Liquid Smooth

liquid smooth

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie's nightmares corrode his nights for the past two weeks. with guilt overwhelming his healing wounds, you let your boyfriend talk to you as a cathartic release.

word count: 2,317

warnings: MAJOR STRANGER THINGS VOLUME TWO SPOILERS. mentions of violence, maybe ptsd, blood and depictions of gore. angst, quick and shitty writing like the duffer brothers, maybe fluff at the end.

a/n: a fix it fic. the one where IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. anyway, hope you all enjoy. mcu!peter coming next (this is me trying)

MASTERLIST

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The space beside you is oddly cold.

You expect it to be warm, full of flesh and comforting arms wrapped around you, his blood flowing through his tatted arms. But it’s not – instead your hand caresses the crumpled part of the blanket you share.

 Cold sheets render you awake. You sit up, rubbing the sleep of your eyes and blindly reach for the lamp. Immediately does the warm glow of the bulb illuminate Eddie’s room in a dim glisten, adding an orange dusk to his scattered black and white posters of metal bands you only know half of.

With feet covered by borrowed socks, you leave his bed, wrapping your arms around yourself. And as the sleep withers away into a void, you realize that Eddie is not here – not beside you. Not in the room, and not in the bathroom where you just checked.

“Eddie?” you call, quietly, amidst the silent trailer, afraid of waking up the neighbors and whoever it is that still hunt him down. You notice a lone mug sitting on the side of his table, partly filled with cold coffee. You take it into your hand and gently place it in the sink before you emerge to the small living room.

You see disarranged pillows, no longer in the place where you placed them last night before going to bed. There’s a new cigarette in the ashtray, and with the moonlight slipping through the thin blinds, you see faint smoke emerging. “Eddie?” you call again.

The lack of response presses play to a nervous song that thumps on your heart. Its lyrics circle around your filled head – where could he be? What happened to him? Did he just suddenly leave without telling me? The song an anthem to your worries that have risen these past weeks. Mostly for him, anyway.

That’s when you hear soft humming of a tune outside the trailer from the back. You whip your head to the slippers beside the door and slip it on, ever so softly opening the door and exit the small house and tramp your way behind to see him.

Eddie’s sitting on an old crate of beer, unamplified electric guitar lays on his lap, caressed by his bandaged fingers. Although it’s been a two weeks, you miss seeing the rings on his hand. You cross your arms, and walk towards your awakened boyfriend.

When he sees your socks he stops, looking up at you with a small smile. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs. His voice is accompanied by the air that crumples the fallen leaves of the forest behind, followed by a soft grunt coming from you when you sit on the ground in front of him. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” you shake your head, resting your chin on his thigh that’s covered by his pajamas, but beneath it is another wrap of gauze. “I just woke up by accident.”

“Did I worry you?”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat from inside, or if he felt the decelerating pulse on your wrist when he grabs a hold of it to thumb on your skin. “No,” you say again. “I – I didn’t mean to worry. I know you hate it when I worry.”

“It’s alright,” the croak in his voice is tired, yet here he is, early in the morning with the sign of missing sleep underneath his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you kiss his left knuckle, the one exposed and covered with healing cuts. “It…woke you up again, didn’t it? The nightmare?”

Eddie’s eyes are glossed, the stained glass of his windows form a composition of trauma. He nods, looking away from you. Out of shame, embarrassment, you don’t know.

“Is it the same one?”

He sighs, resting the guitar flat on his lap. “Yeah,” he swallows, accommodated by a laugh that’s so Eddie it hurts, because you know he laughs every time to mask the pain. “Always been. Same one every fucking night, yet I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You said it stopped,” your words are anything but a scold, but you can’t hide the upset that comes with. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he sniffs, tears on the edge of his eyes that he blinks away. Eddie looks at your joint hands – wounded mingled with the unwounded. “I don’t…want to be a burden to you.”

“Baby, I’m always going to worry,” you sit up, on your knees, and cup his face in your hands. His bangs almost poke his eyes now, and you let your thumbs brush it in the middle to see his wide eyes – pretty, but damaged. “And you’re not a burden.”

“I keep you up late,” Eddie whispers. “I know you wait for me to fall asleep. And I pretend that I do so you’d fall asleep. You shouldn’t be losing sleep because of me.”

