Send This To Ten Other Bloggers That You Think Are Wonderful. Keep The Game Going, Make Someone Smile!!!

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! 💗

STOPPP ur so sweet i’m kissing ur forehead rn

Dustin, whose your friend? II

E.M

Eddie Munson x shy!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fluff, shy reader, anxious reader, nice eddie, dnd

Part I

You hear Eddie before you see him. You just have time to give yourself a once over in the mirror before you open your door, and hop down the steps to your house. Eddies sat there in his van, waiting for you. When he sees you, he grins and jumps out. He runs to the passenger side to open the door for you.

“M’lady,” he says, while bowing you into the van. You smile and pat his head while climbing up into your seat.

Eddie had been teaching you how to play dnd and tonight was the first time you would partake in a real campaign. With real players. With people you know. You were beyond nervous.

“It's gonna be fine baby! They were all first timers once! And we never judged them or made fun of them. We're gonna have so much fun.” He says while smiling at you.

“Okay, if you say so.” You answer quietly. He takes your hand and kisses it, making you smile. He knew you could get in your head about things. That was fine, as long as he could bring you back out to him. Only he knew how to talk sense into you.

You arrived at the school, and he hopped out fast so he could get your door for you. He loved doing that. Being able to do things boyfriends do for their girlfriends. He was the kind of guy who took pride in being a real gentleman. Someone who you could brag about to your girlfriends. 

“Hey guys!’ You hear behind you. Of course Dustin is here early to set up. 

“Hey Dusty! Are you excited? The start of a new campaign should be pretty epic.” You gush to him, hoping that you don't sound like an idiot.

“I know! The guys and I are so excited you're gonna play with us. It's gonna be legendary.” Dustin smiles at you, while helping Eddie unload some of the equipment he would need for the campaign. Apparently Eddie has spent some money on some new props. 

You help them bring in the boxes to the drama room. What the hell was in here? They were so heavy. You set down your box as soon as Eddie had unlocked the door. You were starting to get more nervous than excited. What surprise did Eddie have in store? No one knew.

“HOLY SHIT” you hear Dustin yell. You whip around, to see him with an open box in front of him. Before you could think, Eddie was behind him, holding his hand to Dustin's mouth.

“Dammit henderson. You weren't supposed to open that. Do not tell anyone. Alright?” Eddie says, while slowly dropping his head.

Dustin slowly nods, mouth agape. “I won't tell, but how they hell did you pay for those?” he asks.

“Just renting them for the campaign, they gave me a deal too, they know Wayne.” Eddie says smugly.

You take a step closer, trying to sneak a peek at what is in the box. Before you get any closer, Eddie has you by the shoulders, spinning you around. “Let's go look over here angel, I’ll let you sit on my throne.”

—---

Now that Dustin knew about the secret, he got to help set up the surprise and you had to wait in the hallway. Before you knew it, the other members started to show up.

“Hey! We didn't know you were staring tonight.” Garett said when he and Jeff walked up to the drama room.

Before you could reply, Jeff pointed to the door, “Is Eddie not here yet? I have a spare key so we can get in.” He says, starting to take his backpack off so he can grab the key.

“No! Eddie and Dustin are setting up a surprise so we have to wait for them to let us in.” You tell them. They lean on the wall with you, making small talk. Some more members showed up, while you and Garett explained why the door was closed.

The collective group were all curious and excited for what was to come. Some had guesses, none very realistic. You explained whatever it was, had fit into 5 cardboard boxes. Before the group could start theorizing, the door creaked open. The lights were off. That wasn't normal was it? You look at Garett and he looks just as confused as you feel.

He pushes the door the rest of the way open. There's a break in the dark light. A deep red is emanating from Eddie's throne. Suddenly the floor fills up with smoke, where the hell had Eddie gotten a smoke machine? But that wasn't it. Once everyone was through the door, a menacing sound came from unseen speakers. Holy shit. Is this what hellfire was always like? 

