not to close your eyes and whatever it did, it made you shift your head in the slightest.

The groomsmen were just across the way beside Steve. Dustin helmed them, walking you down the aisle and reminding you that as they embraced adulthood, you were also getting older. Over one age milestone of established adulthood and half of the kids you babysat as a teenager were closer to marriage than you.

Angled perfectly with your shoulder—bare from the design of your green gown. The shape of your nose and chin and the style of your hair falling sleekly into a perfectly haloed outline as though a magician had cast their greatest spell. And when it turned just enough, where the platform was illuminated by the rays of the sun, one other head remained as perfectly crafted as yours, looking back as though the universe said: here it is.

This is what it feels like.

Those butterflies? Love. The heart bursting panic that set off inside you? Love. The painful realization that you could have it and you could nurture it with passion? Love.

It existed.

And it did so in the cruelest of forms.

Because the sheen of your eyes from the beautiful wedding and the widely spoken words of the priest meant more when staring back at the one thing you had always wanted. It was one feeling, one person, and that’s what you swore you couldn’t have.

He had chosen that for you. Six years ago in a tiny apartment on the west side of Chicago, he decided his career was more important.

He was him. He was a brilliant, foul-mouthed metal rock star with impeccable hair and sense of style that made your heart leap for quiet bursts of love. He was complicated and corny and filled with a truth you hadn’t been able to recognize because everyone else clouded life. What life could be and what it could hold.

Eddie Munson was a rock star. Eddie Munson was one of the most famous musicians in the world. Eddie Munson was a friend, a hero, and Eddie Munson was the man who broke your heart and it could never heal itself.

And yet love remained deep down.

It’s regretful nature resurfacing because love was tangible in the chapel in Nantucket.

It was love. It existed. It was real. It was palpable in that room, in his eyes, against the prayer, across the aisle and in all of the pews.

‘And we welcome Your Holy Spirit amongst us. Amen.’

And the chorus filled the room. The pews creaked and heads returned upright. You lost the sight as Steve and the others lifted their heads, but the feeling remained. It sunk to the pit of your stomach where the realization remained.

“Hey,” a hushed whisper sounded near your right ear as your body jolted minutely from the call. Robin’s head tried to follow your direction but couldn’t find the destination. There were hundreds of people in that room. But she should have known. She should have known.

“Everything alright?”

Her concern was evident. Had you been that rigid the entire time? Was the look of love one of fear? Were the tears in your eyes truly that clear?

“I’m fine, Rob. Really.”

It hadn’t convinced her but you returned your attention to the ceremony instead. Robin waited, glancing over your shoulder again and again to try to find her answer. The sentiment of conflict appearing much faster in times of clear disruption than she remembered. The feeling of the world tilting on its axis for something you couldn’t control.

Her eyes looked for the answer. Searching the crowd with an unfathomable hardened gaze until it landed back to the groomsmen and she felt everything click back into place. You had reassured Nancy and Robin that everything was fine; that you were friends. That there was no animosity nor tension remaining over the years but it had. They just wanted to believe the best, yet all the signs were there.

The way you stood so still; scared of yourself as emotions took their hold.

Six years of separation meant nothing. Its degrees scorching the earth every moment not together, bound by the universe yet torn apart by wants, not needs.

They had all believed you. They believed Eddie’s lies that he had moved on—the woman looking straight out of a Vanity Fair magazine in the fifth row the one he brought to prove such a tale.

No.

They had all been wrong.

The two of you had imploded the meaning of love because if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, it couldn’t exist at all.

Steve and Nancy wed on a Saturday in March.

The morning had greeted everyone with golden rays. Sunlight streaming in from the curtains of the Wauwinet’s rooms waking its patron’s with a sprinkle of joy. Early morning glow; warm and intoxicating on a day such as that.

You couldn’t see the beach from where you laid; the white comforter covering your shoulders high, eyes peeking out from the space between the blankets and your pillow. High above on the second floor, the sky reflected its yellow and pink hues until they faded to blue. Not a cloud in the sky.

The two days you had spent on the tiny island thus far had been a reflection of that sunrise. An excitable shimmer of beauty and grace only to fade into a familiar blue–a melancholy gloom that you hadn’t expected to feel. You stepped off the plane only to be greeted with every feeling that ran in its opposite direction; Robin and Nancy clung to you with joy, Steve and the boys, who you should probably call young men now, hugged you tightly.

And then a cloud formed.

The cloud was ugly, gray, and filled with matter you had buried deep. Years of pretending everything in your life was going smoothly–that you were exactly where you wanted to be–lingering above you like a joke. Laughing, jesting you with the past as happiness was rubbed into a wound like salt.

He had a smile plastered onto his face the first time you saw him that weekend–the night before the ‘I do’s.’ He was sitting in the wine cellar with Steve, reminiscing about the past as the future was gently placed on Nancy’s finger; sparkling against the shine of the hotel’s lighting as night had long fallen on a Friday evening.

As the thoughts lingered in your mind as the sun began to rise, it hadn’t been seeing Eddie for the first time in years that had thrown your world off its axis. The woman, clad in the most casual New England fashions, who sat beside him with her arm resting on his, did.

A petty, jealous feeling at the sight rose within you rapidly.

You felt there was no right for you to feel that way.

Six years. Six years had left an open season for both he and you to find new people to love, hate, and screw, but the idea that there was a reality that existed where Eddie no longer loved you was jarring.

The fear of it became engrained in your bones. Tattooed onto skin that was untouched and permanently stained with words that hurt and stung and ultimately resulted in the reason you had come to that wedding alone.

Eddie had scarred you–in a beautifully tragic way that you’d never be the person you were at seventeen when he asked you to go see Temple of Doom at a theater two towns over. It was a shame you’d always tie him to that film… because you really fucking liked the movie but all you could think about was how Indy left Marion in the dust and hell, you felt like Marion sometimes.

He just sat there. A gorgeous woman on his arm and smiling at Steve as though not a day had gone by. He looked older, more sure of himself, and dare you think it, had a bit more style than he did before. Nice, in a ‘formal but not too formal’ kind of way.

They were all sipping on some hundred-dollar wine. He could afford it now. Red-soled shoes, a jacket with no fringe, and a bottle of wine that cost as much as your monthly rent.

Nancy had been perched on a stool at the high-top beside Steve. The two had been going over the rehearsal that Eddie conveniently missed as well as the dinner from hours before. From what Robin had divulged, he had a show in Boston and would make his way out to Nantucket after it was over.

You didn’t think Nancy ringing your suite for drinks would mean he’d be there too.

The thunder from the cloud above you rumbled when Nancy caught your eye in the entryway.

Everything, from the clothes you wore to the company of the room, felt out of place. Like you were looking from the outside and into a world that was completely yours but never one you recalled. The people in it–sparingly familiar but strangers all the same.

Nancy had taken a sip of her wine, swallowing quickly as she perked up and waved at you. The attention drawing each eye away from Steve and to you, unwelcome and afraid of familiarity. Two looked happy, one looked curious, and the other looked like the whole world had stopped.

A moment in time paused. No calm waiters tending to guests, no heads turning toward him because he was identifiable; it was blank. Two worlds gone completely still because for the first time in six years, you and Eddie had finally converged to one place.

Some expensive hotel on Nantucket Island for a wedding between two people you both held near and dear to your hearts. It took nothing to imagine that if things had gone right, perhaps it would not be Steve and Nancy meeting at the alter tomorrow afternoon.

In the stillness, a reunion is not bound by the trivial “it’s good to see you” or “its been too long.” A mind playing funny tricks and sending you back to years before–the way his entire person disappeared beyond the bedroom door only to be followed by the slamming of the front one. An apology sputtered at the end of a fight that had been brewing for weeks.

The last time you saw Eddie Munson he had come home from a tour with no direction but up. Up to a new place, to a new life, and one that kept the past behind. Questions of love, home, and loyalty tested two people who were holding onto a fine thread before it snapped.

Now, its lingering shreds brushed together with an easterly wind.

You don’t know what he was thinking when the words stopped fumbling from his lips.

“Hey!” Steve cheered happily from his spot as Eddie went quiet. “Come on, join us!”

You felt like a fool standing there idle. Feet glued to the floor, eyes trained on Eddie a moment too long because as soon as the fifth second passed, the woman by his side asked:

“Who’s that?”

Steve said your name, waving at you the same way Nancy had, “She’s Ed–“

“My Maid of Honor!” Nancy cut in, giving the woman a smile in reassurance that it was the description most accurate to who you were. Nancy didn’t know why she cut Steve off like that; the side-eyed glance she received from him as Eddie stared back at you should have told her everything.

Not friend, not best friend, not former classmate, but Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. What a label to have.

Your planted feet begged you to move. The awkwardness of standing still for lingering seconds in time drawing eye after eye, raising questions as to whether or not you were having a medical emergency or just plain stupid. Your feet took those commands and walked, before your mind could even process that the night had continued to move forward without being truly ready to interact.

“I told you she’d join us,” Nancy hit Steve’s shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, “Can’t spend the last few hours of us together as an unmarried couple without those who brought us back together.”

Steve gave her a smile, hand squeezing her kneecap under the table because in reality, there wasn’t an ounce of a lie there. Not that any regular person would understand, but Steve had always dreamed of this moment: the night before he went to sleep one last time as an unmarried man, sipping chilled wine in an expensive hotel with his bride-to-be, his closest friends, and the reason he and Nance were at this stage.

One piece of that puzzle had gone mute, silent as though they never heard him talk. As you approached the high top that was tucked into a corner by the windows that looked out to the Atlantic Ocean, Eddie couldn’t form words. He had prepared himself for this moment for years and yet his mind had gone blank. Emotions barren from his chest like he was an empty, cavernous being and not a person. He felt nothing–like the world had been obliterated and there was only him in space; alone and helpless to save his sanity.

And if it hadn’t been so long since he last laid eyes on you, perhaps he could have recognized the same emotions bleeding out of you. That the wound had never truly closed and there was much unsaid floating around the two of you that the air was hard to breathe.

But against it all, it was you who offered the closed smile and a small:

“Hi.”

Eddie’s relief that the first words weren’t “fuck you,” or “I still hate you.” Just a simple “hi” that replayed in his mind as the seconds transpired and the ball had fallen into his court.

But those words were hard for you to even muster.

“It’s good to see you,” he settled on, not leaving his chair to wrap his arms around you or whisk you away to hear how your life has been since he left. He sat there, as still as you had in the entryway, and let you take the spot beside Nancy because it was the furthest away from his own that you could take.

Eddie had completely forgotten about the woman to his right.

No one had thought anything of the interaction. In two minds, it played out differently because the truth existed somewhere between two people unwilling to face it. For people like Nancy and Steve, there had been one story that had been told yet no one questioned the absence of the other on specific holidays, birthdays, or more.

“We broke up,” that was what you had told Nancy and he had told Steve. Word for word, the same story. “Distance was getting too hard and we thought we’d take a break. It’s better this way and we’re still friends–we we’re friends before everything so…”

For every truth, there were two lies.

Nancy flagged down the waiter, tapping on her glass and holding up two fingers. You shifted in your seat as one leg crossed over the other and glanced at the woman to Eddie’s right.

She wasn’t familiar at all. Still hanging on Eddie’s arm and fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. In all of your years together, you had never seen Eddie wear a dinner jacket.

And against your feelings, you extended your hand over the table toward her. Eddie didn’t know what to think of that. You introduced yourself.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he knew the voice. It was the kind someone would use on the telephone if they were talking to a co-worker or boss, not a friend.

“Veronica,” she lifted her hand from Eddie’s arm and graciously shook yours over the wine glasses; a tiny set of flickering candles beside a small relish tray beneath it. “I hear you’re the Maid of Honor?”

“As much as one can be,” you told her, eyes looking over her face and form. Eddie could see it now that you were comparing yourself to her, an unfortunate circumstance of choice. “The other bridesmaids have helped a bit with planning and what not… it’s not easy work,” you scoffed, tipping your head at Nancy and the bride shook her head with a grin.

“I promise I’m not one of those crazy brides,” Nancy jokingly defended herself to Veronica who admired the friendship before her. She knew you all of two seconds and could see how comfortable the two of you were.

“Yeah, sure…” you trailed off as the waiter returned with two new glasses of wine. You thanked him and took a long, needed sip as the white wine’s bubbles barely had time to settle.

Steve cleared his throat as you drank, glancing at Eddie before turning to you. “We were just catching him up on what went down at the rehearsal. Told ‘em that Robin tripped down the aisle so he’s gotta hold onto her tightly.”

You snickered at the memory. Robin Buckley couldn’t walk in heels even if she tried to. Nodding your head, you didn’t make eye contact with Eddie to reiterate the sentiment.

“She’ll topple over if you don’t.”

“Will do,” Eddie replied quietly, differently than he normally would have and Veronica put her hand on his arm again, rubbing it up and down as if she knew. For once, he just wished she would stop.

“We’re going to–“ Steve’s voice drowned itself out as he rattled on about the plans of tomorrows festivities.

Every now and again when you’d catch a word of Steve’s, you couldn’t help but look at Eddie. Those eyes still telling of his emotions rather than the words he spoke; wide and pupils blown from both the environment and alcohol.

You weren’t shameless about it when he caught you looking. He couldn’t help it either; it was as though he was drawn to a magnet that kept pulling him in. Just as you had observed him, everything was familiar yet strangely different. The way you held yourself, the clothes you wore, makeup and hair just enough having changed to make him notice that he didn’t know you now as he had then.

However, he still felt that hand on his jacket.

Yet he was looking at you. And he felt like a coward for thinking he’d rather have you cling to him like that then her. She, Veronica, didn’t deserve to have a man think that of her.

“Are you still in Chicago?” He blurted out over Steve’s talking. Like walking in a path of quicksand, Eddie did not want to drown before his life truly began. Steve stopped and glanced at Eddie as though his friend had a stroke.

“Mhm,” you murmured over the lip of the glass Nancy had secured for you. “Still in California?”

“Yeah, near Bell Canyon.”

“Is that…” Of course you wouldn’t have known exactly where that was. It wasn’t like you had a map inside of your brain or tracked his every movement. Based on the question on whether or not he still lived in California, he wondered if you read anything about him at all.

“It’s near Los Angeles… like suburbs of it.”

“Ah, alright,” you met his eyes briefly before taking another long sip of your wine. He could see the way you practically folded in on yourself; anxiety and fears bubbling within you the same way they used to.

“And you still live…” he trailed off in a veiled hope that the implication went unspoken. ‘At the apartment, our apartment.’

“No,” you shook your head, “I moved a few years ago… have a nice view of the lake,” the thought of it brought a small smile to your face. It was nice. It was nearly perfect.

“No more of the ‘L’ ruining your sleep?”

He saw the hint of smile play on your lips.

“It’s pretty quiet now,” for a multitude of reasons he could think of.

“That’s good,” Eddie nodded, glancing at Steve and Nancy who provided no support to make the situation any less awkward.

“So,” Veronica began with a perky voice for eleven-thirty at night, “Eddie said you all went to high school together?”

The model wore these big, curious eyes. She was kind, in a doxy kind of way but her sentiment’s with her words transcended through each of you. This woman, a date, hadn’t been a steady, familiar thing to Eddie. Anyone who knew him as close as a formal, long-term partner did, would have known about the crew from Hawkins.

“Yeah,” Steve answered as a savior, “But we weren’t all friends then… that took some time. We were all pretty different.”

Nancy hit his arm playfully, giving a scowl as Steve quirked his eyes at Eddie. The latter had simply taken the labels he was given and ran with them–a transformative play for the man with a lengthy petty crimes list and could out smoke Pablo Escobar.

“It doesn’t matter what we were like! We’re all friends now and those three–“ Nancy gestured her hand over Steve, Eddie, and yourself, “were in the same class.”

“Oh!” She beamed. “How cool! I don’t really talk to anyone from my class so it’s nice to see it works for some people.”

Everyone just gave her tight smiles. Having friends from childhood didn’t make you less of a person. It meant stronger connections and the fact that no one could say why you were all bonded so closely made things more difficult.

“And the rest of your friends?” Veronica turned her face toward Eddie who shrugged.

“In their rooms, I’m guessing. I think we got here a little late,” he chuckled.

“They know you had a commitment,” Nancy reassured him. “Besides, Dustin and the others will be just as thrilled to see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “After the bachelor party, I didn’t think half of us would even make it here so it’ll be a nice surprise.”

Thank God for Steve and his stupid jokes. It broke some tension, a smile actually cracking Eddie’s face again and one that reached his eyes. The brown, doe-eyed ones that Robin once said made her sad were recalling that party like it was the funniest thing he had ever experienced.

‘It probably was’, you thought, ‘Steve Harrington always knew how to party.’

“So,” Veronica interjected, pointing a finger between you and Nancy, “the bachelorette party wasn’t anything to write home about?” Quick judgement.

“We went wine tasting in the Valley,” Nancy’s eyes lit up at the memory, “and then we went hiking… which in retrospect wasn’t something any of us liked.”

It was the end of summer when everyone could get together and the heat ate at each of you as the sun rose higher, the drinks flowed more, and the guides took in their amusement of each woman.

“Went to some museums, ate too much food…” you said additionally.

“El learned she was allergic to pears and Max got stung by a bee,” Nancy interjected, “and our heroes Lucas and Mike came to save the day when we got stranded in the middle of lake because the engine died on the boat we rented.”

“I think we’ll stick to spa days and cooking classes next time,” you picked up your glass, a side-eye to Nancy as she quickly agreed. Veronica perked up, still clutching Eddie’s arm.

“Who’s getting married next? You?”

She meant nothing by it. Her eyes were friendly and voice high pitched, interested in the conversation to just be a part of something more than a two-person bubble. You choked on the wine, the question startled you because it hadn’t been something you thought of in a long time.

You put the glass down as your hand went to your mouth, wiping it dry and you, unintentionally, looked from her to Eddie. Steve noticed, Nancy didn’t.

“No!” You replied a bit too loudly. “Sorry,” shaking the embarrassment from you, “I just–no. Not me. I would put money on Dustin and Suzie once they’re done at MIT… He’s loved her since he was in middle school.”

She smiled at the idea of everlasting young love. “That’s cute! Sometimes, if you know, you know, right?” And she squeezed Eddie’s arm the same way her hand squeezed your heart at the sight.

Eddie dropped his arm into his lap after her grip loosened. Her hand fell onto the table and whether she realized it or not, the rejection she felt showed on her face.

“How did you two meet?” Nancy picked an olive with a toothpick from the small dish on the table. Veronica peered at Eddie to answer but he wasn’t going to.

“At an event for our agency a couple…three? months back.”

Three months.

“Cool,” Steve mumbled as he followed Nancy’s lead and took one of the pickles from the tray. “So what are you? An agent? Model...?”

“I model for magazines, yeah,” she nodded and focused her hands at the base of her wine glass. You watched Veronica tap her white nails on the table cloth before bringing them back to the foot. “Sometimes do commercials or videos and stuff.”

Steve sat back in his chair; a thought pondered in his mind as he watched your eyes divert from the table and out the window to your left. It was dark, you couldn’t see anything beyond ten feet. The arm that had been taken off the table now sat at Eddie’s side with his hand in his lap. He had taken his thumb and twisted at the ring that rested on his ring finger–the one with a dark stone he had worn since forever.

The groom reflected back to his bachelor party, three weeks ago, and how Eddie made no mention of Veronica but very drunkenly admitted something he didn’t want to see the light of day.