You don’t know what punches you: guilt? Sadness? “It’s not because of you, Eds. It’s because of me,” you hope your words reassure me. “It’s my choice.”

He stays silent for a bit, like he’s thinking of his next words to get away with this conversation. Eddie kisses your palm, smiles when you smile as your thumb comes across the crinkles of his eyes. “Yeah,” Eddie licks his lips. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m coming with.”

Then he kisses you, because he knows you’d say something to protest against his offer. Eddie’s lips are chapped, though it still reminds you of him. His bandaged hand comes up to place itself behind your head to bring you deeper.

But you push away because you know what he’s doing, and you don’t want it to happen. “Eddie,” you murmur against his twitching lips. “Eds, you promised we’d talk about it if it keeps on happening.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he kisses you. Again, not out of want but as a beg for you to forget. “And we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Eddie, no,” you push him away gently, removing his hand from the back of your head. “I don’t care what time it is. I – I don’t care if I’m losing sleep because you’re losing it too. I told you I’d be here no matter what, and we’re going to talk about it right now.”

His sigh is defeated. “Okay. I’m sorry,” Eddie rubs his forehead with yours.

“Now tell me what happened. Please?”

Eddie has been deferring the elucidation behind his wounds. You weren’t with him the day the night they went to attack – your role had been assigned to watch Max, Lucas, and Erica since they needed the guidance from someone older, given that the rest went to the upside down. And since then, everything went to shit;

You remember seeing Dustin and Steve carry Eddie’s unconscious body right before the “earthquake” happened. He looked like he’d just survived a bloody carnage, body doused in blood of his own, wounds open and throbbing, pulse weakening each second he lacked aid. No one but Dustin knew what happened, albeit you’ve never gotten the chance to ask him due to his ceaseless cries of fear.

He woke up the next day, and nights right after involved startling cries and quiet whimpers of help in his sleep, with you beside him to hush him back to dreamless sleep. You know he’s felt nothing but guilt when he sees your lethargic eyes in the middle of the night, stunned by his wet screams.

“I…I cut the rope back to the trailer,” he begins. “And…I left Dustin and I ran away to distract them. The bats. And…All I did was ran. That was my plan anyway, to run away and take them as far as I could. And then this stupid voice in my head – my voice – told me to just stop running and…face them. Because all my life I’d been running, because I’m nothing but a coward. I’m – I’m no hero. And I’ve got nothing else to do but run until I realized that my friends are out there who need my help.

“So I faced them. And, and I yelled at them and fought back. And then one of them caught me and I-” Eddie lets out a shuddered whimper, fingers rubbing his eyes. “They tore into my flesh and it hurt. And I let them, because I hoped it would help. It worked, though, and I thought I was going to die until Dustin came and tried hauling me back. Then Harrington saw me and just, since then I’ve felt so-… stupid trying to die for a town that hates me.”

He’s saying all this with tears in his eyes. What once was wide and full of undaunted mischief replaced by the horrors of the world that scarred his life like a knife to a flesh. “I feel so fucking stupid for trying to be a hero when I’m not.”

“You are,” you reposition yourself in front of him. “Eddie, you saved people who hate the living shit out of you. You – you saved Dustin, you saved us. You saved me,” somehow, the laugh that leaves you makes your boyfriend smile. “I’m going to agree and say what you did was unbelievably stupid, but your stupidity saved us all.”

You kiss him, again, more as an act of reverence. “You’ve always been a hero. And you’re so, so brave, Eddie. I mean, facing those bats? I don’t think your name should be Eddie the Banished anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at you, tears staining his lips. “What should it be, then?”

“Eddie the Slayer,” you propose. “But instead of like, Dragon Slayer, it’d be Demobat Slayer. I bet you looked so fucking heroic standing up to those monsters.”

“I didn’t kill any of them, baby. They almost killed me.”

“Nobody’s gonna know,” you tease.

“They’re gonna know,”

“No, they’re not. Unless those dipshits start talking about the Upside Down without sounding like crazies, nobody’s gonna know.”