As the music rose, the lights got brighter, and Eddie stepped out from behind his throne. He was grinning like a maniac. Once he sat, everyone raced to their designated seats so they could start. You found an empty chair next to Dustin. You smiled at him and sat down, pulling out your folder that Eddie helped you work on. You were so excited to see what was going to happen. It was comforting that you had the help of your party.

Throughout the campaign, the music flows with the energy of the campaign. How had Eddie orchestrated this so perfectly? He was an amazing Dungeon Master. There came a point where your character was the only one who could save the party. This was up to you to save them. You stood at the end of the table, facing Eddie. You were shaking the D20 in your hands, praying that you got enough to take down the thessalhydra that had attacked your group. 

You looked around the table, at your friends who were counting on you. You looked at Eddie, who was staring at your hands. Usually he would stare down the saviour of the campaign, but he wanted you to do well. He needed you to. Because if you didn't, would you still want to go to hellfire permanently? 

You let go of the die, crossing your fingers. You couldn't look. What if it wasn't enough to save the party? Would the campaign be over? It would be all your fault. They'd never invite you back-

“FUCK YEAH” Garrett screams while everyone cheers and celebrates. You looked down. You had just taken down the monster, saving the party, and ending the progress of the campaign for the night. 

You stood there shocked, with your mouth open. You turn to look at Dustin, who is mirroring your expression. You both stare at each other. “FUCK YEAH” you both yell while putting your arms in the air. You did it!! Everyones cheering for you. The party has a group hug, with you in the middle. You get a glimpse of Eddie, who is smiling from ear to ear. 

After all the commotion had died down, the group rushed to Eddie, asking him if they could rent the lights, smoke machine, and speakers again for next week. Eddie pretends to think about it, before yelling out “Of course we can, are you kidding me? That's the best session we've ever had.”

The magic of the night had affected them all. They had all been playing for years, but this felt like dnd reinvented. It was like they all fell in love with it for the first time again. It was magic. And Eddie had created that. They worshiped him for it. 

Before you knew what you were doing, your feet carried you to Eddie's throne. You threw your arms over him and kissed him. Eddie was shocked. Was he that good that you kissed him in front of EVERYONE? He didn't think much more than that because his brain literally stopped working.

You broke apart, instantly getting shy. What did you just do? It was only your second date! What if he thought you were easy? Before you could think much more, Eddie pulled you in for another kiss. Pulling you out of your head and back to him. 

real

eddie munson would’ve loved “try hard” by 5sos

i’ll never understand people who say “don’t spam like or i’ll block you” like/reblog everything i post !! ever!! fall in love with me!! kiss me rn !

eddie munson is the love of my life i swear

sobbing😭😭😭 mr.h :(((

Passing Through - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Being the new kid in a small town like Hawkins is tough. One late October day though, you meet Eddie, and he’s always looking out for those lost sheep.

Note: Happy Halloween 🎃

Words: 2.8k

In the great game of life, you have been given a shitty hand of cards to play this round. Starting at a new high school for junior year is an agonizing yet hazy experience. You have to start over in a place where cliques have already formed, and most people have known each other since kindergarten. The best shot you have at making friends is praying there are souls kind enough to include you in their group. Or maybe there are other pariahs you could collect along the way and have your own island of misfit toys.

On the other hand, even if this experience is completely horrible, it’s only a short two years that you have to endure it. It will feel like a lifetime, but maybe you could keep your head down and push through. 

School has been in session for about two months now. The leaves are changing to the browns, reds, and yellows that always accompany the smell of fireplaces burning for the first time in months and the sickly sweet scent of apple and pumpkin permeating everything. 

Late October is always a nice chance to wear comfy sweaters and cute scarves, bundling up as you take in the views of this time of year. Jack-o-lanterns litter the sidewalks, a few even placed around the high school campus. Children laughing and jumping in any pile of leaves that would permit them to make a mess. The outside aesthetic clashes with the churning, icy storm inside of you. 

