baddiewiththebook

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 15

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

June 1984

Wayne Munson is pissed. Anger bubbles inside of him threatening to stop his heart. The only way he can know for sure that the blood is pumping through his veins is through the pounding in his ears, and his chest.

At the beginning of this year, Wayne received a warning about Eddie’s behavior in school. A class or two that his nephew missed could be acceptable, but Eddie would take on weeks of missing assignments, projects and even tests! So, naturally, he sat Eddie down at the dining table one evening. Eddie promised that he would go to class, and that his grades would go back to passing.

But, just a month ago, Wayne was then brought into the school by Principal Higgins to have a meeting. This time Higgins didn’t hide his smug “I-knew-this-would-happen” look upon his face. If Wayne were him, he’d worry more about that pestering boil on the tip of his nose. If it kept growing, Wayne theorized, that thing would grow conscience and order off of a kids menu.

That man was too gleeful to tell Wayne that Eddie had not successfully completed his graduating requirements. He had failed his senior year of high school. Thus, today the Munsons have just come home after watching the entire class of ‘84 graduate without Eddie.

“You’re graduating,” the trailer trembles when Wayne slams the front door closed, nearly knocking it straight off the hinges.

Eddie flops onto the living room couch, as though his bones have cooked into noodles. Graduation was held on the lawn at Hawkins - the football field. The air is muggy, and Eddie nearly fainted from how hot he got. He couldn’t wait to shimmy out of his jeans, and maybe find one of those hair ties you’ve left at his place. Maybe he should cut his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie doesn’t have a choice, otherwise Wayne would make him get some crap job serving the people that hate him the most. Besides, it’s not like he failed on purpose - Eddie tries . . . sometimes.

There’s a box of cigarettes laying on the coffee table. It’s lid propped open facing Eddie like some sort of invitation. Eddie reaches out to pluck one loose of the packaging, and set it between his lips. Although, just as he patted himself over for a lighter, Wayne grunts and pulls the cigarette from his nephew’s mouth.

“You’re going to fry your brain,” Wayne puts the cigarette back in the box, before confiscating the whole carton for himself.

-> <-

Gareth is in his room stacking one too many things in a suitcase that’s too small. The zipper for one of the smaller pockets is ripped, so he can’t use that for any of his “toiletries” that his mother suggest he bring even though his dad keeps his own cabinet stocked for the summer.

Gareth’s father is much more responsable than his mother gives him credit for. When they divorced, Gareth was much too small to remember. But, they settled on one thing: parenting. That their son would have two parents that treated him similarly enough to which he wouldn’t realize that they are divorced. Or, arguing half the time.

Now that he’s older, Gareth understands the little ticks to insinuate a disagreement between them. His mom likes to emphasize that his dads’ new girlfriend is a bit young - heavy on the ‘g.’ Or, how his dad would like to hold onto him for more than a month and a half out of the year by suggesting he stay for ‘just one more week.’

Gareth brushes these things off of his shoulder, and pretends like he doesn’t notice.

“Hey,” your sweet summery voice comes from the archway between his bedroom and the hallway.

“Hey, babe,” he responds warmly, and stops what he is doing to plant a kiss to your cheek (he’s not tall enough to kiss your forehead yet).

“Your mom let me up,” you explain your sudden appearance, “what are you doing?”

Oh, dear. Gareth must have forgotten to tell you. Well, after all the years of splitting his summer back and forth, Gareth is used to being in Hawkins nearly all of his time and only a slim percent in Indianapolis.

“I’m going to my dad’s this weekend,” he scratches the back of his neck, “it’ll be for a few weeks.”

“Oh,” your shoulders fold inwards, and your lip juts out just slightly in a pout.

Gareth’s heart skips. You’re disappointed. Summer was supposed to be about your time to spend with him. Maybe you could go camping at the end of summer like last year with all of you guys. You missed being around everyone. Lately, you spend most of your time with Gareth, and Robin. Robin has a summer job - one that you also applied for, but the interviewer was clearly unimpressed.

“All summer?” You wonder out loud.

Gareth shakes his head, “a month and a half. Er-,” A light bulb shines bright overhead, “do you want to come with? My dad has space, and I know he wants to meet you.”

“You talk about me to your dad?” You straighten.

His cheeks turn rosy, “not all the time- er- a healthy amount-,”

You stop Gareth by placing your lips onto his. A sweet gesture that will calm his nerves, so he can at least get a breath of air into his lungs.

“I would love to meet your dad.”

-> <-

June 1984 (another day)

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” Jeff suggests with an ounce of teasing.

Eddie shoves him aside. His friend has been hogging the game for far too long. The deal was after a number of deaths, then they would switch players. Arcade games are never fair between them. They bicker like brothers.

“Shut up,” the sting of not getting his diploma still rests in his chest. Wayne’s sorrowed eyes when he found out that Eddie wasn’t graduating - ugh, Eddie wouldn’t disappoint his uncle again.

A group of boys tripping over themselves, bump into Eddie. Normally, Eddie would get upset and snip in their direction. When he does turn around to get a good look at them, Eddie realizes how young they are. Between the bowl cut, striped shirts, one of them appears to be built in the same shape as a q-tip - and, the other one has a fuzzy poodle on his head, and ‘Weird Al’ glazes across his t-shirt - Eddie concludes;

“Fucking freshman."

-> <-

Indianapolis is huge. You’ve been swallowed by the city. Construction signs set up at every corner of the town that suggest the end isn’t in sight for this town.

It’s Gareth’s first time driving into town, and he can understand why his mom was worried. The drivers are unforgivable. They cluster, honk and shout for driving the speed limit.

Lucky for him, he doesn’t embarrass himself with his driving skills in front of you. You’ve been asleep in the passenger seat for the last twenty minutes.

When you do stir, Gareth is shaking your arm with his right hand. You’re close to his dad’s house. The houses are plainly suburban with trees growing in the front of every yard. White picket fences. And, snazzy shiny cars in the driveway. Young kids can play in the streets, and they move away when they see a car coming. A neighbor is in his own driveway washing his silver Mercedes. He waves kindly to Gareth, who gestures back.

“Do you know him?” You check yourself out in the mirror overhead. Since falling asleep, you’ve not had a single smudge in your makeup.

“No,” Gareth says honestly. “Everyone’s really friendly around here.”

“Huh,” that’s different from Hawkins for sure.

“Stop worrying,” your fidgeting has gotten to him, “you look great. My dad’s going to love you.”

Gareth slows the car. You’ve come to appreciate that he has his license now. And, you’re fully confident in his driving. Drives now are mostly done by him, and you would like to not think he prefers it that way because you’re a bad driver. You’re not. Maybe you speed through some of the neighborhoods. Whatever.

The grandest house in the neighborhood had to be the two story nearing the end of the street. Huge bushes cover the front entry. They’re well tended too, along with all the other foliage in the yard. A flower garden blooms comfortably along the stone pathway that guides you to the massive front entry door. The garage itself is the size of your trailer - maybe bigger. And, the home. God, you could stack two or maybe three trailers before you get anywhere near the size of your place.

“Shit,” you gulp.

Gareth reaches out to squeeze your hand, while he takes a gentle left into the driveway of the biggest estate you’ve ever seen. It’s like the shit you see in Hollywood.

You can’t even catch a breath because as soon as you hit the pavement with your own two feet there is a woman just feet away dancing and squealing. By the shininess of her hair, the smoothness of her skin and the bounciness of her knees, she could only be in her late-twenties at the oldest. She rips off her muddy gardening gloves, and pulls down her hat to let it rest across her back.

“Welcome!” Her blonde hair flicks behind her. She’s recently had highlights put in between her thick layers of hair that shine with the sun.

“Hi,” you receive a crushing hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you. On the bright side, she certainly smells as rich as she lives.

“Gareth!” She’s on to her next victim, and this time she gets her hands so tightly on his cheeks, his hair and finally hugs him. “You’re so tall!”

“Hi, Mary,” Gareth and ‘Mary’ are around the same height now. Who knows how tall he was the last time they saw each other.

“Is that my boy, Gareth?” A voice bellows from the porch. He and Gareth have the same smile. The one that shows all of their teeth. It’s pure joy. “And, the little miss! Hello!”

The age gap between Mary and Mr Emerson is quite obvious. She’s a bit livelier, which compliments the statement pieces dragging her earlobes down and making her wrists weapons. Mr Emerson has enough aging wrinkles to prove he’s been around town for more than a few years.

Mary must be the girlfriend that Gareth has told you about on the way here (before you fell asleep). Mr Emerson has been able to keep this girl around for over two years. It's a record - according to Gareth's mom. Mary has a tough time being accepted. That doesn’t let her bring her down. Her shoulders are always high. Shirts are always ironed. Food is on the table. Laundry is attended too. And, the garden - of course - is trimmed and beautiful.

“I’ll get the bags, you two head inside,” after the little family reunion is finished in the driveway, and the sun beats down heavily - Gareth’s father suggests they migrate to the kitchen. Mary has made lemonade, and baked cookies. She can’t wait to share all of the new recipes she’s got planned with you two.

Gareth takes your hand, “I’ll show you around.”

“I’ll get the albums!” Mary suggests.

Gareth groans - boy, he cannot catch a break!