Eddie wipes his tears with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, but if I would have done something better, Max would be okay right now.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s none of ours, really,” Eddie places the guitar on the ground and comes to sit on the ground with you, but takes your hips into his hands and sits you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder. “It’s that stupid Vecna’s fault. Fucking menace.”

He laughs. You run a hand beneath his shirt, fingertips feeling his adagio healing wounds. “Fucking menace, indeed. Tore my fucking trailer down. But here I am, still living in a trailer that’s two minutes away from mine.”

“Yeah, but we share this one now, though,” you kiss his forehead, relaxed at the loss of grime and dried blood. “You’re a hero, Eddie Munson. Hawkins may not see it, but I do. And so does Dustin.”

“Dustin,” he chuckles. “Bravest little shit I’ve ever met. Second to you, I mean,” Eddie kisses your neck. “And honestly, I don’t even care if people still see me as a freak or whatever. As long as you still see me as who I am, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, you still have to care. You’re still wanted, y’know,” you massage his scalp. “We’ve got a trial next week.”

“Fair point,” Eddie taps his fingers on your thigh, cheek pressing on your bicep. “How’re the little sheep doing?” he looks up at you. “Sinclair? Especially what happened with Max.”

“His parents made me watch him the other day when you were with Dustin,” you rest your head on his, looking on the dark ground. “He’s been reading books to her. And I took Erica back to their home and hung out because God knows how she feels after getting attacked by one of Carver’s acolytes.”

“Wait what?”

“I didn’t tell you?” he shakes his head, worry creased on his forehead. “They found us. Lucas got beat up pretty bad but Jason lost. Max – I was there. I watched it happen while I was trying to fix her player but, somehow like a fucking miracle she survived. Barely,”

“But he shot you,” his cold palm rests on the spot just beneath your sleep shorts – a gauze covers the hole from the bullet Jason put through your thigh. Eddie traces the tapes that secure the bandaid. “I didn’t even get the chance to ask you what happened-”

“Hey,” you take his face into your hands. Eddie looks like he’s about to cry, unneeded guilt overwhelming his bruised chest. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, okay? And – and I want you to know that I don’t care if you didn’t ask me because-…I just want you to be okay.”

“But we’re going to talk about it, right?” he gathers your hair into one shoulder. Eddie’s liberating eyes know any lie you let out would be injudicious, and so you know you won’t be able to sugarcoat anything that happened to you when he was away, therefore you worry you won’t be able to ease his remorse when you tell him what happens.

You decide that the best you can ameliorate him is levity. “Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Eddie smiles. He leans in to kiss you – a saudade satisfied in a galore of communicated emotions from a disaster. His warm lips inebriate you, pushes your worries away into the gate that surrounds Hawkins. Vecna’s got your souls corroded, but with shared trauma prosed into a promise of healing together, you don’t mind a damaged soul that’s tethered to his.

“You’re a hero, Eddie Munson,” you repeat, finger running along his healing jawline. “And if everyone doesn’t see that, remember that I do.”

“I’m gonna keep you forever,” Eddie offers you a cathartic smile; a smile so pretty and so Eddie.

“Just don’t do anything stupid again.”

banner by @/lauras-collection

why did we see Max's letters and not have anyone read them. why did they big up Jason creating a mob when nothing happened. why did they have Eddie say he wasn't a hero then die saving no one. why have will be in love with Mike and not say it to anyone. why introduce new characters just to kill them and neglect others. why have so many storylines that are essentially meaningless. why-

eddie munson + running

morning newspapers & fresh coffee

*** WARNING: mentions season 4, volume 2 spoilers ***

summary: as Hawkins and the Upside Down begins to merge into one, Eddie runs to you and places a ring on your left hand. "The moment we beat this fucking demon, I'm marrying you." And he does - trading weapons for morning newspapers and the scent of blood for fresh coffee for each morning.

tags: Eddie x gn!reader (no pronouns/descriptions), pure domestic fluff, blissful married life, 1% angst 99% fluff, happy ending for everyone sue me, obviously off-canon in many respects, oneshot

word count: 4.2K+

-> a/n: i think we all need this. plz enjoy happy husband!Eddie and pure domestic bliss! uwu

Sometimes you still get nightmares of that day.

The pavement beneath you rumbling, cracks of cement burning with hot lava bubbling underneath, the trees in the road falling one by one like dominoes. Crushed cars with their headlights still on, shattered glass crunching beneath your boots as you force one foot in front of the other.