Buried; six feet deep with the memories he had locked away in Pandora’s box. There was key to unlock them, let them fly away and spread like stars in the sky but it was booze and a little bit of weed that truly let them sing.

Steve wasn’t sure if Eddie realized what he had told him that night.

The way he was twisting his rings made him think that if he didn’t, Eddie was at least thinking the same thing now.

“You know,” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back, glancing at Veronica first before allowing his eyes to wander to you, then Eddie. “If you asked me a few years ago if I thought that Eddie, Eddie Munson, would be dating a supermodel… I would have laughed.”

Veronica chuckled, a light blush forming on the balls of her cheeks as Eddie shook his head. It was Steve’s tone that made you turn to him.

“Not really your type, dude,” Steve said and the woman’s face went flat. The chuckle cease and Nancy forgot how to breathe for a second. Maybe Steve had too much to drink, maybe he was done for the night, and if she whisked him away now, he wouldn’t be hung over for the wedding.

“Come on, man…” Eddie shifted his head to the side, glaring at Steve to knock-it-off before things crossed a line he wasn’t prepared for. Eddie thought himself a jackass sometimes but he never wanted others to feel uncomfortable.

“No offense, Veronica,” Steve held out his hand as if saying ‘I don’t mean anything by it.’ “It’s just…” He clicked his tongue, “you want the best for your friends, right? And for the last decade or more I’ve never seen you fawn over the looks of a model.”

“Steve,” you interjected, providing the same look Eddie had given him because he was trying to open that box. “Stop being an asshole.”

You turned to Veronica, “he’s just a little drunk, that’s all.” Nancy supported it with a smile and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve laughed at your words like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “That’s kind of rich coming from you.”

“I think we should–“ Nancy began but Steve leaned forward on his elbows.

“You like Lord of the Rings, Veronica? Or ever go to a thrift store and absolutely wreck the clothes you bought? Play D and D?” She looked confused so Steve stopped, “Dungeons and Dragons? Like the game? No? How about drugs? Do you do those?”

“Steve! Fuck man…” Eddie hit Steve’s shoulder, “I think we’re a little past a buzz, huh?”

“Tell me, Eddie,” Steve took the whack to his shoulder in stride, “You’re not thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about.”

“Okay,” Steve drug the ‘a’ out of the word, “fine!” He looked to you, “are you thinking what I’m thinking then? And when I said it’s funny, I meant in you defending her when–“

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Eddie said loudly, “would you just shut the fuck up for once! I was so worried about us getting into it,” he threw a hand up and motioned between the two of you, “but you took that and ran right the fuck away with it!”

As Eddie argued with Steve, you turned to Nancy.

“I think you better take him to his room,” you saw how mortified she was, “or I can call up Lucas and Dustin to come get him too?”

“I’ve got him,” she took your hand and held it tightly. “He’s just up-“

“—OH!” Steve’s voice cut through hers, “like you’re not giving ‘fuck me eyes’ to each other! Goddammit! It’s like living with divorced parents! No wonder you switch off holidays!” Steve pointed at you, “was that your idea? I bet it was.”

“Wait,” Veronica cut in after Steve’s ‘divorced parents’ comment, “did you two date?” her eyes flicking between Eddie and yourself. Her question went unanswered as Steve continued his tirade.

“And Dustin reassured me there wouldn’t be an issue!”

“There wasn’t an issue until you brought it up!” Eddie said pointedly. You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp and Nancy hopped off her chair as people started to go quiet at the surrounding tables.

“Please!” Steve lamented, “you got fuckin’ plastered in Miami and told me and the boys that you wished it was you gettin’ married not me!”

“When the hell did I say that?” Eddie furrowed his brows, voice still loud and defensive. Nancy shrugged on her cardigan that was on the back of her chair, Veronica looked befuddled, and you felt like you blanched. Even if they couldn’t see it, you felt it.

“At the shitty strip club!” Not something he should have shouted in a place like this. “You got all weird and drank yourself to pieces because, and I quote,” Steve said crazed, “the wedding makes you fucking sad and you didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Oh fuck you, man,” Eddie soured, rolling his eyes at Steve as Nancy grabbed his arm gently.

“Steve, come on,” she coaxed him, “we better get going.”

“If you want to convince people you don’t still love each other,” Steve chided, “then maybe stop acting like the world will fall apart the moment you walk into a room.”

“Wait,” Veronica added again, shaking her head in misunderstanding, “still love each other? When did this happen?”

“We don’t love each other,” Eddie answered for both of you without a second to spare. “And it won’t fall apart! Look! We’re here now!” He motioned his hand between the two of you across the table again but didn’t look at the way you listened to every word like you had when you fought in the kitchen that horrible evening.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded as if he didn’t believe Eddie in the slightest, “Swear on Dustin? On your… shit… I don’t know, guitar!? Say that to her face and tell her like you didn’t just tell me you make a fucking mistake years ago.”

Mistake.

There were two paths of a mistake.

One, where his choice to follow his career without you was a mistake because it wasn’t as it seemed or it wasn’t complete without you; or two, that being with you entirely was a mistake because it clouded his wants for his future.

Eddie sighed, head bowing as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair before coming up again.

“Do you really want this to be how you remember the night before you get married?” Eddie asked Steve as the groom sat there with his bride clutching his arm in a pleading motion to exit the wine cellar.

“Do you want this to be how you remember the day you chickened out on being a man for once?”

Steve knew it cut deep. The wound open and bleeding for all to see as Eddie’s face scoured into the in-between of pissed off and irate.

“Go, Steve,” Eddie said flatly, “Big day tomorrow. Don’t want to be late.”

Nancy gave you a supportive, closed lip smile as Steve finally got off his chair and walked to the door. She let him leave first.

“I’m sorry about him…” She laughed with embarrassment, “He’s just overwhelmed with everything.” And Nancy wasn’t telling you or Eddie that, but Veronica.

“It’s alright,” she told her kindly in reply, “wedding’s aren’t wedding’s without a little drama, right?”

For that, Nancy was grateful. She looked between you and Eddie–still separated by the table yet the string still bristled.

“Be in the bridal suite by nine, okay?” She told you, “and I think the guys are getting ready at like ten so, don’t sleep in.”

“Got it,” from Eddie and a “yeah, okay,” from you.

“Sorry again,” Nancy apologized, leaving to go scold Steve as the table now sat quiet and awkward.  

The flames flickered as the noises from other tables now filled the void of conversation at your own. Veronica tapped her glass, yours sat empty, and Eddie was still facing the empty seat where Steve had been.

“So,” Veronica pursed her lips, “you two dated then?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It provided her the answers of why Eddie had been acting the way he had and the conciseness of dialogue that existed amongst you. The way he gazed, the way you diverted it; his own curiosity and knowledge of the sound of the elevated train that impacted your sleeping and the way the admittance that Eddie now lived in a suburb sent you the wrong way.

Even then, you glanced at Eddie to see if he’d answer. She was his guest, after all. He turned back around in his seat–back flush against the chair, shoulders slouched.

“Yes,” he treaded carefully, “we did.”

“For how long?” It may have been worse that she said none of it with malice.

Eddie flicked his eyes from where they were trained on the table top to you. And fuck, they sucked you right back in and spit you right back out.

“About eight years…” You told her, ready to flee.

“That’s a long time,” she nodded to reaffirm her words. “And you lived together?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hummed as if he didn’t want her to know every detail of his life. He looked down at the table. “For four years of it.”

“More like three,” you mumbled passively, pushing your wine glass forward on the table.

“Four,” Eddie said firmly and his eyes shot back up to you. Sensitive subject, you suppose. He remembered every word you had said to him that evening and the comments about his time spent at home stuck. “Four,” he reiterated.

“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?”

You didn’t forget your words either.

Your expression pinched; eyebrows shooting up for a brief second before your head cocked to the side with silent words. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself or this table any further by getting into a spat with Eddie over something as trivial as years spent in a shabby apartment in Chicago.

The wine glass was already pushed; two chairs empty as bed appeared to be the best option to end the night. A soft, hotel pillow to help you replay every image your mind could remember from what you had, what you lost, and what had just happened.

You hated that. But it was better than arguing with someone you didn’t want to argue with.

Breathing in a deep, sharp breath, you retracted your gaze from Eddie and gave Veronica the softest one you could muster.

“It was good to meet you,” you told her. It wasn’t her fault Eddie took your heart and ran away with it. “I hope Steve’s little scene didn’t scare you off. He can be a drama queen when he drinks.”

“All good,” she gave a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Happens to the best of us.”

“So it does,” you replied, giving her a nod before sliding off your chair and letting the space return to two. Eddie’s sigh was loud; the way he closed his eyes in frustration hadn’t gone unnoticed.

As you passed on her side exiting the corner table, you put a hand on the table when your feet came to a stop. Veronica looked at you curiously and waited for another ball to drop on her toes but it didn’t.

“Don’t let him smoke a whole pack, alright? Won’t do any of us good if he does.”

And then you walked away.

Veronica had only been romantically linked to Eddie for three months. She hadn’t seen any side of him that resembled the man sat beside her before and from what she knew, Eddie was not a smoker. The only comment that had surprised her more than the outburst from the groom was when Steve admitted Eddie had become hammered from the booze and weed at his bachelor party.

But before you could escape the wine cellar fully, Eddie turned around in his seat and shouted your name across the restaurant.

In a full, obnoxious manner that reminded you of the boy you had fallen in love with in high school.

“I quit. Six years ago.”

When the sun rose to its blue hue and the reminder of the night before replayed in your mind like a fresh, unadulterated film, there was a conflict brewing within you.

The idea of love.

Love was precious; an almost a forgettable thing when the daily grind became too much for simplistic thought yet it was what people craved the most. To love, to be loved. On a day like that–where there was not a raincloud in sight and when two people were joining each other in matrimony bound by the tethers of love–it was hard not to think about how the feeling evaded you.

It touched you once.

It gripped its claws into your flesh and left fatal wounds in its wake, yet you desired it so. Love, the splendid little thing that meant mountains but fell to cavernous trenches.

You don’t know which part of Eddie you had fallen in love with first. Juvenile, childish love was innocent at seventeen. As you grew older and the complications of adulthood and circumstance of living in Hawkins transformed life, the reasons for loving him changed too.

It wasn’t always about how he could make you laugh or the way his eyes were so expressive; the comfort he brought or the way he helped you love yourself through him loving you in return.

It was doing the dishes together at the end of a long night. Falling asleep on the couch because making it to the bed after one of his gigs was too exhausting, but he’d wake up in the early hours of the morning and make sure you’d both end up there anyway. How Eddie made time for everyone and everything until life stopped allowing him to do so.

It was moments where you and Eddie would be waiting for the train at Clinton station and he’d link his finger with yours because winter gloves constricted full hand movements.

Those times made you hate what love often resolved itself with: pain and bitter resentment that life was cruel.

And the clock ticked away as you thought of it.

When Nancy put her veil on, Robin was the first to cry. Then Max, then Eleven, and Karen was close behind them all. You stayed for a few minutes before excusing yourself to the hallway because the sight painted you blue.

You felt horrid for feeling bitter when Nancy’s fairytale was not an hour away.

In the hallway, there was a series of doors that led to varying rooms. Ones that held the groomsmen and Steve, one for the flower girl and ring bearer’s families. It was decorated with seaside decor of light yellows, blues, and whites. A table down ten feet and across the way had a mirror hung above it cased in gold.

The woman in the reflection was one you neglected to see for a long while. The apparent dissatisfaction of your own circumstance on a day filled with joy riddled on every feature. A necklace clutched in your palm feeling the brunt of sweat and aggravation as Eddie filled your thoughts again.

You wanted to love him, to be loved by him. You tried to hook the clasp. Missed.

Why couldn’t you just move on and be happy with someone else? Again, the clasp dug into your finger. Missed.

Could you even remember what it truly felt like to be loved?

The clasp evaded you. It was mocking, laughing as you struggled in the hallway mirror and began to sweat the idea that you’d never be able to secure it. Heaving a deep sigh in the mirror, you clutched the necklace in your hand and leaned against the table with two fists.

“Get it fucking together,” you told yourself quietly.

Regaining your posture, you tried again, ignoring the sounds of a hall door opening and closing down the way. Your fingers trembled as the clasp caught air once more.

“You need help with that?”

You stared at your reflection and pretended not to see where he had stopped. Jaw tense, you shook your head and attempted the connection for the tenth time.

When you missed again, he scoffed.

“Give it to me,” he held out his hand palm up, ready to take it from your timid fingers and do it for you. “Come on,” Eddie egged on.

“I don’t need help,” you told him.

“Yes, you do,” he said pointedly. He could see the indentations of the small lever on your index finger. “Just let me help you.”

He wasn’t going to leave. Your eyes met in the mirror and he rose his brows expectantly. More hesitantly than he wished, you held out the necklace and let it ring into his palm. A nod from your head gave him the assent he needed.

In the silence of the hallway, you felt squeezed—both your mind and heart. Eddie moved to stand behind you and you could barely breathe; the simple gesture of helping you put on a necklace far more harrowing than previously realized. He was so close. So close. His fingers trailed to the back of your neck, brushing away the hair with his fingertips and letting it fall where it would not infringe the task.

You couldn’t bear to look at him. Focused on the sconces beside the mirror, you tried not to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you for the first time in half a decade. You tried not to remember the way his touch intoxicated you; every stroke and graze intentional as his eyes watched you struggle.

Eddie lifted his arms above your head and let the jewelry fall onto your collarbone. You wondered if his heart was beating as fast as yours.

“How does she look?” Nancy. His voice was low, quiet in the hall to not disturb the others getting ready. You hadn’t even taken him in yet.

The suits Steve chose were all black, form-fitting with ties instead of bow ties. The pocket squares were filled with a white handkerchief, and the shoes were a clean, shiny black. On his lapel, a single rose was pinned.

“She looks beautiful,” you replied but still wouldn’t look at him. You heard the clasp make it. The necklace sat firm but his hands did not move. They lingered, tracing the line of the back of your neck to the tops of your shoulders.

“You look beautiful.”

You didn’t want him to say that.

“Don’t say that,” you replied morosely.

“Why?” Eddie’s fingers brushed the necklace’s golden chain. “It’s true.”

The bottom of your lip trembled dangerously.

“Because you can’t say that.”

“But I did,” he sounded hopeful which dug into that wound a bit further.

“You brought a date.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” He whispered, fingers still gliding. He said your name softly, “look at me, please. Talk to me.”

You felt your heart constrict, sending a shuttered breath through you and your eyes blinked rapidly. There was no way in Hell you would let Eddie see you cry. He had moved on. He brought a date. A goddamn runway model that, in your opinion, ran circles around you in every way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“I need to go,” you stepped away from him, shaking your head and jetting off down the hall. “I’m sorry.”

He called your name once, twice, but you ignored him. You grasped the golden handle with a heavy hand, breathing unsteady as he stood in the distance in your peripheral. As though the world stood still again, Eddie felt that he had broken through. You would turn, talk to him, and let him relish in the company of you.

Yet, you grasped that handle tighter.

But, you did turn.

And when you opened the door back to the dressing room, it wasn’t only you whose memories transported you back to the night in Chicago that plagued your mind, but Eddie too. Straight back as he made his way to the men’s dressing room in the opposite direction.

“Stop being such an asshole!” You stood in the kitchen, hands clutching the sink as the anger seethed out of you. Eddie paced in the living space just beyond the island to your right.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” He threw his arms up in defeat. “For once in my life things are finally looking up and people just don’t get signed to a label and expected not to do—” he fumbled his words, “everything that comes with it!”

“I’m not asking you to give up music, Eddie!“

“Then what are you asking me?” He craned his head to the side, hands on his hips and breathing hard. “I can’t work from here. I have to go there and the least you could do is come with me.”

The least you could do. The least you could do.

You tossed the dish rag that had been strangled in your grip into the sink, focusing on the window positioned across from it and scoffed. A view of the goddamn ‘L’ train tracks you despised.

“Well I can’t just get up and move,” you said as calmly as you could. “Why is it so easy for you to ask that of me but when I bring up what I want, it becomes a problem for you?”

Eddie shook his head, hair mused as he ran a hand over it. “I don’t make it a problem, baby.”

“Yes, you do!” You laughed exasperatedly. “You just fucking said—“ a frustrated groan left your lips and you bounded off the sink and faced him from behind the counter. “It’s not like this is Hawkins; it’s goddamn Chicago and I’ll be dammed if there isn’t a music producer in one of those skyscrapers.”

“They’re not like they are out there. If we want any chance to make music–actually make music of our own that sells platinum records and wins awards–those producers are out there,” he pointed to the door as if it signified a world beyond this one.

“What? So, it’s all about money?”

“No! But hell, if that isn’t a major part of it I’d be lying!”

“And what about our home here?” You put your hands on the counters ledge and the nails on your fingertips motioned against it with rhythmic clicks. “Everything we’ve built here goes to shit because of one possible record deal?”

“It’s not just one deal,” Eddie groaned your name in frustration, “It’s the only deal and this… this here,” he motioned around the apartment, “was only ever temporary.”

News to you.

“Like Hawkins was. This isn’t really home.”

“Not home?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Then where the hell do you think it is? You bolted from Hawkins the second you got the chance and as far as I am concerned, this is my home. You see those pictures on the wall?”

You tipped your head in the direction of the wall that the couch sat up against. Above it was a collage of frames that held so many memories. From Nancy to Max, from Steve to Mike, everyone was on that wall.

“Those people helped us find this one.”

“Well,” he shook his head, “they can help us find another in California. There are people out there, baby. Real goddamn people that know just what we need.”

Not you, Corroded Coffin. What they needed.

“It’s not going to find us all the way out here.”

“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?”

He had been traveling the world with Corroded Coffin for a year and a half. In all of that time, he had come home for approximately two months. Eight weeks out of seventy-eight. This wasn’t the first fight about it; he had changed. The stronghold fame was suffocating him and was the very thing drawing you apart.

“Hm?” You hummed as he diverted his eyes to the apartment door.

“I’m here now.”

“That wasn’t my question, Eddie,” the ground rumbled beneath you. The way his eyes darted to the door as if it were calling him to leave. Foundation cracked and crumbled, fragmenting as the words threatened to tumble out. “Do you even want to be here?”

“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, yeah?” He looked annoyed, lips nearly flattened. That’s how you knew he was angry. Angry at life, at you, at the world.

“Eddie,” you pleaded softly in one last attempt to salvage the broken platform, “stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are!” You breathed in deeply, thinking of the unthinkable questions that pondered in your mind. “I’m not asking you to stay because I don’t want you to follow your dreams—you twisted my words—but why can’t I be the selfish one and want to stay here? You’ll have more money, you can visit and we— “

Can work it out. It was already over when he said he had been signed that godforsaken deal.

He said your name dejectedly. It hung there in the air as if saying ‘stop trying.’ You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked him, already decided in what he wanted because he was going after his dream. Halfway there, this was his out.

The tears gathered at the sides of your eyes, “you don’t even try.”

Eddie always had something to say but he couldn’t form words in that moment.

“What?” You steeled your wet eyes on him, “can’t even say that you had? Or that you were? Eddie, I’ve been doing this alone for so long that I don’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me and you meant it.”

That set him off. He pointed a bitter finger at you. “I always mean it when I say it. Don’t play that card.”

“Card!?” You cried, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you into staying but you don’t mean it! Eight weeks! Eight weeks in a fucking year and a half and you expect me to get up and throw my life away for you?”