-><-

July 1984

“Gareth took her with him?” Jeff stares at your empty trailer. It’s been empty for weeks. “Man, they must be getting serious. I know I wouldn’t introduce a girl to my whole family without - you know- being serious.”

The weed has gotten to his head. Jeff is talking nonsense now. Gareth isn’t serious with you - and, even if he was - which he isn’t - you don’t have any proof. What - like you’re going to get married at sixteen? No, this little “playing house” would get old and you would break up.

Woah. Maybe the weed has gotten to Eddie. That was crueler than usual. He needs a cigarette.

“You got any cigarettes? I’m out.” Jeff practically reads his mind.

“Top drawer in my room,” Eddie replies, “Wayne’s been cutting me off.”

Wayne has become a lot stricter since Eddie flunked high school. He’d be pretty pissed if he knew Jeff was over right now, instead of Eddie hitting the books and learning about some war. It’s all a load of crap anyway - what they teach in schools. They only teach you what they want you to know.

“Yo,” Jeff calls from down the hallway. His footsteps nearing. “What the hell is this?”

Eddie shot up sober now. There are a number of things in his room that should be kept private. Whatever is under his bed shouldn’t be seen to the light of day. But, to him, what’s in his dresser might be worse.

You’re there. That’s your drawer in his home. When you couldn’t sleep, you would come over and sneak in through his window. Granted, the place is small enough that Wayne probably just let the shenanigans go. You’re Eddie’s best friend after all. An extension of him. No harm in letting you stay one night.

But to Eddie, just holding you closer was all he needed. It’s become increasingly difficult for Eddie to fall asleep. You’re spending your days and nights with Gareth. Yeah, Eddie is still bitter.

It’s the sourest fruit to chew on. Whatever.

That space in his drawer will stay empty, until you need him again.

Jeff comes through the living room holding a chain necklace. It’s silver with a couple jewels next to a letter. Your first name.

When Eddie bought you that gift for Christmas, he saved up what little money he could. It would look beautiful around your neck. And - and maybe - ugh, Eddie looks like a ridiculous lapdog.

“That’s nothing, man,” Eddie tries to humor him, “wrong sock.”

“You really think you can steal away your best friend’s girl? Man, you’re sick,” Jeff scolds.

Eddie points out, “but I didn’t give it to her because she’s with Gareth.”

“You bought it,” he retorts. “Isn’t that bad enough?”

“How do you even know when I bought it?” Eddie asks smartly.

Jeff rolls his eyes.

Eddie caves, “okay. I got it for her for Christmas. So, what? It can be a friendly necklace.”

“You gonna give it to her?”

“No,” Eddie sighs. “Just- put it back where you found it.”

-> <-

July 1984

“I can’t believe I’m about to see Van Halen,” your excitement bleeds across your face, and you bounce on your toes waiting in the endless crowd for the performance to begin.

Gareth waited in a long line that wrapped through the parking lot to get both of you t-shirts to commemorate this moment. The bright eyed look upon your face was totally worth his legs cramping up, and his bladder squeezing him.

It was his father’s surprise, initially, to buy tickets for the two of you to see great music live. Hopefully, his son would gain inspiration since he knows how much Gareth loves his band, and takes the music seriously.

A low rumble comes from the stage, as the lights bring the stage to life. You’re right up front - being crushed is apart of the concert experience, you learn. It’s worth it.

The familiar twang of a guitar sends chills down your spine. You loose all sense of balance, and shake your wobbles out through a series of bounces that go along with the excitement of the evening.

Gareth is also yelling his own fair share of cheers. Enthusiasticly, he swings his arms above his head.

The band begins to emerge from somewhere backstage, and their instruments start to hum. Vibrations sunk deep in the floor begin to rise to your knees - and then your neck. The blood pumps behind your cheeks.

You let out a yell to match the crowd.

This is the best summer ever.

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson @littlemissholy

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 14

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

April 1984

“You really should know how much I love you,” Gareth is sure to emphasize, while you pat out the wrinkles on his dress shirt.

You hug his belt line by hooking your index fingers in the loops, “I love you too. We’re going to be late.”

Gareth isn’t one to dress up nicely, and to go to a classier restaurant. But, that’s what Chrissy wanted. It’s going to be the most awkward double date - Gareth is sure about this. And, he wonders, how on earth did Jason agree to this? Either he has no clue what he’s about to walk into - or he likes Chrissy that much to do what she asks . . . he’d go with the first option.

With Gareth at the wheel tonight, he could just spin the car around and go where he wanted to go. This, creating the most obnoxious argument with you ever. It’s only obnoxious because he knows that you’ll give him those puppy dog eyes that Gareth will melt into. Shit, that’s how he got here in the first place.

It’s Eddie’s eighteenth birthday, and while cake and presents were a nice touch from Wayne, everyone had their own plans for that evening. So, they split off. While the guys went to Rick’s for a different celebration, you had already roped Gareth into a double date with some of the biggest bullies in school. Although, you insist that Chrissy is just a misguided and sweet girl.

It’s not convincing Gareth, as he searches far and wide for a ditch to “accidentally” drive off into. Not injuring you - of course. Perhaps a slight lump would go to this head. Would you let him go home then?

-> <-

A bright orange flame illuminates Jeff’s face in a flash. This is the first time he’s come to Rick’s place, but he’s not unfamiliar with the man. Eddie’s guy - the main man. It’s intimidating to step into his layer, but after a beer or two (and a few puffs from the joint he’s just lit) has Jeff’s shoulders dropping and his head lolling back in pure bliss.

Eddie makes grabby fingers at Jeff to insinuate he’s held onto the goods too long past his turn. Jeff hands the joint to Eddie, and watches him expertly suck at the end. Cough. Pass. Cough. Pass. It goes like this in a circle with two girls that they’ve barely just met. Paula, the skinnier and much paler, is leaning her weight onto Jeff. That sticky floral perfume she wears is rubbing into his jacket.

Eddie winks at him, “I’m going for another beer. Crystal, why don’t you join me?”

Without the joint, or the beer (now empty), Eddie would have little to no confidence. Women terrify him more than a little kid is afraid of the dark. It’s not the person, or the way they dress - it’s the unknown. What do women think about? A fear as deep rooted as time itself.

The subtle hum from the alcohol numbs his questions for now. Without him overthinking, this woman - Crystal - becomes more than easy to talk too. She wobbles over the heels she’s worn. Strappy little things with a small heel to boost her height. The strap hugs the flesh toned tights across her slender legs, and draw up underneath the short skirt riding up her backside leaving little to the imagination. Her top isn’t doing her any favors. If the neckline dropped any lower, Eddie would see that her bra is purple and does indeed have a tiny bow center to her chest. That, and a tattoo marks her ribcage. It’s illegible and totally illegally done, but now marks her skin permanently.

Crystal, Eddie learns, works at The Box. A hot spot for gentleman of certain class in society to burn money on women grinding themselves against poles, and rolling around on the floor. Now that he’s eighteen, Eddie could most definitely stop in for a dance - at least that’s what Crystal suggests. But, she’s not stupid. This night is about tonight, and there won’t be any more to follow.

Eddie’s eyes are set on tonight’s plan. There is no future where their paths will cross again, unless by pure accidental coincidence. The town is small enough to where they might see each other at the one locally run grocery store. It’s entirely plausible, and entirely not what Eddie cares about.

It takes less time to trap Crystal against an exterior wall of Rick’s cabin in the woods. A kitchen beer run turns into her asking Eddie if he wanted to get out of here. And, when he agrees. They find a quiet space against the house where no guests would pay them any mind. Trees hover the property that cast shadows to play in. No one can see you there.

It’s a bit brutal, and a bit aggressive. Their relations that is. Eddie nips at her skin. Crystal’s used to the pain that comes with her pleasure. She invites this. Rolling her eyes to the back of her head, she moans deliciously for Eddie to hear.

Eddie rests his hands a moment on either side of her face. Cupping her cheeks, Eddie leans forward to press his lips against hers. Almost shyly. Then, all at once, both he and she remember what they came out here to do.

There’s too many pieces of clothing, and not enough time. Someone would come looking - maybe. The party goers are quite drunk at this point. High pitched laughter leaks through the walls of Rick’s place bound to stain just as much as the liquor on the couch. Eddie wouldn’t claim he had anything to do with that.

Dipping his head to her height, he places scorching kisses against her lips. Crystal melts into his mouth. Moans drip from their mouths. Eddie drops one of his hands below her shirt to find the bare skin of her stomach. Soft and plush.

It’s then that Crystal unbuckles his belt, and furthermore pushes his jeans down to just his waist with quite a tug. Eddie’s now hard in her hands, and she drops to her knees hungrily. She ignores the prickling overgrown weeds and tiny rocks pressing into her knee caps.

Eddie’s head lolls back to the night sky. Glittery stars align into constellations, reminding him the heavens watch his every move. Crystal brings him back to earth as soon as her wet hot mouth suckles him in. She makes the most sinful noises. Sloppy and wet. They’re delicious, even.

Both of them know what they want. Their desires. Their hunger. Their lust.

“You got one on you?” Crystal stands again just under the height of his chin.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Eddie feels his sobriety creeping over his shoulders despite having enough drinks to call himself well over the legal limit to be operating a vehicle. The rubber is stuffed into his wallet somewhere, and he wrestles with himself to yank it out.

