Some Nerds In Love, Anybody?

in parallel universe, your favorite fictional character is real and you are fictional and he is reading fanfics about you, kicking his feet in the air and giggling.

In love with you - Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 313

Pairing: Lovestruck! Gojo Satoru x Female! Reader

Content: Fluff, Female Reader (AFAB), Gojo being absolutely smitten by reader

Lovestruck! Gojo who thinks of you a 24/7. You're always on his mind no matter what he's going. Going to the store? He's immediately asking himself if you'd like the sweets he's planning on buying. Out on a dangerous mission, fighting off curses? - He's wondering what you're doing right now. Were you also perhaps thinking about him? He certainly hopes so.

Lovestruck! Gojo who can't wait to return home to you. He doesn't know how he'd managed to survive for so long without having someone to look forward to when coming back home from an exhausting mission. But there you always were. Patiently waiting for him to come back, and then greeting him with gentle and loving kisses.

Lovestruck! Gojo who loves to cuddle up into your petite figure whenever the two of you are sprayed out on the couch, watching one of your favorite shows. He doesn't even pay attention to the show you seem to be so invested in, much rather preferring to look at your pretty face. He swears no sight is as beautiful as it.

Lovestruck! Gojo who lives for the sleepy, and oh-so-gentle morning kisses the two of you share each and every day once the two of you wake up from your slumber. The feeling of your soft lips pressed against his own has his heart fluttering like a smitten teenager.

Lovestruck! Gojo who loves everything about you. From your adorable smile, to the way his name rolls off your tongue with practiced ease. He just has so much love inside him and wants nothing more that to give it all to you. His love is all yours after all, and so is he. Both body and soul.

Lovestruck! Gojo who knows that he's made the right decision when he kneels down in front of you on one knee and asks for your hand in marriage.

Author Note:

Just finished reading way too much angst and needed some fluff to get my spirits back up, and so we're here- YvY

Anyways- I hope you enjoyed reading this one-shot as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Eddie proudly sporting a bib when you go for a seafood dinner. He sweetly asks if you can tie his hair back before the food arrives, not wanting to risk any getting in the way of his meal.

-

“Babe, I’m stuffed,” he groans, leaning back into the soft chair, rubbing his tummy with a messy & lopsided bib hanging from his neck. Eddie had devoured his meal with a grin, and you couldn’t help but find him adorable.

A few minutes go by of him moaning and groaning about how full he is, when you catch him looking at your plate, and then up at you, “you uh…gonna finish that crab leg?”

“I thought you were stuffed?”

“Sweetheart, that was like five whole minutes ago.”

𝔼𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕄𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟: 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥

day 04: Eddie

featuring Eddie Munson x reader (no assumed gender)

rating: general

cw: two minor, non-graphic mentions of sex; one brief mention of recreational marijuana use

wc: 1.6k

an: this is my first time doing one of these, and I was reminded of filling out those massively long surveys your friends would all email around in the 90s. I miss those. this was written for @corrodedcoffinfest!

𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 :: How does Eddie spend free time with his partner?

⟢ Eddie is the king of parallel play. Just being in the same room is enough to please him, even if you’re both absorbed in different activities. You’re lounging on the couch with a book while Eddie is noodling around with his guitar, or he’s at the table working on his campaign notes while you’re writing up a grocery list.

𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 :: What does Eddie admire about his partner?

⟢ I won’t lie, one of his criteria in a partner is how well you fit into his rockstar aesthetic. If you look like you’re ready to pose beside him on the cover of Rolling Stone, that’s a huge boon.

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 :: How does Eddie help his partner when they’re struggling?

⟢ Eddie’s love language is acts of service, so when you’re having a rough time, he’s insisting you take the night off and let him make dinner—and it’s probably just boxed macaroni and cheese and maybe a can of green beans if he thinks about it, but he makes it with so much love. Then afterward, if you’re amenable, he’d break out his private stash and pack a bowl for you.

𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖 :: What is Eddie’s first date with his partner like?

