B3lladoonna - Just Eddie Munson Obsessed - Tumblr Blog

*kicking my feet n giggling* you're kinda scary

THIS IS HILARIOUS AND SO CANON

can y’all imagine sending one of those things where a girl texts her man about having a bad day or wanting coffee or something and he replies by sending her an insane amount of money (like $100+) to eddie, and just being like “why don’t you ever do this for me? 😐” as a joke

and then the man just sends you one (1) fucking dollar.

and when you’re like “REALLY??? A DOLLAR???” he just goes “I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME IM BROKE”

it would become an inside joke, him randomly sending you the smallest amounts of money possible and just going “buy yourself something nice 😏” or “don’t spend this all at once baby” to be a little shit

god i love eddie munson

01:58 | Geto Suguru

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Suguru’s fingers trail the small of your back, trace a path along the familiar skin.

“Well if you insist,” he replies with a soft smile. Your fingers pinch teasingly at his side, giggles falling from your lips when he bites at your cheek in retaliation.

“I’m scared of the dark.”

His laughter subsides at this, glancing about the dark of his room. The only light breaking the expanse is the beams of the moon sneaking through his blinds.

“I sleep with a nightlight.”

Suguru almost laughs, pokes your side and teases you for your juvenile fear. He pauses at the seriousness in your eyes, the way you shyly look at him from where you lay beneath him.

“I’ve never seen one in your room,” he finally decides on, nose nudging into the crook of your neck as he relaxes against you.

“I hide it before you come over.”

“Why? Were you afraid I’d tease you?”

Your fingers run through the dark tresses of his hair, looping it through your fingers as you contemplate.

“No, I know you wouldn’t. I guess I’m a little less scared when you’re there.”

You feel Suguru’s grin against your skin at your words, though neither of you take note. He pulls you closer to him, presses a kiss to your neck.

“I’m scared of the ocean,” he whispers to you.

“But we were just at the beach last week, we—

Fingers trace a familiar path across your skin, his warm breath puffs against you.

“I guess I’m a little less scared when you’re there.”

Sleeping Levi fanarts>>>>

knock at the cabin has been living rent free in my head for months, i cant wait

COMING SOOOOOON….. 👀

God, I hope I can deliver! 🤣🤣

Taglist is open, you gorgeous babes!

@joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @idkitsem @em0220 @kookygranger @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn @b3lladoonna @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @amandahobblepot @daisy-munson @sheneedsrocknroll92 @maedesculpaeusoubi @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson

Facts. Straight up facts.

i do not understand anon hate. if you don’t like someone or their writing, here’s an idea: block them. it’s so easy to just shut the fuck up and go about your day. but y’all are so miserable and bored that you create a problem where there isn’t and shouldn’t be a problem. grow the fuck up.

when y'all read x reader fan fiction, do you guys not use it as escapism? because the way you guys complain about not relating 100% to reader. like sometimes i want to imagine myself as a flirtatious reader or a complete bitch. like do y'all not imagine yourselves with a completely different personality and read it for the storytelling? you do not have to relate to every aspect of the reader and it's completely fine. some of y'all have boring lives outside of fan fiction, so use it as your escape from real life because some of y'all act like y'all want it to mirror every single aspect of it.

Upcoming 🤭

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part One

READ THE PROLOGUE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts event.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter summary: It’s all hands on deck to try and help your unexpected visitor. You come up with an effective, if unexpectedly intimate, solution.

WC: ~4.41k

C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, descriptions of minor injuries, allusions to hypothermia.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, just comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💗 Also, I proofed this as much as I could but my brain isn’t braining very well at the moment so if you spot any errors please let me know 💙

My masterlist

PART ONE

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and the now-driving rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence.

You all stand at the door, mouths agape. Initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet with mud and rain and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaked clothes, the wet material seeming to drag his frame down even further.

You glance down and notice he’s barefoot, his feet the same mid-brown mud colour as most of his clothing, other than where thin rivulets of scarlet run down his skin.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they always were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems even lighter now, almost translucent.

His face is downcast, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of you.

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure astonishment, as he yells over the sound of the rain, “Eddie? EDDIE!”

He starts to rush forwards, but Steve puts an arm out to stop him, protecting Eddie’s obviously frail and vulnerable state.

There’s murmuring and chattering and quiet squeals as everyone processes the sight before them.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate have brought him here, all of you only caring in this moment that he’s here. He's here! He’s here!

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle. They don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and before any of you can work to bring him inside, he mumbles something that sounds a little like your name, sways a little and collapses, his knees connecting with the wood of the front stoop with a hollow thump.

Steve reacts first, stopping Eddie from falling sideways as he rushes forward, yelling, “Get him inside. Now!”

You hurry outside to help Steve whilst Robin opens the door fully and shoos the teens out of the way. Steve instructs you to grab under Eddie’s arm, and you both drag him inside.

You don’t have Steve’s lifeguarding or athletic skills and you’re not used to manhandling people, and you stumble over the threshold and flop backwards into the hallway. You end up sitting on your ass with Eddie half over your lap.

There’s a cacophony of confusion and the kids want to help, but they end up crowding you both. They want to touch Eddie, see if it’s really him, see what’s wrong.

The only ones who hang back are Will and Jane, you assume because although they’ve heard so much about him they don’t really know him. No one notices their somewhat tense demeanour, or the way they subtly keep glancing at one another.

Robin closes the door to keep out the weather, and out of the corner of your eye you see her covering her mouth with both hands.

You run a hand over Eddie’s form, checking for any obvious injuries. You spot his arms and hands are in a similar state to his feet, utterly filthy, with cracked and split nails and torn, bloody skin.

He’s bedraggled and shivering, has curled in on himself and is practically convulsing.

You speak above the clamour.

“Steve, he’s freezing! What do we do??”

Steve panics a little, pacing the hallway with one hand on his hip and raking the other through his hair. He makes a few incomprehensible noises before he remembers something, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. Clicking his fingers and pointing, he reminds you,

“Wait, didn’t you go on some outdoor survival course once, or something? At a summer camp? You told me about it when you got back. Something about how to help people who’ve fallen out of canoes into icy rivers? I remember because you were really sarcastic about it and said, ‘It was sooooo useful. I mean, I go kayaking all the time, right?’”

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, some of the information comes back to you.

“Okay, we have to warm him up, but it has to be gradual, though. There was something about too much heat too fast maybe causing shock?”

You start to panic, screwing up your face and trying to remember all the things they taught you. ”Oh fuck, think, think!”

Robin puts an arm around your shoulders as Steve says your name, softly, reassuring you that you’re doing great and that anything you can remember will be better than the absolutely nothing that any of the rest of them know. Give him a swimmer in difficulty or someone choking on a gumball at the video store and he’s in his element, but any of this outdoorsy stuff is way out of his comfort zone.

Suddenly and from nowhere your brain kicks into high gear. You remember some of the training, and start barking orders.

“Will, get blankets, lots of blankets. I remember something about hot, sweet drinks…” Eyes wide and flicking between the stunned people standing around you, you ask, “Which of you makes the best hot chocolate??”

Mike and Lucas state in unison, “Dustin!”

“Okay. Dustin, Jane, you go make hot chocolate. Make a lot of it, and make it really sweet”, figuring you could all use some, and that there’s likely to be more than one person suffering from shock this evening.

Turning to her, you say, “Robin, help me take his jacket off and hang it in the kitchen by the stove. Mike, help Will with the blankets. Steve, Lucas, help me get him into the living room, in front of the fire. And anybody and everybody, go get more wood!”

Robin crouches next to you, helping you to ease Eddie’s jacket from his trembling shoulders, glancing at you as she does so. You’re guessing your concerned expression is mirroring hers, but you don’t want the kids to see so you keep it between you.

She gets up and moves to the small kitchen, placing his sodden jacket over the back of a dining chair and setting it in front of the old but functional wood-fired oven (one place in the house that’s almost always warm).

Steve and Lucas help you move Eddie into the living room, where the open fire gets stacked high with fresh wood.

Robin brings a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and you sit eddie between you, both cleaning mud from his face and gently bathing his damaged hands and feet.

Jane sits on the floor behind you. Initially reticent and hanging back, she’s now sitting nearer to Eddie, carefully removing some of the twigs from his hair with characteristic diligence and gentleness.

You make Eddie take sips of Dustin’s (frankly, excellent) hot chocolate, and make sure all the kids have got some before asking Dustin to bring mugs for you, Steve and Robin.

Once he’s a bit cleaner and has had almost a full cup of Dustin’s healing brew, you all gather cushions and lay Eddie down on his side, facing the fire. You try to get as much heat on his front as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s still trembling and his skin is blue and icy to the touch, and he seems to be getting drowsy. You can’t remember much more of your basic emergency training, but it’s enough to worry you. Something about sleeping or going unconscious being a Very Bad Thing…

He’s wrapped in the blankets Will and Mike brought, but you fear the wet clothes he’s still wearing may well be hampering your efforts.