Crystal brings him back to her by placing her lips just where his skin peaks out from underneath his t-shirt. She breathes him in deeply - taking him in.

“You’re worked up,” she points her chin up at him.

Eddie raises his brow, but surely she can’t read that through the night. “Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”

“You got a van don’t you?” Crystal knocks through the weeds until she hears the rattling come from the clasp of her purse. “Take me there. I got something that’ll put you at ease.”

Eddie tucks himself away, but doesn’t bother zipping up his jeans. In another moment, they’ll be coming off anyway. Meanwhile, Crystal digs through the pockets of her purse.

Eddie guides Crystal to his van.

-> <-

It is the most awkward dinner when no one has a thought to share between the couple across from them. Well, you and Chrissy have swapped enough stories. Jason grunts out his displeasure every once in a while, earning a nudge from his girlfriend. Gareth glares at Jason with his jaw tightening at every snicker that slips from his lips aimed at you. If he doesn’t relax soon, he might chip a tooth!

Surprisingly, with Gareth cruising at least ten miles under the speed limit, you still arrived at the restaurant first. Your waitress for the evening set you at table set for four next to a big window looking to the main road. It’s not likely a place like this would stay open at Hawkins, but Chrissy told you over the phone earlier that she spent many Saturdays here with her folks.

Gareth fidgets with the seem of the white table cloth. The lit candle at the center of the table burns with such ferocity - you would think the tension controlled the flame. Classical music coming from the speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling offset the tables’ mood. Couples lined each table until the tables were nearly full with clinking glasses, and conversations that are older than you guys.

Jason and Chrissy arrived only a short time after you, and by the steam pouring out of Jason’s ears - he had just lost whatever argument they got into. At least Gareth didn’t moan and groan too much. You give his thigh an encouraging squeeze to calm him down. His jaw relaxes.

Eventually, the meals are brought to the table by your waitress in a penguin suit. It’s far fancier than anything you’re used too. Even while you read the menu earlier, you had an awful time pointing exactly what each ingredient was. You guessed, and now there is a plate of pasta with peas and grilled chicken in front of you. There’s flakes of something dashing the dish.

Chrissy stops telling you about cheerleading, or how you should join the squad - Gareth wants to agree just to see you in one of those uniforms, but he keeps his mouth shut - so, you tell her about your interests in journalism.

“You always did tell the scariest stories at camp. Do you remember?” Chrissy pushes her chicken around her plate, before cutting off a sample size of a bite. “Oh!” - She waves her unoccupied hand - “You should join the yearbook-,”

“Yearbook?” Jason spits out like she’s just announced she’ll be missing a limb next week. Chrissy nudges him with the pointy tip of her shoe. “Yeah - yearbook - what fun.”

“Jason.”

It’s another warning thrown his way. This time you share a side eye with Gareth, who hunches over his steak. It’s medium. Chewy. And, quite delicious. With his mouth still full, he shrugs and takes a sip of his pop. It’s the almost ‘I told you so,’ that nearly tips you over the edge.

“You should join the yearbook committee,” Gareth attempts to plug the holes in this sinking ship. “You write so much - maybe you’ll get inspired.”

“You still write?” Chrissy perks. “You never told me what you’re working on. Is it the same super secret project?”

“It’s just not done,” you explain to her. “It’ll have an ending I’m sure.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready,” she dodges a grain of rice stuck to the back of her meat. Then, cuts a piece even smaller than before.

-> <-

[June 1984 - July 1984]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[baddiewiththebook]

My readers,

I fear my pen hasn’t been dipped in the metaphorical ink for a moment.

See you soon.

xoxo, baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

hi

xo, baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

Hi! I just wanted to check in on you, hope you’re doing good!!☺️

Hello, my dear reader,

I am doing quite fine. A lack of inspiration has me reading as many book as I can, while I fine tune some chapters to come. Ah, the wonderful joy of writing.

xo, baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 13

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

February 1984

Eddie slams his fist into the vending machine. The bastard ate his last dollar, and is refusing to return the other quarter he slid into the machine. This is just his luck.

"I might have another dollar," Gareth offers up.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't bother.”

Gareth is already fishing through his wallet. Shit, he might have quarters to give up to his friend. Money has been tight on Eddie - Gareth was over last weekend, and the fridge was empty. Not to mention that he also caught a glimpse into Eddie's lunchbox, and there was hardly any food inside. A bag of pretzels, and an old napkin.

While fishing in his wallet, Gareth drops something. It lands with a plop on the school linoleum. Racing to snatch the condom, before Eddie can get his hands on it - he fails. Eddie flicks it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Gareth holds out one more quarter, “trade?”

How could this be any more awkward? With an audience maybe? Eddie didn’t even know you two were at that point in your relationship. Well, he still doesn’t. Should he ask?

Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Gareth takes the condom back. To prevent that from happening again, Gareth makes sure it’s secure in a deeper part of his wallet.

Clunk - clunk - clunk.

The vending machine does take Gareth’s quarters. With an aching buzz and a whirl, Eddie now has lunch. A crappy bag of chips that would fill him for another hour at best. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to his choices.

Suddenly, the hallway from the vending machines to the cafeteria feels more like a million steps instead of just a couple around the corner. The boys scuffle along the tile making an awful racket. Eddie pops the chip bag open upside down, and offers the snack out to Gareth.

“I’m good,” he doesn’t want to take away food from Eddie right now.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, and tries his best not to look terribly ravenous eating the chips in front of him. The cold truth is that he is surviving on junk until this Friday when Wayne gets paid. That, or he meets up with his boss. Eddie gets a sizable cut for the deals he makes selling weed to the kids that hate him the most. Rich kids. Church kids. All that matters is that these hypocrites have the cash, and Eddie hands out the supply. It’s simple. Very under the table.

The thing he can’t get off his mind is what Gareth is carrying around with him. A condom. It’s one condom.

Of course, Eddie knows what it is for. The better question is have you done it? Have you let Gareth do that to you? It’s against his better judgment that he asks the fatal question. He might as well load the bullet into the gun, then point it at his head, before letting Gareth pull the trigger.

“Are you guys- uh- have you guys-,”

Gareth stops abruptly in the hallway. This is not the conversation that he wishes to have right now. Not with Eddie in the least. Although, the halls are bare except for the few darting to the bathroom to smoke while the teachers aren’t looking. He’s done that enough times.

Truthfully, Gareth only stuck that thing in his wallet when the two of you began to date. Going to the store to buy them was enough of a challenge not to be seen by anyone from school or by anyone around town that his mom might know. The cashier gave him enough of a look over that made Gareth wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place.

It’s on his mind - you and him - like that. Sometimes Gareth wonders if he’s just a pervert because surely you can’t have the same mind that he does. Then again, you have needs too. Right?

Gareth is jittery already. It’s Valentine’s Day, and aside from buying you a bouquet of flowers, he’s also taking you to the school dance tonight. There’s a big announcement about it around a month ago.

You show little interest in the events around school, but every once in a while Gareth sees a twinge of excitement come from you. A flyer in the hallway caught your eye, and so he asked you. You were just as shocked as he was when the words flew out of his mouth. But, the smile grew on your face and he was smitten.

Gareth is thrilled to escort you to the dance. The nerves draw from getting dressed tonight. He’s got no idea what you’re wearing, but his tie will match your dress. For only this night, his mom is allowing him to borrow the car. She expects him to take you there and back in one piece. That is his plan too.

For the most part, his mom trusts him. The only child. The only one she’s got to keep an eye on. She’s proud of who he’s become as he’s growing up. Gareth regularly tries to stay out of trouble despite his outward appearance, and the ear shattering music that comes from the garage.

Gareth wants to continue his string of good luck with his mom by following her rules. The only problem is that now he has a condom in his wallet. A new player has entered the battlefield.

To tell Eddie the truth, Gareth has wanted to ask for his advice. How does he even approach the question? Is it a question? He doesn’t just want to start anything with you, and then you’re uncomfortable.

Eddie has experience. Gareth knows this. There’s been a time or two that Eddie has accepted a different form of payment to his after-school transactions. It’s not like he’s implied that any of his customers have to do that. But, as Eddie says, it’s the perks of being a good businessman. He takes it as a tip.

The only problem with asking Eddie for advice is how close you two are. If he found out that Gareth needed help in that department, then it would be easy to tell who he was talking about. And, if he isn’t talking about you, then who’s he talking about and how easy could Eddie hide Gareth’s body when he’s through with him.

Gareth scratches the back of his neck trying to find the words to reply to Eddie in a manner that’s not outwardly asking for sex advice. As he’s scanning his brain, Eddie is holding his breath for an answer. An honest answer.

“We’re not,” Gareth answers him finally, and thus letting Eddie breathe again. “I don’t know -,”

There’s a pregnant pause. Either boy doesn’t speak. The hallway stinks of cafeteria food bleeding down the rest of the school. It’ll smell like that all day. At least the biology classes haven’t started dissecting frogs yet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eddie huffs. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

Why did Eddie want to know so badly? He wishes he could shove his foot into his own mouth. A part of him wants to hear Gareth say that they are doing that. No idea why. Gareth isn’t the worst person in the world for you to be doing that with. It’s just - maybe someday, Eddie had hoped that would be him.