“I was on tour! Halfway across the goddamn world!”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, turning away from him and trying to escape to the bedroom but you could hear his heavy feet following.

“Stop it,” he said your name over and over as you gripped the door and tried to close it. He pressed his palm against it with a hard slap and pushed it against the wall with a deafening thud. “Would you just stop!”

“For Fuck��s Sake!” You yelled, “I can’t move! I don’t want to move! I have a lease, a good job, and I want to stay here and build my future!”

“You can have that in California!” He yelled back.

His eyes were wide, trying to pretend the antithesis of the fracture was anything less than his career.

“No, I can’t!”

“Why not!?”

“Because of you! You don’t want what I do!” You screamed at him, voice breaking as you cried and realized that this was the end. Eddie would move out to California and you’d be left in a tiny apartment in Chicago alone.

“I want a family, Eddie. I want to raise kids here or in the stupid suburbs, and grow old here. You want to be a—” you swallowed hard, cheeks wet and eyes getting puffy, “—rock star and those lives don’t mix. They just don’t.”

He was only twenty-five. He didn’t really know what he wanted from life.

“You don’t want to be here. That’s why you haven’t come home and I get it, I do. The band is growing, you’re popular, you have a million women to choose from, but I can’t keep pretending that my wants have to be ignored for you to succeed.”

“Are you saying I’ve ignored you?”

“You tell me, Eddie,” you shrugged, “how would you feel if the person you loved most was gone for months only to be reassured that everything was fine by a phone call every few days?”

He let his head tip to the floor, eyes closed because although many of the cracks stemmed from his choices, this wasn’t what he wanted. Eddie wanted to be happy, to be in love and be loved. But he was at the precipice of being what he always wanted and decisions had to be made.

Callous and resentful decisions.

“Do you hate me?” Eddie’s eyes spurred something in him. A hatred for himself, a despised feeling growing that a part of him that had always been missing—family—was being ripped away for a dream.

“I don’t hate— “

“Yes, you do,” he looked up, giving you a knowing look as his bottom lip trembled.

“No, I don’t. But I’m hurt and I don’t think you see that.”

“So,” he cleared his throat, breath hitching in his chest, “this is it then? We’re just going to give up?”

“I didn’t give up, Eddie,” you needn’t say the rest to indicate that he had. “We just want different things.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you shook your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed with your face turned away from him. “Right now we do and it’s not doing anything for either of us.”

It was quiet for a few minutes. Minutes. A thick fog fell over the room; marinating in every picture, the clothes folded away in the dresser, the shampoo in the shower, the two dinner plates half-cleaned in the sink. Domesticity wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t enough.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but Eddie’s socked feet moved from the spot he stood in and approached the bed—carefully and freely. He knelt down, hands on the outsides of both your thighs and his thumbs rubbed the tops of them gently, the pressure soothing when it shouldn’t have been through your jeans.

“I want you to be happy…” he swallowed thickly as he chose his words gently. There was no point in trying to stop you from crying when he couldn’t do so himself. “I want you to have what you want, sweetheart�� and if I can do that… someday… we’ll find each other again.”

“Eddie…” Your heart ached as you shook your head. Hope was the killer of it all.

Hope that perhaps one day you’ll find each other again; that you’d both be free to choose the paths that crossed while maintaining your own personalities and careers without giving one up. Hope that a future existed when the flame was extinguished on a cold evening in Chicago.

“I’m sorry,” he rubbed your thighs tenderly.

“Me too.”

“I love you,” he said softly as if were one last confession. The tears were quietly flowing when you leaned forward, cupping the back of his head with your hands and resting your forehead on his own.

Just to hold him one last time.

“I love you too.” He left the apartment an hour later and it was the last time you had seen him. No contact, no cards, and no one, in the group of friends you shared, brought up the other on purpose.

The reception was noisy.

Like a zoo full of animals that were awakened by a whistle only they could hear; sounds of song’s you hadn’t heard since high school played from the small band the Wheeler’s had insisted on just beyond the designated space for dancing. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were losing it on the floor since the second a Michael Jackson song emitted its first few strings.

Steve and Nancy were hand in hand greeting guests at their tables as others made their way to the bar, dessert table, or chatted with drinks in their hands.

At the head table, El and Max were positioned at the end talking in whispers about the people in the room and you sat like a lone duck near the center of it. An abundance of flowers in white and yellow flanked the table before you, empty dishes and scattered bags and goods littered its table top. Mike left a pack of cigarettes in his spot while Dustin’s best man speech was crumbled in a quarter-fold beside his sweating glass of coke.

Time had left you behind; sitting solemn at your best friend’s wedding while everyone else put on their best smiles and grinned their way through the evening. And maybe that’s what observation had led you to believe, that you looked as though you were wallowing in self-pity for an absence of love in your life. Loveless at an event so full of it.

You fiddled with the necklace absent mindedly.

The room of excitable tunes slowed.

Couples–married and not, grabbed their partners for a dance. Robin and Eddie were standing near the center of the room beside the table that all the parents were at when Veronica slid next to Eddie, her hand slinking down his arm and into his palm as she nodded to the growing group on the dance floor.

Hours ago, you had looked back at him when he pleaded with you to stay. Now, as his hand was gripped by a woman he wasn’t sure why he had even invited, Eddie looked back from the center of the room and to the head table where you sat.

Veronica pulled him away before he could make a choice.

Robin leaned against one of the chairs, watching as Eddie trailed behind the woman in orange. She did not realize Joyce and Hopper were still sitting at the table she rested against.

“What the hell was that?” Hopper voiced, hand pointing in Eddie’s direction like a finger gun. He had a mustache that was perfectly trimmed and highlighted his frown well. Joyce crossed her arms with scrutiny.

Robin shrugged, sighing as she turned around and pulled out a chair to sit at the table. “Two idiots in love, I think.”

“Jesus,” Hopper scratched his forehead, “I knew it was a bad idea…” he mumbled as he watched Eddie pretend to be interest in what the woman was telling him as they danced.

“What?” Robin shook her head, “What was a bad idea?”

“Them breaking up!” He said as if it were obvious. “I got a call from one of the bartenders at The Hideout that there was a scuffle goin’ on one Friday night a few years ago and when I got there, Eddie was there just fuckin’ bombed on the sidewalk.”

Joyce nodded along to his words because she had heard the story before. Robin listened intently as Hopper continued.

“I couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’ so I put him in the truck and offered to drive him to her parents’ house because that’s where they always stayed when they came to town and he just… cried. Drunk and sobbing his goddamn eyes out in the front of my truck.”

“Was this recent or…?” Robin pondered.

“No,” Hopper shook his head, “years back but he was goin’ on about how he was a bad boyfriend and they broke up and he was moving to California in a few days… I just thought to myself ‘shit, man, I have never seen someone so bent out of shape from a breakup.’ Those two… If it weren’t Steve and Nancy gettin’ hitched, I would have bet money on it that it was them instead.”

“Every Tuesday he’d pick her up from Melvald’s and take her out. He had flowers for her every time,” Joyce recalled. “I asked her about it once,” she nodded and looked at how you watched Eddie with the other woman, “she said that he never had a good example of what it meant to be a good boyfriend. I guess his dad was a piece of shit,” Hopper hummed a knowledgeable assurance that she was right. “And he wanted to be the only example he could think of–be that good guy that she deserved.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said quietly.

“I told him he needed to fly back to Chicago and fix things,” Hopper added, “but I guess he was too beaten up about it; probably thought she’d slam the door in his face.”

“Doubt it,” Robin snorted, “I don’t think they’re idiots,” she corrected herself, “I think they know exactly what the other one is thinking but are too scared to get hurt again if it doesn’t work out.”

Hopper scooted his chair back, adjusting his pants and jacket as he stood from the table. “Well, then we’ll just have to make it happen–or,” he clarified, “get them in the same spot.”

Robin swiveled in her chair as Hopper rubbed Joyce’s shoulder as he passed behind her, heading straight for the head table and directly to you.

Jim Hopper wasn’t a man that could be missed in a crowd of hundreds. His bulky frame that towered over guests and moved about the room like a boulder in grass drew your eyes to the movement immediately. He passed by Max and Eleven at the end of the table, never missing the opportunity to pat the girl he raised into a wonderful young lady on the head.

It was a nice distraction from Eddie and Veronica swaying to a melodic tune.

“Hey kid,” Hopper pulled out the chair beside you labeled with a table marker for ‘Robin Buckley.’

You gave him a closed smile. “Hi Chief.”

“I guess I can’t really call you ‘kid’ anymore,” he groaned, chuckling as he sat down with an ache all older men his age did. “I blink and you all grow up… makes me feel like a real old man,” and then he gave you that sly, side grin that made you wish Hopper was your dad instead of the one you had.

“You’re not old, Hopper,” he managed to pull a small laugh from your lips. The dejected film washing away for a brief second in time.

“Well,” he cleared his throat as he put an elbow on the table and adjusted himself in the seat to face you, “that makes me feel a little better about my age. So,” Hopper gave a pointed look that answered the hundreds of questions as to what Robin was chatting to him and Joyce about, “what are you sitting all the way over here for? Don’t want to chat or dance?”

“Just tired,” you told him, “Nance didn’t pick the most sensible shoes.”

“Robin took hers off; I’m sure you can do the same.”

“And walk barefoot on this floor?” You snorted. “Never.”

He shared the amusement before turning his gaze to the groups of people beyond the tables as they danced. A goddamn direct view. ‘Cruel,’ he thought. And surpassing the stone of the church from hours before, the beach where it trickled rain as photos were snapped for scrapbooks forever, and the smells of delicious food filled his belly before reaching his mouth, Jim Hopper felt the love that filled the room.

It touched him, as it had you and everyone else on the wedding weekend of Steve and Nancy Harrington.

Joyce was attempting to occupy Robin in conversation but every time Jim’s eyes met hers, he knew they were both far too curious and nosey to not be gossiping about longstanding drama that befuddled even the most romantically inclined.

The woman that restored his faith in the prospect of love and devotion had witnessed the earliest of your own. Tuesday’s at the local mart, the way Eddie would hold the door for you and attempt to steal magazine’s off the rack just to get your attention. How Eddie drove you around when your car was in the shop and eventually, would take the little rascals of Hellfire with for soda and snacks before their campaigns began–but also because he wanted to see you if even for a minute.

Although people often judged the idea of love at a young age, Jim and Joyce both recognized its honesty between Eddie and yourself. It was pure, unadulterated, and basked in a light that only belonged to the longevity of companionship.

“You know, the moment I knew I loved Joyce, I thought I’d never get her.”

Hopper could see Eddie and his date having their own conversation, whatever it may have been, because a blank face melted from one of an increasing lack of emotion, to one of strife.

“And when I did, I thought she’d see a different man than the one I believed I was.”

“She would have been blind not to see the real you, Hopper,” Joyce smiled at you as you caught her eyes. “You always tried to help us be the best versions of ourselves and she did too. If that’s not a perfect match, I don’t know what is.”

“Are you the best version of yourself now?” He questioned, tapping his finger onto the white tablecloth of the table. “Weddings can be… sobering… but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person look as distant as you.”

“Flattery never was your strong suit, Hopper,” you grimaced, “and I’m fine,” you weren’t fine. “You didn’t have to come save me from myself.”

“So, there aren’t a million thoughts swimming around in that mind of yours? I know I’m not the most intuitive dad there is but believe me when I say I’ve been trained to know when somethin’ just quite ain’t right.”

“I have hundreds of thoughts racing through my brain. ‘Why is the cake so far away?’ ‘Rob and Joyce can stop staring at me any second now,’ and perhaps my favorite thought, ‘why does Jim Hopper care about my state of mind?” Combative. He knew the signs.

“Maybe Jim Hopper knowns that the girl deep down inside of you just needs to heal,” he said honestly. “But there is only one way to heal what’s been lost and let me tell you, it’s not going to come waltzing on down here as you sit and mope.”

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” You scoffed at yourself, “that this wedding has only made me jealous about what I don’t have.”

“I don’t think you’re jealous, kid,” Hopper deflated, “I think you’re realizing a mistake was made somewhere along the lines of your own life.”

Mistake. It was that goddamn word again.

“There’s been no mistake,” you shook your head at him, “everything has played out the way it was meant to.”

“And you really believe that?”

“There had been nothing in my life to prove me otherwise.”

“And lying was never your strong suit, kid,” he put on his ‘dad’ face. “You don’t have to talk to me, fine, but if I asked to be the first person to ask for a dance tonight, would you say no?”

How could you deny Jim Hopper, Police Chief and hero of Hawkins, Indiana? You couldn’t. Even if you were flailing for support in an ocean of heartache, sparing one dance for the man was cinch. He rose from the chair, holding out his arm in hopes that you would link yours through his and entertain him one dance as Steve and Nancy added themselves to the pairs on the dance floor and swayed gently to a new song.

His stature would block a view you’d rather not see.

“You may be the only person to ask me to dance,” you joined him on your feet. “I can’t say no to you, Chief.”

“That’s the spirit, kid.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

Veronica’s voice cut through the music as couples and pairs settled onto the dance floor with the melodic hum of a song playing through sets of speakers. Instead of dancing like an adult, she had flung both her arms over Eddie’s shoulders and linked her hands behind his head. He had no choice other than to put his hand at her waist; the fabric of her orange dress was coarse under his fingertips.

“I asked you to come,” Eddie replied. “I thought I told you that last night.”

Ah, yes. Last night; where Steve made a scene about Eddie’s lingering feelings of letting another woman go while she sat beside him with the best intentions.

Veronica did not know Eddie Munson–the guy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks by fate, the one who had a strange group of friends that shared varying interests and ran in different social circles, or someone who threw everything he had into a career he realized wasn’t as glamorous as the cameras and magazines made it out to be.

He cursed those Rolling Stone magazines he scoured when he was a bit too early for closing time of Melvald’s.

“Yeah,” Veronica said as if that hadn’t mattered in the slightest, “and here you are, barely even touching me or sparring me a second look. You know I had to sit by some stoner guy for dinner and they didn’t believe you could bring someone like me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, taken aback by her comment. “What’s that supposed to mean? Those are good people. And I was a huge fuckin’ stoner once too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she shook her head, “I mean, they didn’t see me with you. Not because of who I am or who you are, but because it wasn’t right.”

“You know,” Eddie lowered his voice when he caught the eye of Dustin dancing with Suzie not two feet away from him, “you’re sounding an awful lot like someone who’s about to dump someone else.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Her eyebrows quirked as she tipped her head to the side. “Why waste more time on me?”

Even if his heart raced in another direction, the sound of someone saying that to Eddie was bothersome.

“Please don’t say that,” he said, “you’re not a waste of time.”

“But for someone else’s love, I am,” Veronica’s lips extended into a thin line. “That’s not a bad thing, Eddie… It just means I’m not the one for you.”

The chords of the music sobered him.

Across the room, sitting desolate at the dinner table, his heart called.

“Afford me this dance,” Veronica continued, “and when the time comes, do what makes you happy, however difficult that may be. She may not run into your arms as she once did,” as the motions swayed the pair, she faced the table as Jim Hopper approached. “That doesn’t mean love doesn’t exist.”

She felt Eddie’s shoulder’s deflate from the tension he had been holding in the entire day–nay, two days–since the prospect of you had become a reality.

“I abandoned her,” Eddie admitted quietly to her, “like a fucking ragdoll for some dream that really isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

Veronica did not know every detail. She did not know the exact history, nor did she fully grasp the levity of a near decade of love being tossed to the side for a pipedream. But she did know what it was like to leave an abundance of life behind to chase a want.

Yet the model had never seen a group so peculiar as the one he belonged to. The tightknit communal that leaned on each other like family even though many were from different corners. She had seen the binds of friendship like never before. She had seen a broken love bonded by pain from across a candlelight tabletop and wondered why she had ever been invited if that would always have been the outcome. It was as though two ships hadn’t sailed passed one another but docked; lengths of a life finally running out of individual ink before relying on two for competition.

“You both hurt each other,” she settled, “that is what separation does. But…” she chuckled, “I have been in love before and I’ve never witnessed such a feeling when being in the presence of the two of you–and I don’t even know her…”

“She won’t talk to me,” Eddie confided. “I tried, earlier today because she was on the verge of a breakdown over a necklace and she could barely look at me.”

“Don’t you think it may be because if she did, she’d fall all over again?”

The song was coming to a close.

“There is nothing wrong with pain, Eddie. Feeling pain, wanting to be healed, and being scared of that healing… and maybe she’ll need time. She loves you. I know she does because when women know, they know.”

Jim Hopper stood from the chair.

There was a comradery he felt in Veronica. Romance beside itself, the woman was a chakra. She had looked into a future he could barely imagine himself and pulled the heroic card before it was dealt. These cards overturned like quicksand settling between his toes.

“You know,” Eddie gave her a sly, friendly grin, “you sound an awful lot like those odd fortune tellers that sell their services on the strip.”

Veronica laughed; whole-heartedly, warmly. “Maybe in a previous life I was,” she played, “but in yours, there has always been one path and I guarantee you, from one romantic to another, loneliness was never an option for you. It’s what kids dream about–that ‘fairytale…’ Even if it is a little bit messy.”

You linked your arm with Jim’s.

“I’ve always been a little too messy,” Eddie said sheepishly.

“I can tell,” Veronica groaned, “You don’t have to be perfect for her. Imperfection seizes our hearts faster than perfection… it’s enough to haunt us when perfection tears that apart.”

“El isn’t dancing with anyone.”

Jim Hopper held one hand in his and the other on the upper half of your back. It was as though he was dancing at an elementary father-daughter dance than anything else, stiff in his hulking frame. The music did nothing to silence your rapidly forming thoughts that Eddie and Veronica were feet away; Eddie’s eyes caught yours as Jim helped you to the floor, an anguish in them acted as a puzzle waiting to be pulled apart.

In the eyes that watched Veronica rip the persona he had gathered for himself in the years past, Eddie could only imagine you. He waited for them to turn into your own, for her laugh to morph into yours, for her hands to run through his hair as yours once did, and the comfort of her presence to become you. Looking for that glimpse, Eddie found it inside of his imagination; searching every corner of it to find a home for his torment–self-inflicted and its mortal consequences bleeding life from him like a sieve.

“It’s those sensible shoes…” Hopper joked. “Her feet are killing her. A couple blisters later, she’s sworn them off forever.”

“I don’t blame her,” Lucas and Max joined the pairs beside you. The red-headed girl rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed in the utmost content state she could be in. True love.

“How many dances do you have in your feet?”

“Why?” You questioned. “Am I a better partner than Joyce? She was always rather clumsy.”

“No,” he laughed but could not disagree, “I just think those boys won’t end the evening without asking you. I think Dustin’s always had a little crush on his former babysitter.”

“I don’t think,” you tipped your head at him, “I know he’s always had a crush on me.”

Dustin Henderson had always been a cute boy. His pure child-like imagination and motivation had inspired you to explore your own interests without fear. You had watched him from five until his mother decided he didn’t need you anymore, but you were lucky to call him a friend now.

“But he’s got Suzie,” you could see the two giggling as everyone danced around them. “And I can’t think of a more natural person for him. I think they’re next,” your eyes moved themselves around the room, “to get married.”

“Too many childhood sweethearts in my opinion,” Hopper’s gruff voice was certain in that. “Not everyone is meant to be with their first loves.”

“I think they are… just like Steve and Nancy, just like Max and Lucas.”

