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mike wheeler x reader (she/her pronouns) — friends to lovers (based loosely off role model's "some protector")
summary: (SPOILERS FOR ST 5) you want to go out on the crawls, but mike won’t let you. you think he’s being an asshole after keeping you from joining in on the action for the last year, but you learn there’s a lot more implications behind mike’s actions and he’s just trying to protect you.
word count: 4.4k
author's note: if you know me you know this is not my typical content, but i just watched st 5 vol. 1 and i literally needed to write something about it so i came up with this. if you’re a mike wheeler fan like i am, pls enjoy!! this got like crazy long somehow but again don’t read if you haven’t watched season 5 yet!! (also if u want more i guess i could write more lol!)
part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | st masterlist
you followed mike through the squawk. the two of you were talking, but it was slowly turning into an argument the madder you got at each other. a heavy sigh escaped your lips, "but why can't i come?"
"because you need to stay here. that's how this works. that's how we've been doing it," mike wasn't even looking at you as he talked, you were just tailing him as he gathered his supplies for the crawl. you guys were in the back area away from prying ears and eyes of everyone else, also trying to keep voices low so no one did hear you. mike crouched down for something beneath the table. "yeah, but i could be another lookout. in the van with dustin and steve. another set of eyes for you and lucas. these soldiers are no joke. another pair of eyes won't hurt anyone," you steadied yourself against the table, expression set and firm so mike knew you weren't trying to play.
he stood back up, meeting you at your exact height as he also steadied himself against the table and leaned down so you were eye level. his expression was also set, "we don't need another lookout or putting more people in the face of danger. it's risky enough sending all of us out."
"so that's my point. the more people out, the more eyes there are on the threats and less risk of casualties," you made a strong point but mike shook his head. "the more people out, the more casualties we could have."
"yeah, but that's the whole point. the more people you have out, the more people there can be for backup who aren't like miles away if something does go wrong." you didn't even know why you were arguing with mike. at this point it was just something the two of you did because you've been friends for so long. he wasn't even "in charge" of the crawls, hop was, but for some reason when you brought up the idea of joining mike and lucas for the crawl, mike was up in arms.
and you being you with your stubbornness and hard-headedness were arguing him about it and trying to figure out why he was so against you going out with them when it was never a fight before.
"i don't wanna have this argument with you right now. we don't have time for this. the crawl is staying to how it is," mike began walking away, but you grabbed his arm before he could go far. he stopped when you pulled him back around. "why do you have such a stick up your ass right now, mike? i sit in this basement all night wishing i could be doing more besides listening to all of you go back and forth on the radio. i wanna be useful. i haven't been useful since last fall."
"i don't have a stick up my ass, i'm just trying to be realistic. this is already as risky as it is—sneaking into mac-z and getting hopper past the guards. we don't need to be risking anyone else's life," he fully argued back with you that time.
this was getting ridiculous. another huff left your lips and it was hard to be serious when he stood almost a foot above you now. "if it's so risky then, what gives you the right to parade around and go out every month on these crawls? your life isn't any less valuable than mine is."
you seemed to have gotten mike with that one because he didn't say anything. he didn't even meet your gaze and for a second, you thought you might've cracked him.
but then he pulled his arm from your grasp and walked away. you followed and now your conversation was being pulled into the main room with everyone.
"mike, come on. you know i have killer aim and besides nancy and hopper, i'm the only one here who can use a gun. let me come. let me do something. let me feel useful. it's been a year since my injury and i'm fully healed. promise," you lifted your sleeve up to reveal the long scar down your right forearm—a harsh reminder of the demogorgon that got you. mike looked down at the scar and there was something unreadable in his expression.
everyone else in the room was listening to your argument now, gazes lingering between you and mike and then your scar. the tension was thick. you missed the glances everyone exchanged around you. mike closed his eyes like he was debating on changing his mind, but in reality it was racing.
"not happening. sorry," he said when his eyes opened again and continued to walk away. you didn't follow him this time and he disappeared up the stairs. you felt defeated and still confused why mike was acting that way. he'd been acting strange since last fall honestly, but you never pushed it knowing a lot had happened since then.
when you looked at everyone else you noticed the expressions on their faces. "what?"
"nothing. i know it sucks to just have to stay here, but the more people we have out, the more chances we run into problems," nancy went to you. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the older girl. "i just wanna feel like i'm doing something to help. i mean i used to be on the front lines with everyone and now it just feels like you all walk around egg shells with me just because i got hurt last year. i'm sick of it. i can handle myself," you complained and broke away to clear your head.
you didn't even look at mike as you booked it out of the building for fresh air. everything just felt weird. you were arguing with him but when he leaned across the table to be at eye level with you, you swore your stomach flipped. when he practically towered over you, you felt nauseous but in a good way.
something was happening and you couldn't understand it. you've known mike and the boys since you were kids and only by chance did you all become close because some stupid fucking monster decided to invade your town. these feelings...whatever they were..you didn't get it. it was freaking you out more than you liked to admit because one look from mike the past few months and your heart was fluttering in your chest.
—
the tension was still heavy as you helped mike and lucas get their things together for the crawl. he didn't even look at you and it kind of did hurt. he was your best friend and he couldn't even look in your direction.
you were handing mike his backpack when lucas stopped. "i think y/n should go in my place." all of your heads snapped to him.
"wait what—"
"she's right. she has a stronger aim than i do and she'll be better at the lookout with mike," lucas looked at you with a firm expression and you suddenly felt grateful he was standing up for you. "lucas, that's not the plan. we can't change the plan 5 minutes before we're supposed to leave," mike tried but the boy shook his head.
"you said it yourself, y/n. you don't wanna be tiptoed around, so i won't tiptoe around you," lucas determined.
you looked at lucas then to mike then back to hopper. the older man seemed surprised by this, but not amused. "as long as you know how to get me in and get me out, i don't care who's up there. we leave in 10."
you looked at lucas again and he nodded. you quickly hurried to get your own things while mike tugged his friend away from the ears of everyone else who seemed just as shocked by this new proposition. "what the hell are you doing?" the boy muttered.
"i'm doing what you're too afraid to do," lucas snapped a little which made mike roll his eyes. "i think i have valid reasons to be afraid."
"you've been babying her all year, mike. she's our friend who we've known our whole lives. she knows what she's capable of, and maybe this little rendezvous will finally get you to admit to her what you've also been hiding all year long," that was a dig and they both knew it. mike huffed.
"i'm not talking about this with you," the taller boy rolled his eyes.
"it's always "i'm not talking about this." when are you gonna finally start talking about it? what if it happens again? what if she does die and you never tell her how you feel? then what?" that was an even deeper dig and mike's expression morphed into anger.
"don't say shit like that! she was dying in my arms, lucas. i was the only one there. i didn't have anyone to help me. i had no phone. i-i thought i was losing her. i-i almost..we almost lost her. we already lost max. i can't lose her too," the silence was heavy. lucas had never see his friend so distressed before in his life and he finally decided to back off.
"alright. i get it, but i'm not going back on my word, and i still mean what i said. she's strong and you need to realize that or at least tell her why you've been acting like a douchebag lately," lucas walked away before mike could respond.
they were pedaling down the road towards mac-z ten minutes later on the dot. it was dark, but the street lights gave ample light for mike and you to see as you went towards the military base. neither of you talked since leaving or lucas declaring you were going instead of him. both of your heads felt fuzzy and feelings were complicated. mike did occasionally look back at you to make sure you were still following close behind, but that was all you got from him.
when you pulled up the old church, you didn't realize just how close it was to the military base. you could literally see the soldiers with your own two eyes and you didn't even need to really squint. mike led the way through the dark shadows as you snuck inside and climbed the steeple to get to the lookout spot.
when you got to the top mike grabbed your hand to pull you the rest of the way. he helped steady you once you were up, "you okay?"
your cheeks flushed, "yeah. all good."
the two of you got low as you crept towards the edge and set your things up. mike was putting you on radio duty while he watched with the binoculars. you laid your gun out just in case and now it was a waiting game until hopper said he was in place. mike scanned the area to see if there was anything going on.
"quiet for now, but i'm sure they'll come in soon," he mumbled. you nodded and then that heavy, tension-filled silence fell around you two. the remnants of your fight were still lingering, but neither of you knew how to apologize or talk about it. obviously, you said all you wanted so it was on mike to say something.
but mike didn't know how to say something. you were his best friend and he was supposed to be an awkward, kind of a loser teenager. he didn't know how to talk about stuff like this. lucas' words lingered in the back of his mind though and kind of ate away at him because mike did acknowledge that he was being a bit of an asshole to you lately. he sighed out loud and your gaze shot to his.
