musingsofmajesty

[musingsofmajesty]

SYD & CARMY THE BEAR 4.10 – Goodbye

[musingsofmajesty]

[musingsofmajesty]

to be.

to rest without guilt. to want without shame. to take up space without apologizing. to exist without justification. to leave without explanation. to breathe without permission.

[musingsofmajesty]

I really enjoyed this. You have such a way with making quiet moments land. Wish I could better articulate how this settled beneath my skin, but just know that it did. I’m also very much in my feels 🤍

You and Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: ~600

Summary: It's just you and Joel...living in every moment you have.

Author's Note: I'm in my feels today and I heard the song "You and Me" by Lifehouse today and I've been thinking about the premiere of TLOU 2 tonight and I just don't know...I mean I know...but I don't. I'M FINE!...ugh. It's just a small blurb. Anyway, come feel stuff with me. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divide by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: There's a joke in here! And cookies! And softness but it definitely has an angsty feel-which is just mirroring my own feels.

💕PS NO spoilers obviously...

The streets are quiet as night approaches. Everyone is already locked up inside the promising safety of their houses.

You reach the edge of town and climb the ladder at the wall, careful with your footing, and when you reach the top you see him sitting on the small defensive outpost, only the shadows cast from the dying afternoon light surrounding him.

Step by quiet step, you make your way toward him, balancing the small paper plate in your hand and willing the wind not to rip it free.

“What are you doin’ out here darlin’?” he asks, his gaze focused on the expanse of land below.

You set the plate down and sit next to him.

“I made cookies.”

He glances at the cookies, then leans in and brushes his mouth over yours before grabbing one.

“Thank you.”

The cold seeps into your clothes and you note the heavy gray clouds moving in from the west.

“It’s already snowing over the mountains,” you say quietly. “I bet we get at least eight inches tonight.”

“Maybe more if you’re good.” The corners of his lips lift as he brings the cookie to his mouth.

“Did you just…make a joke? A dick joke?”

“You’re talkin’ about the weather,” he counters, taking a bite then holding it up to your mouth.

“Just thought you might want to talk about something…normal.”

You take the offered bite then watch him take another. A long moment passes before you rise to the challenge in his eyes and ask, “What are you out here thinking about?”

He’s quiet for so long the first flakes of snow start to descend, and you move the cookies out of the way to scoot closer to him, pressing yourself against his side.

“I’m scared.” His admission is all but a whisper and you tuck yourself closer.

He lifts his arm and curls it around you, the scruff on his jaw thick with days of unkempt growth and the coldness of his beard tickling your skin as he buries his face in your neck and breathes deeply.

You give him no reply because there isn’t one and when the cold finally chills you to your bones you both retreat, leaving whatever the future holds behind you as best you can.

The house is warm despite the chill still clinging to your body and when you come out of the bathroom to find him already in bed and waiting, it takes all your resolve not to throw yourself toward him.

He’s moved your discarded book to the nightstand, holding your page with one of his small knives. The thoughtfulness of his gesture makes a small smile play upon your lips.

He pulls the covers on your side away and holds them up.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His voice softens to the tone he only ever uses with you, weakening your knees as he hovers over you and lowers his mouth to yours.

It’s a slow and gentle kiss but even so it heats you from the inside out and when he deepens the pressure you sigh into it, letting the rest of the world disintegrate around you.

Hours later, warm and sated, you lie awake in bed, the brightness of the blanket of snow outside the window making the walls in the room glow.

When you feel him shift and reach out you curl your body around his, and his arm wraps around your back and pulls you closer in a way that can only be described as instinctive, like he’ll be doing it for the next hundred years. You settle against his warmth and lay your head on his chest, above the most comforting sound in the world, his heartbeat.

[musingsofmajesty]

Love love love the intimacy here. You’ve captured such a palpable sense of familiarity and ease in a really lovely way. It made for such an enjoyable read. 🤍

Break the Bed In— ⋆₊˚⌂

The first morning in your new home is slow and soft, spent tangled up in bed with Steve.

mdni 18+ fem/afab reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), switch!steve/reader, the fluffiest sweetest smut you'll ever read | 4k

a/n: this is dedicated to all my single ladies. happy valentine’s day you freaks! coincidentally i also moved houses yesterday so this feels extra fitting

── .✦

You wake well-rested; like every inch of you was unraveled and woven back together while you dreamt. Your wrist hangs off the side of the mattress, fingernails brushing the carpet. Your bed frame is a heap of wooden slats across the room, as is most of the furniture currently in your house. 

Steve’s arm is warm under your neck, his breath a steady string behind you. You flip over, your ear landing in the crease of his elbow. 

He’s softer in sleep. Cheek squished to his shoulder, lips pressed to a pout. He’s boyish in a lot of ways still, but growing less so the longer you know him. He’s got stubble and sun spots and smile lines. And you love each of those things, swearing he’s getting more and more handsome with them every day. Blame it on the lingering moving high but today the feeling triples. 

There’s a unique kind of joy in buying your first home together. It’s perpetual surprise, popping up in the most mundane of moments. It’s picking taupe over eggshell for the living room and it’s paying extra for matching key designs and it’s waking up beside your favorite person on a mattress on the floor. 

You stamp your lips into his skin in good morning, and again because it’s a satisfying warmth on your mouth. He smells sweet, like your new body wash since he couldn’t find his last night. You decide you like the scent on his skin better than yours. 

The quiet is strange but the farthest thing from unwelcome. No neighbors or roommates or parents to wake to. Just the soft hush of rain against the roof and the swish of your ankles underneath the blankets. 

Your fingers chase the hair from Steve’s eye socket, your thumb perching behind his ear. His pupils shift under his eyelids and he sighs the softest little sound you’ve ever heard. 

It’s cruel to wake him, certainly. He did most of the heavy lifting yesterday and was up organizing later than you were. But you’re feeling especially selfish this morning, tickling him awake with a swarm of several more arm kisses. 

There are worse things to wake up to, you reason with yourself as Steve hums, his fingers curling against the sheet. He’s quiet for a long beat and you decide maybe it's better to let him rest. 

But his lips part and he rasps out, “Mornin’.” 

“Mornin’,” you parrot. Your grin is immediate, spanning ear to ear with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

He smushes your face to his bare collar, the heel of his free hand climbing up his cheek. 

You turn to watch his eyes unstick themselves of sleep and continue to wonder how you got so lucky. You press another kiss to his chin. Another to the coarse thatch of hair on his chest. Another to his shoulder. You just can’t help yourself today. 

“It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, hand crawling under your shirt in a long splay up your spine. 

You beam, weaving a leg under his heavy one. “I know.” 

“We have a house.” 

“I know.” You sound as excited as you can be without yelling. 

He hums, the corners of his smile creeping wider, a hand steady on your back. 

Your finger twists a curl at his nape idly. “What’re you thinking?” 

Steve’s gaze flickers from the ceiling to you, eyes like old pennies under the clouds coloring your room a gloomy shade of gray. “Nothin’,” he whispers, lips skimming the corner crease of your eye. “Just happy.” 

You hum, one part agreement, two parts delight. “Can we get a dog now?” 

He huffs out a chuckle, vibrating the place where your chests kiss. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.” 

“‘Cause you always say no.” 

“‘Cause it didn’t make sense before.”

“So, we can?” 

He has a hard time pretending to hate the look you show him. Your jutted lip and raised brows show no mercy. He wants to say yes, of course he does, but he’s not as impulsive as he used to be. He’s a homeowner. His responsibilities extend beyond just himself now. 

“Can we unpack the house first? Then we’ll talk about it.”

You flick his collarbone. “Excuses. Excuses.” 

If there’s a fond way to roll your eyes at someone, he’s figured out how to do it. Steve knows you’re all drama. And he knows you’re over the moon with or without the promise of a dog. 

You bend out of his embrace and regret sitting the second you’re up. Your back aches twice its weight, muscles sore with yesterday's labor. 

But Steve relishes his view. You're in nothing but underwear and one of his shirts, the dip of your lower back exposed where the hem has scrunched up. He might buy you new pajamas if he thought you’d actually wear them or if he didn’t adore just how lovely his clothes look on you. 

And he doesn’t give you a chance to ask, his fingers automatically massaging a path up your aching shoulder. You squirm but you love it. You kiss his hand in thank you and carry it around your waist to play with. 

“Don’t get up,” he says. Pleads, practically.

You face him. “But we have sooo much to unpack.” 

“It can wait,” he argues. He steals your entwined hands for a persuasive set of kisses. One to each knuckle and then a flurry up your arm. And his hands are an equally convincing force, coercing you right back onto his chest. 

You’re putty, melting into his hot hands like candle wax. You throw a leg over his waist and settle down in a more comfortable straddle. The possibility of you falling back asleep jumps an alarming percentage. 

You bolster your chin on his sternum and meet his eyes. “But I really want that dog.” 

“More than me?” 

You hum debatably into his puckered lips.

He smiles hard and forgets about kissing you, pinching your side until you yelp. Your giggles spill through twin smiles, overlapping each other in layers. “Might have to put the house back on the market if you keep being so mean to me," he says.

“I’ll be nicer if we go look at the shelter today.” 

“Mm. Not letting this go are we?” 

You shake your head.

He pecks the corner of your mouth. “We’ll go–”

You see the shift in his expression before he even says anything. Your eyebrows jump in excitement. 

“If,” he tacks on quickly, “we finish downstairs today. Hmm?” 

“Mhmm. Easy.” 

“Easy,” he repeats. But not one lick of him believes you. It wasn’t easy carrying so many of your boxes yesterday and it certainly wasn’t easy getting you to pack everything up in the first place. 

But ultimately he’s amused. And he thinks you’re especially pretty when you’re confident. So Steve kisses you like he has something to prove. 

He gropes the swell of your ass mid-kiss and while it’s not unusual for him to do so playfully, you can’t perceive it in any way innocent when you’re pressed up against his morning wood. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly. 

He hums against your mouth, a faux sound of innocence. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You break apart with a wet smack. “Gotta unpack.”

“Have all day,” he says, words all smushed together so he can sew his lips right back to yours. 

“Mm-mmm.” You turn your cheek, but the hands on your waist don’t let you go far. “‘S, like, ten-thirty already.” 

He works a slow line past your jaw, spending extra time on the sensitive skin around your throat. Devious. 

“Steve.” 

“Hmm?” 