“And you and Eddie.” Not a question, a statement.

It was the scoff that left your lips that made his hopes for you feel weak. “That chapter ended, Chief. He’s moved on, so have I.”

“No,” he clarified, “you haven’t. You wouldn’t have been moping around your best friend’s wedding if you were.”

“I wasn’t moping,” you defended, “Jonathan was moping. I’m pretty sure he cried and had decent reason to but I was just… people watching.”

“Person watching. You were watching Eddie and there’s nothing wrong with it,” he asserted. “You love him. There is no shame in it.”

“Why is everyone so interested in how I feel?” Your face put on the mask of a scorned lover. Eyes drawn narrow and brows forming a crease in its center. “This is Nance and Steve’s wedding, their only wedding if they’re lucky, and I’ve had person after person question how I feel about something I no longer have.”

“Maybe it’s because for once we all see the truth of it all…” He had seen the truth as a washed-up Eddie cried in his truck. “That the pain of the past isn’t worth the loneliness of the future.”

“A true poet,” you mumbled, “but I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine.”

“I’ve said it before,” Hopper chuckled, “and I will always say it to you, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Lies be lies, Chief. But there’s no point in trying to make me feel better about feelings I can’t control.”

“No one is asking you to control them,” you turned your head away from Jim’s and clocked Lucas eavesdropping. He gave a strained, tight smile before resting his cheek onto Max’s head. “That isn’t what we’re trying to do… I want the kids I watched grow up to be happy and you’re not happy, he’s not happy. I don’t know if the answer to that equation is the two of you finding each other again but I’ve never been a man capable of understanding the love you had. And that sound ridiculous coming from someone as old as your old man.”

“I can’t even be in the same room as him without feeling like breaking down,” your voice was quiet, a mere whisper of what it was because the prospect of Eddie still having feelings for you was frightening. You didn’t want to end up becoming a ghost again.

“It’s like I’m a nobody in a room full of somebody’s and they can’t see me.”

“Someone will always see you,” his eyes were gentle. “He saw you when he couldn’t see himself.”

“Then why did he leave?”

And the way Hopper’s body stood taller, his gaze no longer meeting yours, and turning you cold told you the world was ending. This love, imploded if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, was bubbling to the surface like a volcano. Here, on the island of Nantucket, a tsunami couldn’t save you from emotional ruin.

“I think that’s a question you’ll have to ask him.”

Veronica’s hand extended into your peripheral vision. She held it out to Jim like a lifeline.

“Do you mind if I steal him?” Her body came into view and you needn’t know the conversation the two had to know she had led Eddie back to you. “I need to hear all about this ‘hero of Hawkins!’”

“I’m not the hero,” Jim said rather sheepishly. “That’s all him.”

You could feel Eddie’s presence in a room of hundreds of a room of one. It enveloped you into a cocoon against your fighting mind.

“Those are strong words coming from you, Chief.” His voice rung out against the music. Eddie had been on the poor graces of Chief Jim Hopper for many a year before the man had seen Eddie for what he was: a good, kind man with a fierce complex.

Jim looked to you. “You got this, kid. I’ve got another partner now, so do you.”

He took Veronica’s arm and linked it through his arm like an elderly man who needed help walking. He wasn’t that old. She took him away without a glance back at the one who had asked her to come.

“Now,” Eddie cleared his throat from behind you, “I could ask you to dance or,” he had put on that voice like there were more options than he had, “we can go outside, sit down, and maybe you’ll talk to me.”

‘Look at me. Why won’t you look at me,’ his words echoed in your mind.

When you turned around to face him, he got his wish.

Eddie looked hopeful, as if it were the permanent face he wore. His eyes were the smallest bit glassy, hands stuffed into his pockets, and the shine of his shoes to the wear of his tie was different than he had ever worn before. He was still him, yet so different all the same.

“If we talk,” you felt like you swallowed a frog, “no lies. I don’t want to hear any lies.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

The night was cold.

Springtime enfolded the shores of Nantucket; cattails and tall grasses billowing, soft sounds of ocean waves lapping muted the music from inside. Adirondack chairs lay vacant, pillows dewed and their wood smooth.

You couldn’t bear to sit down.

Allowing the night air to take you, Eddie shut the door behind him and felt the scene before him play at the edge of a cliff; every piece of you blowing away against a yearning to stay. He began shrugging his jacket off and you held out a hand in front of you.

“I’m fine,” the frost bit at your voice. “Keep it.”

“You’re freezing,” Eddie continued to remove his piece. “I’m not going to be an asshole and let you freeze to death because you’re stubborn.”

You scoffed. “I am not stubborn. I don’t need it, end of story.”

He tugged it off, folding it in his hands before tossing it on one of the chairs that separated the distance between you. His tie was long undone, the two buttons at the top of his shirt undone but the cufflinks remained. You wanted to take the jacket. You wanted to recall his scent and warmth but your stubbornness in protection vexed you.

“Fine,” he huffed.

“Fine,” You replied in kind.

Only the note of waves filled the stillness. You both looked at one another as though a million years had gone by in the blink of an eye. Not unlike the seconds passed in the wine cellar the night before, the world seemed to dissipate to a single existence of two former lovers. Two people, in spite of themselves, who haven’t felt whole since a single moment six years before.

Goosebumps raised on your skin, the jacket appeared delectable yet an item of fear as it sat, calling to say ‘put it on,’ only to be followed by a whisper of ‘forgive me.’

“I can’t imagine that small talk is what you wanted to discuss,” you started.

“I don’t believe it’s what you would want either,” he countered, “and we both know that would get us nowhere.”

“So, what?” You lightly shook your head. “You want me to ask how your life has been and catch up on all I’ve missed? There’s a reason I don’t read gossip magazines anymore… I don’t need to see beautiful women rubbed in my face or success showing me that my pain was worth something more.”

“A lot of those things are lies,” Eddie walked his icy path with steady feet. “You don’t need to read them, no. But I would hope you still cared enough to ask about me when you visit Rob and Nance, not to mention Steve never brings you up to me.”

“Oh, you mean the literal effort they all put in to never mention you around me?” You gazed at him as though the reason you never asked about him, or they never spoke about him, was obvious. It hurt too much. “It’s not exactly a cake walk, Eddie, to hear about your fantastic life when I could barely hold my own together.”

“It’s not fantastic and if you asked, you would have known that.”

“And it’s my responsibility to learn that? Did you want me to reach out, ask how you’ve been, and get lunch like you didn’t fucking break my heart?” You gawked. Eddie took his hands from his pockets and put them on his hips–a Steve move he had taken upon after establishing their friendship. “If I couldn’t talk about you, I don’t know how the hell I would have talked to you.”

“Then maybe I should have called,” like an easy solution, “and maybe instead of… what was it Steve said? Trading holidays liked a divorced couple, we could have been civil and spent time with our friends together.”

“Was that when you were traveling the world or recording records?” You pursed. “Or when you moved out to California and visited once a year? Tell me, Eddie, is a hypothetically cordial relationship something you really want with me? I can barely feel the world turn as it is when I’m in your presence, I doubt I would be able to have a good time with our friends.”

Eddie laughed savagely. “I didn’t know all the fun had been sucked out of you.”

You took a step back, careening your head out toward the ocean as you bit your cheek. He had gall. He was bold and unflinching, but his eyes told the truth. His own pain and suffering at the consequences of his actions had let the light leave him for so long. When pain overtook a person’s being, anger and callous language followed.

“If you’re going to be an ass,” you looked back to him, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“It isn’t the truth, though? I’ve at least tried to have a halfway, goddamn decent time at this wedding and every time I looked at you, you’ve been nothing but bitter.”

“No one asked you to look at me, Eddie. You brought a date. You should focus on her.”

“How could I!?” A dam had broken inside of him. He couldn’t not look at you. “Every time I think I’ll give someone else a chance, it’s like seeing a fucking ghost in my mirror! I have to look at you. I need to look for you.”

“No, you don’t!” You exclaimed with as much passion. “You lost that when you walked out! I am sorry that I am so shitty for being sad at a beautiful wedding. I am sorry for wishing that this time, maybe it was me walking down that goddamn aisle. And for fuck’s sake, I am so sorry that I am fearful that you’ll finally move on and want to marry someone else! Jesus fuck! It’s been six goddamn years and I still think that you’ll come walking through the door and say you made a mistake but I don’t want to hear that tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. I don’t want it to be based in lies because you feel bad I am sad at my best friend’s wedding.”

“I love you,” he blurted out without reason.

“Don’t say that!”

“Why!?”

“Because it isn’t true! IF I was, you never would have left! You wouldn’t have asked me to throw my life away and follow you to the ends of the fucking earth! If I wasn’t just some body, maybe somebody would love me enough to stay,” You argued loudly.

“I do love you,” He argued back with the same ferocity.

“You did. You don’t anymore.”

“I do love you. I do. I haven’t fucking stopped loving you since I was seventeen and I don’t think I ever will stop. I will always love you, I have always loved you, and I know that when I am dying, I will die loving you,” he was breathless. Angered and pent up with emotions he had buried deep where his eyes were fiery and his tone was firm.

“You can’t say things like that…” Fuck the tears that loved to threaten to fall.

“Why!? Tell me why I can’t tell the truth. You asked me not to lie and I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“Becau–” you stammered the word as your mind racked itself for answers, “because it’s not fair to me! I can’t live another day knowing that someone else out there loves you in a way that I do. I can’t keep waiting around in my shitty, fucking life for someone who walked out of it for something bigger than me.”

“And it was a mistake! I will never forgive myself for it but please, even if it’s the last thing you do, please believe that it was. I never should have asked that of you, I was selfish. I knew what I wanted in life then because it hasn’t changed. It existed deep down but was scared to come to the surface and I needed to be pulled under to see that. I love you. I love you so goddamn much that every day without you has been the most unbearable few years of my life. I want you, and only you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” your lip trembled, face hot.

“I’m not lying,” his own eyes watery. “Please, I am not lying to you.”

“I don’t think you know how much you hurt me, Eddie,” you shook your head at him. “There are times when I don’t feel like myself because you took that away from me. I don’t depend on anyone; I’d never say that I lost everything when you left but you cracked me open, slaughtered me in the place we shared because of a dream. And believe me, really, that I am so happy you found that life but how can I know that my suffering was worth it?

“You don’t think I suffered too?” He exclaimed loudly at the sky. “I went to Hawkins, you know, after everything because I didn’t have anywhere to go.” You didn’t know.

“I got so fucking drunk at a bar that Hopper had to come scrape me off the sidewalk and from what I remember, I exploded in the truck when he tried to take me to your parent’s place. Do you know what he did? Let me sleep on the couch and when Eleven got up the next day, she held my hand and told me that I’d be okay and I haven’t been okay. I’ve never been okay without you and I’m not scared to admit that. You are my lifeline, sweetheart. I have tried to replace that feeling but I can’t.”

“Do you know how long I wished for you to walk through that door?” You pointed to the door you walked through as if it could transform itself into the one of the apartment you shared. “I sat there, waiting for you because I barely remembered a life where you weren’t part of it and that was hard enough to imagine when it slammed in my goddamn ears,” you huffed, eyes nearly ablaze as his committed declarations of love echoed through every vacant place inside of you and right back to the moment he left.

“There is not a day that goes by where I don’t question why you let it go so easily.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Eddie stressed your name exasperatedly, “nothing about that choice was easy.”

“You made it seem like it was.”

Eddie felt the grounding he had built in his mind with his vow of love was strong. He felt the ghosts of the past begin to grip his feet; haunting and pulling him to the depths of his former despair to face a choice chastened by ambition. On the cold, concrete sidewalk and the airy Nantucket patio, it ruptured in spouts.

Pain, longing, abjection tied to every word; you had tried in obstinate strength to keep the fortress from becoming invaded. That somewhere in your heart there was a knowledge it was stronger than the force of the man that had left you to bleed but it wasn’t. It felt his bullets like bandages. They neither wounded nor massacred its path forward, binding the holes left behind with attestation.

“When I said we wanted different things, why didn’t you tell me what you wanted?” You asked in a voice wavering. “I thought you wanted this life,” a hand painted his figure against the night, “he one with the glitz and glamor and women like Veronica. If you wanted what I did, why toss it to the side?

Eddie shook his head, backing away from you and throwing his hands on top of his head in a connected grasp. He looked out to the water so dark he couldn’t see yet heard. “You remember what I told you about my parents?”

After a second, he returned his gaze to you and in return, you nodded.

Eddie’s perception of self was deeply rooted in the disjointed childhood he had been forced to experience. Every feeling, every action questioned by himself as to whether the receiving party had viewed it as strange, difficult, or simply heartless. He kept his heart on his sleeve, however, he kept it tethered there. When someone tried to hold it in their own palms, Eddie pulled away.

It had taken years for him to be comfortable enough with himself to be willing to be someone he liked.

“It doesn’t just go away with time,” he sighed. “I will always doubt myself. I always fear that I’m one step away from becoming him even if I know I’m nothing like him.”

For a child of a loveless marriage, a brutal life, the most fearful thing they could imagine was not whether or not they could be loved later in life, it was turning into the people they hated most.

“It’s not every day that someone comes to your concert and wants to sign you without so much as a demo session… and that overtook me. I know that now, and I knew that the second I walked out the goddamn door. I will apologize for the rest of my life if it means you know how I feel.”

Eddie let that sit.

“You can hate me forever, I don’t mind. But don’t convince yourself I never cared enough about you.”

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that way.”

Perhaps he would have to convince himself that you never hated him just as you would that he loved you.

“Even when I left?”

“There was not a piece of my body strong enough to feel anything more than empty when that happened.”

“I felt it too, you know,” his eyes shimmered in the lamplight. No joy, no hilarity–just hope that you knew the truth.

“I do now,” you told him.

“I’m not asking you to give me a second chance,” Eddie shrugged his shoulders lowly. In a nearly defeated sigh, he took the words he replayed in his mind for two thousand, one hundred and ninety days, “but fuck… I told you I’d find you again if the time was right and the minute I saw you in the archway I knew that was my shot… you’re the same but different… I loved you then and I love the you that you are now. And I’m sorry that it took me that long to realize it.”

“What did you feel in that church today?”

A cosmic connection, a fleeting moment he wished to hold onto forever.

“Eddie,” you took a step forward, closing the distance, “tell me what you felt.”

“I felt…” He paused. Breathing in deeply, it was not his admissions of love that proved to be most difficult. It was the regret of letting it go that scarred the deepest. “I felt… bitter.”

“Bitter?”

“Because I don’t have what they do,” he threw a lazy arm toward the door. “Or I did have that and I let it go because of a silly dream.”

“I don’t think your dream was silly,” you admitted, “it worked out of you in the end.”

“But at what cost?” Eddie took a step closer to you; the chair with this tuxedo jacket the space that separated you. “Why do those dreams take everything away to make them happen? I didn’t want to do that, this, alone. Not without you.”

“I felt helpless,” you disclosed. “In that church with the sun streaming in… like a fucking… higher power was saying to me that the way I loved you still existed inside of me. It hasn’t ever truly gone–as much as some moments I wish it was–yet it stays.”

“Helpless because you love me?”

“Helpless because I can’t have you.”

“And why can’t you have me?” Another step closer. “Why do you, the only woman I have ever truly loved, feel you cannot have me?”

“Because someone else does,” your eyes flashed toward the doors as if Eddie’s proximity and both of your vulnerabilities were forbidden. “Because someone else loves you.”

“She doesn’t love me,” Eddie’s fingers eclipsed your own. Fanning in a light flutter, it was discovering touch again. “She isn’t mine and I am not hers.”

He stepped closer again and every one of your senses went spiraling. Eddie leaned his head forward and rested his forehead on your own. Two sets of eyes closed at the sensation.

“You have all of me. Every part of me since the moment I saw you.”

“And what do you want?”

‘I want you to have what you want, sweetheart,’ his words were distant from the past.

“What do you want now?” you asked him, breaking away as your eyes shone to his. His free hand cradled the back of your neck gently, he rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “I know what I want, but I need to hear it from you. No lies.”

“No lies,” he repeated, a quick glanced down at your lips had him soaring. “I want you, baby. I’ll only ever want you.”

“Good,” you whispered, lips barely tracing his for the first time in six years. “Because we’re not letting this go this time.”

“Never.”

And he pulled your lips to his.

To answer the question the chapel had asked you, ‘what is it like to be loved?’, there is only one answer:

This is what it feels like. Pain, beauty, and joy. There is no bind without strife, nor is there passion without sacrifice.

And in the years in between said sacrifice, the tethers of a string brushed together until they found one another again on a little island off a blustery coast for the wedding of Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler.

A/N: As always, comments, reblogs are kindly encouraged :) thank you for reading!

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #x reader #fanfic

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jo-harrington · 1 day ago

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Blueberry Muffin (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie notices you're good at sharing your food. A little too good.

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Food/Eating, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Brief mention of financial concerns, Discussion of trauma from previous relationships

Note: This is something entirely personal to me, it was something my ex did one-upon-a-time ago. But, like with everything else, Eddie Munson is a powerful tool to help you get over some of your issues. This fic might not be the best, but it helped me work through some old issues. And I'm pretty proud of that.

Shoutout to @undead-supernova who inspired me to write this while we were chatting about her excellent fic We Are Going To Be Friends, and @dr-aculaaa who is one of my lifetime mutual trauma ride-or-dies and told me my ex was actually trash (and they were trash).

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If there was one thing that was the key to yours and Eddie's relationship, it was food.

Before there even had been a relationship, food had been one of the keystones of your friendship. You met at a friend's thanksgiving potluck, you always planned your outings around where you'd eat and the snacks you’d get, and during the group road trip up to Milwaukee for Mac and Cheese Fest, he'd finally gotten the courage to ask you out.

Food was life. You both agreed.

You were always good about sharing your food.

You, as in the two of you, sure. But specifically you.

It wasn't until the two of you were together and spent more time alone with each other that Eddie realized just how good you were at sharing.

Actually, good wasn't the right word.

Meticulous was more accurate.

If you took a bite of his burger when you went out for dinner, he had to have a bite of your pasta.

If you bought a pint of ice cream to share during movie night, you matched each bite spoon for spoon. However, if after a certain point of sharing he insisted that you could have the rest of the pint because it was your favorite flavor, the pint would inevitably make it back into the freezer without another spoonful taken.

On and on it went.

He tried to ignore it, but once he noticed it, it was hard not to.

At first, he thought that it was some relic of a less-than well-off childhood. Like Eddie, you'd grown up with a single parent and were occasionally foisted off on well-intentioned relatives to watch you while your mom worked. Thankfully, food was never scarce for either of you, but the fact that you'd been forced to grow up quicker than the others made you aware of generic-branded groceries and your mothers stretching their dollars and the pursing of lips when the bills came for special occasion meals out.

After a while, though, that reasoning disappeared. Yes, there were still habits that you formed from your mother's frugality but never to the point of anxiety.

This was something else.

And it all came to a head the day you brought home a bag of leftovers from work.

"Tom always orders too much when the execs visit the warehouse," you explained excitedly as you proudly showed off a plastic container of some gourmet salad and a few wax paper-wrapped sandwiches.

Then came the pastries.

A cherry danish you grabbed for Eddie specifically, and a pistachio-cream filled croissant that Eddie had heard you gush about a million times over. A few tiny cream puffs that both of you eagerly popped into your mouths.

And one blueberry muffin.