⟢ A disaster. He had big ideas of impressing you, but it was one of those nights where nothing went as he planned. He wanted to take you to an open mic night and wow you with his musical prowess, but the performance list was already full when you arrived. At a loss for a last-minute substitution, you wound up going to the Hawkins High carnival, where he was harassed by the popular crowd, he couldn’t manage to win a single game to get you a prize, and he nearly choked to death on his corn dog (then coughed so hard he almost puked). To top it all off, he was pulled over by a cop while driving you home, and the familiarity the cop had with Eddie clearly announced that he had regular run-ins with them. And to this day, Eddie has absolutely no idea why you invited him inside when he finally got you home, or asked to see him again tomorrow for a do-over.

𝔼𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕝 :: Is Eddie more dominant or submissive in his relationship?

⟢ Eddie is a very easy switch. He can and will take either role depending on his mood and yours, and can switch from one to the other with a moment’s notice.

𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 :: What is it like when Eddie and his partner argue?

⟢ Honestly, Eddie doesn’t argue with you very often. He struggles with feelings of inadequacy and fears the day you’ll wake up and realize he’s a worthless, white trash loser, and he’s afraid of driving you to that realization early. Much more common between you are the more playful, low stakes disagreements, like which dresser drawer to put socks and underwear in (the top one, obviously) or whether peanut butter belongs in the fridge or not (no). These ‘arguments’ are usually settled with a dice roll.

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖 :: Does Eddie acknowledge how much his partner does for him?

⟢ Oh god, yes. See above for those feelings of inadequacy, he is grateful as hell that you gave a freak a chance and somehow found him worthwhile, at least for now.

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕪 :: Does Eddie keep secrets from his partner or does he share everything?

⟢ Eddie couldn’t keep anything from you to save his life. He tells you everything, and everyone knows that if they tell Eddie something, they’re really telling the both of you because he’ll tell you immediately.

𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 :: Has Eddie’s partner inspired him to grow or change in any way?

⟢ Your presence in his life has made him more focused and given him more drive. His rockstar dreams were just a farfetched fantasy that he toyed with before, daydreams of a better life, but now with you in the picture, he craves that success to be more than make-believe.

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕪 :: How does Eddie handle jealousy in his relationship?

⟢ Eddie doesn’t fall victim to jealousy all that often. Those occasions when he does feel it flare up, though, it’s because he saw someone else flirting with you, and his response is to go over there and slip an arm around you, maybe give you a slightly-too-deep kiss, and remind the other person that you’re already spoken for.

𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤 :: Is Eddie a good kisser?

⟢ He’s not too bad! He doesn’t have a whole lot of experience when you first get together—there haven’t been many people in Hawkins willing to take a chance on a Munson—but he does have some natural talent, and he’s a quick learner with practice.

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 :: How does Eddie confess his love to his partner?

⟢ In song. He stresses out for a while over how to get to the next level with you, and he finally decides that since music is his forte, he’ll write you a song and perform it for you.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕘𝕖 :: Would Eddie want to marry his partner?

⟢ Eddie would be one of those guys who proposes to his partner and then stalls in the engaged phase for years, putting off the actual marriage. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you (he does!), but he’s worried (perhaps subconsciously) about tying himself to you and becoming a weight that holds you back, ruining your life by making you a Munson.

ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 :: What does Eddie call his partner?

⟢ Princess, sweetheart, baby, babe. If he’s in a goofy mood, he’ll call you ‘my liege’ (often with a deep bow and a thick accent).

𝕆𝕟 ℂ𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖 :: What is Eddie like when he’s in love?

⟢ Oh god, I hate to say this, but I think he’s that guy who kind of slowly starts drifting away from his friends in favor of spending time with his partner instead, at least for a while, and it causes tension between you and them. When he starts cancelling Hellfire at the last minute and not showing up to band rehearsal, the others start getting angry with him.

ℙ𝔻𝔸 :: Does Eddie openly share affection with his partner, or is he more private?

⟢ This man would fuck you in the hallway at school if you asked him to. Once you’ve made it clear that you aren’t afraid of everyone knowing you’re with him, he can be downright obnoxious with his affection. You’re the couple making out in the hall during class change, causing a traffic jam. You’re the couple who gets caught in closets and bathrooms at every party. More than once, Wayne has had to clear his throat rather loudly to remind Eddie that he’s still in the room.

ℚ𝕦𝕚𝕣𝕜 :: What’s a random action Eddie performs for his partner?

⟢ He learns your routine and makes a point to ask if you want a ride to work today before you even say anything, or he’s already waiting for you outside your classes so he can walk with you to your next one.

ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 :: How romantic is Eddie?