"about earlier...that stuff we were arguing about...i don't mean to make you feel useless. you're not. you're far from it, actually. you are a crucial part to this team and i'm sorry if it's felt like i've been like..babying you." you were listening but you didn't say anything. "it's just been..a really, really weird year after finding out all of this stuff about vecna and knowing he's still out there..and then there's the stuff he was telling nancy. i know that's not an excuse for how i've been treating you. i just don't want anyone else to get hurt." mike finished and you took a second to take his words in.
he sounded genuine. you always knew he was when he got into this side of himself and admitted his mistakes. losing max had been really hard on everyone and definitely made people more on edge than before. it hit even harder knowing vecna had that capability and was still roaming free plotting his his next victims.
"you're my best friend and we've been there for each other since we were kids. i don't know what i'd do without you if something happened...and i guess seeing you almost die in my arms has made me more wary. but i know you're strong and you know how to handle yourself, so i shouldn't have been so harsh about everything," mike looked at you and your stomach did that thing again. it was a really good thing it was dark and he couldn't really see your face in clear detail. it also didn't help that he was at eye level with you.
you subconsciously touched the scar hidden under your sleeves. every morning when you got dressed it was a reminder of what happened and truthfully, that night was still pretty hazy for you. after getting knocked out, you didn't remember what happened. when you woke up almost three days later, you had zero memory of that night and the boys had to fill it in for you. it came back slowly, sometimes in dreams, but you knew there were pieces missing still.
"i get it. last year was..a mess honestly. we almost died like a hundred times and..i know it's made all of us on edge. you're my best friend too and i don't want us to feel like we have to beat around the bush or anything because of what happened. the good part is that max and i didn't die, we just..she got it worse than me. i'm still here though and i appreciate your worry for me. i worry for you too," you finally said. a soft smile graced mike's lips and he reached over to rub your shoulder. his touch sent goosebumps up your skin.
"thanks, y/n/n. we're in this together, yeah? we're gonna figure all of this out," you smiled too. "yeah. we are."
that same look mike gave you when he stared at your scar earlier crossed his features again. it was one you couldn't figure out and whenever you asked the boys about it, they acted clueless. "t-that night..when you..when i thought you were gonna die..i..i um—"
the radio beside you crackled and interrupted mike. you quickly grabbed it to hold to your ear. "squawk to crow's nest, anything? over," it was joyce checking in. mike looked through the binoculars and slowly shook his head.
"negative, not a peep," you informed while mike continued scanning the area.
"wait, i see something. packages incoming. four trucks, outer east gate on main," mike said so you repeated.
you also watched the trucks roll in and the burners begin to torch the gate so the trucks could move in. you weren't even close to the heat, but you could feel it when it blew out and there were suddenly so many flames at once. "holy shit," you muttered.
distant screeches could be heard as the fire slowly broke open the gate. the sound unsettled you and you wondered how those soldiers were so chill about it knowing anything could walk through the gate at any moment. you didn't know how you were so chill about being so close to that big of a gate. the more you stared, the more you suddenly noticed the little light posts inside the mac-z begin flickering. your eyes bounced to their other light sources and they started flickering too.
"wait, mike. there's something going on," you grabbed his arm to get his attention.
the harder the flames blew, the more the lights started going crazy and the soldiers were also starting to notice. your eyes widened and your grip tightened on the boy's arm next to you.
a figure bounced out from the flames and you gasped when you realized it was a demogorgon. "shit!" mike exclaimed.
"t-there's a demogorgon out. i repeat, there's a demogorgon out," you quickly radioed so the others knew.
"what?!" joyce shrieked.
you saw another one jump out and basically eat the soldiers trying to fight back. "shit. we need to go. we need to go right now," mike urged. you swiped everything up and quickly hurried back down the steeple. the soldier's screams continued filling your ears.
mike was leading you out and around the church to your bikes when a demogorgon literally spawned in front of you. you shrieked in fear while mike shoved you behind him. he had your gun and didn't hesitate taking a shot directly at its mouth when it's mouth flap things opened and roared at you.
the demogorgon tried swiping at you guys. mike quickly dodged and took another shot. once your initial fear subsided, you looked for anything to help him defend yourselves. someone must've left one of those metal fire sticks out because you saw one laying on the ground. you immediately grabbed it and came in swinging at the side of it's face.
it stumbled back so you took another hit while it was unstable. mike also shot another bullet at it's chest, but damn those things were hard to kill. it swiped at you, but you quickly rolled to dodge it. you got up to swing again, but when you did it grabbed the end of your stick. your feet lifted off the ground and another scream left your lips.
"y/n!" mike exclaimed, taking as many shots as he could to kill it.
the demogorgon went for your head and you braced yourself and pretty much accepted your fate until it suddenly stopped. it dropped the stick and you fell onto the ground and mike was at your side a second later. "shit, y/n. are you okay?"
the two of you watched as the demogorgon ran away from you two and so did the other one that was attacking the soldiers. you were shaking as mike helped you up. "are you okay? can you ride your bike still?" he looked you over and you nodded.
"y-yeah. i'm fine," you muttered.
"okay. we need to go. we need to get out of here," he said. you two scrambled onto your bikes while mike pulled the headset from his backpack. you did the same.
"will said the demogorgon is going for holly. we need to get back home," the two of you heard nancy as soon as the headsets were on. that must've been why it stopped attacking you.
"what do you mean going for holly?" mike exclaimed.
"will said he saw it going for our house. meet me there as fast as you can," nancy urged.
"yeah, yeah, we're on our way," you and mike exchanged a wary glance.
—
it was loud in the hospital. mike was holding you to his side as the two of you reeled from the events in the last hour. everything was fuzzy while you waited for updates about karen and ted. neither of you had said much since you got to the hospital and there wasn't really much to say anyway. holly was gone in the upside down. hopper was lost without contact. it got worse so fast.
all of this was sparking memories mike was trying really hard to suppress and forget about.
mike's eyes opened just in time to see the demogorgon send you flying through the air. you landed or more like tumbled across the pavement with a loud thud before the demogorgon ran off to something else that must've got its attention. mike got himself up and ran to you. "y/n! y/n! oh my god," he was on his knees and that's when he saw the blood gushing from your arm.
"holy shit. oh my god," he scrambled to get his jacket off to try and slow the bleeding. there was so much though that it immediately soaked through the fabric. the boy's eyes widened.
"y/n, come on. y/n stay with me. please stay with me," he cradled you into his lap. his eyes darted around, but there was literally no one in his close vicinity. he didn't even have a phone or his walkie to call someone. you were bleeding so much and your shoulder was at a funny position.
"come on, y/n stay with me. you're gonna be okay. it's gonna be okay," mike leaned down to check if you were still breathing. it was soft and slow, but it was there.
he breathed out in relief. "i'm gonna get you help. i promise. i just need you to hang on for me. just hang on."
he looked around again and still no one. "someone help! someone please help!" mike yelled to anyone who could hear. there had to be someone close by. one of your friends or something. anyone. he looked back down at you basically lifeless in his arms.
"i'm so sorry, y/n. i'm sorry. this wouldn't have happened if i just..if i just. please don't die. please. i can't lose you. you're my best friend and if i lose you..i love you, you know that? i love you. i've loved you since last summer, but i just never knew how to tell you. i still don't know and i'm shitty for doing this when you're dying, but i want you to know. i want you to know that i love you."
someone finally came to their rescue. dustin stood there in shock before rushing to find something to help mike slow the bleeding. nancy, steve, robin, and jonathan came and it was a scramble to get you to the hospital. the aftermath left you in a coma for 3 days while the doctors pumped medication into you to keep you alive.
when you woke up you didn't remember anything which meant you knew nothing of mike's confession. the boy shuddered and abruptly stood up causing you to look up at him. "i need some fresh air," he mumbled and left without saying anything else.
you watched him hurry down the hallway and then he was gone from your sight. you had no idea where his little outburst came from, but you knew he probably had a lot on his mind now after everything. he said he wanted fresh air, but you didn't want to leave him alone so you quickly followed after him.
the hospital doors slid open and you saw him with his back to you a few steps down. for second, you hesitated. the day had been such a whirlwind of emotions from fighting to making up to now this. you didn't want to upset him even more, but you also knew how much you appreciated having a friend close by even if you said you didn't want one. so you went to him. you slid in next to him and didn't say anything. he didn't say anything either but he didn't need to. you put your head on his shoulder.
"i know it hurts. they're gonna be okay though," you comforted not knowing his parents weren't the reason he was so wound up right now.
"it's not about them," mike admitted.