You have another idea, not sure whether it’s the done thing or if you’ll be able to convince any of the others to help you but willing to try anything at this point. You say, to no one in particular, “This isn’t working. Can we get him into the bathtub?”

Your eyes look up and scan the room, flicking mainly between Robin and Steve, and to your immense relief you see everyone nodding, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Dustin’s the first to stand, and you hear his voice crack a little as he tries to say with confidence,

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

You nod at him, once, before beginning,

“Dustin, Will, can you run a bath? Make it warm, but definitely not hot. Mike, Lucas, get towels. Hurry!”

After a few minutes, Dustin and Will return, letting you know they’ve filled the tub with warm, but not hot, water. Steve and Lucas reprise their roles as patient transport, and start to move Eddie towards the small bathroom.

As you follow them and traverse the narrow hallway you glance at the weather hammering outside the window of the back door. Something seems off, and it’s only after a few moments of consideration that you realise the leaves and rain are travelling in the opposite direction to those at the front door. This doesn’t make sense - surely the storm should be pushing them all the same way? It’s almost like you’re currently somehow in the centre of a swirling storm…

You don’t have time to dwell on this as Steve calls to you, asking what they should do now. You hurry to the bathroom and see that Steve has balanced Eddie’s butt on the side of the tub.

You reply,

“We need to get him out of these wet things.”

Grunting as he shifts position, Steve nods once and barks to Lucas, “Hold him up.”

Lucas does his best to stabilise your almost-unconscious friend. Kneeling in front of him, Steve fusses with Eddie’s waistband, grunting, “Sorry, buddy, it’s for the best”, as he unceremoniously yanks off Eddie’s jeans. New-looking, unripped, black 501 jeans.

Relieved to see he’s wearing boxers, they both balance Eddie as they work to remove his shirt. His Hellfire shirt. He only had two. Okay, this is officially getting weird…

As Steve and Lucas work you start to strip off your clothes, ending up in just your underwear and bra. You don’t even care that they’re in the room, reasoning that not only have they all seen you in your bathing suit before, but also that this was definitely not the time for bashfulness or self-consciousness.

Steve asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that you’re getting in the bath with Eddie, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Steve, he’s practically unconscious. You want him to slip under the surface and drown? Come on, let’s get him in here.”

Without waiting for any replies, you step into the water, relieved that the younger boys heeded your instructions and it is indeed warm, but not too hot. You wave your hands in vertical circles, as if it would bring Eddie closer faster.

The old bath is short, but wide, and you’re pretty sure you’ll both fit.

As the boys manhandle him you’re momentarily stunned as you see the outlines of Eddie’s ribs and shoulder blades brought into stark relief by the harsh lights of the room. But you’re jolted back to reality as you hear Steve grunting a little as he starts to manoeuvre Eddie’s legs into the water.

You help Steve and Lucas to get Eddie in, slowly lowering him in case even this is too much of a shock. You slide down behind him and sit with him between your legs, supporting him with his back against your chest. You rub his arms gently, and murmur, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please warm up, Eddie. Please.”

Gesturing to your now-muddy garb and Eddie’s discarded garments, you ask, to nobody in particular, “Can someone get these clothes in the washer?”

Lucas bundles them up in his arms and heads towards the door, calling for Robin’s assistance. Steve thanks him as he leaves and closes the door, staying in with you and Eddie.

The water comes up around your mid torso. You use your hand to slosh the warm water around Eddie’s upper chest, but eventually decide that’s not enough.

You use a small jug that you and Robin use for hair washing to run warm water over Eddie’s skin, gently trying to warm him, but also carefully working to remove what mud and detritus that you can. He still feels cold to the touch, but after quite a few nerve wracking minutes he appears to be shivering less.

You and Steve share concerned glances, and Steve comforts you as you comfort Eddie, crouching down and reaching over the side of the tub to stroke your shoulder, reassuring you, telling you that you’re doing good, that this is helping.

Eddie sighs a little as you run water through his hair and down his torso, picking out the leaves left from Jane’s efforts and throwing them onto the floor.

Though it’s still cool, and preternaturally pale, Eddie’s skin seems to have warmed a little.

Hearing chattering and commotions outside, Steve stands, and you can tell he wants to check on what chaos might be transpiring in the rest of the house.

“I’m gonna go check on the others. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Okay, good. Just make sure you do. I’ll be back soon.”

Steve gives you a small smile as he exits, leaving you two alone in the tub.

After the door closes you allow yourself a moment of pure self-indulgence and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s body pressed against your own. His back nestles against your chest, his spine between your breasts. His pelvis is slotted between your thighs, and you can feel the jut of his hips and his coolness on the delicate skin there. There’s a subtle pressure on your centre, but you try your best to ignore it.

You tilt your head forward a little, just enough to rest your nose amongst Eddie’s wet tresses, and run your hands gently down the outside of his arms. Not necessarily to clean or warm them this time, but just to feel them. To feel him.

The circumstances are so far from ideal, but part of you can’t help but revel in this proximity, this intimacy. You always wanted to be like this with Eddie, to have this closeness, but you didn’t think he’d ever want the same with you. You indulge yourself further and start to daydream, imagining it’s just you and him, that it’s a lazy weekend, and you’re enjoying a bath together just for the fun of it. Maybe you’re in your own shared apartment, the sun is bright outside and the scent of summer flowers is drifting in through your open window. No worries, no dramas, just you and Eddie, and the only thing on your minds is the promise of a romantic evening together.

A noise outside the room, possibly something clattering in the kitchen, breaks your trance. Taking a deep breath and looking up again, you shake yourself out of your reverie. Wanting to take full advantage of the warm water whilst you still can, you take a chance and lean back against the sloped end of the bathtub, taking Eddie with you, submerging you both a little more. You continue to use one hand to scoop warm water over Eddie’s shoulders and collarbones, occasionally running your fingers over his chest and throat.

You use your other hand to run your fingers through his wet hair, and as you stroke him he turns his head to one side and nuzzles ever so slightly under your chin. His breathing is regulating, and he’s even humming a little. The physical pressure of his body resting between your legs is increased, but you manage to keep your focus on the matter at hand.

After a few more minutes Eddie’s hands seem to warm and regain a little function. He stills the movements of your hand on his chest and clumsily interlaces his fingers with yours, gripping as tightly as he’s able as a couple of fat tears run down his cheeks. He’s still not able to talk, but just by his actions he’s telling you so much.

You hum into the top of his head,

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

You feel him relax a tiny bit more.

You sit in stillness for a few more long minutes, and, using the opportunity to observe him further, you notice more changes.

He was always wiry, but his muscles had a soft bulk beneath his ivory skin. Now, they’re solid and taut, and you can almost see striations running their length. The skin stretched over them is thinner, and the healthy layer of subcutaneous fat is completely gone.

As well as his altered skin tone and skinnier, but somehow also more muscled, physique, you notice the angry silver and red marks in his skin. Sharp, starburst patterns that look like chunks of his flesh have been ripped out of him.

Of course, they were.

You shudder at the memory of the altercation with the demobats, watching Eddie bleed out, dragging him through the gate but none of you able to do anything to save him.

You so want to know what happened to him after you were all whisked away in ambulances and trucks and black SUVs. You’re sure you saw him bundled into a black body bag, lifted into one of the Hawkins National Laboratory vans, but where he went after that you had no idea.

Wanting to be closer to him, and inveterately curious, carefully, so carefully, you run a fingertip over one of the scars on his neck.

He tenses, and flinches slightly.

Okay, we’re not doing that just yet.

You both sit in the stillness for another little while, and the bath water begins to cool. Before you could call him for help, Steve comes back in to check on you both.

When he’s satisfied that neither of you have drowned, you check in and ask how everyone else is doing. Usually, when they stay over, the kids sleep on the floor in the living room in their sleeping bags. Steve lets you know that for tonight, Robin’s decided to sleep on the sofa in there with them. She says it’s for company, or reassurance, or whatever, definitely not because she’s at all freaked out and not wanting to sleep alone. He tells you the kids have enthusiastically agreed, that Robin’s calming them, placating their rampant questions and desires to see Eddie, and is managing to get them to at least lie down, even if they don’t sleep. You and Steve are supremely grateful.

As confident as you both can be that the immediate emergency is tackled, and with the bath water continuing to cool around you, you’re aware that you and Steve need to think about practicalities, and discuss quite what you’re going to do next.

Steve’s the first to broach the subject, drumming his fingers lightly on the side of the bath as he checks Eddie over once more and says,

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do with him now?”

Remembering more of your rudimentary training, you decide to make another unusual request.