There are a few people you’ve met that you’d consider friends, yet not anyone you feel you can confide in about how alien you feel around the other teens of this small town. 

Of course, there are mean girls everywhere and they never miss a chance to pounce on fresh meat. You’ve lost count of the things you heard said about you, but some of them even made you laugh. You wish you were cool enough to be here because your family is on the run. At least it would be something exciting. It’s also better than the other rumor that you taxidermy animals in your basement and now you’re looking for people to practice on. Someone obviously watched Psycho the night before they came up with that one.

Once in a while you’ve tried to sit with some of the friends you made at lunch, but you always felt out of place. You decided to start exploring the school during your lunch period instead. Sometimes you’d have your sandwich on the bleachers in the gym or have your cup of noodles under the large oak tree next to the science building. 

Today, there’s a gentle breeze and, bundled up in your soft brown sweater, you decide to perch yourself on the short wall in front of the school. You settle yourself on the sun-faded bricks and open your lunch on your lap. Students go by, some of them in a hurry, some of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. It’s nice to people watch; sometimes it makes you feel less alone. You take a bite out of your peanut butter sandwich and let your eyes slip closed. The wind ruffles your sweater and brings a smile to your face as it kisses your skin. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a scene of two basketball players seeing who can burp the loudest. 

With a sigh you take another bite of your sandwich. Is there anyone at this school that will just get you?

As the thought crosses your mind, you feel a heavy weight plop down next to you on the wall. You turn your head and see the cutest guy you’ve seen yet in Hawkins. His curly hair is frizzy, but in the most endearing of ways. The brown of his eyes perfectly matches the atmosphere of autumn around you. But it’s his smile that has your heart racing. It’s big, bright, and most important of all, it’s genuine. 

“Ah, I can spy a fellow Hawkins outcast when I see one.”

Warmth burns your cheeks simply by making eye contact and having this man speak to you. The air around you might be getting cooler, but your body is heating up. It makes sense; he’s really cute. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”

“New kid?” He leans back and narrows his eyes slightly, as if he’s appraising you, but in a joking manner.

“As I’ll probably be referred to until I graduate, yes,” you admit with a breathy chuckle. He laughs in return, and it sounds like music, the melody of it being swept away by the breeze. 

“I was known as the ‘freak’ to most people. You’d think ‘Eddie’ was merely a suggestion of what to call me, not my actual goddamn name,” he says with an overdramatic shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really bother me after a while.”

“I wish I didn’t let things get to me as much as they do,” you admit. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe because this is the first person in Hawkins that seems to be interested in what you have to say. Eddie smiles and shakes his head, eyes turning down to gaze at his lap. 

“The assholes aren’t worth it.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand in the air, multiple chunky rings glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “But trust me, you find the right friends, and everything will be smooth sailing. They’ll have your back, and you’ll have theirs—none of the other shit matters.”

“You’re pretty wise, Eddie.”

“Don’t know if I’ve ever been called that before,” he tells you through a guffaw of laughter. 

“Well, it’s fitting,” you say. 

“Eddie the Wise,” he tries out the name, but wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah, doesn’t work.”

“I like your pick necklace,” you say, just trying to keep talking and have Eddie here for as long as you can. 

“Huh?” He looks down at it. “Oh, thanks. You like music? Good music, I should say. Because I’ve got the all-time best band right here.”

Eddie shrugs off his denim vest layered over a leather jacket, your eyes trailing every movement his body makes. Bare, pale arms come into view once he’s finally rid himself of the article of clothing. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the dark ink that contrasts against his alabaster skin. A small colony of bats taking flight. 

“Ta-da,” Eddie says, presenting his Metallica t-shirt to you and bringing you back to reality.

“Not bad, not bad,” you acquiesce, once you’ve refocused.

Eddie just grins and puts his layers of clothing back on. 

A couple of cheerleaders walk by and look you up and down, trying to be as obvious as possible about it. Because they know it will get even more under your skin, they lower their heads and start whispering together.