"what?" you grew confused. you lifted your head up and mike looked at you long and hard it made your stomach flip for like the 5th time that night.
"that night..that night you got hurt. last year?" he breathed once, then twice, "you were literally dying in my arms and i thought you were going to. i was so scared. i didn't know what to do. there was no one around me. i thought i was going to watch you die. there was so much blood too. i confessed that i loved you."
your breath hitched.
"i said i loved you since that last summer. i knew that i'd regret it if i didn't say it then..when you woke up though 3 days later, you had no memory of anything from that night. i couldn't find it in me to tell you again, so i just didn't. i didn't think it mattered anymore. you lived and..i mean it wasn't the time to be thinking about stupid feelings," mike shook his head.
you were shocked. suddenly, everything made sense. the reason why he'd been acting weird towards you all year. why the guys gave you weird looks sometimes. why he didn't want you in the crawls. it wasn't because he hated you or suddenly started disliking you. it was because he loved you and was trying to protect you.
"mike.."
"you don't have to say anything. you probably don't even feel the same way i get it. it's fine. i just..i feel like i needed to tell you because after all this that's happened, it's all i can think about and how things keep happening and i keep not saying stuff."
"mike. i..i do feel the same way. i have for awhile too," you admitted. his gaze shot to yours so fast you swore he got whiplash. his eyes crinkled at the edges and he looked at you like he didn't believe you.
"you do?"
"yeah, i do. i love you too. i honestly thought i was going crazy for feeing it."
his gaze softened and he reached for you again. you let him take you into his arms and it just all made sense now. the looks and the feelings in your stomach were all there for a reason and not you just going crazy and thinking too much into things. you clutched him tight. "it's gonna be okay, i promise. we're gonna figure all of this out," you said and he held you tighter.
"i really hope so because i think we're very far from being out of the woods and taking down vecna," he admitted. you frowned, but cupped his cheek. your hands were warm against his slightly cold skin.
a moment later your lips were on his and now you knew the exact reason for the fuzzy feeling in your stomach this time.
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hii, im absolutely IN LOVE with your writing i stayed all night reading about eddie (its an actual addiction) and i LOVEEE how you write eddie fics and i swear i could spent my whole life reading them, ALSO I NEED MORE SOFT/SWEET EDDIE FICS IM ADDICTED TO THEM. you are SO talented and keep up the good work!!
xoxo-cici 😗
AH THANK YOU SWEET CICI. i appreciate you sososo much🥹💕💕
immediately had inspo for a fic and have been writing it all day. it is going to be VERY angsty, very focused on the reader and dustin’s pain with losing eddie. (he isn’t dead in this fic, but he IS in a coma)
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Every time I scroll Pinterest, I see these text posts, and my immediate thought is: "This is so Eddie coded".
So, to hold you over until my next fic is posted, here are some lighthearted POVs as if you and Eddie were texting, dming, etc., with little headcanons. all besides two of these are bf!eddie. many of these are NSFW (18+) or dance on the topic, so proceed with caution.
(None of these photos are mine, just stuff people have graciously posted to Pinterest.)
anyways, roblogs are always appreciated<33
For reference:
like he would say some shit like that fr.
enjoy<3
bf!eddie who loves when you're mean to him.
bf!eddie who is your submissive little good boy and loves being told as such.
bf!eddie drunk as fuck after going to the hideout with Steve and Jonathan for "boys' night", just to send you a long string of horny messages about what he'd do to you.
bf!eddie who doesn't take arguments seriously. you try to be mean or stern and he just responds with some fuck ass comment like this. he's dead serious too, btw.
(almost)bf!eddie trying to convince you that he's worthy of your love and trust. he's much more of a cat, anyway.
i dont really know what this headcannon would be besides bf!eddie high as a kite talking about a hooter outside his windoe.
bf!eddie sending you pretty pictures of him while you're at work or school to look forward to coming over later.
best friend!eddie getting snitched on by spell check, accepting it, and shooting his shot. (it worked, obviously).
best friend!eddie being a little shit
bf!eddie high, once again, complaining about fish. probably after he was at dustin's house and the fish in his little aquarium tank didn't want to play with eddie.
Part 2?...
i hope you all enjoyed:) i remember i did a poll a while back asking about eddie headcanons. i thought these would be something cute and different to try out, since they're more modern.
description: eddie munson: menace to society, terror of hellfire, professional instigator. also eddie munson: brings his girlfriend lunch, calls her “sweetheart” in public, and gets clingy when he’s drunk. literally the best boyfriend ever imo.
pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: boyfriend!eddie, established relationship, nauseating fluff omfg, not ashamed of PDA, sweethearts you to death, brings you food & flowers, forehead kisses!!, hands on you at all times, sleepy cuddles, drunk eddie is clinggyyyy, always checking if you ate, wearing his clothes, scoops ahoy shenanigans, whole friend group calls him out but he simply doesn't care, your mom loves him
TW: ur face is gonna burn from the amount of blushing, sorry!!
WC: 4.5k
A/N: here's a spoonful of sugar on this fine Wednesday night!! requested by @eddiemunsonsimpp i hope you love it!! reblogs are always appreciated!! <3 i have a craving for angst after writing this LOLOLOLOLOL sorta. enjoy my loves🤍
The table rattles when Eddie slams his hand down, rings clinking sharply against the wood, eyes wild under the dim glow of the theatre room lights.
“No—no, you don’t get to second-guess now,” he snaps, leaning across the board like he’s about to climb into it. “You made your move, Henderson, you live with the consequences. That’s how this works. That’s how life works.”
“Dude—” Mike starts, already half-defensive.
“Nope!” Eddie cuts him off, pointing a dramatic finger like a dagger. “No take-backs. No rewinds. The goblins smell fear, and right now?” He grins, all teeth, all chaos. “You reek of it.”
Dustin groans. “You’re literally evil.”
“I am a merciless god,” Eddie corrects, spreading his arms like he’s about to summon lightning. “And you—”
The door creaks open.
“Hey,” you say softly. And it’s like someone flipped a switch.
Eddie freezes mid-rant.
Hand still in the air, expression still intense for a half-second too long before it melts. Into something soft, something that has absolutely no business existing on the same face that just threatened fictional teenagers with death-by-goblin.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping instantly, like it was made just for you.
The boys at the table all groan in unison.
“Oh my god,” Dustin mutters. “There it is.”
“Thank you,” Mike says, pointing at you like you’re a savior. “Your boyfriend is being EVIL.”
You glance at Eddie, eyebrows lifting just slightly.
“Evil?” you echo.
Eddie scoffs, already pushing his chair back, completely abandoning the campaign like it never mattered.
“Slander. Absolute slander.” He moves around the table toward you, all easy smiles now, reaching for your hands like it’s instinct. “I was being firm. There’s a difference.”
“You told him his character was going to die alone in a ditch.”
“He is going to die alone in a ditch,” Eddie says lightly, then immediately softens again, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “But that’s not important right now.”
It’s ridiculous, honestly. One second, he’s theatrical doom incarnate, the next, he’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon.
“You came,” he adds, quieter, almost like it surprised him.
“Yeah,” you smile. “I said I would.”
Behind him, Gareth makes a gagging noise.
“Can you at least pretend we’re still here?” he calls out.
Eddie doesn’t even turn around. Just lifts a hand and waves him off lazily. “Campaign’s on pause. Critical emotional moment happening.”
“OH MY GOD—”
“Watch your tone,” Eddie shoots back automatically, then softer, without missing a beat:
“You want to sit? I can grab you a chair. Or, wait, did you eat? I brought snacks, but I can get you something better if—”
“You’re doing it again,” you tease.
He blinks. “Doing what?”
“This,” you gesture between the two of you. “The—” you lower your voice, mimicking him, “‘sweetheart, did you eat, do you need a chair, do you need the world handed to you on a silver platter’ thing.”
Eddie grins, completely unapologetic. “Yeah. And?”
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
Behind you, Dustin leans toward Mike. “It’s like watching a rabid dog turn into a golden retriever.”
“I hate it here,” Mike whispers back.
Eddie ignores them entirely, already shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders like it’s second nature.
“It’s cold in here,” he says, softer now, fingers lingering for a second too long at your arms. “You always say it’s cold.”
“Thank you,” you murmur.
“Always,” he says.
From the table: “ARE WE PLAYING OR NOT?”
Eddie sighs dramatically, finally turning halfway back toward them.
“Fine, fine, everyone chill, I’ll be back in two seconds.” Then, quieter to you, leaning in just enough that it feels like a secret: “Stay? Please?”
As if you were going anywhere. You nod, immediately.
“That’s my girl.”