“Well, uh… This is probably gonna sound kinda weird, but…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I remember something from the training that said body heat is the best thing for warming someone up. Like, consistent, reliable body heat.”

You pause to assess Steve’s response. His brow is slightly furrowed and he’s looking a little pensive, but he nods for you to continue.

“And there was something about how skin to skin contact is even better. So, I mean I totally get it if you don’t wanna do this, but I thought I’d we could maybe get him into a bed and then sleep either side of him. Like maybe even spoon him or something… I dunno, I guess this sounds pretty crazy…”

You shake your head and look down into the tub, noticing that your fingers are still laced with Eddie’s, and he’s gripping your hand like he doesn’t want to let go.

“No, uh…” Steve clears his throat. “Y’know, I can totally see how that would work. Uh, okay, uh yeah, I guess we could do that.”

He gives you a half smile, his other hand running down his cheek, as he processes what he’s just agreed to.

The one-storey cabin has three bedrooms. A single, one with a double bed and one with a king. Steve, the tallest out of the three of you and, apparently, the most likely to starfish, got the king, whilst Robin opted for the coziness of the single (the one with the good view), leaving you with the double. The only sources of heating in the cabin, other than the open fire and the stove, are two clunky old electric heaters, which you try not to use too often, and if you're honest are a little scared of. Steve runs hot so he insisted you and Robin had one each in your rooms.

After a few more moments of deliberation Steve seems to have made a plan in his head. Nodding to himself, he stands, and says,

“Well, my bed’s the biggest, so I guess we’ll go in there. I’ll get the boys to move the electric heater from your room for extra warmth. And don’t even think about telling me no. I’m fine to overheat for one night if it helps Eddie, okay?”

He gives you a kind smile as he goes to leave the room, and you give him a relieved one in return. That was actually far less awkward than you thought it was going to be, and you’re thankful that you and Steve now have a plan.

You dislodge the plug with your foot and start to drain the bath, sluicing as much of the mud and detritus down the plug hole as you can, and Steve returns to help Eddie to stand and get out. You both dry him off, wet boxers notwithstanding, and do what you can to blot some of the dampness from his hair. While Steve holds Eddie up, you give a cursory wipe to your shoulders and feet and wrap a large towel around your middle, figuring the most pressing matter now is getting Eddie into bed.

Eddie shuffles from the bathroom to Steve’s room, supported between the two of you. He’s still not speaking, and can only manage a few moans and whimpers as you manoeuvre him. You see the kids peering intently at you all from the living room, and they seem comforted by the fact that Eddie’s at least upright and making noises.

You sit him on the edge of Steve’s bed, and as Steve bustles around the room getting the heater set up you examine Eddie’s injuries again. The scrapes and cuts on his hands and feet look raw and painful, but not deep, and they’ve stopped bleeding. And you’re relieved to see that he doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Not fresh ones, at least…

You ask Steve if he can loan Eddie some dry clothes for the morning, and he chooses a few things from the drawers across the room.

You help Eddie to lie down in the middle of the mattress, whilst Steve lifts his legs onto the bed and pulls a sheet over him. Brandishing the clean boxers he’s retrieved, Steve says, in his best Team Captain voice, “Okay, we need to change these. Sorry again, buddy, but it’s for the best.”

Steve manages to change Eddie’s underwear under the covers, explaining it’s for his modesty, as Eddie grumbles but doesn’t resist.

Steve turns around whilst you dry off and change into the fresh underwear Robin delivered for you, and you slide under the covers and sit at the headboard as Steve does the same on the other side.

Eddie’s breathing is more regular, and he’s no longer shivering, so you feel safer now letting him drift into sleep. You move some strands of drying hair from his cheeks, and gently stroke the side of his face. Steve gives you a moment before pulling the comforter up and placing extra blankets on top of you all.

In the quiet, you notice that the wind and rain have died down, leaving only the hum of the heater and the delicate, rhythmic patter of drizzle on the window as the soundtrack to your evening. It’s oddly comforting.

You move down under the covers, and as the two of you organise the blankets and start to settle around Eddie, you say in a low voice,

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a true friend.”

He responds, kindly,

“Hey, I’m not the one who just got into a muddy bath with him and pulled half a tree out of that jungle he calls his hair. I think that title most definitely belongs to you.”

You snort quietly at Steve’s observation as you snuggle into the bed. You both encourage Eddie to turn so his front is against your back, feeling his cool skin down the length of you, as Steve slots himself around his back, pulling up the covers and turning off the bedside lamp as he goes.

In the darkness you reach behind you and pull one of Eddie’s arms across your torso. You clutch his hand to your chest, wrapping both of yours around it, telling yourself it’s to warm him up, but knowing deep down it’s because you desperately want to feel him around you, and imagine he’s holding you.

You feel his breathing regulate, puffing rhythmic exhales against your neck. As exhausted as you are, a million questions still run through your mind. So many unknowns, whats, whys and hows.

What happened? Where’s he been? Why is he dressed in the clothes you guys picked out to bury him in? Does Owens know about this? What the fuck is going on?

All you know for sure is two things:

One, you’d do anything to keep Eddie safe.

And two, tomorrow is going to be a very, very interesting day…

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part.

Comments and reblogs keep writers writing, I’d love to hear from you.

My masterlist

I now have taglists for ‘everything’ and for each of my ongoing series, let me know if you’d like to be included!

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256

Extra tags: I’ve rather presumptuously tagged everyone who enjoyed or reblogged previous parts, just let me know if you’d rather I didn’t! @nicolothy @mmunsonsstuff @songforeddiemunson @kookygranger @lovingonthemoon @elegantkoalapaper @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn

this thread just cured me from sadness. I love the internet.

OMG YES!!! him as Mr. Darcy is everything i needed in my life. Biting my fist, kicking and screaming.

I've been thinking about Nanami as Mr.Darcy so I made this. I think I will draw some scenes from the 2005 version.

i want this tattooed on my forehead. I want this injected into my veins.

im not defending myself against a vampire. suck away gorgeous

Eddie Munson Appreciation Week : Day 1 | Favorite Quote

this series warms my heart 😭✋🏻

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Seven - Halloween

W/C: 10K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Or where you show up to the town's biggest Halloween Bash and you unexpectantly take on the roll of a babysitter.

A/N: this is a long one..and tbh some of it isn't edited...but i'm super excited about this one but also nervous.

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Bass bumped through the unfamiliar house, vibrating all the way down the driveway and to the street where you stood.  Shouting could be heard, no doubt a collection of drunks getting overly excited about something usually mundane.  Fog smothered the driveway, a decision you felt was made by someone sober at the time of setting it up only to neglect the fact that everyone would be wasted by the time it got dark, sending people tumbling down the driveway in their drunken state.  It did add to the atmosphere though, a nice touch that gave it that eerie, spooky feel the owner was probably going for.  

As you trekked up the lengthy and steep driveway, a mock graveyard sat to the right, taking up the space that would usually be the front yard.  Fake limbs stuck out of the dirt and splatters of blood painted the plastic headstones.   A lonely skeleton sat propped up against one, his arm hanging around it as if it were his good friend.  Some pumpkins appeared to be slaughtered and littered throughout the yard, the guts surely rotting in the grass and in one of the trees, hung a hopefully fake body, swaying in the chilly breeze.

From what you had heard, the owners went all out every year, Halloween night being their specialty.  The closer to the house you got, the louder the music and the louder the voices got.  Donnie had told you that it would be a rager but you severely underestimated her words and took them as a joke.  You were already hesitant to even attend but now, you were fully questioning if you should even dare to step through the door.  It’d be smart to turn around now and go home, maybe watch a few movies and indulge in that candy you’d bought and placed in a large bowl on the coffee table at home.  Half of it was gone of course, you stealing a piece here and there throughout the past week.  You could stuff your face with the rest if you left now.  

No. 

You had to be brave and walk through that door with confidence.  Even if it was fake.  You were never going to meet new people if you kept hiding away in your tower.  This town was never going to feel like home if you didn't start treating it like it.  Donnie was the closest person you had to a friend and as much as you appreciated her, she was more than half your age and had a whole family already.  She mentioned that people ‘your age’ would definitely be at this party, everyone went to this party.

You can’t miss it.  She assured.

But on another hand, no one would miss you anyway, no one ever did.  Even if they did know of you.  There was no harm in trekking back down the driveway and rushing home to snuggle up in your pajamas, right?

No, you have to do this.  You have to push yourself out of your comfort zone even if it feels like you're diving off a cliff.  But what if everyone stares at you?  And whispers about how they didn’t invite you?  Donnie promised anyone who’s anyone attends this party, even people from a few town’s over who hear about it from a friend of a friend.  So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that you just didn’t belong?  That you were intruding.  

Everyone’s gonna hate me.