The taste of iron blood and the smell of putrid smoke, burning flesh wafting from every direction as you step over a rotting demonic bat carcass, kicking over its limp body with your left foot. The action is futile - you're exhausted, dehydrated and above all, scared.

The only thing keeping you going is the promise Eddie murmured against your lips before splitting to run off with Dustin and his bunch, whilst you are to stay with the other kids under 'Max babysitting' duty.

"As soon as this shit is over. Our hideout spot, Lover's Lake, the-" he'd frantically whispered into the night, hands cradling your face gently. You were suppressing your tears the best you can, fear churning in your stomach.

"The rock overlooking the cove, the first place we ever kissed." you finished for him, voice breaking towards the end. Damn it, you cursed yourself. You had to be brave for the kids as you forced yourself to stand up straight. Eddie just smiled at that, but it didn't reach his eyes - it was cautious, slightly worried and forced.

"Meet me there, okay? As soon as you hear over this walkie talkie-" he squeezed the black object in your left hand. "Code green, we meet there."

You nodded quickly, relishing the warmth of his hand in yours before he planted a short, swift kiss to your chapped lips.

"I'll see you there, okay? Don't flake out on me, because I have a very important question to ask you."

Dustin was pulling on the sleeves of Eddie's jackets before you could question the metalhead further, and you were left standing there alone. Left hand grasping and ungrasping the walkie talkie with unease.

You didn't know why you bothered to drag yourself to the lake. Even as the battle had seemingly already been lost, the alternate universe bleeding into the mortal, the barrier separating the two worlds gone. Max was unresponsive. The line on the walkie talkie had gone dead half an hour ago. Last status update from Dustin?

A code yellow.

Not great, but not bad.

But you'd made a promise to your boyfriend. And if the world was going to end tonight, you might as well have it end with him by your side, his lanky arms tightly wrapped around your shoulder.

You're not sure how long you sit on the wet rocks overlooking the cove, legs anxiously swinging back and forth as the sun turns blood red. Specks of grey ash fall onto your hair and clothes, making you frustratedly wipe away the carnage every few seconds. Seconds bleed into minutes in agony and you find yourself looking back every two seconds, hand clenching around your metal baseball bat.

After all, it's the only weapon you've chosen to bring with you as you dragged your limp body to the lake.

The physical pain feels nothing compared to the excruciating agony of the wait, the constant "what ifs" and worst case scenarios flooding your overactive mind. You're scared for your friends. You're scared for this town. And you're terrified for Eddie.

Just as your hope begins to slip, however, the sound of a car screeching to a halt on the road nearby grabs your attention. It's accompanied by a masculine voice cursing and staggered footsteps, leaves crunching underneath boots, and then a broken voice calling your name.

You nearly slip with how fast you rise from your spot, throwing yourself into Eddie's arms as he drops his guitar on the floor and opens up for an embrace. His face is caked in dirt, hair matted underneath his blood soaked bandana and large gashes decorating his abdomen and legs. He looks worse for wear, to say the least.

But he's alive.

He's fucking alive, heart beating underneath his ripped band t-shirt and leather jacket, scarred hands circling around your waist.

"I-I thought you weren't coming back to me." you confess into his chest, the tears falling involuntarily. It's spilling out all at once, the heightened anxiety, the impending doom befalling you and your friends, the rush of nightmares you've been experiencing ever since the walkie talkie went offline. Silent tears leak from his tired eyes at that confession, calloused fingers rubbing circles into your back as he quickly places a kiss onto your forehead.

"I had to make it back to you, sunshine. I had to ask you that important question, remember?" he breathlessly adds, voice tainted with fear.

"What is it?" you question, as the ground beneath the two of you rumbles. Eddie pulls away for half a second, quickly reaching for one of his metal rings before pulling it off his scarred finger with a pained hiss. You chastise him immediately, warning him not to hurt himself, but all protests die in your mouth when he then suddenly gets on one knee.

"Angel, you are without a doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me. And as soon as we stop this Upside Down bullshit from completely overtaking Hawkins, I want to make you mine forever. Would you... be willing to be mine... forever?"