You push off his chest until you're sitting upright on his thighs.

His heart tick tick ticks under the flat of your palm. His pupils are wide, mouth kiss-bruised a bright shade of red. He’s so, so dreamy, all flushed and starry-eyed like this. He’s got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you’ve strung him with yours.  

You sigh. “Why do I let you win?” 

He smirks that stupid victorious smirk you love so much. “‘Cause you love me.”

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Me?” he laughs. 

“Mhmm. And a hypocrite.” 

The hand clasping your hip pressures you back down, the other cradling one side of your jaw. “A hypocrite?” he whispers. 

“Mhmm.” 

He fills the tiny space between you, half-lidded and heavy-handed in a fervent kiss. He’s not rough but he is eager. Open-mouthed and persistent like he’s trying to weld his face to yours. 

You meet him with the same intensity. It’s instinctual. The push-pull of your bodies, like you’re more one entity than two. You’ve been dating Steve long enough to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’ve made out more times than you can count. And he’s a simple man. You’ve got him hard, properly hard, in a matter of minutes. 

His bottom lip is pinned between your teeth, your chests rising and falling in sync. You grind back on his crotch and his breath hitches. 

“Ahh,” he pants. “Can I…” 

You don’t know what he’s trying to ask but you nod anyway. It’s not hard to piece together, though; not when he’s fisting the fabric of your shirt like it’s causing him physical pain to see you wear it. 

You help him hitch it up your back and down your arms to be tossed out of the way. Steve quickly stops you from lying back down. His large palms spread wide against your tummy, thumbs kneading either side of your belly button. He roves up your ribs attentively, studying how your skin pulls and dips beneath his fingers. 

You swear you feel him down to the divots in his fingerprints, the slow speed of his hands tantalizing. 

His thumbs pause at your breastbone, sweeping up and around your nipples as if he’s never played with them before. They perk up easily, to Steve's obvious enjoyment. 

He’s told you a thousand times how pretty you are, naked and not. And he doesn’t have to say it now for you to know he’s thinking it. 

He stares at your chest, your tummy, the soft stretch of your thighs, each like they’ve been carved from marble, destined to end up behind a glass at some museum he’s never been to. 

You get shy eventually, needling past his hold to hide in the slope of his neck. Your mouth peppers lazy kisses where it can reach. Soft ones, not nearly as greedy as before. You work your way up, suckling long enough to leave a couple of red rings in your wake. 

Steve's hips shift under yours as you arrive back at his mouth. He’s getting antsy, the finger fidgeting with the hem of your panties no longer satisfied. So maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he holds your hips down and bucks up into your clothed cunt. 

Your jaw slackens, a broken moan dampened against his mouth. 

“Can be loud ‘s you want now,” he assures. His hands roam, around your ass and back up your sides. Soothing, but so feather-light you shudder. 

“Still have neighbors.” 

He hums in half agreement. Yes, you have neighbors, but their bedroom wall isn’t attached to yours. He imagines you’d have to scream bloody murder for the neighbors to hear you here. 

You slink back up to sit and Steve’s fingers fall to your hips. Your pelvis rolls into his. Again when he shudders. 

“Shit,” he sighs. 

“Feel good?”

His eyes disappear behind his lashes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mhmm.” 

You continue to work him through his briefs, a slow back and forth forming a hot puddle between your own legs. With one hand propped against his sternum, you force your eyes over to the stacks upon stacks of moving boxes in the room. 

“Condoms… condoms.” 

Steve almost misses your mumbling– and to his credit, you’re talking more to yourself than him– but he blinks out of his daze and sighs vaguely at the nearest box. “Fuck. Bathroom, maybe.” 

Not ideal. 

“Think I have one in my purse,” you remember, swaying heavily to the side to scan the floor beside the mattress. 

Steve’s hands fly to your waist to balance you as he huffs. “You mean your bottomless pit?” 

“Don’t shame me. It comes in handy.” The bottomless pit in question is spotted, half buried under yesterday’s clothes across the room. “One sec’.”

Steve grumbles as you climb off of him. But his heart turns in his chest as you saunter off. His love for you is always there. It’s the shape of you as you crouch, how you tip your purse upside down and fan the contents out across the floor with a hum. 

“Aha.” You pop up, waving a glossy, square packet as you skip your way back. “My trusty bottomless pit saves the day.”

You clamber back on top of him clumsily, planting yourself in his lap like he’s no more fragile than the kitchen barstool. 

Steve groans under his breath. You’ve got him really wound up and his patience is thinning. 

Your hips roll into his again, the curve of his cock a strong silhouette through two sticky layers of fabric. You scoot back on his thighs and palm him with modest pressure. 

“Babe,” he shudders, thumbs pawing the sides of your underwear again. “Please.” 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

You watch him intently. How his nostrils flare the second you break the seal between his hot skin and the band of his underwear. How his eyebrows crinkle together as you push the cotton down his thighs. 

His cock bobs free before you take it gently by the base. Steve’s not just a pretty face, and he’s not cocky for no reason. He’s well-endowed, a dusty shade of pink blended tan into the dark curls at his hilt. 

“Fuck, baby.” 

He shifts his gaze past you because he’s certain if you make eye contact with him this’ll be the shortest sex of his life. And even the half-blurry blob of you in his peripherals is still too fucking enticing. He forces his eyes up at the popcorn ceiling and traces the shapes in his mind. 

You spread the pearl of precum down a vein on the side of his cock, using the slip to tug him a handful of times. The slick dissolves, and your hand catches twice before you’re getting ready to spit in it.  

But Steve whines, “Need to feel you.” 

Your hand stops but the pad of your pinky trails a sneaky line from tip to base. “My hands not enough for you, Stevie?” 

“Not gonna– mm– last.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

You mean it rhetorically but he quickly shakes his head no. You forget how much you enjoy being in charge until you have Steve squirming under you. 

You stabilize yourself on his chest, hiking one leg up at a time until you’re underwear have been flung to the floor. The slick between your folds is more palpable as you sit back on his thighs, hot skin to hot skin. 

His eyelids flutter closed as you roll the condom on. He’s flushed up to his ears, breath nimble off his open mouth. 

“Ready?” 

He nods like you’ve asked something outrageously silly. 

You guide the head of his cock up to your folds, sinking down in one tedious stride. It’s a good kind of ache, scratching the deepest part of your tummy. 

His hips jerk involuntarily as you release your full weight onto them, his nails leaving crescents on your skin. “‘M not gonna last,” he warns again. 

“I’ll go slow.” 

It’s not much consolation. No matter what you do to him, he’s not gonna last. You’re too damn irresistible for your own good. 

You rock your hips forward and back in a continuous cycle. The pace is indulgent, just slow enough to make things last. Your eyes unfocus, your head tipping back. Every drag squeezes the coil in your stomach tighter. 

Steve’s eyes flick to yours, his voice wavering as he mumbles, “Tease me too much.”

“I do?”

“Mhmm.”

You smile softly at him and his eyes jump away. He’s drawing loopy patterns into the meat of your thigh to distract himself. And it doesn’t help when you cover his hand and sweep your thumb across every digit. He’s so focused on not blowing his load that he can’t even speak. 

You pause your rhythm and hum to yourself before continuing. “Know what I just realized.”

“Hmm?”

“Forgot the shower curtain.”

Steve exhales hard, words sticking to his teeth.“We’ll get a new one.” 

“I really liked that one.”

He can’t think straight long enough to tell if you’re purposely trying to distract him or not and he doesn’t care all that much either way. He just needs you to be the same level of fucked that he is. 

His hand trembles over to your pubic bone, thumb snaking right up to your clit. 

You nod as he presses. Right there. 

He rubs slow circles, a spark of pleasure each time he closes a loop. 

“Fuck,” you drawl simultaneously. 

You laugh, blissfully unaware as your muscles clamp around his cock. 

But Steve’s fingers pause on your clit, his other hand tense at your hip. “Don’t,” he shudders out. 

You close your mouth, a soft little apology grin that sends Steve’s stomach flipping. He’s so fucking in love it’s not even funny. 

“Sit on my face.”

You hum, so high on cloud nine you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“Let me taste you.”

Your breath stutters. He’s serious. 

“Come here,” he’s pushing you up and off him before you have much of a chance to process it. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Your cheeks burn a hot shade of embarrassment, your tongue suddenly too heavy in your mouth. You wriggle up his body, guided by the relentless hands on the backs of your thighs. Steve’s eaten you out, but not like this. 

“Steve,” you manage. 

“What?” He knows you better than he’s known anyone in his life. He feels your shaking and he hears the rampant doubts coursing your mind. “I want to,” he promises, pressing a long, love-packed kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You’re unconvinced. You’re certain you’ll break his face the second you sit down. You’ll be so mortified you’ll have to break up with him if he doesn’t first. You’ll have to sell the house before you’ve even unpacked–

“Please?”

He’s not trying to be pushy or even funny as he bats his eyes. He just so genuinely craves to see you unravel in the same way you’ve spun him around. And yeah, he has a sweet set of brown eyes. Sue him. He loves you too much to look at you with any less adoration. 

You nod emphatically. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this nervous about sex with Steve, but you’ve learned just about everything there is to know about him since. You trust him in every capacity, especially in bed.   

He nips his way up your thigh, pulling you lower and lower until his breath is hot on your cunt. Steve licks a wide stripe up to your clit, sucking before swirling his tongue around the sensitive hood. And then his mouth starts lapping you like you’re his last meal. 

Your fist jerks, fingers knotted through the hair on his scalp, and he moans. You don’t hear it over the wet smacking as much as you feel it, the vibrations sending pleasure through you like a pulse. 

His tongue drives you to a mess. He’d push you completely over the edge if you didn’t stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, pushing up onto your knees. “We’re even.” 

He smirks and strokes down the backs of your calves. “Are we competing?” 

“You seem to think so.” 

He shimmies to a sit with an arm around your waist and bestows you with a fleeting kiss, lips washed with the taste of your juices. “Lay down.”

How the fuck could you say no to such a pretty face? 

You scooch down, face up on the sheets. Steve parts you by the ankles and crawls up your body, planting kisses like seeds. His teeth graze the inside of your wrist before he stretches it up and flat against the mattress above your head. 

Your fingers thread through his, his other hand steadying his cock at your entrance. He swipes the head up and down your wet folds before sliding in with a groan. There’s less resistance this time, a fluid in and out to his hips. 