Gareth makes an even cruder gag leave his mouth, “That’s it, I’m going to hurl.”
You tilt your head, peeking around Eddie’s shoulder. “Do it away from the table, please. I don’t think that’s in the campaign notes.”
Eddie grins, obnoxiously proud, like you just proved a point he didn’t even have to argue. “Hear that? Even she’s got table etiquette. Take notes, freaks.”
“Oh, we’re the problem?” Mike scoffs. “You literally just abandoned us mid–near-death experience.”
“Character development,” Eddie shoots back. “Builds resilience.”
“You said he was going to die in a ditch.”
“And he is, Henderson, keep up—” Eddie starts, already winding back into it before he catches himself, glancing at you.
Immediately, his tone softens again.
“You sure you’re good?” he asks, quieter, thumb brushing your wrist like he can’t help it. “Not too loud? I can kick them out.”
“Hey—!” the table protests in unison.
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m okay. Promise.”
He studies you for a second like he’s making absolutely sure, then nods. “Alright. But if they get annoying—”
“Oh! We’re annoying?” Dustin cuts in.
Eddie points at him without looking. “You’re first to go.”
You bite back a smile, leaning in just slightly. “You’re very protective for someone who was just threatening fictional murder.”
Eddie leans closer too, conspiratorial, voice dropping like it’s just for you. “Two very different skill sets, sweetheart.”
“Oh, clearly.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “Go play your game, Munson.”
He hesitates for half a second like he actually might argue, then sighs, dramatic as ever. “Fine. But if I TPK them, it’s because you distracted me.”
“You don’t need help with that,” you shoot back.
Dustin slams the table. “THANK YOU.”
Eddie points at you again, delighted. “See? She gets me.”
“Sit down!” Mike snaps.
Eddie leans in one last time, quick, pressing the softest kiss to your temple.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs.
You huff a quiet laugh. “I won’t.”
The bell above the door jingles lazily as it swings open, letting in a wave of warm air that immediately clashes with the artificial chill of Scoops Ahoy.
You don’t look up at first. You’re halfway through scooping mint chocolate chip for a kid who cannot, for the life of him, decide if he wants sprinkles or not.
“Sprinkles,” Steve says flatly from beside you. “You want sprinkles. Everyone wants sprinkles. It’s not a personality trait, kid.”
Robin snorts from the register.
“Steve Harrington, bully of small children,” she mutters.
“Hey, I’m helping—”
The bell jingles again. Eddie stands just inside the doorway, a little flushed from the heat, hair wild from the wind, Hellfire shirt slightly wrinkled like he threw it on in a rush.
There’s a brown paper bag in one hand, carefully folded at the top.
His eyes find you immediately. And then, there it is. That soft, stupid, completely gone look.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, like there’s no one else in the room.
Steve physically recoils.
“Oh my god,” he whispers.
Robin’s eyes go wide. “No, no, I need to see this up close.”
You bite back a smile, handing the kid his cone before wiping your hands quickly.
“Hey,” you say, stepping around the counter. “What’re you doing here?”
Eddie shrugs like it’s nothing, but he’s already walking toward you, opening the bag.
“Wayne made chili,” he says, voice softer now, like he’s letting you in on something special. “Saved you some. Said, and I quote: ‘Don’t let that girl eat mall food all day.’”
Your face lights up instantly. “You’re lying.”
“Would I lie about Wayne’s chili?” Eddie gasps, offended. “That’s sacred ground, sweetheart.”
He pulls out the container, still warm, and hands it to you like it’s something fragile.
You take it carefully, grinning. “Tell him I love him.”
“Already did,” Eddie says easily. “He told me to tell you to stop forgetting to eat.”
Robin makes a noise that is somewhere between a squeal and a choke.
Steve just stares. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Eddie glances over, unimpressed. “Still me, Harrington. Relax.”
“No, because this—” Steve gestures wildly between you and the chili and the entire situation “—this is not the guy who told Dustin he was going to emotionally devastate his character last night.”
“I did emotionally devastate his character,” Eddie corrects. “This is unrelated.”
Robin leans over the counter, chin in her hands, watching like it’s live entertainment. “So, what, you just… bring her food now? That’s a thing you do?”
Eddie shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Yeah.”
“You bring us anything?” Steve cuts in.
Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”
“That’s insane.”
You laugh, nudging Eddie lightly with your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” he says, softer. “Wanted to.”
Behind you, Robin grabs Steve’s arm. “I’m telling you right now, she’s the reason he hasn’t committed at least three felonies this week.”
“Low estimate,” Steve mutters.
Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s no bite to it. “You guys done, or—?”
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Robin says sweetly. “Seriously, what did you do to him?”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
Steve leans in, conspiratorial. “He’s like, domesticated.”
Eddie makes a face. “I will leave. I will take the chili, and I will go.”
You immediately clutch it closer. “Don’t you dare.”
“See?” Steve points. “Proof. She’s got him trained.”
Eddie scoffs, but his hand finds your wrist anyway, thumb brushing lightly like he can’t help it.
“No one’s training me, alright? I just...” he glances at you, something softer flickering there “...like taking care of her.”
Robin softens for half a second at that, then immediately ruins it.
“Gross,” she says.
“Deeply gross,” Steve agrees.
You laugh, shaking your head. “Ignore them.”
“Gladly,” Eddie says, eyes still on you.
“Oh!” Robin suddenly straightens. “Wait, speaking of gross, Jonathan’s having people over tonight.”
You raise a brow. “Gross?”
“Not like that,” she waves it off. “Joyce is out with Hopper, so it’s basically free house privileges. Music, drinks, the usual.”
Steve perks up. “Yeah, it’s actually gonna be fun. You should come.”
Robin grins at you. “And bring this one. I wanna see if he can survive outside of a dungeon setting.”
Eddie scoffs. “Please. I thrive in all environments.”
“You almost got kicked out of a movie theater for yelling at the screen,” Steve reminds him.
“They were making bad decisions!”
You laugh again, looking between them before glancing back at Eddie. “You wanna go?”
He doesn’t even pretend to think about it.
“If you’re there?” he says, easy. “Yeah.”
Robin clutches her chest. “I can’t do this. I can’t watch this happen in real time.”
“Too late,” Steve mutters. “We’re witnesses.”
Eddie ignores them entirely, nudging the chili gently back toward you. “Eat first,” he says, softer. “Then we’ll figure it out, yeah?”
You nod, smiling. “Yeah.”
Your room smells faintly of perfume and hairspray, and the window is cracked just enough to let in the cool evening air.
It’s a mess in that very specific, I tried on five outfits and rejected all of them kind of way. Clothes draped over your chair, shoes kicked off near the bed, a half-open drawer that you absolutely meant to close ten minutes ago.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly.
Before you can overthink it again, you hear the familiar rumble of his van outside; loud, unmistakable, and a little obnoxious. Your lips tug into a smile before you can stop them.
The doorbell rings a second later.
“Got it!” your mom calls from downstairs.
You freeze for half a second, then immediately move, smoothing your hands down your outfit as you step into the hallway.
“Well, there he is!” your mom says, bright.
“Hi, ma—” Eddie starts, then grins, already holding up the messy bundle of wildflowers. “Brought peace offerings.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that every time,” she says, but she’s smiling like she absolutely expects it.
“Yeah, I do,” Eddie shrugs easily. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
“You really do,” she laughs, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in, come in. She’s still getting ready, shockingly.”
“Hey!” you call from the stairs.
Eddie looks up immediately.
“Hi, sweetheart."
“Hi,” you smile, starting down the stairs.
Your mom gestures toward the flowers. “You see what I mean? Every time.”
“I’m consistent,” Eddie says proudly.
“You’re extra,” you correct.
“Only for you.”
“Mmhm,” you hum, but you’re smiling as you step closer.
He holds the flowers out to you like it’s second nature now.
“These are for you.”
“Wildflowers again?” you ask, taking them.
“Best kind,” he says. “Low maintenance. Survive anything.”
Your mom points at him. “That’s exactly what I said.”
You narrow your eyes. “You two have been talking about me?”
“Extensively,” Eddie nods.
“Eddie.”
“Kidding,” he grins. “Mostly.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing, setting the flowers down carefully before turning back to them.
Your mom leans casually against the wall. “I was just telling him you used to take twenty minutes to pick an outfit when you were ten.”
“That is not—”
“It absolutely is,” she cuts in.
Eddie’s eyes light up. “No way.”
“Do not encourage her.”
“I’m fascinated,” he says. “Please, continue.”
You point at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” he says easily. “I just also want the full story.”