He presents the ring to you dramatically, hands and voice both shaking. The world's ending and Eddie Munson is proposing to you.

"Yes, yes, a thousand percent yes!" you scream before crashing into him. It's a bundle of limbs, arms and legs wrapping around his chest, causing both of you to fall onto the dirt floor. But neither of you care - it's nothing compared to the grime you two are already covered in, and it's especially nothing compare to the pure, unbridled joy filling your hearts as he slides the accessory onto your ring finger.

"The moment we beat this fucking demon, I'm marrying you." he grins, winking at you. And you laugh, genuinely, for the first time in months.

It's been five years since that day and you still get nightmares.

It's what causes your body to tremble in your sleep now, the slow whines escaping your lips waking Eddie immediately before he's gently shaking you awake.

"Babe. Babe. (Y/n)-"

At the mention of your name your eyes fly open, harsh breaths leaving your lungs in scattered gasps as you frantically sit up and survey the room. You're still in panic mode, sensing danger everywhere as you tense up and stare at Eddie wide-eyed. At this point, he already knows what you've dreamt about without you even having to say it.

"It's fine, you're fine. Everyone's fine." he mutters gently and you choke on a sob, feeling both relieved and embarrassed. "Aw, come here."

He quickly shifts to sit you on his lap, hands coming up to caress your cheeks as you cry silent tears in his embrace, body still shaking from the vivid terrors.

"I-it feels so real each time-" you choke out, scrunching your eyes shut, wishing those memories away. He's nothing but understanding as he holds you, cooing gentle lullabies under his breath as he rocks you lightly back and forth. Your blurry eyes focus in on the contents of your shared bedroom with Eddie, it slowly beginning to set in that you're no longer in that version of Hawkins.

His oversized hellfire shirt draped over a half-done pile of laundry. His guitar hanging by the potted sunflowers you planted last June. The stack of polaroids strung up over your bedside table, candid photos of you and Eddie doing mundane things - cooking, checking the news, carrying a bag of groceries. It'd started as an inside joke the first month after the wedding, your fingers snapping a photo as Eddie lazily read the side of a cereal box one morning. A joke which had now extended into several years of marriage and countless photographs decorating the pastel walls of your master bedroom.

"Can you say your affirmations for me?" Eddie lightly questions, making you swallow nervously.

"We've been married for five years. We're in our apartment on the upper east side of Hawkins. The portal to the Upside Down has been closed. All threats have been eliminated. Everyone is safe and alive."

It's a simple set of statements but ones which quickly ground you back to reality - it's been Eddie's idea to have you recite it when you wake up from a nightmare, sweat coating your forehead and heart beating a million miles per hour at the thought of landing back there in that hellhole.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Eds." you croak out. "I-I didn't mean to wake you."

He rolls his eyes playfully, squishing your cheeks and planting a swift kiss to your lips.

"Nah. Can't complain when the sight I wake up to is you, my forever partner."

"Even if that's the sight of me looking incredibly dehydrated and ugly from all the crying?" you tease, wincing when Eddie stands up and pulls the curtains to the side. It's a bright sunny day, clear blue skies and a harsh stream of sunlight glistening off of the windowsill as he looks back at you with a coy expression.

"Objection, your honor! You look hot all the time. Now come on-" he gently pats your butt, urging you to get out of bed. "We need to get a move on if we wanna make it to the market on time."

Pulling one of Eddie's many oversized shirts over your head, your bare legs brace the chilly morning temperatures as you pad out into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee already filling the air. Eddie's humming a song underneath his breath as he mixes the pancake batter together in a glass bowl, doe brown eyes concentrated on the milky white mixture.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, you take the moment to admire how your husband looks right now. Shoulders relaxed, scarred fingers (still adorned with rings, mind you) grasping the wooden spoon, a gentle smile on his face as he dices bananas into the bowl with ease. When he stretches upwards to retrieve a couple of plates from the cupboard, his shirt rides up and you can still see the scars from the final battle - red, faded, huge wounds scattered across his lower stomach.

"Staring at my hot battle scars, babe?" he quips, using the same lame joke he's used at least a million times since the start of your marriage. You'd asked him once if he'd like to get them covered up with tattoos, but Eddie was insistent on keeping them.