His thrusts are languid. He indulges more closely in the taste of your mouth and the balmy feel of your waist. 

The winding in your tummy resumes, your fingers naturally finding your clit while Steve rocks into you. A heavier thrust and your lips detach, Steve’s rehoming to the skin beneath your jaw. He picks up his pace, puffing and panting into your neck in short bursts. 

Your legs wrap around his, the heel of your foot digging into his lower back. “Mm– Steve.”

“Yeah?” he huffs. 

“Mhmm.”

If the sounds you’re making are anything to go by, Steve thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. And you know he’s just as close to cumming. You know his little sounds and twisty little expressions like the back of your hand. How his stomach tenses and his breath catches. 

You burn the entirety of this to your brain, rubbing yourself faster, more in time with his movements. 

“‘M close,” he says, desperate and hopeful that you are too. 

You nod, focused on the high climbing higher each second. 

His hips stutter when you clench around him. The coil releases and you come undone simultaneously. 

“Fuck, ah– fuck,” he whines, sharp but breathy in your ear.  

Your fingers slow and his thrusts wane and the pleasure softens. Steve wobbles down onto you as gently as he can, taking your interlaced hand between your bodies. Your hearts kiss with each rise and fall of your chests. Steve mouths over the most accessible bit of skin under your ear, thumb sweeping the gentlest curves around your face. 

You exhale into his crown, raking a hand through the dark mop of curls damp at his nape. Your other eases down his back, savoring the contraction of his muscles as he breathes. You travel down the curve of his ass and give him a firm squeeze. “How’s your ass? Still sore?” 

He huffs at you, nose crushed to your neck. “I fall down one flight of stairs and I never hear the end of it.” 

“I told you to be careful.” 

“I was being– whatever.” His thumb continues to caress your jaw, his lips idle on your neck. 

This is Steve’s favorite part of sex. To hold and to be held, easing off a high that’s miles better than a good smoke. There’s nothing greater. 

“Should I check for bruises?” 

“If you kiss ‘em better.” 

Your chest aches with the sweet swell of laughter. Steve’s your person. You realize it time and time again. 

He peels himself off like you're double-sided tape. His hair’s still crazy despite your finger-combing and his eyes are just as heavy as they were when he woke up. He slides out of you with a hiss, sitting back to knot the condom and toss it toward a pile of bubble wrap. 

He looks back at you fondly. “Shower?” 

You shake your head. “Just lay with me.” 

“Downstairs isn’t gonna unpack itself, you know.”

“Shut up.” You palm his chest until he lays and you throw an arm across his middle. “This was your evil plan all along.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand to massage between both of his. “I’m just the worst aren’t I?” 

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

or, you and joel have a slow and reflective start to a special day [wc 800]

"Joel’s lips upturn at the feeling of your nose against his collarbone, but the silence between you does all the talking—the good mornings and I love yous."

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Before seven months ago, it would’ve been too early in the morning to have his wits about him. But he’s sleeping much better these days. Hardly any light streams into the room, but it’s enough to tell that the sun has begun to peak above the horizon. It’s quiet too. No voices carry from outside to suggest that people have widely started their days or begun filing to the dining hall. 

Joel catalogues what he can see of the room with a bleary gaze that grows sharper by the second. Hung landscape pictures immortalize photographers' visions of times past; chipped portions of the sage wallpaper expose the off-white beneath; his overnight backpack rests near the closet door. The pillow smells like you. 

A low groan of relief escapes him as he rolls onto his back to stretch his arms above his head, arching with the movement. Your eyes flutter open in time to catch him, and you extend a hand to rub over his broad chest in slow, soothing passes. Joel’s gotten used to how you touch him so easily and without a second thought. 

There was a time when all he did was brace for impact. It’d grown easier to roll with the blows and expect them; the world was so cruel that it didn’t even have the heart to spare the most innocent. There was no choice but to harden with it to an extent. People knew not to mess with Joel in any way, shape, or form. 

But knowing you is to know how to receive. To let his guard down and accept gentleness even though it’d been far from him for so long. He never flinched or found himself on edge around you, save for the playful times when you tap your fingers along his sensitive waistline—a sure way to make laughter catch in his throat.   

Neither of you says anything as you tuck your body closer to his, relishing the warmth. The faint scent of lavender and honey salve mingle between you. Joel’s lips upturn at the feeling of your nose against his collarbone, but the silence between you does all the talking, the good morning’s and I love you’s. Those would come soon enough, but for now, you hold onto the stillness of the new day. 

It’s eventually you who speaks up. “We should watch the sunrise. Bet the sky’s pretty.” 

You mumble those words against Joel’s chest, but he hears you just fine. 

It's cool outside, but the blanket draped around your shoulders fights the slight chill as you sit nestled on the back porch bench with Joel. He claimed it felt mighty fine out, and your intentions to prove him a liar fell flat when his skin showed no signs of any goosebumps. His arm is steady as it rests over your shoulders. 

The mountains in the distance loom against a lilac sky that’s orange near the horizon. It’s a timeless view that’s better whenever he’s by your side. While you often gushed, his appreciation was always more understated, tucked away in his impressed whistles and the way he hummed at your commentary. 

“Joel?” you hum as your head rests on his shoulder. 

“Sweetheart.” 

“Do you remember when we met?” 

He’s quiet as it plays in his head like an eternally loaded reel of film ready to roll at a moment’s notice. The two of you had been volunteering at a movie night, but Joel had only signed up for Ellie's sake. It was her first time going, and she didn’t want to be alone in case making a friend proved to be hard. With her bright smile and bubbly personality, she never really had anything to worry about.  

There was a special seating designated for volunteers in the back, and Joel found himself by your side. You’d introduced yourselves initially, but it was the sweet way you kept laughing at the corny jokes in the film that made it hard for him to resist poking a little fun at you for being so amused. In reality, Joel was all for it, especially when you started leaning into him and swatting his thigh whenever he’d correctly anticipate your next bout of laughter by peeking over at you. 

He didn’t know what it was, but his guard had disappeared the moment you said hello. 

“Don’t remember a thing,” he claims gruffly. 

“Keep lying, and that big nose of yours is gonna grow longer,” you warn lightly. 

A chuckle takes him by surprise. “I see how it is.” He nods as if he’s plotting something in his head. “I got somethin’ for ya.” 

“Whatcha got, Pinocchio?” you challenge. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” 

His threat becomes empty when he presses a lingering kiss to your temple before releasing a content sigh. 

“Happy seven months,” you murmur after a while. 

“Happy seven months, sweet thing.”

-

First Joel drabble on the side blog!

Thanks for reading. All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

navigation 

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

or, you sleep over at eddie's for the first time.

"Eventually, you do settle. And it's perfect. You've never felt so warm, safe, or loved..."

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Wayne's gone so, you've got the whole trailer to yourselves. Which is quite nice when you're helplessly in love. The two of you spend the evening eating Eddie’s snacks (some of which he stocked up on for tonight) and watching reruns of Happy Days. But mostly just talking and enjoying each other's proximity as you're cuddled on the couch.

When it finally comes time for you to get ready for bed, you do your night routines around each other in the bathroom because you want to stay close, even if it is a tight squeeze.

As you're brushing your teeth, you stand in front while Eddie stands over your shoulder, his reflection in the mirror smiling at you from around his toothbrush. Both of you laugh when toothpaste drips onto his chin.

Things are definitely a lot slower and sleepier, but you couldn't ask for anything more.

There's a sense of ease about Eddie that's hard to come by. Part of you wonders how you'd gone so long without it. It feels like you've known each other for a lifetime.

Dim lamplight illuminates his bedroom as you crawl into his bed. The mattress creaks softly beneath your weight, and the sheets rustle as you settle beneath them. He lets you take the spot near the wall, while he takes the outside. Everything smells like him, earthen with the faintest undertone of something sweet.

Just as he's reaching over to the nightstand to switch off the lamp, you place a hand between his shoulder blades that makes him peek back at you.

"Hmm?" His eyes are soft as they take you in.

When you don't say anything, he gives you his full attention, turning to face you while propped on a forearm. Then he sees it. The beginnings of a smile. The amusement kindled just beneath the surface.

"You forgot my goodnight kiss."

Eddie sighs like the news grieves him.

"Already gave you about fifty. How many more do you need?" Even as he's saying this, he's leaning in to close the gap.

His lips are soft and sweet against your own. Warmth settles in your stomach.

"Satisfied?" he asks.

You nod your head in confirmation, then Eddie finally cuts the lights.

In the darkness, all sounds seem magnified. The muffled voices outside in the distance. Car wheels against gravel. Even your own breaths as your bodies truly begin to wind down. You can feel each other's heat, the weight of your proximity. It's new, and exciting, and grounding all at the same time.

For two people who always seemed to have a lot to say when it came to talking to each other, a comfortable silence settles in the space between you. It isn't long before Eddie's hand settles on your hip. It prompts you to roll over and face the wall so that you're turned away from him.

He presses in closer, his chest against your back. "This okay?" he asks.

"No," you joke at first. Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. "It's perfect," you eventually say.

A shiver tumbles down your spine at the plush feeling of his lips meeting the nape of your neck in a gentle kiss. "An extra one for the road," he explains in a murmur.

You laugh not only because of the feathery brush of his lips, but because you still can't believe this is your life. Eddie starts laughing too, and you end up getting swept into a spell of amusement that makes itself hard to shake.

"Shhh," you manage to complain through your laughter, nudging his foot beneath the covers.

"You shush," he counters, giving your side a playful pinch.

Eventually, you do settle. And it's perfect. You've never felt so warm, safe, or loved.

Eddie yawns, then whispers, "Night, angel."

"Night, Eddie."

navigation

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐕𝐈

pairing shy eddie x flirty reader summary you and eddie attend your senior prom, but the real magic starts after your sweet escape [contains the fluffiest fluff and a heartfelt confession, wc 2.4k] a/n we've broken away from the bullet point format, but no need to fear—the lovebirds are back and better than ever.

[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

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.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Eddie’s palms are steady and gentle where they rest on your waist. He runs his thumbs back and forth over the burgundy satin of your dress like you’re something precious. It keeps him grounded. Gold streamers and pastel balloons adorn the expansive gymnasium, and the lights are turned down low. Your own hands rest on his shoulders over the smooth, black fabric of his vest. 