It was especially embarrassing that you were wearing a Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz costume.  It wasn’t even all that out there but you felt so uncomfortable without your standard wardrobe.  You felt as if your ruby red glittery heels would suddenly draw unwanted attention, your pigtails making a mockery out of you even if just for the costume.  Everyone dressed up so why were you the exception?  Why were you the only one they would single out, especially in such a common Halloween costume?  You were sure there would probably be much more flamboyant costumes, ghouls and goblins covered in blood, zombies with ungodly amounts of face paint, and even vampires with those ridiculous plastic teeth.  No one made fun of them so why were you so insecure?

Every possible outcome ran through your brain while you stalled on the doormat.  That is until two men dressed in chicken suits bursted through the door, cackling while they set up for a smoke break on the front porch, completely missing you as you stood there terrified.  They leaned over the railing as they went on, slurring about how crazy it was that someone had somehow punctured a hole in the keg, a seemingly impossible task.  

You took the opportunity to slip in through the cracked door, gently closing it behind you as you entered the chaos that was the famous Knife’s Edge Halloween Bash.  Strobe lights flashed in the corners of what you could make out as the living room and the regular light bulbs in the ceiling were all switched out for purple and green, adding to the ambience.  The floor was hidden beneath a sea of people dancing their hearts out to Thriller by Michael Jackson, some attempting to actually perform the dance, and others simply flailing their limbs around and hoping for the best.  

A rather convincing mummy was stealing the show, everyone else creating a circle around him as he danced like no one was watching.  Not one person glanced your way, either too intoxicated to notice or just unbothered seeing as there were already over a hundred people occupying the house.  The line of cars you’d seen up and down the street should have given that away but to be fair, you were too busy running circles in your head and rehearsing how you were going to walk in.  All of that went straight to the garbage once you saw the nature of the place.  

Everyone was too caught up in having fun to take note of a timid Dorothy sneaking through the front door.  Fun.  Something you couldn’t see yourself having unless you had at least a drink or two in you.  It’s sad but it was the only way to loosen up around such a large volume of people. Sobriety was not an option unless you wanted to remain an anxious fly on the wall.  

The only issue was finding the source of alcohol, more than likely in the kitchen which you had yet to locate.  In order to get anywhere, you would have to weave through the crowd of sweaty bodies, the smell of tequila and beer already filling your nostrils just by standing a few feet away from them.  

Taking a deep breath, you clutch your little wicker basket close to your body and begin squeezing in between people with a polite ‘excuse me’ accompanying every accidental touch.  Along the way you pass a preppy cheerleader, a few stereotypical vampires, a cowboy and a cow, a dentist, and some guy with a fake chainsaw covered in fake blood.  You’re finally able to see your destination just through a large archway, relief already finding you as you inch closer and closer. 

The kitchen’s fluorescent lighting is a major contrast to the purple and green throughout the rest of the house.  It still follows the spooky theme, however, with an orange tablecloth draped over the island and purple and orange streamers hanging from the doorway.  On the island sits a large punch bowl filled with mysterious red liquid along with a stack of red cups and a few choices of liquor next to it.  A bowl of pretzels and some Halloween themed cupcakes are placed next to that, and at the other end, is a bucket of candy along with some various kinds of chips.  

Hanging from the chandelier is a homemade ghost using a torn sheet, the eyes and mouth filled in with sharpie.  The floor is sticky as you slowly make your way forward, most likely the mysterious liquid that had been spilled several times throughout the night already.  More shouting can be heard from the living room, some kind of dance off being announced that you would gladly hide from.  So far, you didn’t recognize anyone although it would be pretty difficult to seeing as everyone was dressed up.

Gingerly, you grab a cup and scoop the smallest amount of the mystery liquid in.  Upon taking the tiniest sip, you can determine that it's some kind of jungle juice.  A hangover in a cup.  With disgust written on your face, you discreetly throw out the remaining juice in the sink, instead opting to take a shot or two to loosen up.  Maybe just one for now.  You learned your lesson when taking four straight tequila shots at a time and didn’t need a repeat.  Especially at a party with several hundred people as witnesses.

So you fill the bottom of your cup with some whiskey, a generous shot.  Throwing it back, it goes down a lot smoother than that tequila had, the burn being mild but still causing your face to twist.  The cup is discarded in the trash, cutting yourself off before you can get ahead so as not to get absolutely wasted within minutes.  If you had an appetite, you’d snatch one of those delicious looking cupcakes but unfortunately, you needed to pace yourself.  Nerves and alcohol didn't make for the most stable stomach and you were already feeling queasy just from the mere thought of having to socialize with strangers.  

Exploring further into the house, you exit through the other archway leading into a dining room that displays even more food than the kitchen, a whole buffet laid out for guests including potato salad, macaroni salad, various horderves, snack mix, a giant bowl of M&Ms, and more.  A dream for a child, dinner and dessert all in one.  

A few partygoers were scooping some food onto their plates, chatting about who knows what while you moved on to the next room which appeared to be the family room.  The TV played some kind of horror film while absolutely no one watched it, the room almost empty aside from a couple in the corner making out.  

A few pops and some celebratory yells are heard just out the back sliding door, drawing you in.  The closer you got,  you could see someone dressed as a scarecrow holding a bottle of champagne overflowing onto the deck.  You were curious as to what everyone was celebrating but got cold feet when you reached for the handle, your hand glued to it but not putting any effort into actually sliding it open.  Just as you decided you were going to chicken out and find a corner to hang out in instead, someone points at the door, outing you, causing your blood to run cold in embarrassment.  When the scarecrow turns around, you can see that it's Donnie, face paint pulling her whole look together.  

At the sight of you, her face lights up, hands thrown up in excitement as the champagne she’s holding sloshes over and further coats the deck.  She doesn’t seem to mind, as she hands off the bottle to someone else and makes her way over to the door, sliding it open.  Your cheeks begin to feel hot as people stare at the interaction, unwanted attention that you could’ve escaped had you been quicker.  

“You made it!”  She just about squeals, giving you a tight squeeze.  

She had clearly had a few drinks, unafraid of any affection as she previously stated that she hated friendly affection of any kind, more prone to use her words to show appreciation.  But you didn’t mind, Donnie was the one person you were comfortable with and your one friend so if she happened to show affection while under the influence, so be it.  And maybe by her doing so, you wouldn’t appear to be such a freak to what seemed to be her friends.  Maybe it would grant you acceptance into their circle.  

“I made it.”  You repeat with a polite smile.

“So we were just popping some champagne we found.”  Donnie explains.  “No rhyme or reason, we just found it inside and thought, hell lets just go at it.”

Nodding, you try to appear as enthusiastic as possible, covering up your anxiety to the best of your ability.  People were still staring at you and it was proving difficult to just ignore it, holes practically being burned into you.  A few of them you recognized as regulars at the bar but the rest were complete strangers.  Either way, you were intimidated.  

“You want some?”  Donnie offers to which you begin shaking your head frantically.

“No, no, I’m okay!  I already had something and I have to drive later anyway.”  You explain.

Donnie nods understandingly before starting a dreadful introduction to the group.  She points out Brian, Sam, and Wyatt, her sons who were fully grown, the oldest Brian, being around thirty.  You didn’t catch who was the youngest or middle since Donnie was talking so fast.  Then she reintroduces you to her husband, Nathan, who you had previously met at the supermarket though Donnie didn’t seem to remember in her current state.  Then there were the owners of the house, Crystal and Gabriel, a very nice couple in their forties who made Halloween their night and everyone knew it.  Apparently Thanksgiving was Donnie and Nathan’s holiday according to a little comment uttered by Crystal.  There were what seemed to be a dozen more introductions though you couldn’t recall every single person.  You only remember Donnie skimming by an introduction to Jett’s mom, Kristy who seemed like a lovely woman.

Thankfully, once everyone was acquainted with you, they seemed to move one rather quickly and continued on with their festivities.  A fire pit sat in the middle of the deck, crackling away while a few individuals rested on the chairs circling it, warming themselves up.  Some orange lights were wound around the railing accompanied by some fake cotton spiderwebs.  Everyone held a drink in their hand except you and you were starting to regret not at least carrying your empty cup with you to occupy your awkward hands.  Rookie mistake.

Your breathing becomes increasingly shallow with each passing second, panic settling in as you attempt to remember how to act like a person.  You almost contemplate rushing off to the bathroom to hide but quickly scrap the idea, knowing Donnie may take notice.  Instead, you stupidly shuffle your feet in place, trying to ground yourself with no luck.  

In your inner turmoil, you can vaguely hear everyone else engaging in conversation about their lives or some silly story.  Something you didn’t care to tune into as your inner monologue chants at you to run.  Even with the one shot that you thought would relax you, you still feel your shoulders tensing and your jaw tightening anxiously.  If anyone were to initiate small talk with you right now, you’d come off like a dunce, thoughts unable to form gracefully.  Tonight was definitely a bad idea and you should’ve just stayed home where you knew your place.