Your mom nods approvingly. “Smart man.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You groan. “Unbelievable. I’m being teamed up on in my own house.”
Eddie steps closer, nudging your arm lightly. “Hey,” he murmurs, softer, “if it helps, you still look better than anything ten-year-old you picked.”
You glance at him, fighting a smile. “Barely.”
He grins. “Debatable.”
“So, where are you two off to tonight?”
“Jonathan’s,” you say. “Joyce is out.”
“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “One of those nights.”
Eddie raises a hand. “Respectfully, ma’am, I will be keeping an eye on things.”
You blink at him. “Oh, you will?”
He shrugs. “Someone’s gotta be responsible.”
Your mom laughs. “This is true.”
You look between them. “I’m right here.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, glancing at you, grin softening. “Exactly.”
You shake your head, grabbing your bag. “Okay, before I lose all authority in this situation, we’re leaving.”
“Bye, Mom!”
“Have fun!” she calls. “And Eddie—”
He pauses, turning back.
“Drive safely, please.”
Eddie grins. “Always do.”
You roll your eyes as you step outside, the cool air hitting your skin.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “You’ve completely won her over.”
Eddie squeezes your hand lightly. “I didn’t win her over,” he says.
You glance at him. “Oh yeah?”
He smiles. “She already liked me.”
You bump your shoulder into his. “Cocky.”
“Accurate,” he corrects.
Then, he opens the van door for you, bowing his head with the usual dramatic flair.
"M'lady."
"Thank you, kind sir."
That earns a quick, satisfied smile before he closes the door gently.
The Byers’ is already buzzing when you pull up.
Music spilling out into the yard. The lights are on inside, silhouettes moving past the windows, laughter drifting out every time the door opens.
Eddie cuts the engine, glancing over at you.
“You ready?” he asks, but his hand’s already finding yours, thumb brushing slow, absentminded strokes.
You smile. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” he nods, then leans over and presses a quick kiss to your temple before he even gets out of the van. “Just checking.”
Your heart does that thing again.
You shove him lightly. “We literally just got here.”
“Yeah, and?” he grins. “Gotta set the tone.”
The second you walk in:
“OH MY GOD," Robin yells.
She barrels over like she’s been waiting by the door.
“You made it, and you brought him, amazing,” she says, grabbing your arm before immediately clocking Eddie’s hand at your waist. “Yep. Still attached. Good to know.”
Eddie snorts, unfazed. “Hi to you, too, Buckley.”
Steve appears behind her, drink in hand. “Alright, I give it… ten minutes before he calls her ‘sweetheart’ in front of everyone.”
Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. He pulls you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your hair.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Steve throws his head back. “I wish I were deaf.”
You laugh, tucking into Eddie’s side as he keeps his arm wrapped around you.
Nancy smiles as she walks over.
“Hi,” she says to you, then glances at Eddie, who’s now rubbing slow circles into your hip without even thinking about it. “You weren’t exaggerating.”
You blink. “About what?”
Nancy just raises a brow. You don’t even get the chance to respond before:
“EDDIE! PONG!” A chorus from across the room.
Eddie groans dramatically, dropping his head to your shoulder. “They’re animals. All of them.”
“You love it,” you say.
“Okay, I’m coming,” Eddie sighs, but he doesn’t let go of you right away.
Instead, he presses another quick kiss to your temple, then your cheek, like he’s collecting them. “Stay right here?”
“Go,” you laugh, nudging him. “Before they riot.”
You end up leaning against the kitchen counter with Nancy, watching the chaos unfold.
Eddie’s at the pong table now, already loud, already animated: shouting, laughing, pointing at Robin like she personally insulted him.
“You’re aiming wrong!” he yells.
“I am NOT aiming wrong, you’re just bad!” Robin fires back.
“Blasphemy!”
You can’t help smiling. Nancy watches you for a second before speaking.
“He’s really different with you.”
You glance at her. “What do you mean?”
She nods toward him.
“You know him,” she says. “He’s always like that.” She gestures; wild, loud, over-the-top.
“But with you?”
Right on cue, Eddie looks up and finds you instantly, like a magnet. His entire face softens completely, and he flashes you that notorious Munson grin.
“That,” she says.
You laugh a little. “He’s just… like that.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “He’s not. Not with anyone else.”
“OH MY GOD HE MADE IT—”
Eddie jumps, arms up, Robin yelling with him as the ball drops into a cup.
“LET’S GO—!”
He spins immediately, scanning the room again until he finds you, points, and grins. Like he did it for you.
Nancy leans closer. “See?”
You bite back a smile, shaking your head.
A little while later, he’s back. Slightly flushed now, a little looser, eyes brighter.
“Told you I’d win,” he says, sliding right back into your space like he never left, hands immediately finding your waist.
“You were gone for like, five minutes,” you tease.
“Longest five minutes of my life,” he sighs dramatically, then drops his forehead to yours.
You laugh softly. “You’re tipsy.”
“I am charming,” he corrects.
“You’re clingy.”
“Only with you,” he murmurs.
His fingers trace along your arm, like he just needs to be touching you somewhere. Nancy watches, fully invested at this point.
“Does he always do this?” she asks you.
Eddie answers for you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah.”
You roll your eyes, but you lean into him anyway.
“He’s worse when he drinks,” you say.
“I’m better,” Eddie argues, nuzzling slightly into your hair.
Robin walks by, gagging loudly. “You’re a nightmare.”
“Jealous,” Eddie shoots back lazily, not even looking at her.
“Of what?!” she demands.
He sticks his tongue out in response, squeezing you a little tighter.
Nancy laughs under her breath.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” she admits. “It’s kind of… cute.”
“Don’t encourage him,” you say, even as your fingers curl into his shirt.
Eddie hums softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.
“Too late,” he murmurs. “She loves it.”
Nancy smiles. “I do.”
You stare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” she says. “This is just surprisingly, really entertaining.”
Across the room, Steve shouts something about a rematch, and Eddie groans.
“Do you have to go back?” you ask, teasing.
He looks at you, at them, then back at you.
“…No,” he decides.
You laugh. “Eddie.”
“I’m serious,” he says, softer now, thumb brushing your cheek. “I’d rather stay here.”
Your chest tightens just a little. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “But you like it.”
You, in fact, do.
And when he leans down, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, arms wrapped around you, holding you close like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, it’s enough to make anyone watching roll their eyes.
By the time you get Eddie into the passenger seat, he’s all loose limbs and soft laughter, head tipping back against the seat.
“You’re not allowed to tell anyone you’re driving,” he mumbles as you reach over to buckle him in. “Ruins my reputation.”
You snort. “Your reputation is already in critical condition.”
“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your wrist before you pull away, eyes half-lidded but still locked on you. “You look really pretty tonight.”
You smile despite yourself. “You already told me that.”
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Doesn’t stop being true.”
You gently pry your hand free. “Sit back, Munson.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says instantly, then giggles at himself like it’s the funniest fucking thing he’s ever heard.
The drive is quiet. Eddie hums along to the radio, occasionally reaching over just to rest his hand on your thigh like he needs to make sure you’re still there.
Every red light, he looks at you like he forgot how he got this lucky.
Wayne’s still up when you pull into the trailer. The porch light’s on, casting a soft yellow glow, and when you help Eddie out of the van, his arm slung heavy around your shoulders. The door creaks open.
“Well, well,” Wayne says, leaning against the frame, amused. “Looks like someone had a good time.”
Eddie lifts his head just enough. “Hi, Wayne.”
“You’re drunk,” Wayne replies easily.
“Allegedly.”
You laugh, adjusting your grip on him. “He lost that argument about an hour ago.”
Wayne’s eyes soften as he looks at you. “You alright, sweetheart? He didn’t give you too much trouble?”
You shake your head, smiling. “No, he’s been good. Just, uh, very talkative.”
“Always,” Wayne chuckles.
Eddie tightens his arm around you like he’s proving a point. “I’m fine.”
“Mhm,” Wayne hums. “You want some water before you pass out on the lawn?”
“I’m not—” Eddie starts, then immediately stumbles a little as you guide him up the steps.
You snort. “Inside. Now.”
Wayne laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “You got him?”
“I got him,” you nod.
“Good,” Wayne says, then softer, to you, “Appreciate you getting him home.”
“Always.”
Getting Eddie down the short hallway is… an experience. He’s clinging now, fully, all weight and affection, face tucked into your shoulder.
“You smell nice,” he mumbles.
“Eddie. Walk.”
“I am walking,” he argues weakly.
“You’re leaning.”
“Strategically.”
You laugh, finally managing to get him into his room.
“Okay,” you say, easing him down onto the bed. “Stay.”