"Oh!" You faltered at the sight of it and then looked back into the obviously empty paper bag. "I thought there had been two."

"That's ok," Eddie shrugged. "We can just split it."

"No!" you snapped at him, your eyes wide. "You can have it."

"Sweetheart, I know you love muffins as much as I do," Eddie scoffed. "We'll just split it. No big deal. It's a pretty big muffin."

He watched as you worried at your lower lip for a long, drawn out moment before you nodded.

He kissed the side of your head and turned to grab plates and drinks. He carried as much as he could out to the living room so you could eat dinner in front of the TV. When he returned to your side to grab the food and start plating up your plunder, he stopped in his tracks at what he found.

Splitting a muffin was a no-brainer, typically. Or so Eddie thought. Just peel the paper lining and split that sucker in half. But there you stood, knife held in a shaky hand, shifting back and forth a few millimeters every so often, trying to find the exact equator of the confection before you so it could be cut in equal halves.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as gently as he could, but you still flinched, and when you looked up at him, your eyes looked glassy.

"Just cutting the muffin in half," you tried to laugh and play it off, but Eddie could see through the facade.

"It's just a muffin," he tried to offer, as though reminding you that it was, indeed, just a muffin would break you from this fit.

"It is," you looked down again, almost in shame. "Isn't it?"

He let you have a second, let you put the knife down and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. When you nodded and held yourself a little more confidently, Eddie closed the distance and split the muffin in half by hand, right down the middle along the score line you had started.

And he pretended that he didn't notice the way you'd held your breath while he did it.

"Let's have dinner then," he suggested.

---

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Eddie asked once dinner was almost over, his mouth full of cherry danish, crumbs spewing from his lips as he spoke.

You ignored him for a second, picked at your own laminated pastry, until he continued.

"You know I always thought your mom really hammered the sharing is caring thing with you. But you went full King Solomon on that muffin and...I know that look in your eyes because I've seen it in the mirror a ton of times. That was fear. That was pain. So, are we gonna talk about it?"

You sighed and considered telling him no, you wouldn't be telling him jack shit, but...how many times had you pried into things that you really had no place asking about and he still told you anyway. That's how communication worked; that's how a relationship worked.

And that was how you got into this mess wasn't it?

"You remember my shitty ex?" you began tentatively, with a question.

"Shitty ex Number 1," Eddie scoffed. "Or shitty ex Number 2?"

"Number two."

"Should've known," he said under his breath but nodded for you to continue. "Alright, so what else did they do?"

Because the list had been...extensive already, you were loath to admit.

But you were with Eddie now, and things were infinitely better. You could work through these hurdles with him.

"It all started when we still worked at the mall together," you began. "Before we even started dating, actually. We'd meet on breaks and shoot the shit and one day, the little bakery only had one blueberry muffin."

You glared at the split muffin sitting on a plate on the coffee table, as though it was at fault, and not your ex.

"We decided to split it. Nothing wrong with that. We only had a fifteen, it was just a snack. But when they went to split the muffin...they took the muffin top, and left me with the stump."

"The...stump?" Eddie asked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," you leaned forward and tapped on the base of the muffin that had previously been encased in paper. "The stump."

"That's...only assholes split a muffin that way." He paused and considered it. "But it's Shitty Ex Number Two. So I shouldn't expect anything less."

"I didn't think anything of it then," you continued. "Or the next hundred times we split a blueberry muffin on breaks, even when we started dating. They would always get the delicious, crispy, sugary muffin top, and I would always get the stump. Half-clinging to the wrapper, maybe a blueberry burned on the bottom. Never an equal half, always less-than!

"Until one day, there was this especially delicious looking muffin. It wasn't even at the mall, we were on a real date! At a real, nice bakery. With blueberry muffins, because that was our thing, and I made the mistake of asking if I could have the muffin top. Just once. And they looked at me like...like I just asked them to sacrifice their mother or something."

You felt your lip tremble, and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

That sense of loathing that you always felt when you thought of that moment, or really any time you got a blueberry muffin.

You took a breath and said, "they just told me that if I really loved them, I would let them have the damn muffin top. Because it was their favorite."

"That's bullshit!" Eddie got to his feet, arms thrown up in the air. "Sorry sweetheart, that's bullshit and, I'm sorry but, you deserved so much better. You deserve to have half a muffin. Half of the whole muffin, not just the stump. Fuck, you deserve the whole damn muffin yourself! It’s just a muffin!"

"I know!" You shouted back at him, causing him to stop his ranting and raving. "Don't you think I know that? It’s just a muffin and I shouldn’t have had to make myself accept less than what I deserved but it was the first in a long line of things where they made me feel like I wasn’t worth half. I wasn’t worth anything. And if I tried to prove that I was, to them and to myself, I would look crazy. Because it’s just a muffin.

“That's why I started...that's why I started taking what I deserved. I started taking half, instead of giving everything Eddie. If you get a bite, I get a bite. With everything. Because I deserve it!"

You thought of the way you had to meticulously tried to split the blueberry muffin earlier.

"Maybe...maybe I take it a little too far sometimes," you muttered, letting the tears finally fall. "Because I don't want to be selfish like they were, and take more from you than you deserve."

"Baby," Eddie dropped back onto the couch and corralled you into his embrace, pecking kisses to the side of your head. "Who fucking cares? Don't worry about me. Shit, I'll give you anything you want. I'll take anything you leave behind. I'll give you my whole cheeseburger at Benny's, if only you asked for it. And if you left me one singular pickle chip, I'd take it without complaint."

"I would never ask you," you laughed wetly.

“No, but you could ask, that’s the point. And I would give it to you.”

"I know I could. And I know you would...I just...I can't break myself from the habit. Not yet, at least."

"I get it," Eddie said into your hair as he continued dropping kisses. "The shitty exes leave their scars and you do your best to keep from opening the wounds up again. I get it."

You knew. You both had your fair share of scars.

---

It took a few minutes, as you basked in one another's comforting presence, before you inevitably shared the damn muffin you brought home. Eddie insisted on letting you take an extra bit off his muffin top, even when you rolled your eyes and told him to stop.

Neither of you brought it up again for a few days, but you both were a little more conscientious when you shared food.

You made nachos for his Friday night DnD session with the guys and he left you the core nacho that held everything together; it was extra gooey with cheese, and loaded with jalapeños. You made sure to take an extra big bite of his pint of rocky road when he offered, even if he didn't want a single bite of your rum raisin. And when it was his turn to take bites of your food, you didn't pay attention to how much or how little he took.

It still felt a little wrong, but it was insanely healing. You didn't need to worry about keeping things fair and equal with Eddie; your relationship was already fair and you were equals.

And of course, Eddie kept your revelation at the forefront of his mind to hold you accountable to your own bullshit. He noticed when you fell into old habits before you could and even came up with a form of punishment if you subconsciously made sure to take the same number of bites off a shared plate as he did:

He would give you a vegetable off his plate.

"I'm not a fan of broccoli anyway," he grinned cheekily, waving his fork with the aforementioned green in front of your face one night at dinner.

"You're an idiot," you shook your head, but took the bite regardless.

It was slow and steady, but you were getting over the hurdle together.

Then one day, the unexpected happened.

You were at work, doing your little mindless computer work as you did, when your coworker called your name from the front of the office.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Jill laughed as she hauled something through the sea of cubicles.

"No, did someone get me flowers or something?" you asked and stood from your desk to meet her halfway.

"You can't eat flowers," she said as she turned the corner, holding a massive basket.

Full of blueberry muffins.

You didn't need to read the card tied to the cellophane-wrapped basket full of baked goods to know who it was from, but you did anyway to satisfy your coworkers' curiosity.

And they didn't quite understand it, but it made your heart melt.

I didn't ask if they sold a basket of only the tops, because I didn't want them to think either of us were sociopaths. It’s just a blueberry muffin. But you're worth every muffin in this damn basket, sweetheart. Never forget that. Love, Eddie

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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withmyloveasyourgarden · 1 day ago

Text

TO BE DRUNK AND IN LOVE

EDDIE MUNSON X F!READER.

Nervous Eddie, protective reader, and a drunk love confession. Idiots who are too dumb to realise their feelings are reciprocated. 9.4K of tooth rotting friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you.

He was your best friend after all.

What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.

His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why.

But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side.

"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?”

You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening. Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow.

The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again.

"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?"

To your surprise he actually listened.

His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs.

"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction.

You did laugh then.

A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold. His hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose.

"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.

God, why did that make you want to melt.

“Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head.

It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin.

"‘Am now.”

Tou froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.

A quick glance at Steve told you it was.

Your friend was looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t.

"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?”

You considered it but then the poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.”

He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.

"Eddie?”

Nothing.

“Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious.

The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.

You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck.

"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed with it and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”

There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return,reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.”

He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous.

"Jesus christ.”

"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.”

You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.

"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works on me.”

There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom, the kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed.

Friends totally did that, right?

It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.

And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contended groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face.

"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.”

"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.

And oh fuck, you were staring.

Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.

Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was.

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs. Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight, before his lips descended on yours.

Jesus.

You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.

But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild.

It made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?

You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.

You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.

Gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes flicked back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.

Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.

You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.

But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.

Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak and stumbled and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes snapping shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing?

What were you thinking?

This was Eddie.

Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.

Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.

It felt wrong.

It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out.

He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs.

You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning, stained with heat. But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over lines of polaroids, fairy lights and old ticket stubs that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration, your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud.

The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear.

"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly.

It still felt like too much to look at him.

Maybe even more now because all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin, sweats slung low on his hips. Big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps.

Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning.

There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings. The rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.

He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you.

Hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did, hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up.

And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you.

It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets.

An anxious habit he despised being the cause of because god, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check.

For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window.

And then he seemed to think better of it.

You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”

You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed. Taking the opportunity to get more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off.

"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress.

But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers.

"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?”

You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”

Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.

"Touche.”

The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.

It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together.

You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.

"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.

“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.”

You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue.

"Idon’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.

“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.”

You huffed, too amused to be offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’

Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.

"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?”

“Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”

"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.”

"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.”

You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.”

"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”

"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”

"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand. “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.”

You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?”

"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.

He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the pretty flush that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.”

You hated that he was right.

Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness, no, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.

It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why.

Yet.

So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.

You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak, so you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him.

But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.

His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the warmth it spread through your belly.

"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.

You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt, threatening to brand the skin beneath.

“What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears, though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too.

'Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.”

"I was just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it. Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own.

You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?”

"Sam.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even close, sweetheart.”

“At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.

Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He defended mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way.

“His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.

But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’.

“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic”

He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours.

It made you gentle - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest and urged you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew. Fingers finding their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.

"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–”

You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.

“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothin’ bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go runnin’ off into the night to defend my honour.”

But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to.

He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.

And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.

"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, gentle, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.

He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.

He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch.

You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap.

It felt like his first mistake.

Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you?

He’d lost count.

All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe, that being this close didn’t feel as innocent as it had five minutes ago.

As it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.

Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips.

It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer.

Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer.

He licked his lips, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”

The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it.

Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?

"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?"

"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”

"Makes sense-" you shrugged, and then it sunk in what he had said. "-no, wait, hang on - what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”

He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch. Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new kind of torture.

Eddie was in love with someone else.

And he hadn't even told you.

"Eddie–” you murmured weakly, because christ , he was still talking and you just really needed him to stop .

"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane , I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave it a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”

Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it.

'Eddie.” You repeated, only a little stronger this time. but to your horror, you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake.

You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth.

You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could.

And yet you were painfully still.

A statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising.

Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on.

God, you felt pathetic.

"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-”

“Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie, fuck-”

He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself out of his hold, drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.

"-you.”

You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bones as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had.

It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding.

Did you even know how?

The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again.

So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”

"Wasn’t you.” He whispered and neither of you could take your eyes off the other, your own breath trapped in your chest as he took a deep breath before he continued. Voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.”

You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild behind your ribs.

Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words.

He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him.

If it was maybe for both of you.

A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.

"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”

He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again.

You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound.

His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.

"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’ .”

And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers.

"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache.

“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”

He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.

Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?

"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when you’re other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.

"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”

"You could never do anything to make me not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he swore was pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.”

Eddie melted for you then.

“Yeah?” He breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming.

"Yeah.”

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”

Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.

"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.

It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “Though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”

Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.”

You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted for him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you this close. Just because he could.

"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.

“Anything.”

"You gonna take me on a date Munson?”

As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could.

He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you.

He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”

“Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw. “Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.”

Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you. “Oh.” You breathed out.

He swallowed, hard.

And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh. ”

"How am I supposed to say no to that?”

His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.

The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need.

He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape.

"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all.

You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder.

"Can I kiss you now?”

It already felt like he was.

His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin. The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.

It was a fleeting thing, ending after a second because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right, it felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing.

It was just the timing.

“Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused.

"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”

“-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?”

He blew out a breath, visibly softening, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours. “Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”

His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”

Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming devastatingly lovely, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And he did.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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lovebugism · 24 hours ago

Note

id love to request a blurb with eddie and reader who has some family trauma. like parental issues 🥲 and just eddie being a sweetheart

prompt: “what’s wrong with me? why didn’t they love me? why wasn’t i good enough for them?”

ty for requesting!! — eddie comforts you after a fight with your dad (established relationship, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of childhood trauma | 1.5k)

“I think I’m broken.”

From where you’re laid on Eddie’s chest, you can feel the rumbling of his laughter against your cheek. The bubbly sound of his boyish chuckling almost makes you smile. Almost.

“I don’t know…” he lilts, smoothing his hand over your back, as though to check for any cracks or scrapes. “You seem pretty perfect to me.”

“Shut up,” you murmur and tuck your burning face into his chest — a desperate and feeble attempt to hide. Your nose smushes against his neck, and you take a deep breath in. The familiar scent of weed and woody cologne fills your lungs.

“You don’t feel broken either—” Eddie teases, just before jabbing your side with two fingers.

The fleeting tickling sensation makes you squeal as your hand jerks out to swat at him. The flailing limb finds purchase on his stomach, which trembles now with laughter.

Your body, moving on its own accord in reaction to his prodding, rises from the pillow you’d made upon his body. You move to the very edge of his mattress, knees pulled up to your chest, and sit with your back facing the lazing boy.

You wince and rub at your side, though it hadn’t hurt at all.

“I’m being serious, Eds,” you whine in protest, sparing the boy a glance over your shoulder.

“Oh, right. Serious,” he responds, still joking as he clears his throat and lowers his voice a few octaves. “Very serious.”

You manage a small smile before turning away again. You focus your gaze on your lap and fidget with a loose thread hanging from the hem of your sock. It’s easier than looking back at him — at the boy who’s made a superpower out of making you laugh. Even though he’s in bed with you now, you don’t feel nearly as happy as you know you should be.

It’s not fair. Not to either of you.

“I’m just… I’m just thinking about the fight. You know. With my dad,” you confess, voice featherlight and faraway. The sock tightens around your ankle when you pull the string taut. You wrap it around the tip of your finger until it turns a shade darker. “I’m starting to feel like maybe it’s my fault…”

Eddie grows suddenly solemn.

“Hey… That’s… No,” he stammers and rises on his elbows, trying to find the right words to comfort you. “I mean, no offense, babe, but your dad’s an asshole. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“No, I know, it’s just… He’s a good guy to everyone but me, you know? Like, the whole town loves him— and he loves ‘em back, but just not… Just not me,” you say, laughing softly to yourself, still refusing to meeting Eddie’s chocolate gaze that swims now with concern. The tip of your finger starts to tingle with numbness. “And I’m just like… what’s wrong with me, you know? Why doesn’t he love me? What did I do that was so wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eddie answers for you, gentle but still stern in his way. He reaches out for you and curls his ringed fingers around the crook of your elbow — if nothing but to feel you and to keep you tethered.

You turn to look at him then, a feeble glance from the corner of your eye. His hair is wild with sex and sleep. His cheeks are flushed and rosy. His mouth is pink and softly swollen. He’s glowing and pretty and perfect. You want to keep him forever this way, like a picture in a locket or a love letter in your wallet.

“He puts up a front with the rest of the town, so no one can see what a jerk he really is, right?” Eddie tells you. “But you know the real him. And he hates that you know the real him, so he takes it out on you.”

It’s a lot more profound than anything you could’ve expected to spill from his mouth. And it hurts even more because you know he’s right.

You were raised with your father’s urge to people-please. It didn’t matter how crazy your life got, just as long as no one else had to see it. None of the bullshit mattered if people didn’t know it was there. That was your father’s philosophy, at least.

You become half daughter, half apology — blundering with the uncertainty of yourself and the wrong kind of love.

Eddie was the first person you ever let in.

You showed him all your chaos, and he loved you just the same. The catastrophe of your personality was suddenly beautiful again — interesting and lovely and warm. You were perfect because you weren’t.

It’s why you run away to Eddie’s trailer so often, and why you’re here even now. Because he lets you be human — clumsy and naive and starry-eyed — and doesn’t snatch any of it away from you. He just holds you.

His warm hand squeezes your arm in reassurance. His eyes glint with sincerity. “He’s not your dad, okay? He’s just… some guy with a kid. And why should some guy get to make the best girl in the world feel so sad?”

A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, and trembles softly as you confess: “I’m just scared that I’m unloveable.”

The heaviness of the moment and of your admission is swept aside with the stubborn shake of Eddie’s head. He dispels the thought from his own mind with enough vigor to take it from yours, too.

He rises fully and slides towards the edge of the bed so he’s behind you. One leg curls behind your back while the other sits straight out beside your own. His warmth envelops you wholly, like warm honey or a soft blanket. The hand on your arm doesn’t move. This boy and his touch are the steadiest things you’ve ever known.

“Well, that’s just not true,” he argues, lips warm on your shoulder as he presses a kiss over your t-shirt. He rests his chin there a second later.

Your face scrunches softly in discontent. You don’t like how sure he sounds, batting off your concerns with the finesse of someone who knows more than you do.

“How would you know?”

“‘Cause I love you,” he answers like it’s obvious, chin bobbing with every word. “And so does a ton of other people. But I matter the most, so… It just can’t be true, you know? Process of elimination or whatever.”

It’s hard to see him from this angle, with his face so close to yours. You want so badly to kiss him, but you can’t look away from his chocolate button eyes and the sparkle they look at you with.

You don’t want to smile, but you can’t help it — like some kind of pouting child. The expression tugs slowly at your mouth before bursting into glittering rays of sunshine. It’s like blue skies after pouring rain, how swiftly you recover.

“There she is,” Eddie singsongs with a beaming grin of his own. He presses a kiss to your cheek, so full of intent that it smacks when he parts from you. You laugh when the edges of his curls tickle your jaw.

“You okay now?” he asks — just measuring the temperature, not boxing you into a corner.

It’s not the ‘you have to be okay’ that you’re used to.

Instead, it’s a — ‘it’s okay if you’re not okay, I’ll just kiss you a million times until you forget why you were sad.’

You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay… Thanks, Eds”

Eddie watches you go suddenly sheepish, peering at him from beneath your lashes like you’re embarrassed to have been human in front of him.

“Don’t thank me,” he scoffs. “I just love you— You shouldn’t thank me for that.”

“Right,” you answer with a soft laugh. ‘Cause you’re still getting used to that — being loved without having to give anything in return other than your own affection. Sometimes, your heart is enough.

You settle finally in his arms, full of warmth and contentment. You wrap your arms around the ones he holds you with. Eddie lets you fall heavy on his chest — warm honey, soft blanket.