Uncomfortably, you remain standing as everyone passes around the champagne.  There was no way to dismiss yourself without seeming like you were rude and awkward.  This was hell.  

“Okay, elders!”  You hear a familiar voice from around the corner, steps clunking up the deck stairs.  “We got your drugs, now pay up.”  

Jett emerges, a second pair of steps heard behind him.  He’s dressed like a greaser, hair slicked back as he wears a white shirt tucked into his tight jeans.

“We got the goodies!”  Eddie singsongs from behind him, dangling a plastic bag full of weed.  

Eddie seems to be dressed as…himself?  With a bit of smudged eyeliner.  His torso is covered with his standard black leather jacket and he’s pretty much wearing what he wears in his day to day.  Except when he dramatically flings his leather jacket at Jett, he sports a very revealing cut off shirt, all ripped and torn.  And his fingernails are painted black.

“Jeez, Eddie!  You’re gonna catch a cold, put that back on or go inside!”  Donnie scolds.

“‘M fine.”  He mutters, tossing the weed at Jett who just barely catches it as he drops Eddie’s jacket to the floor.

Donnie sighs, giving up on the argument seeing that Eddie was too stubborn to listen.  Suddenly you feel yourself warm up, the chill October air no longer pinching at your cheeks as they grow hot again.  Not out of embarrassment this time. 

“Gon’ get ‘nother beer.”  Eddie mumbles, stumbling toward you though he doesn’t realize it yet.

“That kid gives me a headache and he’s not even mine.”  Donnie says.

“Hey!”  Eddie whines, turning back toward the group mid stride.  “You claimed me ‘s one ‘f your own, ‘member?”  He points at her.

Several people chuckle at the scene while Donnie rolls her eyes and waves him off.  He was clearly a lot more intoxicated than everyone else.  His waddle toward the sliding door is evidence enough.  

“Drink some water, boy.”  Nathan advises.

“‘Rink some water.”  Eddie mocks in a high pitch to himself while hiccuping before colliding into your shoulder.  “Oh shit.”

Stumbling backwards, you stabilize yourself while his hands reach out and rest a bit too comfortably on top of your shoulders, heavy handed.  Almost as if he were using you to keep himself up.  When you dare to glance up, you’re met with heavy, glazed over eyes, bloodshot and decorated in smeared black liner.  His lips paint a perfectly content smile as he sways back and forth, unbalanced.

“Bambi.”  He cooes.

“Hi.”  You whisper, startled like a mouse.

“Heyyy.”  He draws out eyes becoming even heavier if possible.

“Um—“

“Munson, get off ‘er.”  Jett laughs, shoving Eddie to the side.  He manages to save himself from face planting into the deck, leaning himself against the side of the house.

“Should kick ‘yr ass.”  Eddie mutters, glaring at Jett.

“No one wants you leanin’ on ‘em like that!”  Jett defends.  “Hey, Bambi.”  He greets you.

At this, Eddie appears enraged, his face visibly going red as he shoots Jett a glare that no one would want to be on the receiving end of.  Everyone else seemed to have moved on, paying no mind to Eddie’s sudden shift in mood.

“Hi, Jett.”  You reply, a friendly grin gracing your lips.

With a grunt, Eddie pushes off the wall and storms inside, evidently pissed about something.  Jett shares the same confused expression as you, shrugging while he starts asking how you are, if you’re enjoying the party, and if you’d seen the huge array of food they had out yet.  You answer all of his questions to his satisfaction but mentally, you’re trying to track Eddie down.  Trying to understand what set him off and made him leave with such irritation.  Had this been the first week you met him, you would’ve dismissed it as his normal temper but now that you’d known him for almost two months and gotten to know how his emotions function, you knew better. 

He had also clearly been under the influence which could mean nothing happened and his emotions were just sensitive.  But you had a strong suspicion that there was a definite reason he abruptly got angry and rushed inside.  No one else seemed to notice, aside from you and Jett.  And he obviously paid no mind and didn’t intend on going after Eddie so maybe you were missing something.  Or maybe everyone was also blinded by their intoxication and you were the only sound minded individual in the group right now.

“Oh and then—“

“I think I’m gonna head inside, it’s kinda cold out here.”  You interrupt Jett’s tangent on his and Eddie’s journey down the road to collect the weed they had been sent to pick up.

“Oh well just take this.”  He says, snatching up Eddie’s jacket off the ground and handing it to you.

You should’ve come up with a different excuse though to be fair, you didn’t think he’d hand you Eddie’s jacket.  He was supposed to follow your lead and let you go inside.  Wasn’t he concerned about Eddie too? 

“T-thank you.”  You clutch the jacket in your hand, draping it over your forearm.

“Yeah!  So we were just walking—“

“Jett, I’m sorry I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”  You cut him off again.

You felt bad for seeming so uninterested in what he had to say but you couldn’t go much longer without knowing if Eddie had gotten himself into trouble.  He was super out of it from what you could tell and it was eating away at you.  It only made it worse that he was so angry and if you were the most sober one at the party, it would be in your hands if something happened to him and you knew he had run off.

“Okay—“

Before Jett can get another word in, you spin on your heel and rush inside, the music still blaring and everyone still screaming from the living room.  The whole house felt like it was vibrating, your body buzzing as the bass dropped.  That same couple still remained in the corner making out, their stamina impressing you.

Entering the kitchen, there’s no sight of Eddie, only a few guests topping off their drinks and toasting to themselves loudly.  Realistically, you should take another shot to calm your nerves but this nightmare of an evening needed to be cut short and you would need to drive home as soon as you found him and returned him to the group.  

Dreadfully walking yourself back into the living room where the heart of the party beats, you focus on each individual, attempting to spot the one dressed in all black with almost no shirt, tattoos, and a head full of brown curls.  It proves to be more difficult since the lighting was so dim and the strobe lights left you seeing spots.  

Everyone seems to be having the time of their life and here you are, worried sick about someone who never thinks twice about you.  Even before he arrived you were having the worst time and wanted to go home immediately.  Halloween would’ve been perfect if you stayed home where you couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of people.  

“Tequila!”  A woman dressed as a slutty maid shouts, carrying a tray full of shots past you, only eliciting a gag from the back of your throat at the smell.  “No tequila for you then.”  She jokes, you shaking your head as you cover your nose.

It was obvious that Eddie wasn’t going to hit the dance floor after getting so infuriated. Unless that’s the first thing he would do in his state?  You weren’t completely sure but you were almost certain that he wouldn’t.  As a large group gathers around for shots, you manage to escape down a hallway where you imagine the bathroom might be.  It’s completely dark, the only light coming from underneath a door on the left, probably the bathroom.  At the end of the hall is what looks like a bedroom, the moonlight shining in from the blinds to just barely reveal a bed.  

No one seemed to be in said bed, an empty room for people to crash in at the end of the night.  Eddie could be in the bathroom but you’d have to be sure before leaving.  With a shy knock on the door, struggle to hear any voice that might respond.  Pressing your ear to the door, you try again, only to be met with the annoyed voice of a woman saying she’ll be out in a second and that she was fixing her lipstick.

Clearly not Eddie.

At this point you’ve covered the downstairs, no sign of the man so far.  He would be good at hide and seek, you assume.  Or maybe you’re just the blind.  Retracing your steps back out into the living room, you collide with a few bodies, none of them paying any mind to the impact as they continue to dance, flailing around like rag dolls.  You didn’t think it was possible for the room to get any more humid but you were proven wrong, sweat grazing your arms as you pass by and attempt to avoid touching anyone, failing miserably.  

Your perfect ruby heels are starting to kill you, digging into your skin in all the wrong places, making it more difficult to walk with every step you take.  You know for sure that come the morning, you’ll have blisters that will be bothering you for days.  Reluctantly, you slide them off and scoop them up, dangling them by your fingers, Eddie’s jacket still hanging off your arm.  You were becoming a walking closet.

Going upstairs didn’t seem like a great decision seeing as this wasn’t your house and you didn’t want to give Crystal and Gabriel the impression that you liked to snoop around.  Although, if someone did see you, you could just vouch for yourself by saying you were looking for a bathroom and the downstairs one was taken already.  So up you went, nervously glancing behind you.  The coast seemed clear, not one person paying you any mind, the party still capturing their undivided attention.

Like magic, Eddie appears as you reach the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the doors as he weakly knocks, his forehead pressed to the wood.  He was gorgeous, the perfect image of an 80’s rockstar gone 90’s.  His back was nearly on display, shoulders all broad and waist lean.  You could make out bat wings tattooed symmetrically on his shoulder blades and something along his ribs.  The sight flustered you but you were here for one purpose and that was to retrieve him and get him back to Donnie so she or someone else could keep an eye on him.