So many students and volunteers are peppered around the space. But in this sliver of time, it feels like you are the only people in the world. The “Total Eclipse of the Heart” chorus swells around you as you sway. Left, right, left, right. 

I really need you tonight

Forever’s gonna start tonight…

By the time the song has wound to an end, Eddie’s forehead rests against yours. 

“Can you walk me to the bathroom?” you murmur. 

The hallways are much less crowded. As you venture further from the gym, the muffled beginning of “Born to Run” flows after the two of you. You hold Eddie’s arm for support as your kitten heels click against the tile. A few students stand drinking punch as they break from the bustle, while volunteers gossip about their neighbors. They direct waves and brief nods of acknowledgement your way as you pass. 

He slows as you approach the bathrooms, but you tug him forward in silent encouragement. He frowns but doesn’t ask questions as you turn down another hallway lined with lockers. “Thought you had to—” 

You gently back him against the wall and press your lips to his. 

“Gross.” 

Both of your heads whip to where Robin stands smiling with her arms crossed, wearing a gorgeous, long, forest-green dress. Her hair is pinned in an updo, and loose, curled strands frame her face. Steve strolls up alongside her in a charcoal suit.

“Are you weirdos stalking us?” you ask, backing away from Eddie but laughing despite yourself. 

Steve extends his fist to Eddie, who bumps it back before raking a shy hand through his silky curls.

“What about me?” You hold your fist up, and Steve humors you as a smile breaks across his face. By then, all of you are laughing. “Really though, what gives?” 

“Thought you guys were going to the bathroom,” she answers honestly. “We wanted to come with.”

“She wanted to come with,” Steve clarifies. “I dunno why chicks need a posse for that shit.” 

You direct your gaze to him. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and shares a look with Eddie.

“Can we have some privacy now?” you ask. Robin looks between you and Eddie and notices a familiar glint in your eyes. One that isn’t quite trouble but flirts with it. 

“I’m onto you,” she warns, pointing a finger. 

“Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?”

She holds your gaze for a few knowing seconds before tugging Steve back towards the gym.“Let’s go, Harrington.” Then she calls over her shoulder, “See you later, alligator.” 

“In a while, crocodile,” you recite back.

“Wait,” you hear Steve ask her. “So you didn’t actually have to use the bathroom?” 

“No, dingus. It was just gonna be for moral support,” she says. “Evidently, they’re just necking.” 

Eddie’s soft, dark eyes find yours again as he places a hand back on your waist. This time, he pulls you closer to kiss you. Slow, earnest, and sweet.

“You’re a good kisser,” you breathe.

Eddie smiles against your lips. “Yeah?”

“Big time.”

Eddie can’t help a flustered chuckle that makes you pull away, but you’re smiling, too. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you say. 

His brows furrow. “Huh?” 

“Let’s”—kiss—“get”—kiss—“out of here.” You pull away after a final peck. All Eddie can do is blink at you in affection, wonder, and awe.

“But it’s prom,” he says.

That word didn’t mean much to him at the beginning of the school year. But that was before you and your gentle touches and sweet smiles. He’d only come out tonight because of you. People always said prom was the one part of senior year you’d regret skipping years down the line. But he’s certain he wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t for you.

He’d go anywhere with you. Prom is no more than a night of dancing bound to fade away. But it’ll be you who lingers in his life way after tonight. 

You level him with a mild look. “We’ve been together six months,” you say. “Haven’t you realized I love a good escape?”

And he sure did love falling into step.

•••

Outside, the night air is gracious and warm. Eddie gets the van door for you, then rounds to the driver’s side. He settles into the seat with a dazed little chuckle as he looks at you. You pull your lower lip between your teeth but don’t say anything. You just keep looking into his Bambi eyes until he cracks. 

“I guess we can cruise around for a bit,” he says. “Then...” 

A smile pulls at your lips. “Go to my place,” you say, then add, “My parents are still in Colorado, so we’ll have it all to ourselves. You brought a change of clothes, right?” 

Eddie nods in confirmation. Now it made sense why you’d asked him to.

He’d only come to your house on a few occasions. You usually opted to go to his trailer instead. It’s so cozy and modest there that it’s easy to be there and feel like you’re in your own little tucked-away corner of the world.

It also helped that Wayne never pried like your parents. Their protectiveness was very much understandable—it truly was. But you felt that no matter how highly you spoke of Eddie, you hadn’t come close to articulating how gone you were for him. How safe he made you feel, how you’d spend every waking second with him if it were healthy. 

As soon as that day came, you’d bring him around all the more because they’d truly understand that he wasn’t just some one-off high school fling. Until then, you planned to keep your cards close to your chest.

It’s quiet when you push through the front door of your house. A spacious abode with no people to fill it would seemingly warrant a sense of loneliness or a lack of aliveness. As soon as you flip the lights on and flash Eddie a giddy grin, the space is nothing of the sort. You imbue life right into it.

He still hasn’t gotten over how many childhood pictures there are of you peppered around. As he takes his shoes off, he focuses on a particular picture on the console table in the foyer. You can’t be much older than seven, sporting a massive grin with an ornate mermaid fountain behind you. 

“Oh, gosh,” you chuckle when you notice where his attention has fallen.

“That’s from a road trip,” you say. “I think we were somewhere in Virginia near the oceanfront.” 

Eddie hums. “Cute.” His eyes are sincere when they meet your gaze. “You still look the same.”

“Really?” You almost ask like it’s a bad thing.

Eddie nods. “Your smile hasn’t changed at all.”

He lets you lead him upstairs to your bedroom, where he sits on the foot of your bed.

Everything in your room is neat and organized. Posters decorate the walls, along with Polaroids of you, your friends, and your travels. Eddie is quiet as he looks around. Each time he comes, there are always new details to lock onto. 

“Earth to Eddie—would you mind?” you ask again, a little louder. You’re standing in front of your mirror, attempting to pull down the zipper on the back of your dress.

Eddie immediately pops to his feet. You watch his reflection as he approaches behind you.

There’s a familiar warmth to his proximity. You shiver as his hand finds the zipper and eases it down. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He expects it to stop halfway down your back, but it keeps going, all the way until the waistband of your black lace panties peek out. They match the band of your bra, as he now pieces together.

Eddie swallows and takes a few respectful steps backward as the tips of his ears grow warm. “I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

“Or in here,” you say, turning around to face him. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that invitation or the new flutter in his gut.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just…” he trails off when you smile and tilt your head. 

“Leave and miss the show?” 

“Show?” Eddie raises a sheepish hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Don’t call it that. Makes me sound like a creep or something.”

“It’s not creepy if it’s meant for you,” you counter.   

Eddie cracks a smile and shakes his head, sure his cheeks are hot to the touch. 

“You remember where the bathroom is, right?” Your voice no longer bears its teasing edge. There’s a softer look in your eyes as you take him in. “First door on the left.”

“I remember,” he says. Then, after a couple quiet beats, “You looked pretty tonight.” A pause. “Still do.” 

He lets his gaze drift down your dress one final time. “I had a really good time with you.”

“Me too,” you say with a small smile. “I’d ditch prom with you any day.”

Smiling, Eddie turns his back to you and digs out his clothes from his bag. Behind him, he can hear the swish of your dress as it slips off your body. He allows himself one final peek over his shoulder before slipping out of your room. 

•••

Fwump!

A pillow hits Eddie square in the chest the second he walks back into your bedroom. A surprised sound escapes him, and before he can take another step, you scramble onto your bed with a giggle. There’s a feigned intensity to your gaze as you watch him, holding the pillow poised like a weapon as you stand on your knees. 

Eddie smiles like a kid as he takes the bait, grabbing a pillow off your bed. You strike him with an unfair blow to the head before he can think of a counterattack. He scrambles a few steps away as he catches his breath from laughing. 

“Are you okay?” you snort. 

“Like you care,” he lightly accuses.

“I do,” you insist. “C’mere, lemme kiss it better.” 

Though he does come closer, it’s only to whack your legs with the pillow. You let yourself fall back onto your backside in a giddy haze of laughter, the mattress squeaking beneath you. That proves to be a mistake when Eddie grabs your ankle and pulls you to the foot of the bed. 

“Wait, wait, wait—” you attempt to wiggle free, but in an unexpected show of strength, he manages to ease you onto the carpet and position himself overtop of you. 

Giggles pour out of you in helpless waves as he grabs your wrists to pin them beside your head. You’re too weak with laughter to fight back, but you don’t even make an honest attempt. Eddie swears he could get lost in the sweet sound. Aside from the shake of your laughter, you’re still beneath him. Compliant. The thrill of it all makes it feel like there are butterflies beneath your skin. 

“Lemme go,” you whine with a petulant smile. “I’ll do whatever you want.” You’re looking up at him with bright eyes and the sweetest smile. 

You’ve just turned all the cards over to him, but he has no idea how to play them. Or really what this game is. There’s no handbook. No quick guide. No lifeline. There’s only you beneath him—body beneath body. It’s all so painfully intimate. 

Eddie realizes then that his face has never felt quite this warm—or his entire body, for that matter. Even now, as Eddie stares down at you, that same softness is ever-present in his gaze, not fading for a second. 

“What’s your price, Teddy?” you murmur in charged encouragement, eyes remaining on his. Your own heart is in your throat, but you’d endure it for him any day.

The question makes something low stir in Eddie’s stomach—a warmth unbridled and aching, pent-up long enough to have become sure of itself a million times over.

He knows he should say something, make you bargain for your freedom, but he lets your wrists go. And you don’t move. For a moment, you simply stare into each other’s eyes. Then, gently, he smooths your shirt into place where it’s risen to expose the soft skin of your tummy. Your hands remain by your head in a self-imposed surrender as he braces himself overtop of you.

“You’re gonna let me go, just like that?” 

“I haven’t completely let you go,” he says. 

“Guess not…” 

You reach out to play with the drawstring of his sweatpants. His eyes flicker down to your hand. When he looks back at you, the smallest smile plays on your lips. 

“What?” you murmur coyly.

Eddie shakes his head in exasperation, then moves from overtop of you to lay on his back by your side, both of you now stretched on the floor. He stares up at your ceiling like its a sky full of stars and all the answers are written among them.

The only reason he’d ever shown any sort of restraint with you is because he cared. You were the first person in his life who made him feel safe enough to throw his inhibitions to the wind. Which only made him all the more mindful of holding onto them. 