“I love you, too, by the way,” you hum after a moment of velvet silence.

Eddie presses his lips to the crown of your head and smiles. “I know.”

“Kinda makes me feel like a little carton of strawberries.”

He laughs into your hair. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” you lilt, giggling right along with him. “That’s just what it feels like… I love you so much, it’s like… Like I’m holding the sun on both sides or something.”

“Whoa. That’s a lot,” he muses, only partially playful. “Still not as much as I love you, though.”

And, for now, you don’t argue.

There isn’t a reason to, really.

You love each other, and that’s enough.

Nothing can beat the feeling of finally being understood, of being held in the right hands. Nor is anything as liberating as the pursuit of wholeness instead of perfection.

And in Eddie’s arms, you’re whole.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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hellfire--cult · 2 days ago

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IDK IF IM HORNY OR HAPPY OR GIDDY

I LOVED EVERY INCH OF THIS, it was hot, but like I could feel the romance between them, the desperation of it even if not explicitly said in a rough manner, it was just a chef's kiss. It wasn't simply a smut scene with just horniness in it or with the intention of it just being sexual, it had so much much more and I loved this

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains 18+ content.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary Eddie holds good on his promise to take you out on a date, and as the night comes to a close, you realize you’re not ready to say goodbye [fluff, smut, 4.3k].

A/N This is the long-awaited continuation of come whatever may. You can read that first if you'd like, but enough context will be provided here. Spoiler alert: the sex is very soft, teasy, and desperate because they’re in l-o-v-e. Haven't written smut in nearly two years, but I evoked the muses of times past—and thus!...

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summer is long gone, but when you open the door to Eddie holding flowers, the warmth that rises to your cheeks makes it feel nearer than ever. It’s a vibrant bouquet composed of white roses, red lilies, baby’s breath, and leafy foliage. The wrapper crinkles as he extends them to you with an easy smile and soft hello. Your eyes flick back up to his after admiring the delicate blooms.

There’s a healthy flush to his cheeks, his curls neat and defined. The black leather jacket he’s wearing clings to his slender frame with a polished edge. Under the weight of your gaze, he huffs out a chuckle that reminds you you’re still on earth.

“Gonna let me in, sweetheart?” Charm drips from his voice and shimmers within his chocolate eyes.

Nodding, you shuffle backwards, allowing him to enter and push the door shut behind himself. As he steps further inside, you can feel his gaze sweeping over your outfit. An olive-green corduroy dress layered over a beige turtleneck that’s soft against your skin. His smile grows, glinting bright enough for anyone to believe he just won the Lotto when, really, it’s just the pretty sight of you holding the flowers he bought.

“These are beautiful.” You raise the bouquet, but Eddie’s eyes remain on you. Seeking refuge from his gaze, you tuck your nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the petals. “They smell amazing too.”

“That’s all you, sweetheart.”

You get shy when his eyes meet yours. “You like my outfit and everything?”

Eddie swallows back a degree of his earnestness so he doesn’t sound too far gone. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Robin descends the staircase with a bag slung over her shoulder like she’s prepared to leave, hair tied up in a messy bun. Given your parents were away in Indianapolis for the weekend, you’d asked her to come over and help you get ready so you wouldn’t be alone.

Eddie’s eyes flick to her, clearing his throat. “Did you help her pick this out, Buckley?”

“Obviously,” she smirks. “Nice hair.”

“It is really nice,” you agree with a soft smile. Eddie lifts a passive shoulder, chest fluttering.

“Rob, do you think you could…” she takes the bouquet without you having to ask. The two of you had shuffled through the attic and dug out a vase earlier that afternoon.

Eddie had promised this date, along with flowers, a week ago when you slipped away from Steve’s party to be alone. That night, he’d kissed you in the heat of the moment but wanted to backtrack and do things right. You deserved that much.

The time you’ve been looking forward to has finally come.

With your hands now free, the only thing you can think to do is wrap your arms around Eddie. The world goes still as he hugs you back, nerves quelling beneath your skin. For a moment, you merely enjoy the warmth of the same arms you’ve been wrapped in countless times before. With your head tucked into his chest, enveloped by the faint scent of his cologne, you release all the worries that ride on the sweeping coattails of change. For a moment, he’s just Eddie, your best friend.

When you pull away, he leans in, tilting his head with that familiar, boyish curiosity. “You alright?” he asks quietly, searching your gaze.

You nod, a smile breaking through. He takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, “Just checkin’.”

Robin soon walks back into the foyer. “I put the flowers in a vase for you,” she announces, taking her hair down and shaking it out. “Hate to admit it, but you two are actually cute. It’s disgusting.”

“Hey,” Eddie lifts his hands, laughing. “Little victories.”

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder with a content sigh. “Welp, I’m about to go pester Harrington at Family Video.” She turns to Eddie, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You better treat her right, ‘cause best believe I’ll be hearing all about this date.”

When she slips out the door, Eddie smiles at you in silent assurance.

●・○・●・○・●

The sun hasn’t quite begun to set, but orange and pink faintly blend on the horizon. A cool fall breeze flows in through the cracked windows as the radio plays softly. Eddie had asked his Uncle Wayne to borrow his pickup truck because it’d be more romantic than his bulky van. You can’t say whether he was right, only that you’re grateful to be riding shotgun with him—headed to an unknown destination, no less.

You’d already guessed through a list of places that Eddie denied with amusement. Sighing, you look out the window to people bustling about, walking dogs and strolling out of shops. You’re coming out of the more commercial side of town, nearing Lover’s Lake and the state park.

“I give up,” you sigh.

Eddie chuckles, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, ignorant to his warming effect on you. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” That makes you peer over at him in interest. “If I had to guess, I’d say not a lot of people have had the chance to try it out yet.”

That’s a dead giveaway. Your mouth falls open in surprise. “That new place along the lake—Stillwater Grill?” The twitch of Eddie’s lips is telling. “No way!” The excitement in your voice makes his chest tighten.

Stillwater was supposed to be good, from what you’d heard. A slightly elevated dining experience minus the formalities and steep pricing of a restaurant like Enzo’s. Where classic American favorites embrace small-town charm, according to the paper.

Upon your arrival, the parking lot houses a pretty decent number of cars. Lover’s Lake provides a serene backdrop that catches the evening light. Couples stand outside admiring the view. Eddie opens your door and helps you out of the truck like a proper gentleman. You happily tuck yourself into him as you walk inside.

When you were younger, you often wondered what love would be like. Books and the movies always presented countless possibilities, but you always believed it’d be special for you. So different that nothing else would be able to compare—perhaps, selfishly. One thing for sure, you never could’ve dreamed up someone like Eddie.

As he sits across from you under the dim glow of the lights, laughter and chatter filling the air, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to put all this into words. Belly full, you realize what you’ve enjoyed even more than the food and cozy, rustic atmosphere was is company.

Eddie has an inexplicably magnetic way. There was a magic in getting him all to yourself. In relishing the lovely sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was always on the verge of laughter. The passion he exuded made it seem like the way he loved a given thing was biblical. He could talk the ear off a cornfield if he wanted but knew instinctively when to listen. Even your passing remarks seemed to bear some semblance of importance to him.

Conversing with him had always been easy, but without other people vying for his attention, you were truly able to admire the boy before you. To embrace the deepening attraction.

As you wait for the waiter to bring the tab, you don’t realize you’ve grown silent and begun blinking at him with the fondest eyes.

●・○・●・○・●

The wooden stairs of your front porch creak under both your footsteps as you climb them, stopping in front of your front door as the night settles around you. Moths flutter around the lanterns framing the door, crickets chirp in the lawn. Eddie kicks at a dead leaf, combing through a sea of thoughts in search of the right words.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says. You wait for him to continue. His doe eyes search yours for the briefest moment, seeing right through you it seems. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be hard for me to quit you.”

Your mouth opens a couple times in a mix of giddiness and surprise. “Yeah,” you finally breathe. “Yeah, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Smiling, he steps forward to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that you feel everywhere. It manages to outshine the first, more desperate, kiss you’d shared a week prior. This one is steady and sure, like a promise sealed with a prim bow. When he pulls away to look into your eyes, you shyly duck your head.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, lifting your chin.

He doesn’t want to go, instead wishing he could stall and stay right here with you. He’s parted ways with you hundreds of times before, but now he can’t seem to figure out how he ever did. That’s how he knows he’s in trouble. The best kind.

“I’ll pick up,” you promise.

He stands at your door until you see yourself inside. It’s quiet without him. Your eyes land on the flowers he got you, now in a vase in the living room thanks to Robin. Too quiet. The sound of your front door reopening stops Eddie in his tracks. He turns around with a slight furrow between his brows.

“Everything okay?” he calls, mindful of his volume.

You make a small motion for him to come back to you. He listens in a heartbeat.

There’s a weighted look in his eyes beneath the playfulness, “Miss me already?”

“No,” you lie.

●・○・●・○・●

It’s a wonder how you manage to make it feel like there’s a pleasant fire kindling within him. What started out as yet another easy conversation, has turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as the TV drones in the background.

Everything feels heightened now. The brush of your lips against his, your fingers gently scratching at the nape of his neck.

Eddie’s lips part in a soft, shuddering breath when you roll your hips over him.

“Hold on a second, sweetheart.” His eyebrows are pinched as he pulls back from the kiss, hands stilling you.

You blink down at him all owl-like. “Did I do something?” you murmur, purposely shifting over him again.

He restrains from canting his hips upwards. There’s a softness to his gaze even though his cheeks are flushed hot.

“If getting me worked up counts. You’re real good at that.” His shamelessness is dizzying. “Just don’t wanna get ahead of myself.” It’s a subtle invitation, a chance for you to call things off in case you aren’t on the same page.

But you can feel warmth pooling low in your belly. “What else am I good at?”

He knows you’re game then. For whatever this is, whatever it’s bound to become.

“Trying to pretend I’m not driving you crazy too.” He chuckles when you duck to hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.

There’s a gentleness to the way Eddie’s hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, meeting the delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“Eddie,” you murmur, lifting from his neck as his fingers continue their trail upwards.

“Hmm?” He pauses, thumb stroking your skin in soft circles.

“Can we go to my room?” A slight shiver runs through you as his fingers move to trace along the crease of your thigh.

“Your call, sweetheart.”

Before he withdraws his hand, he snaps the waistband of your panties and grins when you straighten.

●・○・●・○・●

The lamp on your nightstand casts everything in a dim, warm glow. Eddie shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your desk chair, eyes roving over the notebooks and pens strewn about. The sight of his tattooed arms makes you move to kiss him again, letting your lips wander to the corner of his mouth and his chin in a trail of warmth. He throbs in his jeans when you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and curl them into his stomach.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and he steps back enough to pull the fabric over his head in one swift movement, muscles rippling as the dark ink on his torso is revealed. With newly disheveled hair, he kisses you backward onto the bed, crawling over top of you as you settle into the mattress with a pleased hum.

Having the upper hand allows him to press hot kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as you huff out sighs and caress his milky skin with buzzing fingertips. Nothing about his movements is rushed, each press of his lips intentional enough to believe he'd had them planned for years.

Eddie didn’t know your body yet, not in the way he’d like to. But he was reading it in real-time. Cataloging every writhe and hitch of your breath so he knew where to return. The obsessive part of his brain often gets on his nerves, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful he wants to see every move and sound you can make. There’s an artistry to it, a musicality.

An inkling of panic arises when he begins to suckle on the side of your neck as you offer it. Not because he’s being rough, but because it’s overwhelming enough to want to crawl out of your skin. A soft whimper rises up your throat as your hands find his flexed biceps, digging in. You’re unsure of whether to pull him closer or push him away.

Eddie rises from your neck on his own accord, running a finger over the spot. “You like it when I kiss you here, huh?” There’s a slow, honeyed quality to his voice.

When you offer a helpless nod, he leans back down again, and you shudder as his mouth laves over the same sensitive area a little ways beneath your ear. Exasperated, you blindly paw for the waistband of his jeans, fingers shaky as you fiddle with his belt buckle.

Feeling your struggle, Eddie moves to press a final kiss to your throat before pulling away from your neck.

“Stupid thing,” you pant, pouting up at him for help.

Chuckling, Eddie reaches down with one hand to undo it with ease. Then, watches with blown pupils as you hurry to undo the button and zipper. He slips off the bed as smoothly as he can to remove his pants, black boxers tented and straining. A spark of heat surges through you as you press your thighs together at the sight.

No sooner is he crawling back to help you out of your clothes. The lacy underwear set you’re wearing beneath is a pretty shade of baby blue, and Eddie can’t help but palm himself.

“Jesus,” he sounds awed and devastated at the same time. “You’re so gorgeous...”

Before he’s even had time to process, you take off your bra, baring your chest for him to see. Your nipples pebble with the new exposure and all of two seconds pass before he’s surging forward, sending you tumbling back to the mattress in a breath of startled laughter he swallows down like a lifeline.

You gasp into his mouth, back arching, as he cups one of your breasts, circling and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You’re barely kissing him back anymore, but he continues licking into your mouth as your lips part around shallow exhales.

That’s when the phone begins to ring. Eddie sits back on his haunches despite your attempt to stop him.

“Might be important.” His voice is rough.

“They can leave a message.”

He smirks, dragging a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

Lifting your leg, you run a careful foot over the swell of his boxers. He twitches at the contact.

“You’re all I care about,” you murmur. “Need you, E.” There’s a desperate edge to your voice that draws him right back in.

“You’ve got me.” He runs a lone finger down the front of your panties. “Can I take these off?” You’re only half listening to his words, nodding to whatever. “Lift up for me.” The muscles of your thighs tremble as you do.

Tossing your panties aside, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your belly button. Then another one just beneath it. A surprised sound rises up your throat when he gently spreads you open to kiss that swollen, sensitive part of you that’s pulsing with need.

“Oh, gosh—” you stutter out, hands threading into his hair.

“Need me right here?” His voice is laced with a smile, and you can’t help a breathy laugh. Prideful warmth ignites in his chest. “Or do you need me somewhere else?” He trails playful, ticklish nips along your inner thighs, making you squirm.

“Eddie, please…”

He’s gracious enough to begin rubbing your clit in precise, measured circles, intently studying the pretty scrunch of your face.

“Firmer,” you instruct breathily, “—just like that, just like that.” Your legs spread wider instinctively, arching when he collects your slick with a slow, heavy finger.

You’re already so on edge from his previous attention that it only takes a few moments before you ascend into bliss, muscles growing taut as your mouth falls agape. The strong, rhythmic pulses serve as your only touchpoint to reality along with Eddie’s tender caress at your slick, fluttering entrance. One he didn’t even have the chance to breach.

“Look at you…” he says, voice thick. “Made it easy for me.” He laughs a little, more turned on than anything.

“It’s not funny,” you halfheartedly assert, cheeks prickling.

“No,” Eddie agrees. “Just super-duper hot.”

As he raises up, you realize his other hand is tucked into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. A second wave of desire builds within you, overlapping the remnants of the first and any sense of embarrassment that had begun to kindle. It’s spurred by the deep flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes are soaking you in like he’s just witnessed the most beautiful unraveling.

Under your hazy, watchful gaze, he scrambles off the bed. Without warning, he shoves his boxers down, kicking them from around his ankles. His arousal impressively springs up towards his stomach. You bite your lip at the rosy, leaking tip, the gorgeous vein snaking prominently along the underside.

Eddie peeks over at you with a dazed quirk of his lips before retrieving his wallet from his jacket. He pulls out a square foil packet and promptly rips it open with his teeth.

Upon crawling back into the bed, he isn’t expecting you to take his cock in a loose hold, stroking upwards from the curly hair at the base to circle your thumb around the tip. There’s a pleasant tug low in his gut as he kicks up in your palm.

“Sweetheart…” His voice is soft, nearly a plea. You let your hand glide back down, this time venturing lower to cradle the soft weight hanging beneath. He nearly buckles forward. “What're you doing to me?” he rasps.

“Nothing,” you murmur innocently, wetting your hand and giving him a few more easy strokes, enjoying the warm, veiny feel of him before withdrawing your touch.

He curses under his breath as he rolls the condom down, his gaze never leaving you as you reposition yourself to take him.

“Eager beaver,” you lilt as he crowds over you.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I am.”

He lines up at your entrance, tip catching as he collects your slick with a wavering breath.

You open your legs even wider. “Want you,” you murmur, breathy and sweet.

The expression on his face is like something from a painting, raw and rapturous as he eases into your encompassing warmth. He takes it slow, giving you time to relax around him as you breathe through the dull ache of welcoming him in. A low, guttural sound escapes him once he’s buried all the way.

Your chests brush. Tears prick in your eyes at the closeness, the feeling of being filled so completely.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, lips clumsy against your chin. “Like I made you up in my head.”

He begins moving, slowly drawing back only to push back in. A steady rhythm finds him as your mouth falls open, legs hooking around his thighs. The muscles of his back ripple with his effort, and you chart every tense line with your fingertips.

With a low groan, he makes a minor adjustment to better reach that spongy spot within you. You arch into him with a whimper, breath catching in your throat.

“There she is,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to rub firm, steady circles against your clit.

“Oh, god…” It sounds like you’re in pain even though you’re the furthest thing from it. When you close your eyes, tears stream down your face in twin streaks, surprising both of you. Eddie tenderly wipes them away, gaze soft.

“You’re okay,” he promises. “It’s just me, angel.”

Except, Eddie isn't just anything. You’ve never felt so close to someone, so in tune, and somehow, it’s Eddie—sweet, goofy, wild-haired Eddie—who knew exactly what you needed. He picks up the pace as you arch and writhe beneath him, body yielding without question.

“You feel so good,” you whimper, clenching around him.

His groan reverberates against your neck as his hips jerk sloppily, “Can’t say stuff like that…” Those words only make you tighten around him again.

The dazed way he mouths at your shoulder lets you know he’s clinging onto composure. You’re too warm, too everything—snug, and soft, and beautiful. He’s not ready for this feeling to end. This heady, binding haze of pleasure.

“Eddie,” you breathe softly. “Wanna ride you…”

Your plea nearly finishes him off. “Yeah?” he croaks.

You nod, whimpering. He barely withstands the feeling of slipping from within you. Shifting onto his back allows him a moment of reprieve, but he nearly loses himself when you straddle him, sinking back down with a circle of your hips.

You brace your hands on his ribcage, steadily rocking on top of him as your head tips back. Sweat glistens in the divot of his sternum as he attempts to move in time with you. When you speed up, he closes his eyes to calm himself down.

“Hey…where’d you go?” You croon, grazing your nails from his chest to his quivering stomach, relishing the feeling of his warm, dewy skin beneath your fingertips.

The wrecked way he forces his eyes back open almost makes you fall apart. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as a greater sense of urgency awakens between you. It’s in the way you speed up, both eager, desperate, chasing. He memorizes the way your body moves over top of his, the bouncy sway of your chest.

“You look so pretty taking me like this,” he shudders. “My pretty girl.”

“Eddie…” you coo, high and breathy.

“I know, sweetheart,” he chokes out. “Wanna feel you come around me so bad.” He’s babbling now, “Shit, I’m not gonna last. I can’t take it anymore, angel...I can’t—”

The earnest crack of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge, vision spotting. Pleasure radiates throughout every fiber of your being as your walls contract around him. He stills your hips with a firm hold, bucking upwards and coming undone in surging waves. You slide your hands down his abdomen to feel him flex with each strong jolt that wracks him.