“Dude, ‘urry up!”  He whines into the door,  pounding on it with more force.  “Hafta piss ‘n maybe throw u—up.”  He hiccups.

You want to giggle but quickly remember how miserable that feeling is, your stomach rejecting you and releasing its contents in protest of the alcohol you continue to bombard it with.  You realize that no light pours out from underneath the door which meant the bathroom had to be available.

“Eddie, I don’t think anyone’s in there.”  You offer, slowly walking up behind him.  

“Pfft, it’s locked.”  He scoffs, hitting his forehead against the wood with a thump.

When you reach your hand toward the handle and twist the door open, he gasps, nearly falling head first into the bathroom.  It wasn’t thought through, opening a door with a grown man leaning his full weight onto it.  Luckily, he catches himself, hands gripping the countertop as he sways.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”  You hiss, voice tinged with regret.

“‘S okay.”  He mumbles, pulling his zipper down.

“Oh!”  Covering your eyes, you shut the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Eddie, I am not standing in there with you while you pee!”  You yell through the door.

“God.”  He groans, a stream following.  “Just—I know!”

“I’ll stand right here and make sure you don’t fall and hit your head, okay?”  You bargain.

“Okay.”

After several seconds, you don’t hear any movement, worry kicking in once again.  He couldn’t have hit his head, you would’ve heard it.  What if he passed out but didn’t hit anything?  It was pathetic, the way worry would grow inside you solely for him.  Just when you begin a countdown to burst through the door to check on him, you can hear the unmistakable sound of him puking his guts out.  Now you wonder if you should go in anyway and hold his hair back.  

Dry heaving is heard through the door, the awful sound the only thing you can focus on.  You can’t take it anymore.  You can only hope he remembered to zip his pants back up in his drunken state.  Opening the door, you reveal Eddie hunched over the toilet, his hair draped over his shoulders, clearly in his way.  You rush to his side, dropping your heels and his jacket in the process and collecting his curls in your hands, pulling them back as he breathes heavily, drool hanging from his mouth.  His eyes are wet and his hands are shaky as they grip the toilet seat.  You feel as if he should be vomiting in your lap for payback for puking on him that one night.  

“Ah shit.”  He complains, shaking his head.  “Round two, get o—out”.  He gags.

Throw up was the embodiment of the most disgusting thing you could ever think of, smell and everything but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at this moment.  Even with his clammy skin and pukey lips.

“It’s okay, just let it out.”  You encourage him, hesitantly running a hand over his back, regretting doing so as you feel the muscles under his skin tense.

“Seriously, out.”  He almost vomits, swallowing it down.  

The action alone should be enough to have you jumping up and leaving but you stay.  

“Eddie, just puke it all up.  It’s fine.  I’m gonna hold your hair.”  You tell him.

He shudders, glancing over at you with his bloodshot eyes.  It’s like he’s shooting daggers at you before his eyes soften involuntarily, irises becoming that caramel toned warmness you were becoming more and more familiar with.  His pupils are dilated, huge planets in the middle of his eyes, clearly high and drunk though you still recognize the puppy dog-look he was giving you.  

“Eddie, if you don’t puke right now—“

As if on command, he lunges forward and spews out the rest of his stomach.  The sound makes you wince but you try to hide it as best as you can for his sake.  It’s not his fault his body is reacting to the substances he put into his body.  Maybe it is his fault since he put those substances into his body but regardless, you felt for him.  Once it has to come out, it has to come out and there’s no going back.  

“There you go.”  You soothe, fingertips gently raking up and down his spine.

“Fuck.”  He whispers into the bowl, spitting out a huge glob of saliva. It would repulse you if it were anyone else.

“It’s okay.”  You whisper just as quietly.

Grabbing the toilet paper and folding it a few times, you rip it and hand it to him to clean himself up.  You linger for a few seconds, waiting for him to grab it but he only continues to stare into the toilet bowl, hands braced on either side.  Just when you’re about to speak up again, he goes in for a third round.  You can’t help but feel bad for him even if the smell is nauseating you.  

“You want some water?”  You offer, standing up in preparation to go find him some.

“No, stay.”  He blindly grabs the hem of your dress, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

He didn’t seem to have a follow up reason as to why he wanted you to stay but you do anyway.  It was still a concern of yours that he stayed hydrated but you would tuck the thought aside momentarily to appease him.  

“Okay, what do you need?”  

Finally, he relaxes, his stomach seemingly empty now as he sits back against the wall.  A sigh leaves his lips, relief slipping off of them as he gazes up at the ceiling.  Shutting his eyes, he shows no indication of responding anytime soon, his pale face exhausted.  Sitting down beside him was your best bet, that way if he did decide that he needed to spill his guts again, you were there to assist.  And it was especially comforting to sit there just in case he passed out since he was at risk of hitting his head against something.  He was obviously still out of it, sobriety seeping in very slowly, the room more than likely spinning from his perspective.

“Dizzy?”  You ask.

“Mhm.”  He hums, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would aid in steadying the room.

“You need water.”

“Mm.”  He disagrees, shaking his head.

“Yes, it’ll help with the dizziness…probably.”  You tell him, standing up once again.

This time he doesn’t protest, the message sinking in.  You do, however, worry what could happen in the seconds that you’re gone.  But, you have no other options right now.

“Stay here—Eddie, stay here.  Do you hear me?  Don’t move.”  You try to drill into his brain.

All he offers is a weak nod, unable to even open his eyes.  Satisfied enough with the response, you speed out of the bathroom and down the stairs into the kitchen.  It was easy enough to grab a cup and fill it with water, dodging the wasted party guests that had gathered around the counter to play some kind of drinking game.

“Hey, where did you run off to!”  Jett calls over to you.

Carefully, carrying the cup of water as not to spill, you turn around to meet his cheerful face.  He had clearly gotten into that weed stash as his eyes were even more bloodshot than Eddie’s and his face was the most relaxed you’d ever seen it.  And he was a pretty laid back guy so that was saying something.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s not feeling good so I was just helping him out.”  You explain.

Jett offers a suspicious squint, eyes glimmering in mischief as he reaches for a cupcake.  

“What?”  You ask genuinely.

He shakes his head, sticking his hands up in surrender which only makes you question the strange boy further.  What was going on in that hyperactive mind of his?

“Nothin’”  He smirks, orange icing coating his upper lip.

You didn’t have time for him to elaborate, if you could even get him to.  You just needed to get back upstairs, you had already been gone for a few seconds too long, worry burying in your gut like a parasite.

“Okay, I have to get back to Eddie and make sure he hasn’t done something stupid.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Jett giggles.

If only you had the time to interrogate him and inquire as to why he found that so funny.  But you didn’t.  Leaving him behind to laugh to himself, you can just barely make out one last word as you turn on your heel.

“Lovebirds.”

Your eyes grow ten times bigger as you scurry away.  Did he think that’s what this was?  That you were on your way to hook up with your boss?  Did it look that way to everyone else?  Jett was going to rat you out for something you weren’t even doing, you were convinced.  No matter how nice of a guy Jett proved he was, he was higher than a kite and could start up a rumor like wildfire if he relayed his suspicion to anyone.  It’s possible you were being paranoid but come the morning, if there were rumors floating around, you knew exactly who to blame.

Trying to shake the butterflies you felt taking your stomach hostage, you concentrate on getting the water upstairs without spilling a drop.  It was evident that you had filled the cup a tad too high, giving you even more of a challenge.  As you conquer the stairs, you anxiously peer around the corner into the bathroom, hoping and praying that Eddie had listened and didn’t move an inch.  Otherwise, you were on another goosechase for a six foot tall metalhead for the second time that night and respectfully, your organs wouldn’t be able to handle another spurt of anxiety like that.

Much to your relief, Eddie sits against the wall just as you had left him, eyes still shut tight and head bowed.  He doesn’t seem to hear your sock covered feet padding into the bathroom, not one muscle twitching.  

“Eddie.”  You call, holding the water in front of him.

No answer.

“Eddie?”  You say, more panicked.

Nothing.

“Okay, this isn’t funny, Eddie.  C’mon, drink the water.”  You tell him, gripping his chin as you examine him.  

His eyes seem to flutter beneath his eyelids, brows furrowing as his head resists your hand and leans toward gravity.  You continue to hold him up, giving his cheek a small pat.  A deep groan escapes him although he’s still practically sleeping.  

“Eddie.”  Shaking his shoulders, he only moves like a rag doll in your hold.  “Eddie, wake up.”

“Mmm.”  He grumbles, swatting your hands away.

“Okay, I gotta take you home.”  You decide, placing your hands on your hips, attempting to determine just how you were going to even get him into your car.