Eddie really has to give up on the thought of you two ever becoming a thing. It’s not healthy. It’s selfish. You’re into Gareth. And, if he’s making you happy then Eddie should be too. Even though the sting still feels fresh against his alabaster skin.

“Gareth."

Gareth winces at how abrupt his friend calls him by name.

“Just,” Eddie pinches his brows together, “be kind to her. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please, spare me the details.”

-> <-

The sun has just set across Hawkins, but there is no moon to be seen. Clouds across the sky cast a blue-gray haze over the town. This doesn’t stop you from wearing your most favorite piece in your closet. Now you have an excuse to wear it, since your birthday didn’t work out. You zip up the back of the dress that Gareth bought for you.

Your hands dance along the side of the fabric that hugs at your waist. Lips press together to blend your lipstick in better, while you check all the details in your mascara.

The quiet air is suddenly broken by the shattering sound of glass in the kitchen. Even in a pair of heels, you’re quick to race out of your room.

Standing over twinkles of shards, your mother has drunkenly let a drinking glass slip from her grasp. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t make much noise at the mess in front of her.

“Are you okay?” You stand in front of her on the other side of the mess.

Your mom has been home for a total of three days. That’s more time that you’ve ever seen her in the last few months. You’ve become quite used to coming home to a quiet house. The one day when she had shown up, you thought she was an intruder and you armed yourself with the baseball bat you have by your bedside.

Surprisingly, the moment she came home she was sober. No idea how she got home. That lasted all of an hour when she claimed she had a headache, then went out for booze. She came home again, and drank through nearly a bottle and a half of vodka. Enough to kill her. Maybe that was her plan. Leave you with the debt, and she’ll be buried six feet under.

None-the-less for some reason you still care. Three whole days of this, and you’ll still reach your arm out to catch her when she sways. She flinches away from you. Not a fan of touch anymore. At least, not your touch. She still has clients she reaches out too at ungodly hours of the night. She’s loud about the conversations, but if you ask her to lower her voice then she calls you unbearably nosey.

Why are you so glad to have her home? It’s so confusing all the time. The way you pick up after her. You’ve taken on her responsibilities. Shit, you’re looking for a job to begin to pay the bills that she can’t afford.

You’re sweeping the last of the glass, while your mother nurses a bottle of tequila in the dark corner of your kitchen. She hasn’t cut herself from the glass that she’s dropped.

“There’s macaroni in the fridge,” it’s like reasoning with a spirit in a human body. “Please eat.”

Your mother groans. All you do is pester her. Why did she have your ungrateful ass in the first place? A cat would have been less trouble than you.

There is a knock at the front door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your mom is. There are plenty of dirty men that want something from her.

“Gareth?” You pull open the door, and there is your date for the evening. Clean. Suit and tie. He smells expensive. All this for you. You shut the door behind you fearing your mom might gain a wind of energy. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance?”

Gareth is awestruck by you. For one, your radiance is unmatched and is indescribable in words. His jaw hits your porch.

“You look-,” he’s flattered you wore the dress, “God, you’re beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

It is your turn to blush. To forget who’s behind you inside. Little do you know her ear is to the front door listening to the hooligans on her porch. They’re whispering about her!

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you acknowledge, but the scuffling behind the closed door brings you back to reality. “Er- the dance?”

“Right,” he swings his arm out to show off his mom’s station wagon, “my mom lent me her car tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” you’re both impressed, and terrified that your mother is planning her great escape.

That she is. One more word comes through her head that her kid is conspiring against her. She’s being sold out!

Swinging open the front door, she knocks into open archway. At least she doesn’t have a bottle of liquor anymore. Unless, that means your mom has finished that one too.

“Mom,” you plead, “it’s fine - go back inside.”

She assesses. Gareth is in a suit, but he’s too young to be a government spy. So, she accepts that he’s here for one thing. An exchange.

“Who are you?” The words come out in a slur that almost sounds animatronic. This is the most she’s spoken since coming home. It’s hoarse. That could be the alcohol. “Are you handsomely paid?”

Gareth’s face has fallen.

“Mommy,” you beg, “go back inside. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her laugh is soaked in alcohol. “Please. You’re on your way to getting bred and dumped like me. Trust me - having a kid is the worst thing you could do.”

It’s clear to you now that she’s completely unaware who she is talking too, or has been talking too the whole time she’s been home. That’s why you’ve kept yourself locked in your room fearing she may forget you’re home, and mistake you for an intruder.

Still, the punch to the gut doesn’t hurt any less. Not only are you miserably unloved by the one person you know by blood, but your boyfriend stands mere steps away from you watching the whole exchange. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gareth turns to run.

This is the final act from your mother tonight. She swirls around on her heel, before retiring into the blackness of her bedroom. It’s safe when you hear her bedroom close.

“My purse,” you excuse yourself from Gareth a moment to tip-toe back into the trailer for your bag on the kitchen counter. Only five dollars is left in there. You should have known she would take it.

Gareth stays quiet - studying his shoes. You’ve never invited him over to your house before. Sure, he’s been around the neighborhood. Not when your mother is home. Things begin to make more sense about where she’s been on these “work trips” you’ve told him about.

“Let’s go,” you lock the door behind you.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing music that you’re unfamiliar with. His mom’s favorite stations, perhaps. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to cry or something. Confessing your mom is a drunk - or a pill popper - or a prostitute - yeah, that isn’t exactly on your agenda.

You don’t notice, but you’ve made it to the school. The building looks so different at night. It’s not as intimidating without all the expectations written on chalkboards, or the smell of the pages of used textbooks. Tonight the only area well-lit is the gymnasium. A girl’s laugh echos that brings you back to where you are. Earth.

Gareth’s eyes bore into you. All of these questions that he has, but he won’t ask. You won’t tell him until you’re ready anyway. The time comes sooner than later anyway.

“My mom is nice,” were you telling him that, or yourself? “She bakes. Well, she used too.”

Pause.

“My grandma was nice,” you pick your head up at this. “She baked too. She used too.”

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but Gareth catches each one before they ruin your makeup completely. You let Gareth just hold you right then. In the middle of the parking lot like no one else is around because no one matters more to him than you right then.

“She’s been home for three days,” you sniffle, “it doesn’t even feel like she’s really home.”

“Like she’s a ghost,” he traces shapes against your skin.

“Ugh, my makeup,” a silly little thing to worry about right now. But alas, you sit up to fix the mascara threatening to run down your face. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”

“Hey,” he takes your hand in his to draw your attention back to him. Easily, he slots his lips against yours. Once, twice, three times. Wet kisses. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you want to get out of here and just drive - say the word.”

The idea wasn’t bad. Getting out. Feeling the wind in your hair. Going somewhere far away. It wouldn’t work. You would have to come home in the end.

“No,” you breathe across his mouth. “Let’s dance.”

That is what you do. The whole evening. After clearing your eyes, and turning your brain off, you have a really fantastic time with Gareth. You even convince him to take photos with you in the Photo Booth.

A few dances in, and both you and Gareth find a rhythm to dance too. The rhythm might not have been the same one that everyone else was dancing too, but nonetheless you’re having a great time.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” your bladder is getting to the best of you. “Can you get me a glass of punch?”

“Sure,” Gareth could also use a break from the dance floor. He’s moving with two left feet!

The bathroom clears out as you come in. By the time you’ve finished in the stall, the only person left in the room with you is Chrissy Cunningham. The sweetheart you’ve grown to be fond of outside of her massive jerk of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she’s powdering her face over the sink. A floral scent wafts around her. She must have just applied a generous amount of perfume. “But, you and Gareth look like you’re having fun.”

Oh, Gareth! Even just saying his name brings your heart to a flutter!

“Uhm,” you can’t help, but break into a grin the size of Texas, “yes! Chrissy, he’s the nicest guy. Not to mention how ridiculously handsome he is.”

“You know what, he does clean up nice,” she plucks at her bangs dangling in front of her face. “Those so-called Freaks are surprising in more ways than one.”

“What?”

“Well, Jason’s waiting for me,” she tells you, “we should totally go on a double date. That way we can catch up!”

Ah, Chrissy. She can never be anywhere alone for too long without Jason. But, maybe the offer isn’t far out there. It could be the start of a truce between the boys.

“I’ll talk to Gareth,” you can promise her that. “Have fun! You look so pretty by the way.”

“You too!”

When you’re done powdering your nose, you find Gareth nursing a cup of punch at an empty table. No one wants to be near the Freaks. Boy, you haven’t realized how tired you are of hearing how badly the boys get picked on around here. They play a fantasy game, and listen to different music so that makes them completely undesirable? That gives this miserable school a reason to outcast them all?

“Hey,” Gareth holds up an extra glass of punch for you, “having fun, tonight?”

“I really am,” you sip the drink.

Gareth taps the table with his pointer finger. There’s something on his mind that he isn’t telling you. You’ve been together for nearly half a year, and his tells are already becoming more obvious to you. He knows this as well as you do.

“I’m really sorry if what I’m about to say is overstepping,” that’s not the best way to begin, “I found a phone, while you were in the bathroom. I booked us a motel room - I booked you a room.”

You must have heard him wrong, “sorry?”