As your body begins to relax, you blink down at him, lips parted as you catch your breath. Eddie throws an arm over his face as he sucks in air, neck and chest flushed pink. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

Both of you shudder as you ease off him. The pleasant ache of loss pulses between your legs as you partially lay down on top of him, hooking a leg over his waist. He traces along your thigh in light, soothing passes. You can feel his chest rising and falling.

“You okay?” he eventually murmurs.

You nod, kissing his shoulder. “You?”

“I think so,” he chuckles weakly.

●・○・●・○・●

The afterglow brings a quiet stillness to the air. Clean and beneath the sheets, you study Eddie’s long lashes, his nose, his plush lips. He eventually cracks a self-conscious smile.

“What?” he questions. You shake your head because you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look like he believes you. “C’mon...”

So, you think of something, a small truth you’re willing to give him, “I just really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

He hums, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “What was your favorite part?”

“Probably the food at Stillwater,” you say, though your fingertips are tracing along his jaw, then down his neck, trailing to his waistline to lightly brush between his hip bones as he squirms. “Best I’ve ever had,” you lilt.

Eddie breaks into a flustered laugh, leaning over to sleepily kiss the coy smile from your lips.

“But really, though,” you say afterward. “Thanks for tonight. Never met a guy quite like you.”

Eddie realizes then that he’d better get a head start on counting his lucky stars.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

NEXT PART | PART ONE

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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Can I request an Eddie Munson smut, maybe holiday themed? Maybe the whole thing that’s like, reader manages to tie a bow around herself as a gift, and suddenly gets insecure, but hey can’t herself undone before Eddie gets home.

He uses the bow to his advantage and shows reader how great she is without her intervening. 🫶🫶

I love this idea!

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play, oral (f receiving) body insecurity

You stand in the mirror wearing nothing but a piece of ribbon that you had intricately tied around yourself. Part of it is draped across one of your shoulders while another is covering your cunt while the bow is tied to cover your tits. Not only did it take you forever to find a ribbon big enough for this, but it also took you over an hour to figure out how to make it cover all the proper places. You feel good, excitement coursing through you as you can’t wait for Eddie to get home. He’s been doing a bunch of holiday concerts and is coming home just in time to spend Christmas with you.

You haven’t seen him in weeks and want to surprise him with a gift you think he deserves: you. You’re so needy for him and are sure that he feels the same for you. But as you look in the mirror again, you suddenly feel very insecure about yourself, not knowing how you had talked yourself into doing something so scandalous. You go to untie the bow, but it won’t budge, the intricate way you’ve tied it clearly backfiring as it stays there, not coming undone no matter how hard you tug on it.

You hear the front door close and panic as you reach for your robe, quickly wrapping it around yourself, trying your best to hide the bow even though it’s very obvious underneath the very thin silk of your robe. But it’s too late to fix it as you see Eddie enter the room through the reflection on the mirror.

You turn around to face him, temporarily forgetting about your whole predicament as you make a beeline for each other. He’s quick to wrap you up in his arms, giving you a tight hug as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with kisses.

“I missed you so much,” he says as he pulls back to look at you, so much love in his eyes as he stares into yours.

“I missed you too,” you reply and he leans forward, capturing your lips with his as he pulls you to his chest, noticing that there’s something odd pressing against him.

He pulls away, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze shifts to the robe, seeing that there is definitely something underneath it. He wants to know what you’re hiding. What you’re wearing and why you seem so embarrassed by it. He’s seen you naked more times than he can count so he doesn’t know what’s so embarrassing about what you’re wearing

“What’s under the robe, baby?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat. Wrapping the top even tighter around you as you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide the bow. But Eddie’s not falling for it. “Baby?” He asks, his voice softer now, no longer teasing as he sees tears welling up in your eyes.

You step away from him and close your eyes tight as you slowly untie the robe and open it to show Eddie what you’ve been hiding. You hear him gasp and open your eyes just in time to see him grin. He steps closer to you and grabs onto the robe, opening it even more to get a good view of what you’re wearing.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he says in a flirty tone as his eyes roam over every detail of the ribbon you’ve tied around yourself. You turn away from him, feeling very uncomfortable and eddie grabs onto your face softly, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“What’s going on?” He asks. He’s not doing to pry, but so that he can help you not feel the way you’re feeling anymore.

“I-I did this whole thing and then I don’t know-I started to feel silly so I went to take it off so I could change before you got home, but it’s stuck,” You reach for the bow and pull on the end, but it still won’t budge.

“Do you want some help?” He asks, a chuckle falling from his lips and you know he’s not laughing at you, but the situation as a whole. He slowly reaches for the other side of the bow and looks you up in the eyes, his growing dark. “I’ve gotta say, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. It’s really thoughtful of you, hon.” He yanks on the bow and the whole thing comes undone.

“You think?” You ask and he nods, pushing the robe off of your shoulders so he can see the full thing you’ve managed to do with the bow.

“Oh, I know, baby. Why don’t you let me show you just how grateful I am?” You’re suddenly not embarrassed anymore, your need for him overpowering everything else.

“Please,” you whine and he puts on a devilish grin as he begins to take off all of his clothes while you watch, impressed by how quickly he’s working and pretty soon, he’s down to his boxers and he’s reaching up to remove the rest of the ribbon from your body, eager to see you, all of you.

The ribbon falls to the floor and Eddie’s quick to pull you to his chest, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth as his hands rest on your back, moving down slowly, grabbing your ass which makes you gasp into his mouth before he grabs onto the back of your legs.

You jump like you know he wants you to and he catches you as your legs wrap around his waist and your lips connect once again as he backs up to the bed, turning around and collapsing onto it, taking you with him.

He falls on top of you and pins your wrists to the bed, his lips swallowing your giggles, quickly moving down to your neck, your chest, kissing as well as nipping at your skin before he goes in for a rough suck. Because you’ve expressed how insecure you felt wrapped up in the ribbon, Eddie is determined to make you feel good, especially since he’ll get to do it with his mouth the way he always likes.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he says as he goes in for another suck, this time right above your tit. “You don’t have to hide from me. I always want to see you. All of you.” Your skin grows hot at his compliment and you’re about to thank him, but he goes on. “And I intend on loving on every single inch of you until you believe me.”

The last part comes out more raspy and you’re so wet now that you feel your slick trickling down your leg. You need him so desperately to take care of it, but you also want to soak up everything he’s doing to you, to enjoy it as much as possible. He’s going through all the effort to make you feel good, after all. Even though you know he enjoys it just as much as you do.

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes darkening as a devilish grin spreads across his face. He then lets his gaze fall to your tits and you arch your back, moving back and forth to tease him as he feels drool forming in his mouth as he thinks about just how much he wants to lick and bite and suck on them.

“C’mon, Eds, you know you want you,” you bat your lashes and Eddie is quick to pin your back down to the bed, his mouth latching onto your nipple, bringing it into his mouth as he gives them a rough suck, causing a gasp to leave your mouth.

“E-Eddie, oh my god,” you whine and he continues to suck even harder as you grip onto the bedding underneath you for dear life. Your eyes shut tight as your back arches in pleasure, feeling so good, already feeling like you’re close.

Your hands grip the bedding underneath you even harder as you feel even more slick rolling down your leg. And just when you think Eddie’s done, he takes your nipple between his teeth, giving it a bite which causes you to absolutely lose it. A loud, delicious moan falls from your lips as your back arches in pleasure. Eddie bites down again and you moan even louder, grabbing onto whatever part of him you can get your hands on as an orgasm tears through you.

“Eddie, sh-shit, oh my god,” you whine and he pulls away, smiling to himself as he sees your tit shining with his spit. As you’re coming down, he moves onto the next one, not being gentle as he noticed that you liked how rough he was previously.

He just goes straight in for a bite, biting down a little harder, but not hard enough to hurt you. But that’s what you think you want: for him to hurt you just a little bit. Just to add a little spice to what’s going on.

“Harder,” you command and he listens, biting down harder and you wince at the pain, but you still don’t feel like it’s enough. “Harder.” He bites down even harder and you’re wincing even more, but it just feels so good. “Yeah,” you nod enthusiastically. “Just like that.”

Eddie pulls on your nipple and your nails dig into him as you feel another orgasm coursing through you. He somehow always knows exactly what you need and when you need it. It’s almost like he can read your mind and it seems like he can because of how well he knows you.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages. “Just like that.” He pulls away just in time to see you orgasm again and he’s eating it up. He loves seeing you like this, your mouth wide open as you moan so loudly that it’s surely going to wake up your neighbors, but he couldn’t care less.

He kisses his way down your torso and stops once he gets to your cunt, spreading your legs wide so he can see what he’s working with, letting out a dramatic gasp as he looks down at your cunt and how sopping wet you are.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he says. “Looks like you need me to clean you up, hm?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, pleading and Eddie loves when you get like this. He loves when you beg and it doesn’t take much for you to get needy.

He spreads your legs even wider before getting down on his knees, draping them over his shoulders, scooting closer so that his face is right in front of your cunt.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he sighs before diving straight in, his lips latching onto your clit, giving it a suck and you’re quick to moan in response, your hands threading through his hair, giving it a rough tug.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine as his tongue swirls around, his fingers digging into your thighs as he does so. He’s eating you out like he’s a man starved and now you’re actually becoming grateful for the time you’ve spent away from each other.

“Taste so good, hon,” he comments. “Think this is the best you’ve ever tasted. God, I could eat you all night.”

“Then w-why don’t you?” You ask through labored breaths, grabbing onto his hair again as his lips travel down to your slit, his tongue moving back and forth across it, warming you up before he lets his teeth do all the work, scraping them along your cunt, eating up not only you, but the way you’re yanking on his hair as the hottest moans pour from your lips.

You stay like that for a while, Eddie eating you out for hours as you hold on to his hair for dear life as he makes you orgasm over and over until you’re absolutely spent, your words slurring. And even though you’re more than willing to keep going, Eddie decides that it’s time to go to bed since you’re already close to falling asleep anyway.

So he cleans you up then climbs into bed next to you, pulling you close so that your body is flush to his, his hand running up and down your side as you fall asleep right in front him and he’s hoping, praying that you really do know just how much he loves you.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut

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caxde · 1 day ago

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Hey you! I loved the bright eyes request!! I’d love to request a next part where Eddie finally asks princess out and Lua calls you mommy as she heard it at school or daycare and her and Eddie talk about it? 🫣

Also sorry I’m a pain I just love your story so much! It’s my favorite

Hi babe! I'm sorry it took so long, I have been going through it. I hope you enjoy it!

bright eyes universe drabble ~2.1k girl!dad eddie

“Careful Lu, let dada flip it.” He whispered as he grabbed the plastic spatula away from her hand.

Her curious eyes followed every move he made, watching closely and in awe as he rapidly flipped the chocolate chip pancake they had made together.

They had snuck into your trailer with everything prepared, pancake mix in one of those old reused glass jars. He got that new habit from you and your pantry.

Lua kept giggling at the idea of waking you up. Her cheeks became rosier by the second as her eyes squinted. She had a hard time controlling her excitement given has she had only joked about wanting to wake you up, lucky for her her indulgent dad had the same idea.

She climbed down the chair she used to see what Eddie cooked -he had a new habit, talking her through every process, trying to get her to talk more, better, longer sentences- and given that he was pouring more mix into the buttered pan he was too focused to stop her. He figured she’d sit on the floor as she usually did.

Lua had other ideas in her head, she found her way to your bedroom door. A light push was enough for it to open and the little giggles became a chuckling that made you toss in your bed, now that you laid half awake.

Her tiny footsteps found the side you were sleeping and a koi smile appeared on your lips as you realised what was happening. As soon as you felt the pressure on the mattress and her whispered grunting of her effort to climb your bed you knew you had to wrap her under your sheets.

So you did, your eyes halved open as you saw her big and wide smile. You couldn’t help but let your lips curl upwards. Her hair looked exactly as Eddie’s did when he had a long night of just dreaming and tossing, a tangled perfected mess. You let out a small “AH” before opening your arms as you held your duvet, pulling it down in a swift motion, trapping her inside while she jumped to hug you.

The small giggles and screams made Eddie rush to your room, finding the scene he found both endearing and magical. The warm morning light creeping into your room illuminates your bedroom in a way that makes it seem like it was already a warm and special memory. He stood there for a second by the threshold crossing his arms as he saw you both emerge from under the covers, he could help but shake his head in disbelief from how lucky he felt.

You made eye contact with him briefly as Lua continued blabbering her good mornings and her excited questions and he mouthed a soft “morning” he caught you blushing before you mouthed back a soft “good”.

He walked back to the kitchenaid with a different rhythm, a happier and more awake one.

You waited in the car while he dropped Lua off into kindergarten, watching with a shy smile at the idealistic picture and the four hugs and six forehead kisses of reassurance Lua had needed before going inside the classroom.

You laughed quietly to yourself as you waited for him to come back, seeing how an excited grin appeared on his face as he found his way back to you.

“Hi” Eddie muttered as soon as he opened the door, sitting back in the driver seat. His head reached for yours so your lips could meet properly.

A sweet and short kiss laid at the top of your lips.

“Hi” You whispered back, feeling that familiar flush in your cheeks as that lucky feeling invaded your body once again.

“So, what do you want to do?” He asked as he started the car, it caught you by surprise if you were honest, he could tell by the way your lips pressed together.

“I thought you had work?” You half asked. You were the one that needed reassurance now.

“Not until lunch.” He said nonchalantly, his right hand finding your thigh, stroking it softly and absentmindedly.

“Wade’s doing the pick up then?” You followed as he started to drive, not sure where to go yet.

“Shit.” He muttered as realisation hit.

He looked at you with a horrified look. You knew in that instance he was starting to panic, he was starting to feel bad about himself, his mind telling him all sort of horrible and despicable things he would never dare to speak aloud.

“Do you want me to…?” The space between his eyebrows where a wrinkle was relaxed suddenly. You simply smiled back, your hand petting his that still laid on top of your thigh.

“You don’t have to…” You shook your head as soon as he said it.

“It doesn’t bother me, Moon.” His hand tangled with yours. You saw him blushing at the softness of your tone.

“I know it doesn’t… I just don’t want you to feel like you have to fix my fuck ups” He tried to explain as his eyes left the road to look at yours.

“But I like fixing your fuck ups” You chirped back with a sweet sing-song voice that made him earnestly smile. “I also like you” You add just so you could see him blush a bit.

“Idiot” Eddie whispered through his teeth, smiling wide at the sound of your words.

“Your idiot.”

“Yeah, lucky me.” He left a kiss on the back of your palm as he continued to drive aimlessly, singing along to the songs on the radio with you.

Truthful bliss was felt once the two of you were together.

You did feel nervous, yet again, it would be weird if you didn’t feel it. Everyone around you was older and they all seemed to have their life figured all out. You clocked a pattern -as you usually did when you were feeling a bit too anxious- those of them that seemed more uptight, blonder and with cleaner clothes seemed to take an effort so they could stay out of your way. Yet the ones that were a bit more tired, with wilder hair and kinder smiles dedicated soft nods and smiles to your direction.

It was a weird reassurance.

The blue door opened and with it the soft chatter and spontaneous giggles and scream from toddlers invaded the previously quiet street. You waited for the eager parents to rush through the door, you knew you had to introduce yourself to the teacher, even if Eddie had called in advance and explained to them that you were picking her daughter, it still invaded you with a sense of nervousness, your heart beating louder in your chest.

You found your way, a few steps away from the door as a shy Lua emerged, holding hands with a young girl, a couple years older than you at best. You let your knees touch the ground as you open your arms, she rushed to hold you with an excited giggle.

“Hi bug! You had a good day?” You asked as you embraced her, picking her up from the ground, her backpack hanging off her, way too big for her.

“Yeah!” She hid her head on your chest as she continued to chuckle, excited by your presence.

“So… You’re Lua’s mom?” The teacher asked.

Your eyes widened, as shock invaded your body. You started to shake your head profusely as you rocked Lua whose head poked out once she heard her name. Mom is a word that you hadn’t discussed or introduced. Not since you did accidentally met her actual mother, and yet the word has only been discussed out of earshot from her, between you and Eddie in hushed voices and wet eyes.

“No, no… Uh, I'm Eddie’s partner.” You struggled to find your words, trying to make sense of what was happening. You saw how she turned white with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…” She started to apologise, but you just shook your head once again before she could understand your need for her to stop talking. “I just thought, and since I had never seen Lua’s mom I just figured you, I mean she had finally come I..” She kept trying to male it right but your cheeks were becoming redder than Lua’s shirt.

“It’s fine really.” You told her with a kind smile and a soft touch to her arm. “We actually have to go, I have to take her to her dad’s car shop. You’re ready bug?”

“Yeah…” She added with a confused voice. Lua waited for both of you to be alone. She needed to know what that new word meant. “Princess?” She softly asked.

“Yes bug?”

“What’s mom?” You could tell she was genuinely curious. “Are you mom?”

“Oh..” You mumbled trying to know what you were allowed to respond. “Um… You know why Eddie’s your dad?” She nodded slowly, not really following. “Eddie’s your dad because he had you, and your mom is the other person that had you, because it takes two people to really like and love each other to make such a special person.” You started to explain as you helped her into the little kid seat Eddie had in his van. “Your dad loves you very much and takes care of you.” You added as you left a soft kiss on her forehead. With the impeding feeling you were somehow fucking it all up.

“You take care of me” She responded once you were looking into her eyes.

“Yes.”

“And you love me?” That childish way of asking with a pure innocence made you smile softly.

“Of course I do, bug.”

“Then you’re mom.” She concluded. You shook your head as you fastened her seatbelt. You left that where it was, you weren’t sure what to answer.

“Dada!” Lua screamed as soon as she set foot on the car shop, running directly to where Eddie was.

“Hi Lu!” Eddie matched her energy perfectly, grabbing her in one swift motion and letting her rest on top of the car he was finishing the check up. “How was school?”

“Fun!” She added with a chuckle as she looked at him with a glee in her eyes.

“I wanna hear all about it. Dada’s gonna go for a snack and then you tell me, okay?” She nodded enthusiastically as Eddie found its way to you so he could steal a kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You grabbed his hand as he passed swiftly by you to reach for his bag where he had an assortment of snacks for Lua to choose from. “Lua learned a new word today.”

“Oh no, did I miss her first curse word?” He added with a sarcastic hope that would make you chuckle in another circumstance.

“Actually, she learned mom” You whispered, he was now recreating the same expression you had made when the young girl had said it to you. “She asked what it meant, I tried to explain but she was convinced that I was… well- that.” You finished as his eyes shifted between you and her.

“I’m sorry you had to…” He started, deciding to change what he was about to say before even speaking, even if it was no use since you had already guessed what he was about to. “You are kinda like her mom though… I mean she knows you more than…. This is a weird conversation, right?” He checked with you, grabbing your hand and pushing you a bit closer. Needing to feel like he wasn’t completely losing his mind.

“It is a weird conversation. I just… I’m not her mom, I could… I would never want to impose that I just… I do take care of her and I love her and I love you but I just… I’m not” He squeezed your hand three times so your eyes met his. That maroon colour lets you get lost in them.

“You love me?” He asked with a smile on his face, trying to distract you from the pit of overthinking you were fastly approaching.

“Yes.” You answered with flushed hot cheeks.