You couldn’t leave him here, he was still wasted.  You could leave him with Donnie and everyone to look after him but what was the point if you were going to go home anyway and he lived right next to you?  There was no use in making them babysitters if there was a more logical solution.  

“‘M fine.”  He says, curling up into a ball.

“No, Eddie, get up.  Get up.”  You try to be firm with him but he remains on the floor, comfy as ever with his hands tucked beneath his head.  “Shit.”  You sigh.

It was time to call in some reinforcements.

–

“Jesus Christ, he’s really fucked up isn’t he?”  Jett stares down at the figure of a sleeping Eddie on the bathroom floor, perfectly content.  

“Yeah, can you guys just carry him to my car and I can figure out the rest once I get home?”  You plead.

Jett and Nathan share a look of concern to which you raise your eyebrows in confusion, expecting an explanation.  They glance once more at Eddie’s sleeping body and then back up to you, appearing as if that had said everything though you were still lost.

“How are you…going to carry him out of the car?”  Nathan asks, his bushy gray eyebrows knit in thought.

In all fairness, you didn’t think far enough into the future.  If it were only you, you assume you would be required to drag his body across the yard and onto the porch before fishing out his keys and lugging him up onto his couch before leaving some water next to him and dismissing yourself.  The affair may take you over an hour considering Eddie was proving to be a stubborn drunk.  But you’d surely manage if it had to be done.

“I dunno, I’ll work something out.”  You tell him.

Nathan glances over to Jett once more, concerned expression only deepening as he peers back down at Eddie.  Jett shrugs, surrendering the decision to both of you.

“How ‘bout this.”  Nathan starts.  “We’ll follow you home and help you get him situated–”

“God, ‘m up!  ‘M up, okay!”  Eddie takes the three of you by surprise as he rapidly pushes off the floor and begins standing on wobbly legs.  

“You sure about that?”  Jett teases while Eddie stabilizes himself against the sink.

“Fuck off.”

Eddie’s aggravated demeanor persists once again, a pathetic puppy dog pout at his lips while his eyes become overshadowed by eyebrows, a stern scowl forming.  If it was meant to intimidate anyone, he was sadly mistaken.  Instead, Jett snickers behind his hand, attempting to hide his grin.

“I’m kidding, I’m just kidding.”  Jett continues to chuckle, avoiding Eddie’s harsh gaze.

“What is goin’ on here?”  Donnie emerges from the stairs.  

“Christ, ‘s go.”  Eddie murmurs, rolling his eyes.

Donnie’s face contorts in confusion at his attitude, something that if it were directed towards you, you wouldn’t think twice about.  It was no secret that his moodiness carried over even when he was intoxicated.  But you suppose she has a motherly hold on him and should he act up, she wasn’t afraid to confront him.  It didn’t matter how much taller or how grown of a man he was, she wouldn’t hesitate to pinch him by the ear and drag him off to give him a lesson in manners.

Obediently, Eddie backs down, his expression instantly relaxing.  His scowl is replaced with a blank face, any negative thoughts seeming to fall right out of his head.

“You’re leavin’?”  Donnie questions.

Rather than answering, Eddie shifts his gaze to you expectantly.  Like you were suddenly his keeper.  It was odd, going from being absolutely repulsive in his eyes when you’d first met him, to him essentially submitting to you so willingly.  He was wasted but it was still something you fondly tucked into the back of your mind to remember later, like a little postcard for yourself.

“I, uh, yeah.  I was just heading out and I thought…since we’re neighbors…”  You try to elaborate, only feeling as if you were digging yourself into a deeper hole as you remember Jett’s comment from earlier.

Low and behold, the brief glance you offer Jett only confirms it, a huge smirk displayed on his face just for you.  It was enough for the blood to rush into your cheeks, practically sizzling to the touch.

“You just got here.”  Donnie complains.

Jett puffs out his cheeks, offering some kind of communication that has Donnie reeling back on her previous statement.

“It is late though and if he’s really not feeling good…”  She reasons.

You weren’t stupid and you knew Jett was assuming the position of a wingman and somehow, he was able to convey that to Donnie in just one simple look.  And she ran with it, much to your surprise.  Eddie seemed to check out of any conversation, bags hanging underneath his eyes while they drooped in boredom, his tall frame leaning against the wall as he toyed with the chain attached to his jeans.

Externally, you were irked, irritation written all over your face, even a hint of disgust could be found within your features.  But internally, you were having quite the opposite reaction.  Those damn butterflies had started up again, whirling around in your stomach so intensely, you were beginning to think they were bees.  Your heart pounded in your ears, the tips of them becoming embarrassingly red and hot.  You didn’t know why, maybe it was the prospect of everyone else thinking you had some secret relationship going on or even a little fling and the fact that they seemed to be rooting for you.  It ignited the tiniest bit of excitement in you, you weren’t going to lie to yourself.  Even if there was truly nothing going on.

Within minutes, you had an entourage escorting you to your car, Nathan insisting that it was no issue if you’d rather him drive Eddie just in case he were to pass out again.  Though you were grateful, you didn’t see the trouble in making him drive all the way out to your street only to turn around and go right back to the party.  If Eddie passed out again, you’d splash some water on him and surely figure out a way to wake him.  Besides, he had started to become more alert since stumbling down the stairs and making the walk down the steep driveway.  Of course, you also required that he down some water before leaving, otherwise he could stay and let his friends have their fun and tease him about sleeping in front of the toilet, which he didn’t seem to like as he scrunched his face and grabbed the water from you.

Donnie had advised you to drive safely several times while Jett continued to poke fun at Eddie, only earning himself a sock to the shoulder.  Jett may not feel it now but in the morning there would be a good chance he’d have a nice purple bruise.  

At some point after you had stepped outside, a jacket was draped over your shivering shoulders.  Eddie’s jacket.  And seconds later, he walked ahead of you with his hands shoved in his pockets, no doubt trying to escape Jett’s teasing.  It was in that moment, surrounded by people who seemed to just…care, that you began to feel wanted.  While Donnie talked your ear off about keeping an eye out for deer, Nathan continuing to even offer to drive both of you home, assuring you that he didn’t mind in the slightest.  Eddie resting his jacket over your shoulders, even in his current state, and Jett…well Jett was being Jett but he still contributed to the warm and fuzzy feelings you were experiencing.  

It felt a lot like…family.

–

The cold glass soothes Eddie’s sweaty cheek, the surface fogging up with every breath as his finger taps away to a beat in his head on the center console.  The slumped position he had been in for the past five minutes was sure to awaken a few aches and pains in his spine but he didn’t budge.  The radio softly sounded through the car, some random pop song he could hardly make out.  His eyes followed tree after tree, nearly causing him to go cross-eyed as he kept up with the little game he made up in his head, counting each tree.  Sometimes he would get distracted by the pavement zooming by before continuing.

Not a word had been shared between you since the bathroom though it was an oddly comfortable silence.  It didn’t feel like you had to speak or fill in the gaps like you usually would, desperately clinging to words that you didn’t have in order to appease the other person.  The fact that Eddie was coming out of his drunken haze could have something to do with it but had it not been Eddie you were driving, you’re certain you would struggle to strike up a conversation as if it were required.

Glancing over at him, you can’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips, his fingers drawing a smiley face into the fog he created with his breath.  You’d never seen him so content but perhaps you shouldn’t look too much into it.  A few beers and some weed would have that effect on anyone.  It was just pleasant to see him so laid back, the stressors of his life set aside for another time.  You could only hope he could appear the same way sober someday soon.  

“Where’s your family?”  Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.  

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him.  Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal.  And you offered him that same respect.  

“What?”  You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response.  The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench.  His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.”  You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering.  Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder.  Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts?  Even if he was slightly under the influence.  Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.” 

“Oh.”  

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.  

“What about yours?”  You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure.  A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one.  Never really have.  Or, uh, I just don’t remember them?  Other than my uncle, Wayne.  He’s back…”  Eddie hesitates.  “He’s in Indiana.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t know…”  You start to backtrack and although he was the one who initiated the conversation, maybe it was too bold of you to reverse the question.

“No, ‘s okay.”  He assures you, shaking his head, his curls flattening against the seat.

“You miss him?”

The car is silent again, aside from the radio playing quietly.  You fear you’ve said the wrong thing, struck some kind of a nerve that forced him to go mute.  No longer wanting to engage in the topic.  But when you peer over at him again briefly, he’s biting his lip, getting lost in his mind again before he decides on an answer.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.  He visits when he can.”  A sadness lurks beneath the surface of his monotone response, eyes growing shinier in the moonlight.  And then he wipes the slate clean, face devoid of emotion once again as he seems to shake his previous thoughts from his head.  “So what’s your deal?  What made you come all the way out here?”  