“I know how hard it is to have a family member act like that, but living with her can’t be easy,” he tries to put as delicately as possible. “After you’ve been having so much fun tonight, I thought maybe you could use a break. I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. Or, you can tell me this idea was dumb. Whatever-,”

Stopping Gareth in his everlasting ramble, you reach over and plant a kiss to his lips holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket. His lips soften against yours.

“I love you.”

The words slip off your tongue, as you hold him there. You’re the only two people in the crowded gymnasium. Blush pink lights bounce off of his and your hair.

It’s funny how a single moment can rewrite the history and the time of your relationship. All of those moments he spent arguing with Eddie about why you had to be there at their band practice. You were - you are a complete distraction. Bobbing your head up and down to the music, even though you just hear noise. The times you sit on your porch with your nose in a book. Those are the days he recalls begging with fate for you to even glance up with that cross-eyed stare that could melt him. Even your snarky comments couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest for you.

Gareth couldn’t wait to take a bite of that forbidden fruit that was just out of reach. Out on a branch just a bit too high in the sky. But, here is his with you in his arms. Your words hold the key to validate the same feelings that he’s had for a long time. He’s sorry that he’s taken so long to recognize them.

“I love you too,” he hold either side of your face to kiss you.

This is different than the kisses before. Your heart locks to his. Moving as one, you lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else matters except the two of you. Here.

“Hey!” A chaperone hollers. “You can’t do that here!”

The couple does separate in a fit of laughter. Gareth is wearing your lipstick, as he waves off the teacher for interrupting. You pull his jaw back to face you, so that you can begin wiping at the lipstick across his bottom lip.

“Is it my color?” Gareth jokes.

You snort. “Totally.”

After a brief silence, you speak again;

“Do you want to get out of here?”

-> <-

It’s not the cleanest place ever. The motel that is. Understaffed. Underpaid. The clerk at the front appears exhausted, malnourished and far less concerned than one might be seeing two teenagers with a hotel reservation. That must happen a lot. It’s a small enough town that there are only a handful of motels, and none of them are as glamorous as the ones in the big city.

You toy with a fake potted plant that sheds dust when you tamper with its leaves. That’s one of many pieces that could use a fix. There’s a tear in the couch that’s supposed to warm people into staying here. You wonder what might have happened.

“One key is fine,” Gareth tells the front desk lady.

The woman waddles when she walks. Hiding out behind a desk and standing all day does things to you. When she returns, she has the single key to your very own room.

You’ve only spent time at a motel once or twice in your life. Both times were with your mother years ago. She went into the city for a couple of job interviews that fell through. Back then, it was just another job. She assured you there are always more opportunities waiting, and that was just not the right time.

“Check out is eleven tomorrow,” she drops the key into Gareth’s open palm, “we do charge if you’re late.”

“Thanks,” he replies, “have a good evening.”

Leading you through the front doors of the hotel into the evening air, Gareth gives you the key now. You hold the brassy thing in your palm. The engraving reads ‘201.’ So, you’ll be on the second floor and closer to the front desk office. That’s easy enough.

Gareth comes along with you to make sure the room is alright for you. He’s already ready to rain hellfire if anything isn’t up to your standard. But, it’s unlikely seeing that all you really want is a bit of peace and quiet from the world.

Twisting the key into the lock, you push the door forward. It opened. That’s a start. There’s a switch next to the door, so you’re not fumbling around like a moron in front of your date.

It’s simple. A queen-sized bed with a scratchy top sheet you could flick off if you want. There’s a table with a small chair close to the entrance that they consider a ‘dining nook.’ Also, a fat color television in front of the bed. Completely snug in the back is the bathroom. It’s clean, and free of mold, hair, or bugs.

Coming back around from your inspection, Gareth stands still outside of the hotel room.

“What are you still doing out there?” You hold out your hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Gareth wants too. He really does, but he still has his mom’s car. This is your retreat anyway. A night away with some peace and quiet. He doesn’t want to screw that up for you.

“My mom is waiting for me,” he tells you honestly. “I’ll come back in the morning and get you.”

“Gare,” the nickname soothes him. “It’s late. Call your mom and tell her that you’re staying at Eddie’s or something. I’m sure he’ll cover for you.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. It’s silly how easy you can sway his better judgement. That by him not wanting to ruin your evening comes from more than just ‘he has to get home.’ So, he crosses that threshold into the motel room where you are.

Hot breath crosses your face, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Your voice comes out at a whisper, “please. Please, stay.”

Gareth closes the room’s front door. The outside world is no longer either of your problems. You’re here with him. That’s all that matters.

You spring onto the bed next to him, after using one of the hotel’s wet wipes to rid yourself of your makeup as best you can. There’s a silly little hand lotion that will make up for any of your real lotions back at home. This could have been better thought out. Neither of you have a change of clothes.

“I’ll be home in the morning, mom,” Gareth speaks into the telephone sat on the bedside table. Taking your advice, he fibs that he’s exhausted from dancing all night and will just stay at Eddie’s trailer. “I love you too.”

“I wish my mom was as concerned about me,” you’re half joking when Gareth does hang up the phone, after his mom is done yapping his ear off about the evening. “Do you think she would even answer the phone if I called?”

Gareth unties his tie, and allows a bit of laughter to leak through. You’re taking this very well. So, it can’t be new - your mom’s behavior.

“Gare,” you lean into him, “could you tell me about her? Your grandma that is.”

Oh. Gareth doesn’t have a clear memory of her, before the day he really came to life with full thoughts and full feelings. This is his mother’s mother. She died a few years ago. One morning she got as intoxicated as she could, then left for the store for more beer in the middle of the night during the winter. She found a park bench to sleep on, and never woke up. The doctors said it was the weather that got her.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” he presses a kiss to your forehead as he sinks deeper into the mattress with you. “I think she really liked her. My mom turned out fine, you know. You will too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter into his chest.

For a moment, you lay there. Your breathing is slow. The rise and fall of your chest makes Gareth aware how exhausted you must be after these past few days. However, in the midst of Gareth trying to decipher how he could sleep sitting up straight, your eyes pull open.

“Gare,” you only sit up enough to brush your nose against his. His response is a hum, “kiss me.”

Gareth doesn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips bathed in that sweetened fruit punch from earlier meet yours. You find your breath is just as shaky as his, and you brush your nose into his as you swing your leg across him settling yourself onto his lap.

Pushing away at the sleeves of Gareth’s jacket, he follows your lead. He would follow you anywhere. You put your hands at the buttons of his shirt, and Gareth’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage. He figures you want him to place his hands somewhere, but he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to burst.

Placing your palm across his heart, Gareth covers your wrist with his hand and using his thumb he’s counting the number of beats in your heartbeat. It’s just like his.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want too,” there is a note of vulnerability in his tone.

You stop there a moment. Hand still across his chest. His heart beating ever so quickly. You love the soul that carries on next to this heart. The young man willing to give you the world if he could. You’re terrified of love. When love will run as far away from you as he can because you’re too much.

Gareth searches for something deep in your eyes. That you will finally allow yourself to be completely happy. You deserve this. To be truly happy.

There’s a spark in your eye. Your lids droop halfway across your iris.

“We don’t have to do anything you want too,” you say with your lips dangling in front of him.

Gareth meets your eye line, “I want too.”

“Me too.”

-> <-

[April 1984]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[baddiewiththebook]

Should I post it?

xo baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | EXTRA

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT. This my dear readers is a bonus chapter that does not have to be read to understand the story. But, I do hope you take a look to feel more connected to our favorite characters. xo

-> <-

January 1984*

It’s cute, really. Whenever one of you slip and you feel a clatter of your two front teeth hit his, Gareth muffles out ‘sorry,’ but you couldn’t care less. You slot your lips against his over and over again, while melting deeper into his touch.

The taste of his breath. The tenderness of his hands gracing your thighs. Teasing and testing the waters of too far or just far enough. Your heart beats bounce against one another.

Somewhere in the background, film credits bounce across a black screen. You’ve lost the plot a while ago, and you don’t really care to find out what you’ve missed.

Gareth has snuck you into his home, while his mom is at work. It’s a perfectly snowy afternoon that should have kept her longer than it usually does to drive back home. Since the weather was worsening, Sarah worried for her son. She’s come home early.

Footsteps nearing separate you in a flash. Too little too late. She stands with a hand on her hip, and a folded lip that tells him exactly how much trouble he’s gotten himself into.

“It’s late,” you purposefully skip kissing Gareth ‘goodbye’ due to sheer embarrassment. Waving a short hand at Miss Jones, you scamper out of there faster than a rabbit being chased by a hunter.

Gareth wants to shrink into the couch, but offers an ice breaking smile.

“Dining room,” his mom instructs.

This is where all serious conversations happen. Whenever Gareth is flunking out of a class, he gets a lecture in the dining room. Or, when he scratched paint off of his mom’s car because he rode his bike too close. Dining room lecture.

Now, what?

As most of the lectures go, Gareth is sat across from his mom. She lays her hands on the table flat, as though she’s counting the knuckles in each hand. This is a common technique to calm her from her frustrations, or too think properly over what she’s about to say.

“Gareth,” she begins. “I’m very happy you’re in a relationship with someone you really like. It’s not appropriate to have her here when I’m not here. Especially, like that.”