Eddie gives them a saccharine smile and flips them off as they go by. It makes you giggle, and it brings you satisfaction that those girls didn’t rob you of your happy afternoon. 

“Take it from me,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re gonna be just fine here in Hawkins. This school is a shit show, but it has its bright spots. Friends mostly. Clubs—you should look into those for sure. Some teachers aren’t half bad either. Take Mr. H. He’s a bit of a smartass, but he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, I have him for physics and he’s great.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth quirk up in a smirk and he pushes himself off the wall.

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you—and seriously, I really wish I could—I’m not even supposed to be here right now.”

“Oh, you don’t have this lunch period?” you ask.

“Nah,” Eddie says as he slides his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m supposed to be somewhere, doing something, I don’t know.” Eddie’s lackadaisical nature makes you giggle. “But I saw a pretty girl sitting here all by herself and I took a detour.”

His words make you feel flushed and flustered, unable to come up with anything to say in response. Eddie goes to walk away but turns back and gives you a smile; almost as bright as the very first one he gave you. 

“Everything’s gonna be alright. This is your year. I can feel it.” He offers you a quick wink then he’s on his way.

The bell rings, breaking you out of your daze watching Eddie walk away. You hasten to clean up from your lunch so you can make it on time to your French class on the other side of campus. 

When you’ve got everything situated and ready to get to class, you look around but there’s no sign of Eddie. No curly hair, no dark delicious eyes, nothing. 

In class, it’s a fight not to tap your pencil against your desk incessantly. You’re itching to ask someone, anyone, if they know Eddie and where you can find him. At this moment more than ever you wish you’d made better friends here already. 

Screw it, you think as the bell rings to signal the end of the class. I’ve got to ask about him. 

“Mrs. Daaé?” 

Your petite French teacher gives you a kind smile. “Yes, dear?” 

“Do you know a student named Eddie?” You feel so stupid asking this; asking a teacher if she knows anything about the cute boy who came and talked to you.

Mrs. Daaé thinks for a moment, her long mauve fingernails tapping against the top of her desk.

“I don’t believe I do,” she says with a sympathetic smile. When you’re the new kid you get used to people giving you that look very quickly. 

“That’s okay,” you say, eager to be out of there. “Thank you anyway.”

It’s the same answer from everyone you talk to. The few friends you’ve made, people who sit near you in class, even your teachers. No one seems to know who this guy is or have any idea what you’re talking about. 

By the time you get to your last class of the day, you’re half convinced that you’re crazy. Gone mad, absolutely bonkers. 

Physics isn’t your favorite class, but it does have your favorite teacher, so that’s something. 

You pay enough attention to get by, but your mind constantly wanders back to the only person to make you feel welcome in this town. 

The sound of your name jars you out of your thoughts. You look up and realize the last students from your class are walking out the door. Now that you think about it, you did hear the final bell ring, it just didn’t register. 

“Sorry,” you say, but you’re not sure who to. Your teacher who snapped you out of your daze? The students you’ve been bombarding with questions today?  

Maybe you should ask this teacher. It’s the last one of the day, you might as well. But you also don’t want to look like an idiot again. 

“Something I can help you with?” The soft voice and kind smile shake you out of your thoughts. You’re the only student left in the room.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” you repeat the apology. As you step out the door, you change your mind, remembering Eddie referenced “Mr. H.” Taking a deep breath, you turn around and walk back into the classroom. “A-Actually… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I talked with this guy today, outside while I was eating my lunch. He was really nice—nicer than any of the other kids have been since I came here, honestly. But when I’ve asked around about him, no one knows who he is. He seemed to know you, though.”

Your teacher’s eyebrows furrow together, and he sits down in his chair behind the desk. “What’s his name?”

“Eddie.”

He shakes his head as he thinks. “I don’t know if we even have an Eddie in this school. We’ve got Ed Sweeney, the football coach. But I doubt it was him.”