This is the part where you would shrug and offer no further insight into the corners of your mind that usually were kept isolated.  But when his gaze softens from the passenger seat like that–like he wants to know, like he cares, you wanted to give him the key to your contaminated brain and let him poke around all he wanted.  As long as he wanted.

“Well, uh, I love my family...”  You start, voice timid.  “But I was feeling super lost.  And like I was living for everyone else.  And when my dad passed months ago he left me his estate…left me everything…”

“I’m sorry.”  He says, sympathy coating his words.

You nod, a silent thank you before continuing.

“So I split it up with my family…then moved away.  Guess I wanted to…I dunno find myself?”  You laugh, as if you’d just told a joke.

Rather than laugh along, Eddie studies you with intent.  Like he’s searching for more, digging into your soul.  

“Why’s that funny?”  He asks.

“I just–I don’t know what I’m doing.”  You laugh again.

“Well, neither do I.”  He begins to chuckle.  “I mean look at me.”

Progressively, you both start to laugh harder, glancing at each other and reveling in the failures that you both had endured up until this moment.  It’s like you were slap happy, a snort threatening to escape you through your uncontrollable laughter.  

“Ah, fuck.”  Eddie exhales, a grin plastered to his face.  “Bar is going to shit, my government hush money has run out–”

“Your what?”  You question, amusement taking over your features.

“Nothing.”  

Suddenly, he has no desire to converse, his lips shut in a tight line as he once again turns his attention to the window.  

“Government hush money?”  You repeat.

With a roll of his eyes and a deep breath, you can tell he contemplates carefully as he chooses his next words.  

“Jesus Christ, I’m really not supposed to talk about it.”  He breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “But, fuck it I guess.”  He drops his hand from his face.

Pulling into your driveway, the gravel crunches under the tires before you kill the engine, headlights leaving you in the darkness.  Eddie has your full focus, your body turned toward him as you pull a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on top.  

“You don’t have to.”  You assure.  “I can just forget you ever said anything–”

“Honestly, it’ll probably do me some good to get it off my chest.”  He interrupts.  

At his insistence, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.  He fidgets with his rings nervously, pulling them off and putting them back on.  

“You, uh, you have to swear to never talk about it again.  To anyone.”  

“Promise.”  You whisper, sticking your pinky out.

A puzzled look crosses his face, looking from your pinky to you in uncertainty.  It was becoming apparent that he was sobering up, laziness no longer taking a hold of his eyelids and words coherent.  

“Pinky promise.”  You smile.

“Pinky promise?”  He still appears confused.

“Yeah, you never made a pinky promise before?”  

A small smile forces the corners of his mouth up, eyes shining with entertainment as he stares at your pinky.  Shaking his head, he rests his hands in his lap, almost bashfully.  A contrast to his usual prickly tendencies and forward personality.

“Well, I take pinky promises very seriously.  They can’t be broken.  So I pinky promise, I won’t mention this ever again.”  You stick your hand even further forward, awaiting his pinky.

“Yeah?”  He asks with a lopsided grin.  “How do I know you mean that?” 

“It’s a pinky promise, Eddie.”  You deadpan, as if he was supposed to know how eternally binding it was.

A few seconds pass, Eddie still looking from you to your pinky with round eyes, soft at the edges with something that resembles the innocence of a little boy.  His inner child was sparkling, pouring from him like a forbidden fountain that only you had the honor of witnessing.  When his pinky wraps around yours, his comically larger than yours, you can’t fight the way your heart flutters in response to the touch.  His warmth encompassing yours, melting together like the sweetest chocolate.

Then, once your pinkies part, he speaks of a horrifying earthquake, striking his home town and wreaking havoc on the innocent lives once lived.  He tells you of things that you would never in this lifetime believe, things that he was forced to believe within seconds, creatures that attacked him, putting him on his deathbed only to be revived and put in the hospital for weeks.  Of the horrifying manhunt for him, how he was a wanted man for things he was never responsible for, conveniently at the peak of satanic panic.  How he was blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, how the whole town pinned a murder on him.  How there are things he could never even begin to explain like how Chrissy, the head cheerleader at his highschool had died right in front of him.  And how she was the first girl he was actually interested in, only for her to die a horrific death before his eyes.  He didn’t go into detail, though you didn’t need him to.  You didn’t want him to re-live such trauma just to provide you further explanation.

Once all was said and done, once he was out of the hospital, he was arrested and sat in jail for a week or so, he couldn’t recall exactly how long.  His uncle trying everything, doing everything he could to bail him out but he didn’t come from money so that proved to fail, especially since no one was on his side, even a majority of the police.  He told you of Dustin and Lucas…of Max, Erika, Steve, Nancy, and Robin.  The people that had always been on his side even when he was the only suspect for murder.  The people he missed so dearly every day but could only see every so often when they could find time to visit.  Which they did.  He only wished he could go back home.  If he did, it would only spark up another riot and it was against his agreement with the government to even step foot in the state of Indiana.  

So when he was bailed out of jail, his friends all awaiting him just outside the station, it was bittersweet.  He was relieved that he wouldn’t be stuck in that hell hole for the rest of his life like his dad but he was terrified of leaving everything he’d ever known.  It was his dream to someday get out of that place, a place that he wouldn’t name which was most likely due to his agreement.  But the second he was forced to leave, he didn’t know what was next for him, a terrifying concept for any smalltown boy at the fresh age of 20.

Wayne had intervened, making plans for Eddie to move in with his grandfather, Roy out in the middle of the mountains a few states away rather than being shipped somewhere where he had no connections, a setup for failure.  Eddie told you about how he didn’t know his grandpa his entire life, didn’t even know he still had one until he went to live with him.  But without any hesitation, Roy took him under his wing, stating that it's what his daughter, Eddie’s mother would’ve wanted him to do.  The least he could do for a boy who only knew broken family and lost his beloved mother so young.  

You learn that his grandfather had distanced himself due to Eddie’s dad and truthfully didn’t know of Eddie’s existence until Wayne made that phone call.  The moment he found out he had a grandson, he welcomed him with open arms and put him to work at the bar, giving him a kind of security that Eddie had never been familiar with in his life.  Grandpa Roy died last year of kidney failure, leaving Eddie everything and you could tell it was really taking a toll on him, the responsibility of the bar, the fear of losing it and disappointing his grandfather.

It seems that within the span of ten minutes, you learn Eddie’s life story.  From the incident back in Indiana to how his dad created destruction in his life long before that and how he would teach Eddie how to commit petty theft and hotwire cars.  He was on the route to becoming just like his dad before Wayne got involved, fighting like hell for legal custody of him.  His dad refused time and time again although Eddie spent most nights and days at Wayne’s trailer anyway.  Wayne didn’t want him to have any authority over Eddie, the man was a criminal and an addict that would leave poor young Eddie alone for days to fend for himself until he decided to come back.  He didn’t want that life for Eddie.

Eventually, he won, the courts taking far too long to review the case but he was granted full custody and not long after, Eddie’s dad was arrested for grand theft auto.  He still rots in jail to this day for several other crimes he committed once he got out the first time.

It was all laid out for you, Eddie’s entire upbringing.  His whole life on display for you to judge if you felt so inclined to.  You didn’t.  You sat and you processed.  Deciphering that Eddie is the way he is because of the way he had been treated his entire life.  An outcast among the working class, growing up in poverty and being made fun of for things out of his control.  Kids steering clear from him for the simple fact that he was his father’s son and that his name had already been tarnished before he was even born.  It was becoming clear as to why Eddie was so emotionally withdrawn.  How could he not be?

“Eddie I–” “If you say you’re sorry I’ll puke again.”  He jokes.

It was something you found so endearing within him, his ability to remain playful even when addressing his trauma.  Perhaps it was a coping mechanism.  You could relate if it was.  

“Let’s just, uh, call it a night.  I think that’s enough about me.  I don’t wanna talk about me anymore.”  He shakes his head, exhausted but still displaying a playful smile.

“Okay.  Yeah.”  You agree, opening the door before he stops you with a raise of his hand.

“Would this…would this be a bad time to tell you that I’m ninety nine percent sure that I left my keys at the party?”  He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Wow.”  You sigh, resting your head on the steering wheel.  “Look at how the tables have turned.”  You grin, shoving his shoulder, eliciting a grunt from him.  

“Gonna make me sleep on the porch with the bears?”  He half jokes.  He wouldn’t blame you.

“Only if you don’t puke on me like I did to you.”

Eddie can’t fight his grin, dimples deepening.  He’s thankful that it’s too dark to make out the pink tinting his cheeks.

~end~

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Captain's log, day #429- still in love with Eddie Munson

what do you mean hes fictional. i need him

"Self insert characters are cringe"

Bro I'm trying to survive capitalism with maladaptive daydreaming. Leave me alone.

I made a moodboard for @pinkrelish’s fic because I am sleep deprived and insane