“Mom,” Gareth squirms.

“Don’t slouch.”

He rolls his shoulders back.

“Are you-,” she wants to be there less than he does. But, the least she can do is make sure that he’s respecting you. “Are you safe?”

Completely red in the face, Gareth digs his nails into the wood of the chair he sits in. You’re not even there yet in your relationship. How could she ruin something good, before it even happens?

“Because you know- you can buy condoms at the store. I- I could pick you up a box.”

Gareth puts his head down.

“Sit up,” she taps the table. “This is important.”

“Mom,” he groans, “you cannot buy me condoms.”

“I could- just this once. It’s not just for you, you know.”

“I’m going to bed,” Gareth pushes out his chair.

“There are diseases!” She warns all but too late. Her son has scampered away to his room upstairs. The door shuts quietly.

-> <-

It’s later in the evening when Gareth rises from his nap. At the time, he’s forgotten the earlier conversation with his mom. He assumes it’s safe to come downstairs.

While he rummaged through the fridge for a snack, he overhears his mom on the phone. Judging by her pitch, the call is important.

“Gareth,” she urges from the dining room.

With few words, she hands the telephone over to Gareth. Trading him the phone for his snack, she dives out of view into the living room. There’s only one person that could be on the other line that she so willingly gave up the phone for.

“Dad?” Gareth speaks into the telephone.

“Hey, kiddo,” he bellows, “your mom wants me to talk to you about some things.”

“Oh my god,” Gareth covers the phone with his left hand. Shouting to his mother, he says, “You called, dad?!”

-> <-

[February 1984]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

[baddiewiththebook]

Oh, readers,

I’m such a tease.

xo baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

Dear readers,

I hope you are prepared to read because I do not want to split my next chapter in half.

baddie xo

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | EXTRA

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT. This my dear readers is a bonus chapter that does not have to be read to understand the story. But, I do hope you take a look to feel more connected to our favorite characters. xo

-> <-

October 1983*

“What are you supposed to be?” Jeff snorts already seeing the vision laid out in front of him.

The new couple is out on the town. When Jeff suggests hosting a special Halloween movie night, the whole friend group is excited. But, with one rule. All participants must dress up to support the night’s theme.

Halloween is the one time a year where the freaks blend into the crowd. That’s why they dress extra freaky. Or, at least some of them are. Jeff is a zombie - Robin helped him with the fake blood earlier that trickles across his skin. It’s just a bit of corn syrup and some food dye.

Robin dresses as a burglar, but that’s mostly to excuse her lack of a costume. Her simple black and white striped shirt, and black jeans makes Jeff’s eyes roll. The whole point is to dress up as crazy as you can!

Freak has a taste for theater, and recently discovered a musical called Cats. Albeit a bit odd, but that’s what Halloween is for. He’s a bit too happy to be hissing at people. The cheap cat ears are from his sister’s costume, so they’re just one squeeze away from piercing either side of his head.

Eddie’s moping in the corner nursing a beer from one of the packs he’s brought to share amongst friends. As each day passes, he’s found more and more grouchy. The man dressed in his ratty old sweater and his stained jeans from working on his van all the time - called himself a hobo.

It doesn’t help his mood when you show up in a matching costume with Gareth. You’re a Dalmatian with floppy ears that are glued to a cheap red headband. With you is fireman Gareth - plastic fireman's hat and all.

“That’s adorable,” Robin swoons.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but you don’t see this.

“What are we watching tonight?”

-> <-

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

[baddiewiththebook]

Hello, my dear readers,

I wanted to remind you all that Over the Years will contain suggestive and explicit scenes. It's listed in the warnings of each chapter.

As the characters are becoming older, the scenes are going to soon become more suggestive. I will NOT be writing any scenes of underage sexual activities (some authors do - I'm completely uncomfortable with this). That being said, I will write what needs to be written.

All underage activities will be stopped at the point I'm no longer comfortable to write. You may fill in the blanks in your own heads.

That's all,

baddie xo

P.S. Two bonus chapters will be out shortly.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 12

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

September 1983

Strands made up of perfectly woven thread laced in deep desire of longing and hope. Fresh spring water dances down the rocks wetting them with her tongue. The ocean is somehow bare.

It’s like one day you fall ill. A sickness so terrible that no doctor knows what to do - there’s no medicine to cure this. Falling deeper into a pit of self-distraction, Eddie rolls onto his back. The only comfort he has is the tattered blankets that are too thin to keep him warm. A set of headphones drape over his head with music drowning out his deepest thoughts. Or, so he thinks.

With these headphones, Eddie spends less time worrying about you. What you’re doing? Who you’re with? That’s bullshit. Eddie knows who you’re with.

A viper bites at his leg when he’s not watching. Venom consumes him, and Eddie is now frowning once again. The way Eddie thinks of Gareth is poison enough.

Don’t get him wrong, really. Somewhere. Buried deep below. Way below. Way way below. There has to be a single drop of joy that you are happy.

Eddie tries to sort through the millions of pieces to the puzzle. Of course, he’s blurry to all of the signs that Gareth even showed a slight interest in you. Things begin to make more sense when Eddie finally understands why you’re much more giddy about coming to band practice at the least.

It’s his mistake to ask of you to get along with Gareth in the first place. His friend. Or, was he? Whatever. Gareth better not mess up this relationship he has with you. What’s worse? Him being with you? Him breaking your heart?

Eddie’s stomach flops around like a dead fish. That's about right. He hasn’t eaten much today - if anything at all. A bit too consumed by thoughts of you. The idea of eating makes him queasy.

When the cassette tape stops, and his music pauses, Eddie is agitated. He peels open his eyes for the first time and blinks away the crust built up in the inner corner of his eyes.

There’s a hum that doesn’t come from his headphones. A tapping. A heavy thudding.

Eddie pulls off his headset, and the banging on his front door gets only louder. Whoever it is would learn a hard lesson in “going away.”

Visitors are less than welcome at the Munson trailer. Aside from the select few of his favorite people, Eddie hates when people come to the door uninvited. The religious nuts have got to stop harassing him and his uncle. They won’t join any sort of cult leadership that they are apart of. No amount of pamphlets and pleading would persuade either Eddie or Wayne to join their “congregation.”

The whole concept of church baffles Eddie. They’re organized leaders, so call them that. Their beliefs are there to control the masses. The communities swarm at them like bees to pollen on the flowers of springtime - just to be told what to wear, where to go, and who not to talk too.

Organizations like that are where Eddie Munson wants to be least of all.

Don’t get him wrong, Eddie won’t denounce religion in its entirety. Jeff goes to church on Sundays, after bouncing up and down on a guitar in Gareth’s garage the night before. Metal music is in his blood. The religious thing finds a home there too. Jeff isn’t crazy like the others. Eddie has learned to have some respect for God, only because Jeff begs Eddie to not speak too harsh on His name.

Eddie can respect a man, who stands for what he believes in.

“Alright, alright!” Eddie curses at whoever is on the other side of the door. He lets them get in a few more trashes on the front door, before he’s sure they’re not just going to go away. Then, swings the front door open.

On the other side, you’ve flinched back a few steps. Eddie is in one of his moods. Now, you expect the crassness only because that’s how he always answers the door. However, Eddie isn’t particularly peachy since he found out that you’ve been seeing Gareth a few nights ago. It’s not as though you weren’t going to tell him, right?

You’ve already told Gareth that you’ve made up your mind, and you’re going to speak to Eddie today. Gareth would rather you give Eddie some space - seeing as he tracked him through a parking lot and had almost gotten ran over by him last night.

The core of you knows that Gareth is right. Usually, after a few days of Eddie being pent up and angry over something, he’ll calm down and the theatrics will pause for a moment. This is different. Eddie is hardly ever upset with you. You don’t know how to react. A part of you wants to curl up in a ball and sob. The other part is thinking too logically, and demands you stand at his porch and bang on his door until he answers.

Eddie hates how stubborn you are because he is just as stubborn. Only when it comes to you, Eddie will quickly change his mind at the site of your trembling jaw, and your glossy eyes filled to the brim with tears that are just about to break the dam and flood the surface below. Boy, if that dam breaks. It just might not stop!

“I’m sorry?” You’re apologizing, but it comes out more as a question than anything else. Again, you’re whimpering like a lost pup searching for it’s mommy.

Eddie doesn’t take much to fold onto you. Over you. He envelopes you into a tight hold without much to say. The way his eyes roll back into his head tells you everything you need to know.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he hates the way he caves so easily for you. Every word that ripples off of his tongue is just an admission to what he already knows. Then, he adds (stupidly), “Gareth is- nice.”

There it is. The fully guilty conscience that sucker punches him in the gut. In spite of being completely and totally jealous of what Gareth has to dangle in front of him, Eddie also knows that out of all of his friends - you just have to pick the nicest one.

Eddie can feel your smile across his chest. The dimples. The blush. You push him away a bit harshly, and gasp.

“You’ve never said anything nice about my boyfriends before.”

“Your boyfriends before were assholes,” he’s not shy to share that opinion.

You point a finger to his chest, “admit you like Gareth.”

“I never said that.”

“You said he was ‘nice.’”

“He’s better than, Ricky,” Eddie snorts.