“No,” you say with a disappointed, but not surprised, sigh. It’s the same answer you’ve been getting all day. “This was definitely a student. Curly hair down to his shoulders. Big, infectious smile, a dark red pick on a chain around his neck…”

Your teacher’s eyes widen exponentially, and you must give him an odd look without realizing it because he quickly composes himself and clears his throat. 

“Did he, um, have any tattoos?” the teacher asks. 

“Yeah!” You get excited, this being the first real hint of someone knowing what you’re talking about. “He had a bunch of bats—”

“On his right forearm?”

“Yes! That’s him!”

Your teacher slumps back in his seat and rubs his hand over his eyebrows.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath. You’re surprised to hear that kind of talk from a teacher; you’re not even sure if you were meant to hear it or not. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask timidly.

A grin from ear to ear looks back up at you and your teacher leans forward on his desk, resting on his elbows. 

“You talked to him today?”

“Yes. I don’t understand, what’s–”

Before you can finish your question, he’s shuffling in his pocket and pulling out his phone. Frantically, he starts to look for something on it, obviously searching for something he deems as important as his fingers tap against the screen. Evidently, he finds what he’s looking for because his search comes to an end, and he takes a deep breath. The phone clacks down gently onto the wood of the desk and he slides it in your direction.

“Was this him?”

You take a few steps closer to the desk and peer down at the screen. Looking back at you is Eddie, tongue sticking out and hand held up in devil’s horns, standing beside your teacher–only much, much younger.

“W-What is this?”

“Is this him?” His voice is firm, but not aggressive.

“Yes, but I’m confused.” If you thought your brain was already jumbled up from no one knowing who you were talking about today, now it feels like it was put in a blender and puréed. 

“This is unbelievable,” your teacher mumbles, a smile starting to appear on his face once again. “Still taking care of lost sheep, huh?” The question is obviously not directed at you.

Confusion is starting to turn to irritation, and it isn’t like your favorite teacher to not answer your questions. He’s always willing to explain things as many times as needed in class.

“Mr. Henderson, what’s going on?”

The initial response is a chuckle and shake of his head, clearly amused by something.

“Eddie Munson. He, uh, used to go here.”

“Did he graduate?” You try to hide the pang of disappointment in your voice that he isn’t a fellow student anymore. 

The smile on Mr. Henderson’s face turns melancholic.

“Yeah. Yeah, he graduated.” Your teacher is clearly lost in a memory, and you can’t tell by his expression if it’s a happy one or a sad one. 

Now you can’t help but feel a little petty and whiney about the one person who seemed to understand you not being around. In spite of yourself, you frown and cross your arms over your chest.

“Why was he here?” you can’t help but ask, poking the bruise.

Mr. Henderson seems stumped by this question at first. He thinks for a silent moment, then his eyes spark as if something just came to him.

“Probably here to give me a message.” He doesn’t elaborate on that before looking back up at you. “Eddie doesn’t…live around here anymore. He was probably just passing through.”

“Somehow he could tell I was the new kid,” you say with a slightly embarrassed shrug—as if being the new kid is something people can smell on you.

“Yeah, Eddie always had a knack for finding new kids. Even kids who’ve been here for years but didn’t have many friends.”

“He definitely came to the right person then,” you admit sadly. In front of anyone else you would feel stupid speaking these thoughts out loud, but Mr. Henderson has seemed like a safe place ever since you arrived at Hawkins High. 

The man tilts his head and gives you a look of understanding—but not sympathy, like everyone else.

“Making friends can be hard. I was lucky I had friends coming into this school with me. Even so, I’m glad that Ed—uh, this upperclassman took me under his wing. Made a world of difference. Joined a club and made tons of new friends.”

The words spark a memory from your earlier conversation.

“Eddie mentioned that, actually. That I should join a club or something.”

Mr. Henderson chuckles softly to himself and mumbles of course he did under his breath. You’re not sure what’s so funny but it seems impolite to ask.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he says. He stands up from his chair and narrows his eyes. “I think I have a pretty good recommendation, too. Tell me, do you know anything about Dungeons and Dragons?”