“I love you too…” He whispered before pushing you into a hug, whispering the next words close to your ear. “We’ll figure it out, whatever makes you comfortable. We can talk about it over dinner, tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.” You whispered back, leaving a sound kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at you with that grin that made you bite the interior of your cheek in response. You stood there looking at him, and the way he rushed back to Lua, letting her pick whatever snack she pleased.

You wanted more than anything to be a part of this for as long as possible, you desired to stay in this bubble forever.

Full of love, hope and fondness.

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rebelfell · 20 hours ago

Text

have some more bestfriend!eddie flangst, you animals.

a sequel to this, which is a prequel to this.

Johnny wasn’t so bad.

He was handsome enough and his cropped haircut suited his face. It showed off his high cheekbones and the angular lines of his strong jaw. He did crew, so he had nice broad shoulders with arms that were lightly muscled from lots of hours logged on the rowing machine. And he had a disarming sort of smile, his mostly straight teeth framed by strangely plump pink lips.

It was an odd thing to think, but he actually kind of looked a little bit like Eddie.

A distorted, alternate universe, almost cursed version of him, that is. Because, come on—Eddie Munson with blue eyes? Some things were too ludicrous to even consider. And picturing those warm and inviting deep brown irises replaced by Johnny’s cool, ocean blue orbs…

The thought alone almost made you shudder.

Aside from his looks, Johnny was also absurdly charming. He laid lines on you like it was his job and yet never came off smarmy or disingenuous. Confidence just oozed off him like molten lava, as if he had never experienced even a second of self-doubt one time in his whole life. Clearly, he kneels aware of everything he had going for him.

So no, Johnny wasn’t all bad.

But he wasn’t all good, either.

Your first few dates had all been at bars where you just happened to link up with some brothers from his fraternity. He then spent the majority of the evening carrying on with them, lazily draping his arm across your shoulders and whispering a sardonic running commentary in your ear.

He never outright ignored you, but it seemed there was always something to draw away his wandering eyes—a game playing on the TV, one of his friends sinking a shot in pool or hitting a bullseye in darts, a pretty girl in a low-cut top passing briefly through his peripheral vision.

It was never anything that felt worth exerting the effort of getting annoyed over, though. He’d been very upfront with you about what he was looking for and not being the “boyfriend” type. The word around campus was he was nursing a serious case of heartbreak and still carried a fairly massive torch for his ex, Crystal.

Which was quite honestly fine by you.

Like most of the people you dated, he was ultimately just a distraction. Someone nice and cute, inoffensive and disposable. Someone to keep you warm on particularly lonely nights.

And Johnny kept you extremely warm. Literally.

He always ran weirdly hot, which was nice in some respects. Like tonight, when he parked his car under the cover of some trees on the side of some deserted lane he found far too quickly for it to be coincidental. The moment he cut off the engine, the chilly evening air had begun to leak into the cabin and had you sitting closer to him in the backseat and clinging onto him a little tighter than you normally might have.

Kissing him was like making out with a furnace, but he was a very good kisser—no doubt having had plenty of practice. And the longer it went on, the harder it got not to think about the pair of lips his reminded you of so much. With your eyes squeezed shut and the two of you lit only by the scant traces of moonlight illuminating the edges of your entwined limbs, it became a little too easy to imagine a different set of hands running up your sides, sliding up your sweater.

But when your hand drifted up, fingers expecting to wind into long and wiry waves, and you found yourself gripping futilely at short blonde hairs behind his ears, the illusion shattered.

Your shoulders shook in a shiver as your chest was exposed, the simple lace bralette not nearly as insulating as your thick knit top. Lips popping off yours, Johnny pulled back to get a look at what he’d unveiled and you felt a little tremor of worry sneak down your spine.

“Huh,” he said with an amused chuckle.

Not exactly the reaction you’re going for when you take your shirt off for a guy.

“Something wrong?” you asked pointedly. His head jerked up, like he had forgotten there was a person attached to the body he’d been pawing at for the last hour and a half.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I just noticed something s’all,” he answered, surging in for another kiss.

You planted your hand in the center of his irritatingly toned chest and pushed him back.

“Noticed what?”

“S’nothing, baby,” he told you with an easy smile. “One of ‘em’s just way bigger. Look—”

And before you could say anything, before you could fully register what he was doing, he had put one of his hands on each of your breasts and he pushed them up to demonstrate. And it was hard, nigh impossible, to deny how your right one filled out his hand significantly more than the left.

With a huff, you yanked the bottom of your sweater down, forcing his hands to drop as well.

“What? What did I say?” he asked, blinking at you far too dumbly for someone as smart as him.

“Just take me home, please. I have a lot of work I need to get done.”

His mouth opened, no doubt to protest, but you had already pushed open the car door to climb out and get back in the front seat. You’d then spent the rest of the ride home quietly seething while he attempted to assure you he “didn’t mean it that way” and that “it’s not a bad thing.”

But even with his over-abundance of body heat, there was no chance of him thawing you out.

You honestly didn’t believe he said it maliciously, you just figured he could have been a little more diplomatic? It wasn’t like you didn’t realize there was a balance issue—they were your boobs for chrissake, did he think you never noticed?

It was just no one else had ever felt the need to point it out so thoroughly.

Still, you nodded mutely when he pulled up to your apartment and asked if he could call you the next day. And you hated yourself more for it with every stair you climbed to your floor.

The flashing light on your answering machine drew your eye as you skulked through the door and tossed your purse on the kitchen counter. The jangle of your keys sounded especially loud in your empty apartment and you heaved a sigh as you pressed ‘play’ on the way to the fridge for a beer. You’d just touched the rim of the bottle to your lip when you heard Eddie’s voice.

“Hey, I might need an emergency extraction ASAP—Steve and Robin dragged me to karaoke and they’re about to do dueling STYX covers. You’re my only hope! Come! Pleeeease!”

He sounded just a little bit tipsy rambling off the address of some bar he was probably outside of calling you desperately from a pay phone. If you closed your eyes, you could see his sweet and lopsided smile as he laughed into the receiver, his warm breath fogging up the glass siding, fingerless-gloved hands tracing shapes in the condensation while he talked.

A spiral. A lightning bolt.

The first letter of your name.

The machine beeped and his voice filled your apartment again, sounding much less jovial and much more sober, this time most likely calling from the comfort of the recliner in his trailer.

“Hey, sorry, I forgot you were out with what’s-his-name. Uhh…I just got home. Call me when you get in? If you want, y’know, assuming you’re not…busy. Or, um. N-never mind. Night.”

His message had barely finished playing before you snatched your keys back up and headed out the door. You couldn’t say for sure what spurred your spontaneous trip, but you didn’t stop long enough to wonder. Maybe you were just lonely. Maybe you were just sad.

Maybe you just needed to be around someone you knew wanted to be around you.

You let yourself inside his darkened trailer with the key he’d given you, sneaking silently down the hall towards his bedroom door that was outlined in gold from his bedside lamp on the other side. Had it not been for the rumble of his stereo, you might have thought he was asleep.

“JESUS CHR—”

The yelp he let out when you opened his door made you giggle. He scrambled to sit up, not so subtly flinging away the magazine that had been spread open in front of him. His top half was bare, tattooed chest heaving as he clutched at it and panted trying to catch his breath.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he accused, the fondness in his voice leaking through despite his attempt to sound angry. A smile twitched up the corner of your mouth as your brow arched.

“Sure you don’t mean the jizz?” you asked.

“I’m not—”

Eddie’s chest puffed up angrily until you fixed him with a Look that made it deflate. He glanced at the Heavy Metal on the floor and gave you a cheeky smile and a guilty shrug instead.

“That’s what you get for breaking an entering, sweetheart.”

“Well, you think you can get friendly with yourself a little later? I kinda had a bad night.”

The wounded tone in your voice caught Eddie’s ear. He nodded and gave you one of those “you don’t have to ask” sort of smiles you had kind of been hoping for. You nodded back succinctly and went to open the drawer in his dresser that had begun to accumulate your clothes.

“Do…do you wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked, his dry throat aching as he tried to swallow.

With your back turned, you couldn’t see the way his eyes l bulged when you tugged down your jeans to replace them with sweats, and you definitely couldn’t see the way he plopped a pillow on his lap as you stripped off your sweater and put on a t-shirt in its place.

“Nah,” you told him, resolute and flat. “It’s stupid, anyway.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear about some blonde douchebag feeling you up. He didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t like he cared about your dates one way or another. And it’s not like what happened was that bad, you reminded yourself again as he switched off the light.

You curled up on the side of the bed closest to the window—your side—and folded your arms under the deflated sack of feathers posing as a pillow to support your head. As you lay there, waiting for unconsciousness to overtake you, you heard the low murmur of Eddie’s voice that was drowsy with sleep and rough from the joint he’d smoked whose scent still lingered in the air.

Only the first bit, a slurred “g’night sweetheart” reached your ears. The rest was unintelligible. Something about shoving you?

“Did you say something?” you whispered to him.

“No,” he answered after a long pause. “No, noth…nothing important.”

if you had told me the guy who commented on our boobies in the first part was gonna end up being Johnny Storm…

ty for reading. love you, mean it! 🪭

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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tessab154 · 3 days ago

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Damn it 🥵

this would be with eddie and i'll die on that hill

I was thinking the same thing!! like irl me isn't allowed to go in haunted houses for Reasons but this is fiction so...

(help idk what happened here I didn't mean for this to turn into smut 👀💦 cw: thigh riding, eddie being a perv) 18+

---

"C'mon it'll be fun!"

You looked from Eddie's excited face to the entrance of the old barn that had been converted into a dark, looming haunted house for the season. Black curtains concealing the entryway fluttered in the cool autumn breeze, curling like hands beckoning you closer. But the muffled screams coming from inside kept your feet glued to the ground.

"Eddie, I don't know..." Your hands curled tighter around his arm, digging your nails into his leather jacket.

"I was a scarer here last season and it's the same every year. Trust me, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad" meant different things to you and Eddie. Sure it was just a bunch of teenagers in masks and makeup, but the fear was real. At the very least you knew Eddie wouldn't run off and leave you, (that had happened to you once before, it wasn't fun).

"How 'bout this?" Eddie held you in front of him, suddenly serious. "Every time we make it to the end of a section, I'll give you a kiss."

"Eddie," you roll your eyes, "if you wanna make out we can just go back to the van."

"Don't tempt me," his playful growl teased a smile from your lips. "C'mon, pretty girl. I think I make a pretty good distraction." Eddie waved his hands over his front and wiggled his eyebrows. You could help but laugh, hitting his chest and begging him to stop when he started to gyrate his hips at you. He captured you in his arms, his whole body shaking as he laughed with you.

"Okay," you took a deep breath, Eddie's leather and weed scent settling your nerves the tiniest bit. "I'm ready."

"That's my girl." Eddie smiled and pressed a kiss into your hair before leading you in.

Whatever braveness you felt before walking into the mock-house immediately disappeared when you realized how dark it was inside. You clung tighter to Eddie's arm.

"It's okay. They make the first hallway super dark to fuck with you."

Eddie didn't whisper which somehow made you feel safer. He tromped down the hallway and through the first creepy area in his shit kickers like his raucous feet would keep the monsters away.

The first area was unsettling, but not bad like Eddie said. It was even kind of cute with the fake bats hanging from the ceiling. Once you made it to the end, Eddie took your face in his hands and planted one on you. It was a wet sloppy kiss, purposely so to make you laugh and push him off you.

"Eddie!"

"There's one," he grinned. "Man, this was a great idea."

The rooms got scarier as you went of course, and you screamed more than a few times when someone jumped out from behind a corner or banged an old shovel on the floor. Your heart was hammering harder in your chest with every room.

"How big is this fucking barn?"

"Who cares?"

Eddie had you pressed up against a wall somewhere between the fifth and sixth area. His mouth was too busy kissing down your neck, hidden in the shadows, to care about whoever was going through the house behind you.

His rewards for being brave had gotten a little too "rewarding" and after the last one Eddie couldn't seem to stop. Not that you minded. You'd much rather feel Eddie's lips on your skin than go through the rest of the house.

"Fuck, Eddie, what if someone sees?" The sharp suction of his mouth on your neck was your answer. Who cares? His lips and teeth and tongue whispered, "Let them see. Let them see you're mine. My brave girl."

"Eddie," you whine and grind against where he's straining for you in his tight jeans.

"That's it, pretty girl, doing such a good job."

You didn't know if Eddie was talking about your progress through the haunted house or how you were grinding against the thigh he slotted between your legs but you didn't care.

Eddie squeezed your hips, guiding you towards your release. The rings on his fingers were cool against your heated skin as you worked faster. Eddie could tell you were close by the way your hips stuttered, how you held your breath and shook against his chest.

"That's it, that's it, baby. Show me, give it to me."

Just as you reached your peak, Eddie slammed his mouth on yours, stealing the scream from between your lips and swallowing it down. Your thighs shook around his as you came down, the fake house around you totally forgotten.

"Fuck me, that was hot."

You couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but smile at Eddie as he smiled down at you. You weren't sure if you could walk, but Eddie pulled you through the last two rooms anyway. You stumbled out of the house like you were drunk, barely able to stand and giggling like a lunatic.

Outside one of the workers running the haunted house was speaking with two security guards when they suddenly turned and shouted, pointing at you and Eddie.

"Shit! Run!"

Eddie grabbed your hand and made a dash for the parking lot and his van, hauling your ass behind him as you cackled like a goddamn witch.

Yeah, haunted houses with Eddie might be your new favorite part of Halloween.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #this prose is as purple as the hickies on her neck lmao

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dixonsbrat · 2 days ago

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gonna be working on changing the layout of all my fics and blurbs over the next day or so, but while i am feel free to send in some blurb reqs using the prompt lists below for any of the characters on my masterlist ᡣ𐭩

⊹ soft and sweet ( fluff ) ⊹ melt into me ( smut ) ⊹ hit 'em where it hurts ( angst )

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fideozepam · 1 day ago

Text

The Price of Obedience - Chapter 1

Camilla learns of her impending arranged marriage to one of the deceased emperor’s sons. She grapples with the weight of leaving her home and stepping into an uncertain future in Rome.

The world here, in Lusitania, was much simpler.

The breeze carried the smell of lavender and warmed the sunlit fields she was laying on, a half-read parchment rested beside Camilla, forgotten in her soft haze of sleep

“Lady Camilla? Lady Camilla!”

A distant voice called her name, blending with the rustling of the olive trees and the chirping of cicadas, but it grew louder and closer.

“Lady Camilla!”

She stirred as she laid on the grass, groggily blinking at the golden light. “Mm… Yes, I’m coming.” Camilla mumbled, brushing her tunic free of grass and dirt as she stood up. A strand of hair fell over her face, quickly tucking it back as the servant approached.

“Your parents wish to speak with you.”

A sigh escaped Camilla’s mouth, picking up the scroll with reluctant fingers. She had been midway through a particularly amusing monologue and the interruption soured her mood.

"Can't it wait?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

Her silence confirmed it, and with a reluctant stretch, she began the walk back home. The villa loomed ahead, white and golden under the afternoon sun, its colonnades glowing warmly. Camilla felt a twinge of unease; it was unusual for both her parents to summon her like this.

Usually, they left her to her books and musings, more content with her quiet obedience than with involving her in household matters compared to her sisters.

Stepping into the cool shade of the atrium, she was struck by the sight of her parents seated side by side. Her father, sat with his hands clasped on his lap and besides her mother, watching as Camilla approached with an unreadable expression. Something was wrong- No. Something was changing.

"Camilla," he began, his voice firm yet heavy. "We have received news from Rome."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she glanced between her parents

Lusitania had long been under the Roman Empire’s shadow, a province folded into the vastness of their dominion, but its distance had always shielded her from its grandeur and its burdens. The Empire was something distant, abstract—gilded temples and mighty legions, names whispered with awe and caution.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing. Her curious eyes darted between them. What kind of news from Rome could possibly involve her?

Her mother’s gaze was unreadable, drifting toward the frescoed walls as though seeking solace in the painted pastoral scenes. Her father, however, looked directly at her. There was pride in his eyes—a rare glint of emotion she had not often seen. It unsettled her.

“Camilla,” he began, his tone weighted with significance, “you have been noticed. Among all the daughters of noble families in Lusitania, you have been chosen.”

“Chosen?” she repeated, frowning slightly.

“By Rome,” he clarified, his voice swelling. “The Empress herself, Julia Domna, has heard of your beauty, your refinement, your wit—and she has seen fit to select you as a bride for one of her sons.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncanny. Camilla stared at him, the weight of it pressing into her chest as her breath got caught in her throat. The room seemed to dim, the painted walls blurring into the edges of her vision.

“But—” she began, faltering. “I… I don’t understand. Why me? What do I even have?”

“Because you are extraordinary,” her father said with a rare softness, his pride bleeding into his voice. “Because your presence in Rome will bring honor to our family and strengthen the bond between Lusitania and the Empire.”

Camilla’s mother finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “It is an opportunity, Camilla. A life you could never dream of here.”

Her father leaned forward slightly. “You were not raised as an imperial daughter, but you have the qualities of one. You will be an asset to the dynasty, and with your intelligence, you will thrive there.”

Camilla sat frozen, her mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed into a confused grimace. The words had struck her like a stone to the chest, and her mind spun wildly, searching for answers that made sense.

“Why me?” she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible, more to herself than her parents.

She glanced down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap, the words repeating in her head like a mocking echo. Why her? Why not her older sisters? They had always been more secure, more confident, their golden locks and sapphire eyes drawing admiration wherever they went—so unlike her.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she risked another glance at her father, who still looked down at her with unwavering pride. But why not them? she thought bitterly. Her sisters seemed made for this role, shimmering like figures from the frescoes of their villa. Camilla, by contrast, had always felt like the black sheep of the family.

Her dark brown hair and deep green eyes were a mirror of her father’s, a legacy she had once treasured but now found dull compared to her sisters’ luminous beauty. Where they radiated charm and poise, she had always been quiet, more comfortable in her own solace than the company of others.

“An emperor’s wife?” she blurted suddenly, her voice cracking under the weight of the thought. She looked at her mother, then her father, as if pleading for this to be some cruel joke. “Compared to them, I—”

“You are extraordinary,” her father interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “Your beauty is unique, as is your intelligence. Rome values wit and character, not only golden hair and pale eyes.”

Camilla blinked, the praise washing over her in waves that didn’t quite reach her. Intelligence? Wit? Her father might believe in these qualities, but how could she trust them when she could barely gather the courage to speak to men at all? Even her father’s company often left her tongue-tied. And now she was expected to stand beside a Roman emperor, to speak, to serve, to be perfect.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling. “I—I can’t even hold a conversation with you without fumbling my words, Father. How can I… how could I…”

Her mother’s expression softened, but her tone remained practical. “You will learn. Rome will shape you. And you will thrive.”

Camilla looked at her again, then at her father. But all she could feel was a deep, gnawing fear that this path was not hers to walk, that she was being thrust into a world she didn’t belong in—and could never belong in.

Her father came closer, lowering himself to meet her gaze. "Camilla, this is no punishment. You were chosen because you are remarkable."

Remarkable. The word felt foreign, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.

But she didn't argue. Years of being taught to never question authority held her tongue. Slowly, she nodded, forcing herself to her feet even as her legs trembled beneath her. Without another word, she turned and left the room, her feet dragging as if they carried the weight of the empire itself.

Her mother watched her go, her brows knitting together with unspoken worry. "Do you think she's ready for this?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with doubt.

Her father's answer was immediate, his smile confident. "She'll be perfect."