He flops back dramatically. “I live here,” he informs you.
“Not the point.”
You turn to grab him a glass of water from the little table, but before you can even take a step, his hand catches yours again.
“Don’t go,” he says, softer now.
You glance back at him. “I’m just getting you water.”
“Stay,” he repeats, thumb brushing over your knuckles, slower this time. “Please?”
That please…You sigh, but you’re already smiling.
“I’m not leaving,” you promise. “I’m right here.”
He relaxes instantly, like that was all he needed. “Okay.”
You grab the water quickly anyway, pressing it into his hand. “Drink.”
He makes a face but listens, taking a few slow sips before handing it back like he’s completed a major task.
“Good?” you ask.
“Great,” he nods, then squints at you. “You sure you're staying?”
“Yeah.”
His whole face softens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” he says, like he’s trying to play it off, but the way his hand tightens around yours gives him away completely.
You move around the room like you’ve done it a hundred times, probably because you have. Kneeling down to the bottom drawer of his dresser, your drawer, where he keeps all the things you need for when you stay the night.
You pull it open, fingers brushing over your skincare, your “spare clothes”, which are just a jumble of his shirts, and various boxers he said looked “Sexier on you.”
You change quickly, slipping into one of his worn t-shirts, soft from too many washes, smelling faintly like him.
When you turn back, he’s watching you. Already half-asleep, but still watching.
“C’mere,” he mumbles, lifting an arm.
You laugh softly. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm,” he hums. “You're impossible.”
You crawl into bed beside him anyway. Immediately, he curls into you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close like it’s instinct.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, softer with sleep.
“Hi,” you whisper back.
He presses a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. “You drove me home.”
“Someone had to,” you tease lightly.
“Thanks,” he says.
You tuck a hand into his hair, smoothing it back gently. “Anytime.”
“You’re staying, right?” he asks again, eyes barely open.
You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m staying.”
He exhales, completely content now, nuzzling closer.
“Good,” he mumbles.
Your fingers trace lazy patterns along his arm, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside.
“Eddie?” you whisper.
“Mm?” he hums, voice thick with sleep, face tucked into your neck.
Your fingers trace lightly along his arm. “You’re very… affectionate when you drink. Like, more than usual."
“‘Cause I’m obsessed with you,” he mumbles, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
You blink in the dark. “…Eddie.”
“No, I am,” he insists, shifting just enough to look at you, eyes barely open. “Like, real bad. It’s kinda embarrassing.”
You let out a soft laugh. “You think?”
“Yeah,” he nods weakly, already nuzzling back into you. “Like, I see you and I just—” he makes a small, frustrated sound “—forget how to act normal.”
“You’ve never acted normal a day in your life.”
“Not the point,” he murmurs. “You make it worse.”
You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Oh, I’m the problem?”
“Yeah,” he says immediately. “You’re too pretty. It’s distracting.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I’ll say it again,” he mumbles. “You’re really pretty.”
You huff a quiet laugh. “Okay.”
“And nice,” he adds. “And funny. And you let me talk a lot.”
“I tolerate it.”
“You love it,” he corrects.
“…Yes, I do.”
He hums, satisfied with that, tightening his arms around you like he’s proving a point.
“I like taking care of you,” he says after a second, softer now. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”
“You are,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks, voice quieter, almost unsure for a split second.
“Yeah.”
He relaxes completely, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Don’t let me mess this up.”
“You’re not going to.”
“You promise?” he mumbles, words slurring just slightly now.
You shift just enough to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”
He exhales, long and content, like that settles something deep in him.
“Okay,” he whispers.
His fingers trace lazy, uneven patterns against your side, slower and slower until they stop completely. But even as sleep takes him, he doesn’t let go. Not for a single second.
AGHHHHH i hope you all loved it!! Just something simple and sweet to cleanse the palate. my cheeks hurt from smiling...but i can't say i'm too mad abt it
description: (this might be the cutest fucking thing i've ever written) eddie being soft in all the ways you wouldn’t expect: sneaking up behind you saying “close your eyes,” always pressing something small and shiny into your hand, pulling you into his space like you belong there. quiet moments that turn into something bigger, a little chaos, a lot of sweetness, and a boy who says “mine” like he means it.
pairing: boyfriend!eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: boyfriend!eddie, soft!eddie, touch-starved x touchy bf, you might need a fucking root canal after how fluffy this shit is, acts of service, gift giving love language, "mine", loses his mind about you in his clothes, constantly reading to you, non-sexual intimacy, soft-dom eddie, domestic fluff, fake?! proposal!?
TW: giggling and kicking your feet may occur, proceed with caution
WC: 4.5k
A/N: oh my GOD YOU ARE NOT READY OMFGGSGGDG. this request came in from @mymind-is-a-warrior i hope i did your vision justice!! reblogs are always appreciated <33. much love, enjoy friends!
The hallway is loud in that particular way it always is between periods, lockers slamming, voices bouncing off tile, someone’s cassette player bleeding tinny music into the chaos, and you’re halfway through spinning the dial on your locker.
“Miss me, sweetheart?”
His voice is low, right by your ear, all gravel and teasing warmth.
Before you can even react, there’s a hand at your waist, the other catching your wrist, and he’s spinning you around like you weigh nothing, like this is second nature, like you belong right there in his orbit.
“Eddie—” you start, but you’re already smiling, already gone for him.
He grins like he’s just pulled off the greatest magic trick in the world, hair falling into his eyes, rings glinting as he lifts a finger in front of your face. “Ah, ah. No talking. Close your eyes.”
You narrow yours instead, suspicious. “That sounds like a trap.”
“It’s a gift,” he corrects, mock offended, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Jesus, you wound me.”
You huff a quiet laugh, but you listen, because it’s him, and you let your eyes fall shut. The hallway noise fades a little, or maybe it’s just that you’re suddenly hyper-aware of him.
“Hand,” he murmurs.
You lift it without question.
There’s a pause, like he’s taking his time on purpose, like he knows anticipation is half the fun, and then something cool presses against your finger. He slides it on slowly, like it means something, and it’s not just a joke.
“Okay,” he says softly, voice dropping just a fraction. “Open.”
You do.
It’s a ring, obviously, but not just any ring. It’s silver, a little worn in a way that feels intentional, the band thicker than anything delicate, and set into it is a small black stone, dark and glossy, catching the fluorescent lights just enough to gleam. It’s a little edgy, a little dramatic, very him.
You turn your hand slightly, watching it catch the light. “Eddie…”
He’s watching you like he’s waiting for a verdict, like your reaction matters more than he’d ever admit out loud, though the way he’s practically vibrating gives him away. “Saw it at the flea market this weekend,” he says, trying for casual and missing by a mile. “Thought of you. Y’know. Dark, mysterious, probably cursed—”
“It’s perfect,” you cut in, looking back up at him.
Something in his expression softens immediately, the edge of his grin melting into something warmer, quieter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You flex your fingers, the ring settling comfortably like it’s always belonged there. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” he shrugs, but there’s that fondness in his eyes again, unmistakable. “I wanted to. Gonna deck you out eventually, y’know. One ring for every time you put up with my bullshit.”
You snort. “So I’m gonna run out of fingers fast.”
“Hey,” he points at you, mock stern. “We can get creative.”
By lunch, you’ve already caught him staring at your hand more than once, like he can’t believe it’s still there, like it means more than just a piece of metal.
He laces his fingers through yours under the table, thumb brushing over the ring absentmindedly, and when you glance at him, he just gives you that lazy, crooked smile.
“Looks good on you, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
By the time you end up in his trailer, the light’s already starting to dim, that soft gold slipping into something quieter, and you’re sprawled across his bed with a textbook propped open in your lap like it personally offended you.
You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for at least five minutes.
“Okay,” you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. “This is actually torture.”
Eddie, who’s halfway through digging around for something in a drawer, glances over at you, brows lifting. “Homework’s kicking your ass, sweetheart?”
“I’ve read this sentence, like, twelve times,” you complain, tapping the page. “And I couldn’t tell you a single word of it. My brain is… gone. Evaporated. Dead.”
He hums, shutting the drawer and wandering over, dropping onto the bed beside you with a soft bounce. “Lemme see.”
You angle the book toward him, already slumping sideways until your shoulder bumps his. “It’s so boring,” you add, quieter now. “And I’m so tired.”
He scans the page for a second, lips moving slightly as he reads, and then he glances down at you, something soft flickering across his face.
“Alright,” he says, like he’s just made a decision. “Gimme it.”
You blink. “What?”
“Gimme the book,” he repeats, holding out his hand.
You hesitate, suspicious. “Why?”
“I’ll read it to you.”