⟢ Very romantic. He’s making you new mix tapes weekly. Whenever he stops for gas, he always comes back to the van with your favorite snack without being asked. (He may have taken the five-finger discount, but it’s the thought that counts!) He holds doors open for you with a sweeping bow. He makes a big production of giving you a pin off his battle vest or one of his rings.

𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 :: How does Eddie help his partner achieve their goals?

⟢ You have never heard a pep talk until Eddie gives you one. He is a stalwart and unwavering pillar of support, and no one believes in you as much as Eddie believes in you.

𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕝 :: Does Eddie like to experiment and try new things, or does he prefer familiarity?

⟢ Eddie is always down to try something new, especially if it’s something you’re interested in. Whether it’s a new movie in a genre he doesn’t gravitate toward, or heading into the city to try a new restaurant cuisine that’s caught your attention, or a new bedroom activity, Eddie’s down for it.

𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: How well does Eddie know his partner?

⟢ Pretty damn well. Sometimes you might think he’s not listening while you’re talking, but even when he looks distracted, he never misses a word. He knows your favorite color, the foods you hate, your class or work schedule, the kind of future you daydream about. If you have a menstrual cycle, he doesn’t have it memorized but he can always tell immediately when your uterus is making problems.

𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕦𝕖 :: How important is Eddie’s relationship to him?

⟢ It’s literally the single most important thing in Eddie’s life. It’s the greatest thing he’s ever had, and he knows he doesn’t deserve anything this good. He loves you more than his guitar, which speaks volumes on its own.

𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕕 :: A random fluffy headcanon.

⟢ The first year you were together, Eddie very nearly forgot your birthday. It wasn’t until a quarter to midnight that he remembered, and he tore out of the trailer like a man on fire to get over to your place before midnight, nothing but apologies and affection and promises to make it up to you this weekend. Since then, he goes out of his way to make a big deal of your birthday every year.

𝕏𝕆𝕏𝕆 :: Does Eddie like to be affectionate with his partner?

⟢ Oh yes. Given a choice, Eddie would be attached to your hip 24/7. He loves to hold your hand, put an arm around you, give you little kisses, cuddle up to you. If acts of service is his primary love language, physical touch is a close second.

𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: How does Eddie cope when he’s missing his partner?

⟢ If at all possible, the quickest cure is to just go see you. Eddie’s liable to show up at your place at any hour of the day or night, looking a little lost and forlorn, just wanting to see you. If you’re unreachable like that, oh, how this boy pines for you. He’s a mopey, moody, melancholy mess. Wayne has to tell him to go outside and get some sunlight before he makes the mold in the trailer flourish with that storm cloud over his head.

ℤ𝕖𝕒𝕝 :: To what lengths would Eddie go for his relationship?

⟢ Eddie would brave the Upside Down alone to preserve your relationship. He would bitch and moan the entire way, but he would do it if it meant keeping you.

unspoken valentine

fwb!eddie munson x reader

summary: you want more, but eddie’s destructive tendencies get in the way. (2.2k)

warnings: sexual content but no smut, small mention of oral (m. receiving), angst, hurt/comfort, eddie self-sabotaging stuff, mdni.

<3

“There you go, babe. All cleaned up.”

Eddie shuffles back into your bed after tossing the used tissue in your trash can, smiling into your hair when you cuddle closer to him. His heart warms when you lay your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie knows he’s so incredibly lucky to get to hold you like this in your post sex haze because it wasn’t always like this. Before, when the already muddled boundaries of friends with benefits weren’t crossed, the two of you would quickly dress right after fucking and go on with your days as if nothing ever happened. It’s different now.

Now that he’s surrounded and completely captivated by you, mind foggy with the sultry scent of sex and your fruity perfume that lingers on his sheets and skin, Eddie wonders how he was able to do it before. How was he able to tear himself away from your warmth the second the two of you were done and move on as if you didn’t just have the best sex of your lives?

Leaving you was once easy, but now it is an impossible feat. He’s never felt such a fervent need for affection from anyone until you started coming by more often, letting him kiss your lips after you finished, and touching him as if you weren’t just casually fucking.

At first, he thought the fantastic sex was just getting to his head, making him see you in a way that wasn’t akin to his very platonic feelings towards you. But then he started catching himself admiring the cadence of your laughter and the beauty in your eyes. And so the pining ensued.