For all your bravery and boldness, you also knew you’d struck gold in finding him. You were right there beside him enjoying the ride because there was no need to rush. 

“I love you,” he says, voice gruffer than you’re used to. 

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you loll your head to look at him. He looks right back at you. 

“I could just never find the right time to say it,” he admits. “So why not now.” 

A smile curls at your lips. “Why not.” Eddie huffs a laugh that’s equal parts amused and terrified. But your next words soothe his every nerve. “I love you too.” 

“That’s good news,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say. “It’s your lucky day.” 

That’s the thing about luck, or favor, or grace, or whatever cosmic source allowed for the goodness that is you to enter into his life—it never failed to show itself in a million little ways, always right on time. 

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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DAY BY DAY MASTERLIST 

NAVIGATION

[musingsofmajesty]

In your room.

Where you fell into bed with Eddie both in exhaustion and otherwise.

Where you found out how ticklish he was; your fingers always itching to caress his sides ever so softly just to hear the sweet sounds that pour from his lips as he giggles and begs for your mercy.

Where a record plays just loud enough, filling the room as the rain taps at your bedroom window while he pulls you into his arms, swaying to the music.

Where he sits between yours legs reading as you brush his hair before bed, massaging his sensitive scalp and kissing the back of his head before braiding his hair.

Where you cried but laughed even harder together, curled up in each other’s arms.

Your safe space.

[musingsofmajesty]

If you tag people could you tag me for day to day?

You can turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting if you'd like! I post all my fics there (including those from my main). You'll only be getting 1-2 notifications a week, and can decide which you wanna read. I'm actually working on a new volume for Day by Day right now. It should be out sometime this week. Thank you so much for reading! 🤍

(My worry with individual taglists is that usernames may change and accounts may deactivate with time, so I feel it's easier and a bit cleaner to just have a "library" blog that does the heavy lifting)

[musingsofmajesty]

Okay, stop. Cut the cameras. I’m actually in love with this concept and everything about this fic. The way you describe Eddie’s tactile, frenetic energy is so palpable and so him. And the contrast of him being a little rough around the edges but a gentle lover??!!—definitely scratches an itch. Obsessed.

Roughhousing

Summary: Eddie Munson is a roughhouser without an off switch, and it eventually gets him into a sticky situation with his best friend when a wrestling match goes... Unexpectedly.

Cute and fluffy bestfriend! Eddie. This idea has been rotting my brain for years at this point, and I wanted to expand it from the silly blurb it previously existed as. I'd happily write more for this that could easily get smutty if people want it, but otherwise it'll stay a dreamy silly little one shot.

Eddie x Reader. 2nd person POV, no y/n or gendering of reader. Swearing. Smoking. non-explicit NSFW.

Word count: ~2.5k

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Eddie Munson roughhouses all the time, with anyone who will roughhouse back, at every opportunity.

“Race you to the street sign!” and he’s nothing but an echo of thundering steps as he bolts.

He’s shoved every one of his friends into a bush, several times over. Leapt into a few himself.

He’ll arm wrestle at the slightest provocation, or to solve any problem. 

“NOT IN THE KITCHEN!!” is frequently heard being hollered by Wayne in the Munson household.

Wrestling, tag, jumping up to touch ceilings, jamming himself in dumb places, climbing things, throwing shit– just shoving and smacking and being physically playful all the time. He’s covered in weird knicks and bruises constantly, because he interacts with the world and his friends so tactilely. 

Especially you, because you always play his games. You sling whatever shit he’s on right back at him, and he loves it. Two peas in a pod, duking it out happily.

Tonight wasn’t particularly different from any other night over the last year or so. He had come over to yours after his shift, where Steve and Robin were already hanging out. He’d walked in halfway through some terrible movie, reeking of the joint he smoked in his van moments prior. 

“Anyone wanna smoke?” He smiled with his whole face, not bothering with formal hellos as he pulled out another already rolled joint. General babblings of agreement had him lighting it quickly and passing it to Robin. With a new smokey warmth to the room as it circulated, he finally settled a little bit more, still not bothering to try and get hooked into the movie he’d missed so much of. 

So he talked through the rest of it.  

Throwing popcorn at the screen when the characters wouldn't turn around to see what you all could, treating it like his own personal Mystery Science Theater 3000. Although you feigned annoyance at first, shushing him and rolling your eyes, you were cracking up and riffing on the movie with him within minutes. Mocking and mimicking the lackluster line deliveries, pointing out the boom mic in shots. Reenacting the awful action sequences. All four of you giggling non-stop, but the two of you deeper in the shenanigans, as usual.

He started to smack your hand every time you reached into the popcorn bowl– like a game of Whack-A-Mole. 

You were cackling as a piece of popcorn threatened to come out of your nose, yet reached back into the bowl, assaulted with another flurry of slaps and grabbing. You smacked his hand back, hard, and he whipped his head at you with a fire in his eyes– like the opening gun shot of a race had been fired. He grabbed your wrist, and you grabbed his right back, and you were nearly instantly in a whirlwind of escalation. Steve nudged you off the couch subtly as you grappled, knowing where this was going. He didn’t feel like refereeing your daily wrestling match in his stoney state, the couch was way too comfy to be the mat tonight. 

“Hands off my fucking popcoooorn!!” he wailed, as he hooked his leg around yours and tumbled you both fully to the ground.

“It’s my– fucking– popcorn!” you grunted out as you leveled him next to you and locked his arm against your body. “You’re literally in my house!” you spat the sentence in the moment of reprieve you had from pinning him.

He wiggled and writhed, squirming right out from under you. “Slippery fucker…” you growled. The two of you rolled around like a tornado on the ground, knocking into the table, Steve and Robin occasionally yelling things you weren’t paying attention to. Though, you thought you caught a, “get his ass!” from Robin as you rolled over top again. 

Oh, you had gotten him this time. You had gotten him so good. 

You locked your other leg over him, successfully trapping him in the Full Nelson you were going for. You yelled in victory, squeezing him and laughing, your face nestling between his face and shoulder at this angle, a mocking “WOOO!” in the style of Ric Flair ringing in his ear. The entire back of his body pressed against your front. And he stopped squirming. Like… full body tense, not moving a muscle, stopped squirming. You weren’t even sure he was breathing anymore. You instantly let go of the pressure you had him with, all the silliness of the moment gone. It’s fun when you’re playing, but you feel like something went wrong.

“Whoa… dude, you okay?” you ask, working to untangle yourself from him. He comes back to in a funny moment, and starts fumbling and tripping and trying to untangle himself too. His frantic movements are making it so much worse though, and Steve and Robin start to question and gather too, uselessly trying to help unfurl the pretzel you two are in. You’re baffled as he’s kicking and thrashing, trying to scoot away while still half leg locked, anxious sounds falling out of his mouth now. 

Is he blushing? No, you’re sure you’re red in the face too from the match. 

But then you see it. 

He sees you see it.

Eddie’s got a boner.

The avalanche of words that comes tumbling out of him is barely coherent to begin with, and you couldn’t possibly fathom listening to a single word of it right now anyways. Robin is rambling back at him, their voices competing, and you’re sure she’s probably trying to help. 

You’re also pretty sure she has no idea what’s going on at all, because she might shut the fuck up if she had noticed. Or maybe she did notice and isn’t shutting the fuck up to try to divert some attention? Either way, you’re failing miserably to stop staring like you’re internally screaming at yourself to do. But your eyes are drawn like a moth to a porch light. You look back and forth between the tent he has pitched in his pants, and his completely feral and fearful face a couple of times. You open your mouth and close it again, not being able to push a single word out of your throat. He’s finally physically separated from you, gets out from under Robin’s momentarily immobilizing beratement of worry, and flees out of the room faster than you’ve seen him cross any frivolous finish line. 

You're literally slack jawed, still completely speechless. But you can feel your heart pounding, and the hotness of your now certainly blushing face. You’re not sure you’re breathing. Or you’re breathing way too heavily. You can’t tell. 

All you know is that it is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. 

You make the mistake of looking over at Steve and Robin, who are all eyebrows and wide eyes. 

“What happened?” “What did you do?” their voices collide in your head. “Is he hurt?” “Are you okay?” They’re rapid firing questions, and you start to try to answer them with the nothing that you know.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW!!” your voice starts out soft, but is battling their volume quickly. “I really don’t know I just– we were just– and then I– and he just STOPPED and–” it’s your turn to ramble. Your hands are flailing, and you swat at Robin who’s standing over you. She grabs your hand and yanks you up, and neither of you are listening at all while the heated and chaotic discussion continues. 

You can’t get the image of his jeans, so tight and bulging in the crotch, out of your head. 

You blink at Robin, realizing neither one of you had spoken for a few seconds. You look at Steve, whose eyebrows are disappearing under the flop of his bangs. And you swear there’s a knowing twinkle in his eye now. He’s been conspicuously quiet for a minute. He glances towards the dark abyss of the unlit hallway Eddie had scuttled into, then back at you, finishing his silent diatribe with a bitchy head bob. After a moment of processing, you stride towards the hallway. Steve rolls his eyes and pulls Robin back down onto the couch with him. At least he’s a good whisperer, nothing but an occasional hushed murmur from him. A louder “What?!” gets loudly and disbelievingly whispered by Robin, but Steve shushes her and keeps gossiping in her ear. 

You step into the rectangle of light on the floor of the hallway, half obscured by the darkness now. “Eddie..?” you call uncertainly.

“Please fuck right off,” he pleads from down the hallway to your left. You immediately take a few more strides in that direction, and as your eyes begin to adjust, you can just barely make out his fluffy headed silhouette slumped against the wall. “Fuck, seriously… Please leave me alone,” he says again, but you can hear how half hearted it is. At least you hope that’s what you’re hearing as you close the distance. You lean against the wall across from him.

“Dude… I… Are you okay?” you awkwardly ask. But it’s earnest. The sigh he lets out would sound dramatic in so many other contexts. But it’s earnest, too.

“No! Fucking, I mean… yes? Shit, I…” you can hear the embarrassment oozing off his tongue while he struggles to find words. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my fucking life,” he finally mutters. If the hall lights were on you know he still wouldn’t look you in the eye right now, and you can hear him nervously shifting around. You can picture the way he might be anxiously playing with his hair.

“Hey man, it’s really okay. Shit happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s just… me… ” you offer, and you mean it, but it kinda stings to say it. 