You stare at him for a beat, then let out a short laugh. “You hate reading.”
“Wow,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him again. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I hate boring reading. Big difference.”
You squint at him. “This is literally boring reading.”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, taking the book from your hands anyway. “But you’re not.”
You feel your face warm just a little. “That was smooth.”
“I have my moments,” he shoots back, already flipping to your page. “Now, c’mere.”
You don’t argue. You never really do with him when he gets like this, all quietly insistent.
You shift closer, curling into his side, your head finding its place against his chest like it belongs there. His arm slides around you without hesitation, pulling you in, thumb brushing absently along your arm.
“Comfortable?” he murmurs.
“Mhm,” you hum, already softer.
“Good. Pay attention, this is gonna be riveting.”
You snort lightly as he starts reading, his voice dipping into that exaggerated seriousness for the first few lines, like he’s trying to make it entertaining for you.
He throws in a dramatic pause here and there, changes his tone just enough to make you smile, even if the content is still painfully academic.
“‘The socio—’ Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, then clears his throat. “Okay, hang on, I got this.”
You laugh quietly against him. “Struggling, Munson?”
“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “I am thriving. This is my calling, actually. Gonna drop out, become a professional textbook narrator.”
“Please do,” you mumble. “You’d make it bearable.”
“Damn right I would,” he says, softer now, the teasing easing into something warmer.
He keeps going, though, steady and patient, even when the words get dense, even when you can feel your focus slipping in and out.
Every now and then, his fingers drift up to your hair, gently combing through it, grounding you without pulling you out of the moment.
At some point, you realize you’re not even trying to read along anymore. You’re just listening to him, the cadence of his voice, the way his chest rises and falls under your cheek.
“Hey,” he murmurs after a while, glancing down when he feels you go a little heavier against him. “You still with me, sweetheart?”
“Barely,” you admit, eyes half-lidded. “But it’s not your fault.”
“Wow,” he says softly. “Devastating.”
You smile faintly. “You’re doing good.”
“Yeah?” his voice drops a little, quieter, more genuine. “Even though I supposedly hate reading?”
You tilt your head just enough to look up at him. “You don’t hate it. You just pretend to.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t expose me like that.”
“Too late.”
There’s a small pause, and then he shrugs one shoulder, like he’s giving in.
“Maybe I just like reading to you,” he says, almost offhand, like it’s not something that’s been sitting in his chest for a while.
You tuck yourself a little closer into him, pressing your face into his shirt. “Good.”
His arm tightens around you just a bit.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss into your hair before going back to the page. “Good.”
Somewhere between the third page and whatever long, winding sentence he’s currently fighting his way through, your focus slips completely.
Your body relaxes further into him, your head pressing more fully against his chest, your eyes drifting shut even though you’re still trying, in a half-hearted way, to listen.
“—and therefore the correlation between—” Eddie cuts himself off mid-sentence when he feels it, the shift in your weight, the way you’ve gone soft against him.
He glances down. You’re barely awake.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice dropping instantly, careful not to startle you. His hand comes up to your hair, brushing it back from your face. “You’re crashing on me, sweetheart.”
“M’not,” you mumble, words slurring just slightly.
“Uh-huh,” he huffs a quiet laugh. “You definitely are.”
You make a small noise of protest, but you don’t move; if anything, you tuck yourself closer, like his warmth is something you can physically hold onto.
He looks at you for a second longer, something soft and almost helpless settling into his expression, like he’s completely gone over you in the best way.
“Stay,” he says gently. “Just stay here tonight.”
Your eyes blink open just enough to find his. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he answers immediately, like it’s not even a question. His thumb traces lightly along your arm, grounding. “You’re halfway asleep anyway, might as well finish the process here.”
You let out a quiet breath, something easing in your chest. “Okay.”
The word is soft, but it’s enough. His grin flickers back, shorter this time, but just as warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “C’mon.”
He carefully shifts, easing you back onto the bed so you’re lying properly, one hand hovering near you like he’s making sure you’re settled before he pulls away. He disappears for a second, rifling through a pile of clothes near his dresser, muttering to himself under his breath.
“No, not that one… hold on…”
You watch him through half-lidded eyes, too tired to fully track what he’s doing, but aware of him, always.
“Alright,” he says finally, turning back around, holding up a shirt like it’s some grand reveal. “This one.”
You squint at it. “It’s just your shirt.”
“Hey,” he points at you. “It is not just my shirt. This is a classic. A staple. A cornerstone of my wardrobe.”
You let out a soft, sleepy laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, walking back over. “Sit up, sweetheart.”
You do, slower this time, and he kneels on the bed in front of you, gentler now, hands finding the hem of your shirt.
“Arms up,” he murmurs.
You follow his lead, too tired to argue, letting him help you out of your clothes with an ease that feels natural. There’s nothing rushed about it, nothing that feels like anything other than care.
He pulls his shirt over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves, fingers brushing your skin in a way that’s absent-minded but soft.
When it settles on you, it’s big, of course it is, hanging off your frame, collar slipping just enough, sleeves swallowing your hands. He just stares for a second.
“Jesus,” he breathes, barely above a whisper.
You blink up at him. “What?”
He shakes his head, like he doesn’t even have the words, one hand coming up to lightly tug at the fabric near your shoulder, like he’s grounding himself in the reality of it.
“You look…” he trails off, then huffs a quiet laugh, almost embarrassed by himself. “You look so fucking pretty in my stuff, it’s actually insane.”
You smile, slow and sleepy. “It’s just a shirt.”
“It’s not,” he counters immediately, softer now, his thumb brushing along your collarbone where the fabric dips. “It’s my shirt. On you.”
There’s something about the way he says it, like it means more than he’s explaining.
“C’mere,” he murmurs again, voice gentler than anything else.
You go, shifting closer, and he eases you back down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over you, then sliding in beside you without hesitation. His arms wrap around you like they’ve done this a hundred times, like it’s instinct, one hand settling at your back, the other threading into your hair again.
He tucks you into him, close, careful, like you’re something he’s been wanting to hold onto all day.
“My girl,” he murmurs, almost to himself, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
You hum quietly, already drifting. He lingers there for a moment, just looking at you, taking you in like he’s committing it to memory, like this is something he never wants to forget.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, softer still, brushing his nose lightly against your hair. “You’re gonna kill me looking like that.”
You don’t even have the energy to respond, just a faint smile ghosting across your lips.
He exhales, something warm and full settling deep in his chest, and pulls you just a little closer.
“Stay right here,” he murmurs. “Got you. All mine.”
And this time, when your breathing evens out completely, he doesn’t say anything else, just keeps his hand moving gently through your hair, like he could do it forever.
The Hideout is dim in that comfortable, familiar way, low lights, cigarette smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling, the hum of quiet conversation filling in the gaps between whatever song is playing on the jukebox.
You’re tucked into one of the booths near the back, fingers tracing absent circles along the condensation of your glass, still a little soft around the edges from the night before.
You’re still wearing the ring, of course you are. You’ve caught yourself looking at it more than once, turning your hand just slightly to watch it catch the light, like it’s something new every time.
He’s late. Not unusually so, but just enough that you’re starting to wonder if he got caught up with the band or his rust bucket of a van or something equally Eddie.
“Close your eyes.”
His voice is right there, low and warm against your ear, and it sends that immediate, familiar spark down your spine.
You barely have time to turn before he’s behind you, hands settling briefly at your shoulders like he’s steadying you.
You huff a quiet laugh, already smiling. “Eddie—”
“Uh-uh,” he cuts in softly. “Trust me, sweetheart. C’mon.”
You hesitate for half a second, more out of habit than anything, then let your eyes fall shut.
There’s movement around you, the subtle shuffle of him stepping away, the faint scrape of a chair, and then a small pause that stretches just long enough to make your curiosity spike.
“Okay,” he says. “Open.”
You do.
“Oh my god—Eddie?!”
He’s on one knee. Actually, on one knee, right there in the middle of the Hideout, hair falling into his face, hands slightly raised like he’s bracing for impact, and in one of them—
Another ring. Your brain short-circuits.
“Nonono—hey, hey,” he rushes out, eyes wide when he sees your expression, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Not proposing. Jesus, not— not yet anyway, don’t freak out—”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, hand flying to your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he winces, then grins a little, sheepish but still very much himself. “Couldn’t just be normal about it, sorry.”
“You think?” you laugh, still recovering, but your eyes flick back to the ring in his hand, and your chest softens despite yourself. “What are you doing?”
He exhales, some of that nervous energy settling into something quieter, more genuine. His gaze lifts to meet yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar fades out, like it’s just the two of you in it.
