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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months ago

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It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall.

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?”

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold.

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him.

Something unspoken. Something homely.

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.”

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion.

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire.

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?”

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?”

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room.

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use.

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.”

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.”

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him.

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm.

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.”

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch.

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently.

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back.

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home.

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-”

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.”

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair.

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient.

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him.

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you.

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.”

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?”

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?”

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.”

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum.

You never grow tired of it. You never will.

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always.

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.”

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-”

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him.

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.”

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside.

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly.

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days.

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso.

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle.

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.”

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off.

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep.

I love you.

I adore you.

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you.

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?”

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat.

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

#ghost's stories #summertime sweetness #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #peep me making fun of myself in there about the way i constantly like to write him doing the whole mock stabbing himself thing #i just want to find me an eddie munson to be so comfortable with that afternoons like this would be a regular thing ya know #give me a man who likes my stink #a man who offers to order us matching tempurpedic coffins #i don't think that's how you spell that word if i'm being completely honest #it's canon in my head the two of you would go 'coffin shopping' just cause you both wanna know what it's like to lay in one #also in my process of brainstorming and writing this i realized i really do not understand the concept of being weird because #halfway through writing this #i questioned if it was even weird/weird enough?#this doesn't feel weird to me this just feels like the normal progression of getting comfortable in a relationship #it was this or eddie being unbothered by sounds of indigestion or however you spell it #ANYWAYS im rambling my bad <3 #i hope i made you proud rhi!! <3

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huellitaa · 10 months ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ୨ feeling uncomfy in ur own skin

ok so this is something ive been struggling with for years. like i wake up some days and just feel Eugh way more than id like to. SO i decided i'd make a little guide on this! for me and for you 🩷✨

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 reasons why we could be feeling uncomfortable with ourselves and who we are

♡ having a shitty mental diet and consuming media and things that make you feel bad abt urself

♡ being in an environment where we're constantly being judged or put down, even over the most basic things

♡ hanging around negative people or negative places

♡ not giving urself enough credit for ur own achievements and accomplishments

♡ changing urself constantly for others and not having a clear sense of self to hold on to

♡ not having boundaries on how you and others treat you

♡ staying stagnant in the same place in your life and not changing (🎀🗒️also read: get comfy being uncomfy ♡)

♡ not paying enough attention to yourself and avoiding your genuine thoughts, feelings and emotions

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. be gentle with yourself!

pleasepleaseplease its ok to have bad days its ok to not feel great every day. treat yourself as you would someone you love. if you just aren't feeling good today, then you aren't feeling good! honour that and respect that and deal with that accordingly. even if you are uncomfortable with yourself right now or you don't like yourself right now, please try and treat yourself with care regardless, because no matter what stage you are in in your life right now you are and always will be the most important person in ur life, so TREAT URSELF LIKE IT🫶💖

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. inspiration, not comparison!

i know its often told not to go looking at people who are ahead of you in these times but hear me out. i think looking at and observing people you admire who are further ahead of you is very motivating to build yourself up and *become more like them* in your own way. you look up to them because of ___? what can you do to become your own version of that? thinking like this gets me more inspired to just get out of bed because i want to be more like them.

two words for this one - NO. COMPARISON. gaining inspiration from others to better yourself and comparing yourself to others are two completely different things. 🫶 (shameless self promo, but i have a post on this here! 🩷✨)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. analysis: detective work chapter!

journal and think and think to urself why u might feel like this or what caused this. when did it start? has anything happened lately that may have caused this? how does it feel, in depth? what can you do to combat this? how can you make it through the day & make it so you do even better tomorrow?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. channeling the mindset!

back to my point on our idols, thinking like them & thinking what they'd do in this situation helps me a lot. personally one of my idols is ada lovelace so whenever im really tired and unmotivated or insecure on my abilities or appearance or anything else i think to myself "what would she do?" and 9 times out of 10 im up at my desk in my cutest outfit hard at work. this is def one of my favourite points and something i use on the daily for like literally everything and 100% recommend 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. what would i do?

similarly, ask urself what the best version of yourself or the version of urself youre working towards would do in this situation. be your own inspiration. be ur own muse. would they stay in bed and rot all day? if the answer is no then ur up. out. immediately. ask urself what they would do. if ur feeling drained, would they take a day off to do some self care and recharge? if ur feeling sad, would they be gentle with themselves and let themselves feel sad for a little while & try to work to the root of the problem?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. understanding yourself!

make a list of the things that make you the happiest and most comfortable & productive and the things that make you the unhappiest and the opposite of those things. i mentioned this in my recharge day post, but figuring out these will help you find out which negative behaviours or habits are lowering ur vibrations and making u feel like this, and help u to engage more in the things that make you happy with yourself and everything around you 💗✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. pay attention!

pay close attention to ur internal landscape and your self talk throughout the day. note down every little thing you notice, even if you think it won't be helpful; for example, do you find yourself indulging in negative talk abt urself, negative talk abt others, constantly being pessimistic and expecting the worst, indulging in judgement and criticism of urself and everyone around you, getting distracted easily, and so on.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. what would i do, part 2

like i mentioned earlier, you should be your own inspiration. you should be your own muse. as much as it's nice to have idols, when ur trying to change something about urself and adjust and improve ur own behaviours, you should be mainly focusing on what you want to achieve by changing said behaviours. do you know who you're working towards being? do you know how you want to feel? do you know what you are changing these things you feel into? think about whether or not the person you are now lines up with the person you want to be in all aspects of ur life. if you feel like you aren't even trying to meet these standards then of course ur gonna feel bad about urself. of course don't be too hard on urself, but keep this in mind. 💓✨

finally, remember that these things are temporary and it wont be like this forever. ur beautiful and perfect no matter what and in these times u gotta show up for yourself even more and never give up! i believe in u 🫶🩷

all my love 💗💬✨🎀

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