"It's weird but having them on my body reminds me of what I managed to get through. They tell a story, I think, a story with an eventual happy ending." he'd said, brushing aside your worries with an assured grin. "You're real sweet for worrying bout me, angel, but I promise I'm fine. Besides, who doesn't love a scruffed up war hero?"

You'd shoved him lightly in the shoulder, leaning back against the car seat with a playful glare.

"War hero? Someone thinks highly of themselves." you tutted, waving your finger in disapproval. Eddie smirked at you sideways, hands tapping lightly against the dashboard of his van.

"Of course I would. I married you, didn't I?"

"Peanut butter or honey?" Eddie asks you as he scrapes off the pancakes from the pan with a spatula.

"Today I think... honey."

He raises his eyebrows at that, clicking his tongue.

"Honey for my honey, coming right up!"

You groan at that, but it's all for show. The wide puppy dog smile on his face as he shuffles around the kitchen, ducking under odd light fixtures and scrambling through the stack of cutlery for the "perfect" knife and fork to offer you, the sight of your husband preparing breakfast is one you'll never get tired of.

"Is it any good?" he questions as soon as you take a bite, your hair being ruffled from the light winds blowing in from the open window.

"It's amazing as always." you assure him, to which he bows dramatically.

"Thank you for the compliment, your highness."

He grabs his own plate of pancakes before reaching back up to the cupboard and groaning under his breath.

"Shit, did we forget to buy more honey the last time we went grocery shopping?"

"Maybe? I was in a rush back from the office so I thought you'd covered this week's list of groceries already." you note, frowning. Eddie sighs, closing the cabinet back up before sitting back down.

"Damn. Well, I guess it's peanut butter on pancakes for me this morning then."

You're quick to shove your plate towards him.

"Just have some of mine, babe, if you want honey."

His eyes light up at the suggestion, a wicked smirk on his face.

"That actually gives me a great idea."

"Wha-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are on yours, tongue teasing your lower lip, the sticky sweet taste of honey lingering afterwards as Eddie smacks his lips. He quickly cuts into his own food before popping the pancake into his mouth, letting out an exaggerated groan of satisfaction.

"Honey on pancakes. My favorite."

The conversation over breakfast is light and calm - perks of it being a Saturday morning in mid-September. He washes up as you hang the laundry by the front lawn. He's folding up the mess of clothes from last night as you water the lillies by the windowsill, admiring the water droplets falling from petal to petal.

"Love, do you prefer to listen to Duran Duran or Quiet Riot in the car today?!" he yells from the living room as you finish gathering the packages by the front porch, tucking the morning newspaper under your arm to see the metalhead holding up two cassette tapes.

"I don't mind either!" you shout back, making Eddie groan. He pouts like a little kid whose candy has been stolen.

"That response doesn't help, babe! How else am I supposed to pick between these two rock legends?" he dramatically whines, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, you big baby."

Eddie simply sighs dramatically before pocketing the Duran Duran casette, his left hand reaching out to hold yours as his right hand carries the car keys.

"Ready to go?"

"One second." you say, hands flying to your tote bag to make sure you've got everything - keys, water bottle, extra bags, wallet, sunglasses... "All good."

The drive to the farmer's market is filled with Eddie's adorable singing, his dramatic re-enactments of the lyrics drawing odd stares from drivers passing by. Not that he cares, of course. He'd do it all over again just to see you doubled over in laughter, your gorgeous face scrunched up in a permanent grin. It's one of his most favorite sights to see.

His grip on your hand is tight, but still gentle, as you two navigate through the crowds of people, soles of your shoes shuffling against the dirt. You drag him from one booth to another, excitedly holding up different kinds of fruits and vegetables, asking him to hold your things as you run off to a jams and spreads stand.

"What'd you think about this one?" you excitedly ask, holding up a glass jar of raspberry jam to his face. Eddie blinks slowly at your question - he hasn't being paying attention to anything you've been saying at all, too entranced by the way the sunlight's been glistening in your hairline. The soft halo on your angelic features as your tongue delicately wet your lips in between sentences out of habit. It also doesn't help that you're wearing his favorite jeans, the ones that hug your thighs just right and drives him wild. "Eddie. Eddiiieeee-" you sing song, pulling the jar away from his face.