He started doing little things for you like offering to fix your car and bringing you lunch to your work (usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because it’s all he knows how to make and a cookie from your favorite bakery.)

Really, Eddie was disgusting whipped. He found that it wasn’t difficult, rather incredibly easy, to like you. All it took was a simple glance of yours for his heart to skip a beat, cupid’s arrow striking him right through the chest every single time as if he wasn’t already halfway in love with you.

And maybe, a small part of him thought, maybe you like him in the way he likes you. He’s nearly certain that there’s something unspoken between the two of you.

He’s noticed the way you light up whenever he’s near, his mere presence pulling you out of your sour moods, and the way you get all shy and flustered when he compliments your smile or kindness or whatever else it is that has his head spinning that day.

He’s realized that you touch him like you love him. Eddie knows that touch is your way of showing affection, constantly noting the way you hug Robin tight when you haven’t seen her in a while or rub a hand between Steve’s shoulders when he’s stressed. But, when you’re with him, your cuddles and embraces and nibbles and pinches are bursting in a certain romance that you’ve never shown to anyone else. You always take a moment to place a trail of small love-filled kisses down his chest before dipping down to take him between your lips. And when you’re cuddled close against him afterwards, you trace the ridges of his scars with nimble fingers, as if to remind him of how beautiful he is, scars and all.

He’s okay with this odd dynamic for now. But the consuming and enthralling thought of you feeling the same way he does is one he constantly brushes away, his fear of rejection and self-sabotaging tendencies never allowing him to linger on the subject.

He’s having a difficult time getting himself out of that reoccurring turmoil right now as you smooth circles into the skin of his neck and scoot up to place a chaste peck on his kiss bitten lips. He chases pathetically after you for more, but you ignore it and shuffle out of his embrace, wrapping yourself in the throw blanket that was tossed on your bedroom floor. Eddie can’t help but scoff a bit. It’s not like he hasn’t seen every part of you already.

He leans up on his elbows and watches as you saunter to your closet as best as you can while tangled in the fabric. For a second, he thinks you’re going to get changed and ask him to leave. But he before he could dwell on it, he realizes he’s mistaken as you’re coming back to your bed with a sparkly pink gift in hand.

Your breath tickles his skin when you speaks. “A present.” Your words mumble together in laziness. “For you,” you add when you’re met with silence.

Eddie eyes the bag suspiciously and begins to open it when you lovingly pinch his bicep. He gently tears through the red and pink tissue paper stamped in white hearts, ignoring the uncomfortable weight in the pit of his stomach. A part of him dreads getting to the end of it, nerves aflame with anxiety. In the middle of it lies a painted guitar pick with a few bats threaded through a thin chain necklace and a custom mixtape with “happy valentine’s day” written in your handwriting.

Eddie falters, a sharp exhale jolting you off his shoulder.

Your voice cuts through the silence. “Do you like it?”

He doesn’t not like it. No, he fucking loves it. But it’s too much, too much for friends with benefits and too much for his fragile, self-sabotaging heart.

He forces himself not to look at you as he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from falling in love with you if he does. Instead, his eyes bore into the heart above the “i” on the mixtape, despising the way the moths in his tummy flutter alive at the sight of the small doodle. This is just you showing affection towards a friend, right? Eddie thinks you probably got Steve something similar. And even if you didn’t, even if your feelings for him aren’t just a figment of his imagination and you’ve poured your special affection into this one gift, he just can’t. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you or anyone for that matter.

“What is this?” He questions dumbly, wincing at the stern, whispered tone of his own voice.

He feels you trying to catch his eyes as you tilt your head towards him, but his gaze is strictly fixed on the mixtape. “I-I wanted to do something… something nice for Valentine’s day.” Your nervous stutters only worsen the tight feeling on Eddie’s throat.

He shakes his head, “That’s couple shit.” He works up the courage to look at you with a hardened gaze, and the sight nearly kills him. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, the ridges of your teeth bruising your skin maroon, while your brows are furrowed together in something that resembles hurt.

“Is that so wrong?”

It is wrong.

Eddie knows everything about this is wrong. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to play out. You’re only supposed to be fucking, not giving each other sentimental gifts that teeter on the edge of romance. He can’t have this, and he can’t have you because you deserve better. “I just wanted to do something for you.” He can tell by the slight tremble in your voice that you’re trying to keep your composure as best as you can.