“I just…” he starts, then huffs softly, shaking his head. “Okay, this is gonna sound lame as hell, but whatever.”
You smile, softer now. “I’m listening.”
He shifts slightly, still on one knee, thumb brushing over the ring like he’s grounding himself.
“I know it’s…early,” he says, slower this time, choosing his words carefully in a way he doesn’t always bother to. “And I’m not trying to, like, scare you off or anything. But I like you. A lot. Like, stupid amount.”
Your heart stutters.
“And I just wanted to give you something,” he continues, voice quieter now, a little rough around the edges, “that’s not just, like, a thing. More like…a promise, I guess.”
You tilt your head slightly. “A promise?”
“Yeah,” he nods, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “That I’m in this. With you. That I’m not going anywhere, unless you tell me to. That I’m gonna keep showing up behind you like a creep and giving you rings until you run out of fingers.”
You laugh, breathy and soft.
He shrugs one shoulder, eyes flicking down for a second before coming back to you. “Just…something you can look at and know you’ve got me. If you want that.”
“Eddie…” you murmur, a little overwhelmed in the best way.
He lifts the ring slightly. It’s different from the last one, thinner but still silver, with a subtle engraving along the band, something simple but intentional.
“No pressure,” he adds quickly. “You can say no. I’ll just—y’know—crawl under the nearest table and die quietly—”
You shake your head, cutting him off, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Shut up.”
He huffs a small laugh, and you extend your hand.
“I want it.”
Something in his expression just lights up.
“Yeah?” he breathes.
“Yeah.”
He slides it onto your finger, slower this time, more deliberate, like he’s aware of every second of it, like it matters. His fingers linger for just a moment longer than necessary, then he looks back up at you, that crooked, boyish grin settling in.
“Looks good on you,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” you echo softly. “It does.”
There’s a pause. And then a whistle cuts through the air. Followed by clapping. Loud, unmistakable clapping.
You both turn, startled, to find half the bar watching you, a couple of guys at the counter already cheering, someone shouting, “SHE SAID YES!” like they’ve just witnessed the event of the century.
Your eyes go wide. “Oh my god—”
Eddie freezes for half a second, then looks back at you, grin spreading slowly, dangerously.
“Well,” he says, voice low with amusement. “Guess we’re engaged now.”
“Eddie!” you laugh, half hiding your face.
A waitress appears out of nowhere, sliding two drinks onto your table with a wink. “On the house for the happy couple.”
You gape at her. “We’re not—”
“She’s just shy,” Eddie cuts in smoothly, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Big moment.”
You smack his chest lightly, but you’re laughing. More cheers ripple through the bar, someone raising a glass in your direction, and Eddie leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.
“This is insane,” you whisper.
“I’m kind of loving it,” he whispers back.
You pull back just enough to look at him, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hey,” he grins, lifting his drink. “Free drinks say otherwise.”
You laugh, leaning into him despite yourself.
He glances around once more, then back at you, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.
“You know what?” he says, thoughtful for all of two seconds. “I’m gonna have to do this again.”
You blink. “What?”
“Yeah,” he nods, completely serious in the most unserious way. “Different bar. Different crowd. New ring. Really milk the system.”
You stare at him, then laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me,” he shoots back instantly.
You roll your eyes, smiling anyway, your fingers unconsciously brushing over the new ring.
“Yeah,” you admit softly. “I do.”
His expression softens just a fraction at that, something quieter slipping through the cracks of all his teasing.
“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you a little closer. “’Cause I meant it. The promise part.”
“I know,” you say.
The lake is quiet in that lazy, late-afternoon way, sunlight stretching long across the water, warm enough that it settles into your skin and stays there.
The grass is soft beneath the blanket, your shoes kicked off somewhere behind you, and your book rests open in your hands, pages slightly worn from how often you’ve flipped through them.
You’re comfortable. More than that, you’re content. Which is exactly why—
“Sweetheart.”
Your eyes don’t even lift at first. “No.”
There’s a pause. Then, closer now, dripping.
“…you didn’t even look.”
“I don’t have to,” you reply, turning a page. “You sound wet.”
“I am wet,” Eddie says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
You finally glance up. He’s standing there, hair soaked and clinging to his face, chest damp, and a grin already forming like he knows exactly what he’s about to do.
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asks, stepping closer.
“Eddie.”
“What?”
You shift up onto your elbows, holding your book protectively against your chest. “You’re literally dripping.”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking another step. “Lake’ll do that to you.”
You point at him. “Do not come near me.”
He pauses, just long enough to make it seem like he might listen.
Then he drops down onto the blanket anyway, right next to you, all damp limbs and cool skin, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him.
“Eddie!” you yelp, squirming. “You’re soaking!”
“Relax,” he laughs, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, completely unbothered. “You’ll survive.”
“It’s cold!” you protest, trying to push at his chest, though there’s no real strength behind it.
“Yeah, I noticed,” he grins against your skin, tightening his hold just slightly when you try to wiggle away. “C’mere. Warm me up, sweetheart.”
“You are unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re already giving in, your body settling against his despite the initial chill. His skin is cool, but it doesn’t take long for it to even out, for the warmth between you to take over.
He sighs softly, content, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “There we go. That’s better.”
You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Oh, I know,” he says easily. “I remind myself daily.”
His hand drifts along your side absentmindedly before he tilts his head slightly, eyes catching on the book still half-open in your hands.
“What’re you reading?” he asks.
You glance down at it, then back at him. “Sylvia Plath.”
He raises his brows, impressed. “Damn. Getting all deep on me.”
“Sometimes,” you shrug lightly.
He shifts just enough to prop himself up on one elbow, peering at the page. “Lemme see.”
You hesitate, then angle the book toward him.
He scans a few lines, lips moving slightly, and then something flickers in his expression, that familiar spark of mischief mixing with something softer.
“Alright,” he says, already reaching for it. “I got this.”
You let out a small laugh. “Here we go.”
He takes the book from you, clears his throat in an exaggerated, overly dramatic way, and immediately drops into a tone that’s way too intense for a sunny afternoon by the lake.
“‘I shut my eyes, and all the world drops dead—’” he begins, voice deep and theatrical, like he’s narrating some epic campaign instead of poetry.
You snort. “Oh, my god.”
“Shh,” he whispers sharply, though he’s grinning. “This is serious literature, sweetheart.”
He keeps going, leaning into it fully, giving every word weight, every pause just a little too long, like he’s performing for an audience of thousands instead of just you.
But underneath the dramatics, he’s good. He softens in the right places, lets the lines breathe where they should, and even when he’s being a little ridiculous, there’s care in it, attention.
You find yourself settling back into the blanket, eyes drifting half-closed again, listening.
He notices. His voice shifts, just slightly, the edge of the performance easing into something quieter, more natural, though the hint of that playful tone never fully disappears.
“‘I think I made you up inside my head,’” he reads, softer now.
Your chest tightens, just a little.
You tilt your head toward him, watching him this time instead of the page. His hair is still damp, curls falling messily around his face, rings catching the sunlight as he holds the book, completely focused.
“Eddie,” you murmur.
“Hm?” he glances down at you briefly, thumb marking his place.
“You’re…actually good at this.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, looking away for a second like he’s brushing it off. “Don’t spread that around. Ruins my whole reputation.”
You smile, reaching out to lightly tug at the edge of his shirt. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Better be,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder gently with his. “Now stop interrupting. I’m in the zone.”
“Yes, sir,” you tease.
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness there that doesn’t fade.
You settle back into him, your head finding its place against his chest again, one of your hands resting loosely over his stomach, fingers brushing absent circles over the damp skin.
His arm wraps around you automatically, pulling you closer without thinking, like it’s just how you exist now, intertwined.
“My girl,” he murmurs under his breath, more to himself than anything, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before continuing.
He keeps reading, slower now, softer, the words blending with the sound of the lake, the warmth of the sun, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.
Every so often, he’ll dip back into that overly dramatic tone just to make you laugh, calling you “fair maiden” or “keeper of the sacred text” under his breath, and you’ll swat at him lightly, telling him to shut up while smiling the whole time.
“Don’t sass me,” he mutters at one point, tightening his hold around you. “I’m providing a service.”
“A very annoying one,” you mumble.
“Yeah?” he leans down slightly, voice dropping. “Still your favorite, though.”
You hum, pretending to think about it.
He nudges you. “C’mon.”
You tilt your head up just enough to meet his eyes, soft and warm and entirely yours.
“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “Mine.”
Something in his expression shifts, just for a second, something deeper slipping through the usual teasing.
“Damn right,” he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against your hair. “And you’re mine.”
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