It’s just you… You, his permanent buddy system. You, the heel to his babyface in your wrestling matches. You, his flirting sparring ring. You, his never anything too serious. You, his touchy feely best friend. And you maybe start to get an inkling of why that stung to say out loud… 

You, who is starting to realize that you may already be helplessly head over heels. You, who’s feeling like a real dumbass right now.

He huffs out a laugh. “Just you…” he says with a sadness wrapped in a little zing of sarcasm, and you think maybe he can read your mind while you stare at his shape in the dark. You can see the glimmer of his eyes now that yours have fully adjusted to the lack of light. The TV turned back on in the other room is a dull background noise compared to the pounding of your heart that feels like it’s rattling your whole skeleton. 

The next moments of silence weigh on you both heavily while your minds race separately. It’s like horses running a race next to each other– fit with blinders that keep them in their own lane, galloping hooves showing no signs of slowing. 

“I just–” you start, but you hear his voice at the same time and you both stop. Another moment of silence ticks by.

“Christ on a stick…” he mutters, and pushes off the wall to stand. He inhales and exhales deeply, and you’re literally waiting with bated breath. “We both know what happened,” he finally says, clearly working to have his voice come out somewhat steady. “And I’d be perfectly happy to never talk about it again.” His voice cracks a little on the word happy, but he musters the rest of the sentence. 

“I… wouldn’t be…” you say in a low voice, and you’re not sure if you actually said that out loud or not.

Something almost like a ‘huh?’ comes out of him, and he splutters through a few more sounds. He waits for an elaboration, which you deem totally fair. Where the fuck are you going with this?

“It’s just…” you hesitate, but you’re already this deep into it. “That’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Welp. That’s out there now, I guess. 

Your ears are ringing, but you’re picturing his straining pants again and think you might be suffocating in the silence. 

A breathy sound comes from his side of the hall. Then another. A rhythmic low toned sound cuts through the ringing, and you realize he’s chuckling. He’s chuckling at you right now. You just admitted this horrifying thought to him, and he’s laughing at you?

A few moments of mortification later, you’re starting to crack and chuckle too.

“What?!” you demand, but his laughter only gets more boisterous. The sound of it relieves you more than you were prepared for. Your shoulders relax a little, and you two are giggling almost like usual together.

“You tell me that me popping a boner while we wrestle is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you, and you expect me not to laugh a little?” he teases you. 

“How are you turning this back on me?! You’re the one who popped a boner while being Full Nelson-ed, and I'm the one who’s being laughed at?!” You two slip back into your banter and bickering so easily, it’s one of the most natural things in the world. You hear what might be a laugh in the other room, and then a smack and more shushing, but neither of you pay it much mind. 

“It’s a little sad, honestly,” Eddie snickers.

“Sad?! What’s sad?”

“That something hotter than that has never happened to you.”

You gasp and scoff in offense that is half real and half exaggerated. “Like you’ve had it any better, loser” you quip.

“Oh, me and lefty have it better every night, thinking about you,” he coos. He seems almost entirely back to himself– the words are clearly a joke, but still a little more frantic and on edge than his usual theatrics. 

“A loser and a liar,” you laugh a little shrilly. Your heartbeat has not settled at all. Where the fuck is the line of joking and seriousness right now? You realize you’ve never wondered that– you, his never anything too serious. It’s only ever been a joke.

And he doesn’t respond– he just takes the one step closer that is still between you, grabs your face, and kisses you. That feels pretty certainly like not a joke. 

You absolutely scramble at the sudden unexplored contact exploding between you two. But for the first time since you stopped wrestling… Not a single fiber of your being hesitates. It feels like the missing puzzle piece. You wonder how you’ve spent so many nights with this boy not kissing him. His soft lips mashing into yours feels like the moment an orchestra tunes and reaches harmony. Clashing, sloppy, harmony.

He pulls away briefly, “not a loser…” he mumbles into your mouth and kisses you again, “and not a liar…” he kisses you one more time, and then presses his forehead to yours. You share heavy breaths for a few minutes. Giggling, and breathing hard, and smooching, and fumbling over each other.

“Maybe still a loser… But I like you that way.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it, and he smiles back, laughing some more.

Eddie Munson is a roughhouser… but he’s a surprisingly soft kisser. 

You laugh again as you think to yourself how doomed that is to last as you kiss him again.

[musingsofmajesty]

My heart!! This is one of those fics that just hits in the sweetest way. Love this to the moon and back and back again. 🤍

(parentheses)│e.m.

Nasolabial folds.

You had looked it up just to know what to call them. Eddie had the most pronounced ones you had ever seen, a pair of deep lines that ran down from the tiny creases behind his nostrils and curved around the corners of his mouth.

“It’s like everything you say is in parentheses,” you said, making the lines deepen as he smiled.

It brought out his dimples too, the little divots in his cheeks the ideal size for the tip of your pinky to dip inside—practically begging for it.

So you obliged them.

“Get adda here,” Eddie laughed, reaching out to intercept your hand and biting the air like he was going to eat it. You half-shrieked, half-squealed, attempting to wrestle your hand away only to giggle as he kissed up your arm instead.

Your laughter quieted as he laid your hand on his chest and covered it with his, pressing down just slightly to add pressure. Enjoying the weight.

“You think they're your best feature?" you mused, head dropping back onto the pillow. Still staring at them, loving how they remained on his face even when it was completely at rest.

“What? My labia?” he snorted.

His brows bounced suggestively, disappearing behind his scraggly bangs. Your eyes rolled and you dragged your hand out from under his to swat him with it, only making him laugh and smirk harder as he dodged it.

“C’mon, tell me. What do you think it is?”

Eddie hemmed a bit, his pink lips sputtering as he blew a raspberry and stared up at his ceiling.

“Uhh...some people say I have a nice neck?”

His eyes darted away and he shrugged, like he wasn’t even sure if that counted. You smirked.

“People, huh? You mean girls.”

Hopping onto your knees, the ancient springs of his mattress creaking with the sudden motion, you pushed your face in close to his. Teasing.

“That how you got ‘em in high school? Offer this thing up like an all you can eat buffet?”

You reached out and traced the hard lines of his, admittedly very nice, neck. Imagining all the girls who’d been distracted by it buying weed off him, who’d asked him if he minded them marking it up, painting it with dark and mottled bruises.

“Yeah, right!” Eddie snorted incredulously, “I had a better chance of getting a hickey from Gareth.”

He shivered when the tips of your fingers reached the bottom of his ear, his eyes ablaze with hunger.

“Your neck is nice,” you whispered, leaning in to let your lips brush along his jugular.

“Y-yeah?”

His breathy stutter of the word made you grin into his skin, relishing the way it made his blood pump harder under your lips as you made your way up.

“But I still like these better…”

You pulled back just enough to take in his face. Heavy-lidded eyes blinking out of the haze he had slipped under when your lips touched his skin; his mouth still parted from the soft gasp he let out.

With your thumb, you traced the lines on his face again, feeling where the shape of his lips met the graceful curve of his cheek. There were no sharp edges on him, only gentle roundness. Full lips, bulbous nose, eyes like giant dinner plates.

Even his jaw lost some of its hardness when he tucked his chin into his chest.

And even if other people liked his other features better—his thick neck or his big hands or his cute and slutty little waist—that was just fine, because those lines on his face would always be yours.

You would be the only one who knew he was always speaking in parentheses.

divider by my love @strangergraphics 🥰

[musingsofmajesty]

They really are the cutest. Thanks for reading! 🤍

𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 → 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬] 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈

summary over than span of the school year, you go from the girl who plays with Eddie's hair to so much more | wc 700

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Shy!eddie who doesn’t dare say anything when you begin twirling the end of his curls around your finger by week three of sitting behind him in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class.

The gentle tug feels nice, and he’d be devastated if you stopped. He knew who you were—all of Hawkins High did. You always smiled at him in the halls, and he’d know the scent of your vanilla perfume anywhere. 

Then one day, playing with his hair transitions to you drawing small shapes on his back. When the dismissal bell rings, he finally musters the courage to turn around and look you in the eyes with a shy smile. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You realize then that he has faint freckles dotted on his cheeks. Over the bridge of his nose. You smile back like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

“Hi.”

He didn’t think this far ahead. Doesn’t know what to say, so he dips his head down and lets out a chuckle while praying his cheeks aren’t the dusty pink color he remembers his mother’s rose bed being when he was a little boy. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I can stop.” 

His brows lift a bit as if you startled him. He doesn’t have time to muster up a façade of nonchalance, so he rushes out, “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

You bite your lip and tilt your head at him as you fight off your growing smile. “Okay.”

“Okay.” 

Next week at lunch, you mosey over to where he’s sitting by himself listening to music. 

Upon noticing you, he clumsily takes his headphones off and sets them on the table. He’s nearly halfway through his lunch. What he’s not expecting is for you to reach for the headphones and put them on your own ears. He shifts as if he instinctively wants to stop you but ends up refraining. 

Warmth rises to his cheeks. “It’s, uh, Metallica.” 

You hum. “Obey your master, huh?” you quote the lyrics back to him as they rattle in your ears. 

Eddie smiles sheepishly. 

“Are you doing anything after school today?” 

He blinks like he misheard the question, but musters up an answer anyway. “I—no. Not really...” 

You smile in a sweet way that makes his chest flutter. “Would you like to?” 

Shy!Eddie who starts seeing you outside of school more and more. At Lover’s Lake, the diner, the arcade, Family Video. You come to realize that turtles do come out of their shells. It’s easy to talk to him, and it helps that he’s cute. He feels the same way about you. 

You go to see him play at The Hideout, and wave at him from within the small crowd. You’ve listened to him practice in his room on multiple occasions, and there’s something gratifying about watching him do his thing in front of an audience of more than just you. 

Shy!Eddie who lets it slip that he’s glad he met you. 

One fateful evening, several months into this friendship, the two of you are sitting on his couch as rain patters onto the windows outside. There’s a sitcom playing on the TV, and even though you’re both looking at the screen, neither of you are paying attention. Over the span of thirty minutes, you’ve managed to press yourself even closer to his side without saying a single word. 

Finally, like he did back before you were friends, he musters up the nerve to peek over at you. The way you bite your lip makes something flutter low in his gut.

“Hi,” he murmurs, beginning to smile because he can’t help himself. 

You reach out to tug one of his curls. As you scoot even closer, your thigh presses against his. Eddie holds his breath when you close the gap between you to place a gentle peck on his lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper. 