“Who?”

“Er- Rodney.”

It is in that moment, where you're sewn up and dry from tears, that Eddie decides love is a bitch. He can't help, but adore your fresh rosy cheeks. The way your mouth blabs. Only, he wishes you would talk about him that way.

-> <-

October 1983

Eddie is already headed down a slippery slope. This last hour, his teacher has informed him that if he keeps slacking off that he won't be getting a passing grade. Eddie's flunking his math class. So, he missed a math quiz or two? A few homework assignments?

It’s his last year in high school - a senior. Wayne spends most of his time putting pressure on Eddie by speaking of nothing, but a graduation party with all of his friends. How could he possibly disappoint his uncle?

“Hi, baby.”

There’s that rancid nickname again coming straight from your mouth. This follows a wet smacking sound when Gareth kisses you. Ugh, has everyone lost their decency?

Eddie should have put up boundaries when you came to him that day. Rule one; no making out in front of him. Rule two; Eddie theorizes as a wide spread grin stretches across your face; Gareth isn’t aloud to be funny.

Slamming his textbook shut, the crowd at the lunch table jumps.

“Rough morning?” Gareth asks.

There you go laughing again. Head tilted to the sky - Gareth basks in this.

-> <-

December 1983

Trees are bare of their leaves. The hours in the day that are bright become next to none. Eddie still finds time to work on his truck, before nightfall. The break pads are in need of replacement, and he should also be changing the oil too.

Eddie would rather wrestle with his car in the dead of winter where his fingertips could frost off, than to deal with the hot heat from summer time.

Besides, it hadn’t snowed yet.

In the afternoon, Eddie was hoping to see your car pull in the driveway. It’s Christmas Eve. The least he could do is hand you the gift he’s gotten you. Like every year, Eddie takes the time to splurge some extra cash to get you exactly what you want.

Eddie toys with the bow atop the messily thrown together wrapping paper. The reindeer are smushed together awkwardly next to each other. But, they’re all still smiling. Eddie hopes they don’t mind. It’s the same paper Eddie uses every year. Every year, he’s getting a bit worse at wrapping gifts than the year before that.

You don’t declare any sort of discomfort by the way he wraps the gifts. If anything you find the attempt quite charming. It’s tradition to each give your gifts on Christmas Eve; and it has become tradition for you to come to his house for dinner.

Your mom hasn’t been home much.

As per usually, Eddie gifts you another journal. Something for you to do, other than sit around waiting for the rainbow to come after the rain. Maybe one day, you'll show him what you've filled in those pages with. He hasn't asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches himself glimpsing at the other gift he has sitting on top of his dresser. It’s too late for you to receive this now. Out of sight out of mind, Eddie decides it’s best if he shoves the little box inside of his socks away from the world. The charms jangle against the metal chain, as he pushes that tiny square box as far back as he can.

It’s forgotten about for now.

-> <-

(February 1984)

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo

[baddiewiththebook]

Dear readers,

I’d like to make myself very clear when I say that this blog is and forever will be open to the LGBTQIA+ community, women, people of color, and any people who identify as someone other than what they were assigned at birth.

America is looking very scary right now, but we will be okay. We will rebuild.

If nothing else - live out of spite.

I love you.

Stay safe,

baddie xo

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 11

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

Sep 1983

Tying your laces together, the wheels slip beneath your feet. If you aren’t talented enough to ride a scooter, you’re sure enough not to be able to rollerblade. Quickly, you attach yourself to Gareth, who sits beside you. He’s also lacing on a pair of rollerblades. Though, he doesn’t seem too worried.

Gareth snorts at you. You look cute. Frazzled. But, cute. Taking hold of your ankle, Gareth swings your leg over his own. He ties the other shoe for you.

“I’m fine,” you’re not sure you’re convincing Gareth, and you’re sure not convincing yourself.

Rollerskating. A sport for people with more balance than yourself. You avoided the Rink-A-Rama as much as you possibly could in the last couple of years since it opened. There’s no making a fool of yourself if you don’t go.

That is until today.

Jeff is growing bored of the same day after day plot of his life. It’s the last day of summer vacation, before school! Everyone is out in the world exploring, making memories and having more fun than he is. Most of the time, Jeff is taking care of his grandma. An elderly woman that has bunions the size of the country of France. The soap operas she watches throughout the day begin to blend together into one mash that has Jeff spinning like a top! And, doing her laundry? Boy, if he could skip seeing another pair of her underwear. Yuck!

The highlight of summer is when he is with the boys. And, you, of course. Corroded Coffin sounded good, and Eddie wants them to sound great. They play gigs regularly for a bar in town. As long as they keep their hands away from the alcohol, they’re welcome to shred some music on those drunken faces.

It gets them an estranged relationship with their conservative town of Hawkins. Most of the boys in the band stay home between practices and rehearsals, or the occasional D&D session held in someone’s basement. There isn’t much to do in town anyway. You could go to Benny’s for a burger, or you could walk down the block for some fresh air. Otherwise, you’re stuck to the same bland day over and over again. Waking up and going to sleep.

Breaking the cycle with the camping trip, suggested by Eddie Munson of all people, has been the highlight of the summer for Jeff. If you ask anyone in that group, they would also agree. The adventure has led to a fine friendship between Jeff and Robin, who are equally as mischievous - and equally as bored in this town. They are the ones to come up with the idea that all six of you guys should meet at the roller rink.

The Rink-A-Rama opened a couple years ago. Certain crowds tend to flock there. Either young couples with their children trying to burn off their energy, or the evening crowd when all of the burnouts and socialites came to play. It’s fortunate that tonight you haven’t run into anyone from school, aside from the group you came with.

The lighting inside turns a moody indigo, and a switch flickers on in the D.J. booth. Earlier, the booth is accompanied by an older guy. Round in the middle. Balding on just the top of his head. Now, sits someone much younger. Maybe his son? He’s got earrings and a horrible gotee. The music changes to something darker. Louder. Definitely not approved by the moms and dads of this town.

Jeff heads to the floor with his new friend, Robin, who has impeccable balance. Freak decided to sit this one out and to babysit a plate of nachos. It was hard enough to convince him to come out tonight. No one wanted to battle him into wrestling on a pair of skates.

You would be much happier sitting at the same table as Freak, but your shell isn’t that hard. It doesn’t take much convincing to slap on a pair of skates and to at least try to roll around the edge of the rink where there’s a balance beam for beginners.

Watching the skaters expertly twirl in a circle has you doubting yourself again. You’re about to be a laughing stock. What if you fall? The knot in your belly tightens.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” your grip tightens on Gareth’s arm.

It occurs to you how silly you might look with your leg over Gareth’s lap. Letting your foot hit the floor in front of you, you also detach from him.

When would you tell your friends that Gareth and you have been spending more time by yourselves lately? That when you tell Eddie you’re too busy to hang out when you’re usually free - it’s because Gareth has already made plans? Unbeknownst to you, tonight would have been the night when Gareth asks you officially to be his girlfriend. A solid sentiment that might take the edge off from him to finally tell your friends.

Still, his affections towards you tonight prove that he’s not ashamed of you, or afraid to show you off. That tonight could still be the night that your friends catch a glimpse of how happy you make each other. It’s not a casual hang - it’s a real relationship blossoming.

Gareth doesn’t have much experience with girls that like him back. The last time he had a crush, it was in middle school. Not only were his feelings unreciprocated, but her friend asked him out for her. Of course, the girl quickly ran up behind her friend to wave erratically and rapidly trying to get her to stop. It was a joke. A cruel game that stuck into Gareth’s mind that has always made him question if he’s even worthy of affection.

You notice how far into thought Gareth has gotten, and you give his skates a tap with your own. The wheels slap together. A metallic clink can be heard by your bare ear. You nudge him, and he lets out a soft bite of laughter along with a gentle smile.

“I’m going to go request a song,” he tells you over the blasting rock music, “wait here for me? I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

You nod, “okay.”

Gareth skates off like a natural. If only you could hear the repeated phrase ‘don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall,’ in his head. He cannot be that dorky in front of you.

In actuality, you’re quite jealous. The more your friends state around here (aside from Freak, who’s got a fist full of cheese and chips), the more you feel left out. You roll your skates under your feet, while you’re still seated. The potential is there. You just need to get the standing down. And, the skating. The combination of skating and standing. Oh, you’re hopeless!

Disco lights gleam across the hardwood floor. It’s been mocking you since you got here. That, and the many faces smiling as they skate. They won’t fall. They’ve got this thing covered. Learning to drive a car was easier than rolling around on four wheels. You haven’t even tried yet, and you’re already giving up.

The moment you turn your head down is the moment that Eddie tilts his head up over to you. A slick sweat begins to paste his curls to his forehead. The past four or five times he’s been around the rink have been a blast. He’s never done this before, but he feels like it comes to him like walking. You, however, appear upset and alone.

The last person you sat with has gone off to play with the D.J. Eddie curses and swears he shouldn’t have left you with Gareth. For a moment, he thought that you and he were getting along. The band practices have been evidence of some hope. You even laughed at a joke Gareth made last week. Things were looking up! Or, so he thought.

Eddie cut through the crowd of skaters to get to you. The sunken expression on your face destroys him. You have your skates on, so why haven’t you taken a turn around the rink?