"Sorry, angel, what were you saying?" he blinks, trying to stay focused.

"The jam, Eddie! Raspberry or strawberry, what'd you think?"

He pretends to think about it for a moment.

"Strawberry, I guess."

Handing a crisp $5 to the elderly woman standing in front of you, you place the glass of jam into the bag Eddie's carrying (which at this point is bursting at the seams with all kinds of artisanal fruits, vegetables and breads) before you squeal and begin to tug at his sleeves in excitement.

"There's a waffle stand! Eddie, can we go, please?"

His arms are aching from the heavy load and his legs feel a bit sore from all the walking, but he can't find any space in his heart to refuse you when your sweet voice begs him like that. You have no idea the kind of power you have over him, he thinks. One flutter of your lashes and a slight whine and Eddie's a melted puddle on the floor, willing to bend to your every will.

"Of course we can, angel."

Lunch is thus a mess of sugar and honeyed stickiness - you sitting on Eddie's lap on a nearby bench as he feeds you spoonfuls of waffles drizzled in whipped cream and strawberries. When you later complain that you've got whipped cream all over your mouth, hands flying to your back pocket to pull out a pack of tissues, Eddie just rolls his eyes and kisses away the remnants instead.

"There. Much easier." he declares, proud smirk on his face. "Ready to go home?"

You nod, satisfied, head delirious from the sugar rush and the gaze of uninhibited adoration on his face.

"Yeah."

As the sun begins to set over the horizon, you glance over at Eddie on the drive back, admiring how well he's aged in the past five years. His hair's been cut slightly shorter, but his curls have been maintained. There are a few fine lines carving his cheekbones now when he smiles, a slight discoloration on his left hand from the burns sustained years ago. But it only makes him all the more beautiful, you think.

"What're you thinking so hard about?" he questions you, noticing that you've been rather silent for a while.

"Nothing." you respond, content. "Just... how gorgeous you are."

He lightly blushes at the compliment, and it never fails to amuse you how after everything - five whole years of marriage - he still gets flustered when you call him beautiful.

"Right back at you." he says, throwing you a quick wink in the rearview mirror.

Exhaustion hits in full force as the sun sets and you two are now back home, with Eddie shuffling through the contents of your fridge to make space for the new groceries as you thumb through the morning paper on the sofa. The only sounds in the room is the light rain beginning to drizzle outside, droplets hitting against glass in repetitive rhythm as you quickly abandon reading before hugging your husband from behind.

"I'm bored." you complain into his back, face squished against his body. His entire body reverberates with a laugh, one hand coming to pat your head affectionately.

"We were just out, angel."

"I know, but the rain always makes me sleepy and bored, you know that."

"Indeed I do. Hey-" he pulls away from you briefly. "How about we have a little date night then?"

You frown, confused.

"S-sure, but it's raining and I'm not sure if we can get a reservation so late-"

He chuckles, brushing stray hairs away from your eyes.

"No, silly. I meant like a date night inside."

That piques your interest, making you cock your head sideways.

"What'd you mean?"

Turns out, his idea of a 'inside date night' is both silly and romantic. First, he tells you to dress up as if you two were actually going out. Style your hair, put on your best clothes, spritz your perfume. He doesn't even let you leave your shared closet before he pretends to knock and presents you with a bouquet of hastily pulled out lillies, a boyish smile on his face.

"For you, my perfect date."

He's dressed up slightly too, collared blue shirt tucked into black linen pants, a sight which makes your heart skip a little faster.

"Thank you, dear husband."

He refuses to let you help in the kitchen as he prepares your favorite meal, sitting you down on the counter and asking you random questions to keep you preoccupied.

"We've been married for five years, Eddie. What could you possibly not know about me?" you question, amused. He laughs at that, crouching by the kitchen oven as he speaks.

"Not those kind of questions, silly. There's plenty of other things I could ask about like... I don't know, would you rather... fight a mermaid or a polar bear?" he finishes cautiously.

"What? What kind of question is that?" you splutter through bursts of giggles, making Eddie throw his hands up in mock surrender.

"I don't know! I'm just trying to keep this marriage fresh. Now answer, babe." he sends you a warning glare, but the ghost of a smile on his face gives him away. It makes you lean forward in interest, head resting on your propped up arms.