Shy!Eddie who’s warm all over and can’t help but lean back in.

Thanks for reading ♡

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DAY BY DAY MASTERLIST

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐕

pairing shy eddie x flirty reader | summary Eddie was expecting a chill Sunday, but between answering the door shirtless, an unexpected "I love you," and overthinking it while making mac and cheese, it’s fair to say his day takes a turn | fluff | wc 900

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

When three knocks sound on Eddie’s front door, he’s almost certain he's imagining them. But there’s no doubt someone’s outside when more arise. Maybe if he turned down his stereo, he’d be able to hear for once.

His fingers fumble to tie the drawstring of his sweatpants as he heads for the door. 

He doesn’t bother looking out the window or peephole to see who it is first. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Ms. Daphne was probably swinging by to let him know she fed Mila, the stray calico who made the Munson residence her home base after strolling around the trailer park. 

But no—it’s you standing there with a smile on your lips and that same ever-present sparkle in your eyes. 

You have every intention to utter a dignified greeting, but he’s shirtless. Yes, shirtless. His milky torso displays dark, fantastical tattoos. A thin line of hair runs downwards from his belly button. A handful of freckles dot his skin as well.

“Well, hello.” A pinch of playfulness dances around the edges of your words.

Only then does Eddie consider he might be giving the wrong impression by answering the door half-dressed. 

“Hey. Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly and attempts to cross a modest arm across himself. “Just took a shower.” His damp hair attests to the fact. 

You trail him inside, but after he closes the door behind you, he makes a beeline to his bedroom to turn down his music and wrestle on a shirt.

“Wait up, Teddy,” you chuckle lightly. 

An Iron Maiden t-shirt is already in his grasp by the time you stop in his bedroom doorway.

“You didn’t even let me get a good look at you.” The lilt of your tone makes warmth rush to his face, ears, and neck. One of these days, he would get used to your unabashed flirting.

“Sweetheart…” With a shake of his head, he briefly casts his flustered gaze elsewhere. 

“You look good.” Your tone is lovely and sincere. “I like your tattoos.” 

He meets your gaze again and decides to throw you a bone. “Yeah?” 

You hum in confirmation, crossing the distance to stand before him. The fresh scent of pine soap lingers on his skin. He watches you run a gentle finger over the spider beneath his collarbone. Then, the floating demon head just beneath it. 

“Even though they’re kinda scary.” 

“Thanks,” he says through a smile. 

After putting on his shirt, he studies you with quiet fondness. All he can think to do is steal a brief kiss from your lips. 

A light, airy feeling flutters through your chest when he gently taps the tip of your nose. “Gonna find your off button one of these days,” he murmurs. 

“Good luck trying.” 

Later, you find yourselves cruising around Hawkins. Your aimless drives have become some of your favorite things. Eddie looks good behind the wheel but thinks you look prettier sitting shotgun, playing with his rings as his hand rests in your lap.

“Shit,” he mutters as you come to a stoplight. 

You snort, but not unkindly. “What happened?” 

“We’ve got that quiz in Mrs. O’Donnell’s tomorrow,” he says. “I haven’t even done the reading.” 

“It’s a short chapter,” you tell him. “You should have enough time tonight.” 

“Thank God,” he sighs as the light turns green. “Thought I was gonna have to ditch.”  

You can’t help but tip your head back and laugh sweetly. “Please don’t. I’ll miss you.” 

“You’ll miss me even more if I flunk out and you graduate without me.” 

Another laugh bubbles up your throat, and you gently swat his arm. All things considered, Eddie’s been doing really well this quarter. He has a B+ in Mrs. O’Donnell’s, so failing the quiz wouldn’t completely destroy his grade. 

You’re proud of him. Maybe even a little more than you let on. You’ve seen how hard he’s been working to ensure he graduates, so he’s earned the right to make a failure joke or two, especially now that those days are behind him. 

“Gosh, I love you,” you sigh as your amusement settles. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. Even though there’s no weight behind your delivery, Eddie still can’t help how his grip on the wheel tightens. The way his gaze flicks to you. In return, you smile, unaware you’ve just shaken his world. A part of him waits for you to circle back and double down, but you don’t. 

For now, your smile is enough. 

Your “I love you” remains beneath his skin after you’re back in his trailer. You can’t help but notice he’s gone particularly quiet and pensive as he stands at the stovetop, stirring macaroni for the two of you. It isn’t long before you pad over and snake your arms around his slender waist. 

“You okay?” you murmur into his shirt. 

He hums, almost distantly. 

“You’re quiet,” you press. 

“I’m just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

Eddie sets the fork down and turns around in your arms. “You.” 

A frown forms on your face. “Did I say something? I’m sorry if I did. I know I’m a lot.” 

“Don’t say that,” he chides lightly. “You’re not.” 

His sincerity makes you tilt your head. “What am I then?” 

“One of the best things about this town,” he says without hesitation. It feels as though he’s just laid his heart bare. 

“I…” he lets his sentence trail off even though it longs to continue.

Behind him, the macaroni continues to bubble on the stove. 

You smile in encouragement. “You what?” 

I love you.

Thank you so much for reading. All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all! ♡

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[musingsofmajesty]

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 → 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬] 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈𝐕

summary it’s valentines’s day 1986, and for the first time ever, Eddie’s got himself a true valentine. And when he runs out of words to say, he’s grateful to have his guitar | fluff, mildly suggestive | wc 1.8k

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Eddie’s palms are warm where they rest over your eyes. Getting through the door of his trailer is an awkward, giggly shuffle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The small teddy bear he’d gifted you at school earlier that morning is hugged to your chest like a prize. 

In another life, he would’ve trusted you to keep your eyes closed as he led you inside, but not this one. Someway, somehow, you would’ve found a reason to peek, then flash him a sweet smile as a means of asking for forgiveness. 

So he took matters into his own hands. 

After you’ve managed to make it inside, he huffs out a relieved breath and your smile grows even wider. 

“Alright, you ready?” he asks, voice soft near your ear. 

“Yes,” you insist, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“Three…two…one…” 

He lowers his hands from your eyes. 

You blink a few times to orient yourself. After that, a surge of warmth is quick to travel through you. The Munson living room is tidier than you’ve ever seen it. Two heart shaped balloons grace the ceiling. Rose petals are sprinkled around the pink gift bag that rests on the coffee table. 

You take a few steps forward, but can’t help but turn around to look back at him where he stands. He’s chewing on his lower lip, hands shoved into his pockets. Nobody had gone through such an effort on Valentine’s Day for you since you were a little girl. He blinks at you with soft, anticipating eyes. 

“All this for me?” you ask. It’s the only way you can think to voice your initial surprise. 

He chuckles as if there could possibly be anybody else. 

“I’m just making sure,” you lightly defend before walking over to sit down on the couch. Eddie follows and sits down beside you. 

Your cheeks warm as he watches, fondness radiating from his gaze. “You’re making me all nervous, watching me like that.”  The pleasant, fluttery type of nervousness. Your eyes flick to him after pulling the bag closer to yourself. 

“Don’t be,” he says with a sincere shrug of his shoulder. “It’s just me.” 

“That’s the problem,” you murmur, almost petulantly. “You’re everything.”

Eddie huffs out a breath that’s caught somewhere between amusement and denial. But he doesn’t say anything as his own cheeks prickle, shaking his head. 

A smile stretches across your face as you finally reach into the gift bag. 

The first thing your fingers grasp are the drawstrings of a small velvet bag. It’s a deep, forest green. Upon pulling it open, your mouth falls open at the sight of two dainty steel rings inside. One has a small pearl accent and the other is shaped like a snake. You all but gush as you slip them onto your fingers. 

Eddie’s shoulders finally relax. 

“Now I’m more like you.” You make it sound like a good thing as you show him your hand and wiggle excitedly. Your nails are a pretty cherry red. “These are perfect, Eddie,” you sigh. 

Then you add lightly, “You really pay attention, huh?”

Of course he does. He always did—was glad to.

Naturally, when you began fawning over his rings one evening, he made a mental note to get you some of your own from the place he liked shopping at. They specialized in more intricate designs that contrasted the simple ones you gravitated towards before him.

This came, of course, came after you’ve already managed to bum a couple from his own collection. He could never say no when you batted your eyelashes and gave him sweet kisses to soothe over the fact that you were taking his belongings. 

“There’s one more thing,” he says, nodding to the bag.

This time, you pull out a cassette tape. A mixtape, rather. There’s a list of songs written out in his blocky handwriting along with little doodles. Most of them are titles he’s gathered are some of your favorites—What a Feeling, Open Your Heart, When Doves Cry, Manic Monday, Rock With You, Don’t Stop Believin’…—But the last track brings a wistful smile to your face. 

“Master of Puppets is on here too…” 

It’s the song he was listening to the day you worked up the courage to go sit with him at lunch. He’d taken off his headphones, only for you to promptly slip them on. His soul had left his body at the idea of you gaining further insight into his heavy music taste, but after a few seconds, you’d smiled at at him and begun bobbing your head. 

Now you know all the lyrics. 

You’re not exactly sure why tears spring to your eyes, but they do. And they slip down your cheeks before you know it. You chuckle despite yourself, and wipe them away with your thumbs. Eddie’s heart drops a little even though he knows you aren’t sad. 

He scoots closer and drapes an arm over your shoulder. “You okay?” he asks. 

You nod and nuzzle into his shoulder. “Thank you,” you murmur. 

“Of course.”

Later that night, after going out to eat at the diner, you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor and combing through a small box of his guitar picks. They’re all different colors. Some have fun patterns and designs.

You eventually pluck out a light yellow one that reminds you of springtime. You hold it up to Eddie, where he sits on the foot of his bed with his acoustic guitar in his lap. 

“Nice choice,” he says as he strums a pretty, nonchalant series of notes. 

“Thanks,” you chirp through a yawn. 

He hums and continues strumming. At first, you think he’s still warming up, but a proper melody emerges soon enough. It’s a soulful, almost folky sound. Nothing like he’s ever played at the Hideout, and you don’t recognize it as being a cover of any song you know.

His eyes remain on the fingerboard as he plays, and when he chances a glance down at you, there’s a certain weight to his gaze. As if the notes are saying everything he has yet to say.  

Suddenly, you’re wide awake. You can feel him in the notes. You can feel yourself too. 