“Hey,” Eddie slides into the bench. Show off. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?”

You roll your eyes at your friend playfully. This fake flirting began this year. Something you’ve never addressed, but you can say you don’t mind the banter. You sure hope Gareth doesn’t mind either. Eddie is your closest friend. He’s earned a fake flirt or two.

“I can’t skate,” you explain. “Are you having fun?”

“It’s so much fun!” Eddie beams. “Come on. You just haven’t had the right person show you.”

“I was just-,”

Eddie interjects, “you ‘can just’ later. Let your ol’ pal Eddie teach you a thing or two out on the ice.”

“It’s wood,” you begin to correct.

“Even better,” Eddie stands to take your hands. “Come on.”

Right then is where you could have told Eddie that you were waiting for Gareth. But, Eddie would have asked you why. You would have to explain too much.

You slap your hands into Eddies big ones, and he grants you a cheer. The man is stable enough to put your weight into. One foot under you at a time, you begin to rise shakily to your feet. Squeezing tight, your balance becomes uneven.

“You got it,” Eddie ignores the press of pain through his fingers when you hold on too tight. Instead, speaking to you in a soft tone that you might give a child, he waits until you’re semi-comfortable on your two feet.

To an outside eye, you’re a crooked stature. Figure slanted at the waist. Your knees just bent. The face of pure terror and of concentration. Your lips purse in a way that Eddie might finally admit is cute.

“I’m going to take you to the rink now, okay?” Eddie won’t move until you’re ready.

“Mhm,” your mouth is clenched tight. Just a slight nod of your head has your heart skipping a beat.

Through a series of backwards motions from Eddie, and a few looks across his shoulder, he does make the short ride to the rink. The hardwood is slicker here like a basketball court. Everyone is spinning in one giant loop. A loop that you’re going to mess up when your ass kisses the ground.

“This is a bad idea,” you spit.

Eddie shakes his head, “it’s too late for that, you’re already here.”

Despite a gasp and a short mousy squeak, Eddie guides your right hand as close as possible to the beginner bar. You squeeze your eyes shut. Let go of Eddie’s hand. And, slap it on the bar.

“That was easy, see?”

Eddie wriggles out of your iron grip, so he can skate beside you. Only, you still haven’t moved from that one spot. He could laugh at your predicament, although as soon as you’re free of those skates you might kill him. So, Eddie does the opposite and puts a hand at your back.

“No,” you warn. “No, no, no-,”

You move. The wheels spin and stop. You inch yourself forward on the bar, and pull. Huh! This isn’t so bad after all.

It’s all about patience. Eddie replays this saying in his head day after day. Good things come with patience. So, he waits. He waits and he watches you, a baby lamb, learn to walk for the very first time. In this case, you’re on a set of roller skates. Your knees still shake. The grin across his lips can’t be escaped. He’s so proud of you. His little lamb.

Eddie also can’t help, but buzz at the sensation of your hand holding onto his. It’s different when your children rolling in mud, and you’re trying to get each other to stop flinging dirt. That was er- a tingle. It’s fuller now. There’s no denying anymore what’s been already there the whole time.

Eddie Munson is in love with you.

This is when things become complicated in your friendship. Because if he tells you that he loves you straight away, you might run. No, you would for sure run.

So, Eddie waits.

“Look, I’m doing it!” You’ve hoisted yourself forward all on your own. The laughter that bubbles out of you fuels Eddie.

Love is more than a word to Eddie these days. It’s more than a feeling that rises to the surface when you’re around. Because truthfully you never leave. All Eddie thinks about is you. When you’re not around. What do you do? Who are you with? What are you wearing? Are you having fun?

It dawns on him how silly being in love really is. The agony that holds his shoulders down with a thousand pound weights when you tell him of another silly little boy playing games with your heart. Your heart, which he shall cherish as a crystal gem. The rarest and most delicate flower. That one day he might be able to hold on tight and to never let go.

That same heart that which he does not know yet belongs to another. The other stares over the rink watching Eddie guide you along the outside of the rink. A hot heat radiates inside of him that he’s yet to come to terms with as jealousy. The jealousy that burns the bridge that connects a firm founding friendship.

Gareth waits for you to come around to the beginning again where the rink opens. He no longer cares for the songs that are playing, but would rather just have you back in his arms again.

For a split second, Gareth calms his jealousy by taking a glance over at the two expert skaters they came with. Jeff and Robin are jokingly creating a new routine. That’s when he hears it. A yell. Boom! You’re flat across your stomach, while laying along the hardwood floor.

Gareth speeds onto the rink nearly toppling over a few of the other skaters. It just so happens that someone came around a corner too fast, and slammed into Eddie, who then slammed into you.

You’re alright, but your knee does feel a bit of a sting. The rink might just not be your speed after all.

“You alright?” Gareth hoists you up with Eddie. Soon, come Robin and Jeff begging to know what has happened. “Let’s get her off the rink.”

“I’m fine,” you reply with an achy grunt. Most of the impact is across your knees anyway. A bit of rest, and you’ll be as good as new.

You make it off the rink, and find yourself sat next to Freak. He sits hugging his second round of nachos, while completely indulging in Jeff’s friendly agreement to pay for food.

“You okay?” Freak grunts. The man is of few words.

“Yeah,” you assure with the initial pulsing fading away. They’ll be purple by the morning.

Gareth comes whizzing around you with a cup of ice to hold at your knee. That’s the only gesture that the cheapskate employee hovering about the food court would offer for free.

At the same moment you want to thank Gareth for looking out for you, a second player comes to bat. Eddie also has brought you ice.

“One for each knee,” your attempt to split the tension in the air. Indeed, a bit awkward for the boys.

Were you aware of the tension, or were you simply being friendly? A hand grazes the spine of your back. It’s Gareth, of course. Those soft eyes could make you melt like ice cream left out on a sunny day.

The thing about dating is that the person you’ve grown so close too has made you forget what either of you argued about daily. Those petty squabbles don’t seem so important now.

“The hell, man,” Eddie stumbles over his words. The green eyed monster is coming to buy himself a home inside of Eddie’s brain. “Are you? When did you?”

Evidence lays before him. Gentle touches. Far away gazes. Gareth laying his hands on you is the final wire that ignites Eddie’s brain. How could something like this have happened? How has he been so oblivious?

Questions arise like bile. None of which comes clean out of his lips. Eddie’s talking to himself now. Gareth can’t even get a word in to explain. The whole time Gareth thought that maybe Eddie could be happy. Because after all, didn’t Eddie want them to get along? And, you are. In a way.

You watch as Gareth chases down Eddie, who’s skating away at such speed. The pleasant day at the roller rink ends, as Eddie is ripping off his shoes without a single word to spare to Gareth.

Meanwhile, Robin nudges Jeff. The pair stand ideally by soaking in the soap opera before them. Neither have put a word in, but rather speak only so loudly that they can hear.

“That was awkward, right?” Robin whispers to his ear.

Jeff nods, “very.”

-> <-

While Eddie might be dubious of your relationship with Gareth now more than ever, neither of you let the moment at the roller rink spoil the budding relationship you have with each other.

Kissing the skin of your knuckles, Gareth has gotten cuddly in the past ten minutes with you. He finally has you alone, and to himself.

There’s no one at his home to interrupt the lovers.

Gareth’s home is quiet with sleep. You reject his offer to come inside because you can’t fathom waking his mother at an hour like this. Instead, you hop on the front hood of your car. Sitting next to each other like two peas in a pod.

“We’ve been on a few dates now,” Gareth starts slowly with a thumping deep in his chest.

You agree, “we have.”

The night air kisses your cheeks with a bite of cold, but suddenly the apples of your cheeks feel quite warm. Gareth’s body heat radiates against your left side. The long sleeved shirt you wore can’t save you from being too frosty. Gareth nudges closer to you.

“Do you- er- like spending time with me?”

“Yeah,” you blush.

There’s a pregnant pause, as Gareth tries to form the words of what next to say. He knows what he has to say, but he doesn’t quite know how to say it. The past month has been the most alive he’s felt in years. You’ve awoken a part of him that he didn’t know existed.

“I-,” he clears his throat. “I like spending time with you. And, er- we’ve been going out a while. I guess-,” Gareth takes a deep breath, before landing the words, “I was wondering if I could call you my girlfriend?”

You’re not too shy to kiss his lips. Something you’re quite used too now. The sweetness from your chapstick bounces back to your mouth, as you share this moment together.

“I’d like that a lot,” you bite back a yell of pure joy.

Gareth couldn’t keep the shit eating grin from his face, and he connects your lips again.

-> <-

[September - December 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo

[baddiewiththebook]

My readers,

Deepest apologies for taking this long to return. In a short few hours, I will have the next chapter to Over the Years up on this platform.

I made the decision to blend a bonus chapter at the end, simply because I feel terrible that I've been gone for so long.

xo, baddie

[baddiewiththebook]

Hi!! I’ve been missing your writing lately, but I really just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re doing!☺️🫶

Not to fear, my dear! I’m still here. I’m just perfecting the next chapter of Over the Years, and I’m overthinking it.

I’ll do some last edits when I have a couple days off from work soon. I really should just post it, but alas, I’m stuck on a few minor details.

See you soon! xo