"A polar bear."

He gasps at that.

"What? No. You'd been mutilated in an instant! I'd choose the mermaid, you can probably just gut them like a fish and be done with it." he retorts, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Or they could drown you by dragging you to the bottom of the ocean." you counter, raising your eyebrows.

"Oh, and a polar bear wouldn't cut you down with its claws and feed on your flesh?"

The two of you stare at each other in silence before bursting into a fit of laughter, you burying your head into your hands as Eddie doubles over, body folded in half.

"God, why did you ever marry me?" he questions, slightly out of breath as he leans against the counter across from you. You stand up ever so slightly, nose brushing against his, response muttered against his lips.

"Probably because you're the most handsome, kind, funny and charismatic person I've ever met. And you give good head."

He kisses you hungrily at that admission, counter top digging into his stomach as he leans in closer, hands grasping at your neck and pulling you practically right up against him. Your mind is still dizzy from the kiss when he leans back down, tongue licking his lips, chasing the after taste of your chapstick.

"I fucking love you, (Y/n) Munson."

The smell of burning food - accompanied by the sudden loud blaring of the smoke alarm - cuts into the tender moment, making you jump off of your seat to grab a fire extinguisher as Eddie hastily opens up the oven to see the oven tray on fire. Once the fire's extinguished and the smoke has cleared, Eddie's standing by you with a sheepish smile on his face, already reaching for the house telephone.

"Maybe we should just order i-"

"Yeah."

Eddie still makes the best of the night though: draping a blanket over the living room floor and setting down a few lit candles around the edges. He's pouring you a bottle of wine as you answer the door to accept the delivery, his gaze aflame with infatuation as you sit back down across from him.

In between inside jokes and conversation about the kids - "Max called yesterday. She and Lucas were wondering if they could swing by tomorrow for lunch?" "Of course they can! At this point, I'm offended they'd even ask us for permission." "Eddie, I think they're trying to avoid a Dustin-esque incident like last Thanksgiving. Remember? We nearly called the cops because someone kept on banging on our door at three in the morning?" - the food is devoured quickly. And once the dishwasher's been filled, the blankets re-folded and the lights turned off for the night, Eddie's waiting for you in bed, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

"All good?" he asks you. You nod.

"All good."

It's automatic and natural the way your body fits against his as the final light in the house - the lamp on the bedside table next to Eddie - goes out. His strong arms wrap around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, his musky cologne overwhelming your senses as he lays a sloppy kiss onto your bare shoulder.

"I love you so much, angel." he whispers against your skin, hot breath tickling your neck. It makes your heart flutter no matter how many times you hear his love being confessed (which is basically every night).

"I love you too, Eddie." you respond, squeezing his hands comfortingly. You turn around carefully in his grasp, being able to somewhat make out the outlines of his face in the dark. "I'm so glad I get to spend every day with you."

He chuckles at that, fabric rustling underneath him as he shifts closer.

"I'd hope so, babe. Cause you're stuck with me for the rest of your life."

You peer open one of your eyes at that.

"Unless I divorce you for Steve."

He gasps dramatically, body immediately straightening up.

"You wouldn't."

You hum mockingly, pretending to actually give it a think, before bursting into a fit of soft giggles that shakes against Eddie's chest.

"You're right, I wouldn't. You're my forever, Eddie Munson." you whisper, right on the precipice of sleep. The last thing you feel is Eddie's calloused fingers stroking your back tenderly, and Eddie's soft response being whispered against your ears.

"Thank you for being my forever, love."

a/n: pure domestic brainrot I want to live here plz

mood after watching vol. 2:

Of course I can 🤣

Hypothetically speaking… if I were to do a re-write of the last episode, including re-writing Eleven/Max’s scene and obviously what happened to sweet Eddie - fixing as much as I can, would anyone be interested in reading it? It will be written as you being the romantic partner of Eddie.

A major plot point is the reader will be a Sinclair. As an Asian person of color myself, inclusion is important. Feel free to adjust the status of your relation to the Sinclairs as it applies to you, if you are adopted or not.

I can’t guarantee how long it will take me since it will be the first piece I share in public in like four years, but let me know if you’re interested.