“Well, you shouldn’t have. I don’t know what you think we are, but it’s not this.”

His words come out like venom, infiltrating your veins and piercing your heart. He watches your expression shift, hurt now laced into all of your pretty features. In the same way that Eddie masks his affection for you with cruel words, you’re quick to veil your pain with an anger that he knows he deserves.

“Fuck you, Eddie! You’re acting as if you haven’t treated me like your fucking girlfriend for months now.” You move away from him, letting the blanket drop off of you as you begin to dress.

He sighs harshly, eyes quickly darting away from your naked body. He can’t deny your point, but he also can’t let himself express what he truly feels. “That’s not what we agreed on when we started fucking around!”

You’re seething when you turn to look at him, now in a large hoodie and a pair of shorts. “Don’t you think I know that? Do you think I planned for any of this? You think I planned on liking you so bad that it hurts? I fucking didn’t. Things change, asshole! You certainly didn’t plan on liking me either!”

“I- I don’t-“ Before Eddie could spit out more words that he doesn’t mean, you walk to him, your body towering over his sitting frame and eyes squinted.

“Don’t start with that. Don’t try to deny it. You think I don’t recognize your little act? I know you like me, but you’re just self sabotaging because you think you don’t deserve anything, right? You aren’t worthy of happiness?”

Your words strike him hard like a wave of freezing water that crashes over him. He was a fool to think you wouldn’t see right through him.

You’re unstoppable as you continue to lash out at him. “Stop being so fucking mean to your self! When are you going to realize that you’re allowed to have nice things, that you don’t have to fuck everything up? Call me when you do, but until then, get out.”

It’s your words that snap Eddie out of his deranged state. You step back, giving him the space to walk out of your bedroom door and potentially never come back. But he stands up and follows you instead, his tall, lanky body now towering over you. He has to do something quick. He grabs your wrist as gently as he can possibly manage and tugs you toward him.

You watch him intently as he scans your face, trying to piece his words together in his scrambled mind.

He rubs a trembling hand down his face. “Fuck, I- I don’t know how to do this shit.” His heart feels like it’s pounding out of his chest. In some weird and twisted way, confessing his feelings for you is harder than hurting you. “I’ve never been good at feelings. I do shit like this to myself all the time, and I- I don’t know why.”

His eyes squeeze shut for a second, the sparks of light dancing behind his eyelids an odd comfort to his spinning mind. “B-But I do know that I like you a lot and…. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes soften upon seeing the tears threatening to spill out of his own, the anger that they once held slowly draining. Nodding softly, you wrap your hand around his forearm. The warmth and pressure of your touch grounds and encourages him. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I like you so much, and I don’t want to lose you ‘cause I don’t know how to handle things like these. But, I want to learn with you. Just give me a chance, sweetheart, please.”

He follows your gaze as it roams down between your bodies, lips bitten in thought. A few tedious seconds of silence, you finally meet his eyes.

“Eddie,” you start slow. “I really fucking like you. I don’t want to lose you either. We can take it slow, and figure things out together. But, if you’re getting in your head about stuff, you have to tell me, yeah?”

He feels like he could cry out of the myriad of emotions he’s experienced. But mainly because he doesn’t understand how someone as charismatic and kind as you is giving him another chance. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry that wasn’t fair to you.,” he murmurs sincerely.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.”

He sighs, feeling as if the weight of the world has finally come off him and let him breathe. “We’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you respond, arms coming around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug. He wonders if you can hear the way his heart swells for you. His eyes flutter closed as his own arms circle around your shoulders, comforted in the way you touch him.

“The mixtape looks sick and the necklace too. Thank you.” He mumbles into the top of your head, nose nuzzled in your hair. “Can we go on a drive and listen to it? Maybe go out to dinner after?”

You giggle against the corner of his lips. “Yeah, okay. But first-”

“What?” He asks, wide-eyed and ready to do whatever you want him to do.

“Put some pants on.”

thank u for reading! this goes out to my single chicks who love angst (me). please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed! i’d love to know your thoughts.

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A softer moment for my favorite crusty neighbor (and an excuse to draw jellies!)

Eddie fell asleep watching TV

poor eddie was stuck in one outfit the entire season so i gave him some to wear

Too little, too late