You’re entranced and awed as you sit and listen. You watch his fingers and the concentrated furrow between his brows until the song eventually slows to a close. Just like that, his Bambi eyes drift steadily back to you. He holds your gaze for a few seconds until you feel compelled to stand on your knees and move into space to the space between his legs. 

Without so much as thinking, he brings a hand to your cheek and leans forward to press his lips to yours, ignoring the way his guitar gently digs into his chest. It’s a tender, weighted kiss. Eddie feels like he’s floating. 

“Did you write that?” you whisper against his lips after pulling back some. 

He nods. “What’d you think?” 

You’re quiet as you run your fingertips along the stubble on his jaw. “I might need to hear it again,” you say, but a smile plays in your voice. “And again, and again, and again…” you kiss him again, with more intention and eagerness. 

A small sound rises up Eddie’s throat, and he doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed. Because you part from him and stand, pressing a gentle hand to his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. After setting his guitar aside, he listens, scooting further up on the mattress so the lower half of his body is more supported.

His mind is so fuzzy that he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but you crawl onto the bed and straddle yourself over his lap. It’s a bold move, even for you. But it feels like the next sensible thing to do. You’ve never felt so safe or drawn to another person.

“Is this okay?” you ask as you look down at him. 

Eddie surprises himself with a flustered laugh. You’re a pretty girl straddling him in your pretty Valentine’s Day outfit, and even he’s not immune to the warmth stir in his gut. And he keeps laughing. Because there’s a newer sense of intimacy to it all.

His hands buzz because he wants to touch you so bad, but he doesn’t know where. How much pressure to apply. Whether or not you’ll take it the wrong way. 

Lucky for you, he’s got just about the sweetest laugh of any guy you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but smile, even though you wish you could pout at him for laughing at a time like this. But something about the sound, as it rumbles through his chest, puts you at ease. 

“See, now I’m starting to second guess myself ‘cause of you.” You’re teasing, but Eddie’s eyes go a bit wide. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” he starts. “I promise. Never.” 

“No, it’s okay. I see how it is.”  You pretend like you’re about to move off of him. 

But his hands shoot out to rest on your waist. His hold isn’t harsh, but it’s firm and steady enough to let you know he wants you to stay. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. When a tell-tale smirk stretches across your face, Eddie lets out a helpless sigh.  

“I’m starting to think you get a rise out driving me crazy,” he says. 

“If it’s taken you this long to figure that out—”

A squeal escapes you when he gently squeezes your waist a couple times. You grip onto his wrists with an anxious grin on your face, and he brushes his thumbs over your shirt to let you know you can relax. When you let go, he lets his hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt so they can settle on your skin. You’re soft and warm. It feels like you’ve known his touch for a lifetime. 

You note the way he starts blinking slower, as if his eyelids have grown heavier. The way his breaths grow a bit deeper, steadier. His curls look beautiful splayed around his head. The cut of his jawline is handsome even as he’s lying down. You can’t help but think you lucked out with this quiet, charming, handsome boy. 

When you shift over top of him, he shifts as well. As if to counter whatever feeling you’ve caused to stir within him. But it doesn’t quite work out. Not really. His cheeks have flushed a rosy shade of pink at the intoxicating weight of you overtop of him. 

“Sorry,” you lilt coyly. 

Eddie shakes his head because, as new as this all is, he’d never trade it. Never in a million years. And as he smooths his hands back down your thighs, he swears he’ll handle you with care for all the days of his life, if you let him. 

“Don’t be,” he assures. 

Thank you so much for reading! And Happy Valentine's Day. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

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[musingsofmajesty]

𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

→ You started off as the girl who played with Eddie's hair in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, but you've since grown into so much more. Here’s to the ups, downs, and in-betweens of falling in love in Hawkins, Indiana—in fun, fluffy, bite-sized pieces!

𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐒

Best enjoyed in order, but feel free to jump around! ♡

I genesis

II a sure thing

III stay

IV again and again (valentine's day special)

V best thing about this town

VI the thing about luck

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈𝐕

pairing shy eddie x flirty reader | summary it’s valentines’s day, and for the first time ever, Eddie’s got himself a true valentine. And when he runs out of words to say, he’s grateful to have his guitar | fluff, mildly suggestive | wc 1.8k

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Eddie’s palms are warm where they rest over your eyes. Getting through the door of his trailer is an awkward, giggly shuffle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The small teddy bear he’d gifted you at school earlier that morning is hugged to your chest like a prize. 

In another life, he would’ve trusted you to keep your eyes closed as he led you inside, but not this one. Someway, somehow, you would’ve found a reason to peek, then flash him a sweet smile as a means of asking for forgiveness. 

So he took matters into his own hands. 

After you’ve managed to make it inside, he huffs out a relieved breath and your smile grows even wider. 

“Alright, you ready?” he asks, voice soft near your ear. 

“Yes,” you insist, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“Three…two…one…” 

He lowers his hands from your eyes. 

You blink a few times to orient yourself. After that, a surge of warmth is quick to travel through you. The Munson living room is tidier than you’ve ever seen it. Two heart shaped balloons grace the ceiling. Rose petals are sprinkled around the pink gift bag that rests on the coffee table. 

You take a few steps forward, but can’t help but turn around to look back at him where he stands. He’s chewing on his lower lip, hands shoved into his pockets. Nobody had gone through such an effort on Valentine’s Day for you since you were a little girl. He blinks at you with soft, anticipating eyes. 

“All this for me?” you ask. It’s the only way you can think to voice your initial surprise. 

He chuckles as if there could possibly be anybody else. 

“I’m just making sure,” you lightly defend before walking over to sit down on the couch. Eddie follows and sits down beside you. 

Your cheeks warm as he watches, fondness radiating from his gaze. “You’re making me all nervous, watching me like that.”  The pleasant, fluttery type of nervousness. Your eyes flick to him after pulling the bag closer to yourself. 

“Don’t be,” he says with a sincere shrug of his shoulder. “It’s just me.” 

“That’s the problem,” you murmur, almost petulantly. “You’re everything.”

Eddie huffs out a breath that’s caught somewhere between amusement and denial. But he doesn’t say anything as his own cheeks prickle, shaking his head. 

A smile stretches across your face as you finally reach into the gift bag. 

The first thing your fingers grasp are the drawstrings of a small velvet bag. It’s a deep, forest green. Upon pulling it open, your mouth falls open at the sight of two dainty steel rings inside. One has a small pearl accent and the other is shaped like a snake. You all but gush as you slip them onto your fingers. 

Eddie’s shoulders finally relax. 

“Now I’m more like you.” You make it sound like a good thing as you show him your hand and wiggle excitedly. Your nails are a pretty cherry red. “These are perfect, Eddie,” you sigh. 

Then you add lightly, “You really pay attention, huh?”

Of course he does. He always did—was glad to.

Naturally, when you began fawning over his rings one evening, he made a mental note to get you some of your own from the place he liked shopping at. They specialized in more intricate designs that contrasted the simple ones you gravitated towards before him.

This came, of course, came after you’ve already managed to bum a couple from his own collection. He could never say no when you batted your eyelashes and gave him sweet kisses to soothe over the fact that you were taking his belongings. 

“There’s one more thing,” he says, nodding to the bag.

This time, you pull out a cassette tape. A mixtape, rather. There’s a list of songs written out in his blocky handwriting along with little doodles. Most of them are titles he’s gathered are some of your favorites—What a Feeling, Open Your Heart, When Doves Cry, Manic Monday, Rock With You, Don’t Stop Believin’…—But the last track brings a wistful smile to your face. 

“Master of Puppets is on here too…” 

It’s the song he was listening to the day you worked up the courage to go sit with him at lunch. He’d taken off his headphones, only for you to promptly slip them on. His soul had left his body at the idea of you gaining further insight into his heavy music taste, but after a few seconds, you’d smiled at at him and begun bobbing your head. 

Now you know all the lyrics. 

You’re not exactly sure why tears spring to your eyes, but they do. And they slip down your cheeks before you know it. You chuckle despite yourself, and wipe them away with your thumbs. Eddie’s heart drops a little even though he knows you aren’t sad. 

He scoots closer and drapes an arm over your shoulder. “You okay?” he asks. 

You nod and nuzzle into his shoulder. “Thank you,” you murmur. 

“Of course.”

Later that night, after going out to eat at the diner, you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor and combing through a small box of his guitar picks. They’re all different colors. Some have fun patterns and designs.

You eventually pluck out a light yellow one that reminds you of springtime. You hold it up to Eddie, where he sits on the foot of his bed with his acoustic guitar in his lap. 

“Nice choice,” he says as he strums a pretty, nonchalant series of notes. 

“Thanks,” you chirp through a yawn. 

He hums and continues strumming. At first, you think he’s still warming up, but a proper melody emerges soon enough. It’s a soulful, almost folky sound. Nothing like he’s ever played at the Hideout, and you don’t recognize it as being a cover of any song you know.

His eyes remain on the fingerboard as he plays, and when he chances a glance down at you, there’s a certain weight to his gaze. As if the notes are saying everything he has yet to say.  

Suddenly, you’re wide awake. You can feel him in the notes. You can feel yourself too. 

You’re entranced and awed as you sit and listen. You watch his fingers and the concentrated furrow between his brows until the song eventually slows to a close. Just like that, his Bambi eyes drift steadily back to you. He holds your gaze for a few seconds until you feel compelled to stand on your knees and move into space to the space between his legs. 

Without so much as thinking, he brings a hand to your cheek and leans forward to press his lips to yours, ignoring the way his guitar gently digs into his chest. It’s a tender, weighted kiss. Eddie feels like he’s floating. 

“Did you write that?” you whisper against his lips after pulling back some. 

He nods. “What’d you think?” 

You’re quiet as you run your fingertips along the stubble on his jaw. “I might need to hear it again,” you say, but a smile plays in your voice. “And again, and again, and again…” you kiss him again, with more intention and eagerness. 

A small sound rises up Eddie’s throat, and he doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed. Because you part from him and stand, pressing a gentle hand to his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. After setting his guitar aside, he listens, scooting further up on the mattress so the lower half of his body is more supported.

His mind is so fuzzy that he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but you crawl onto the bed and straddle yourself over his lap. It’s a bold move, even for you. But it feels like the next sensible thing to do. You’ve never felt so safe or drawn to another person.

“Is this okay?” you ask as you look down at him. 

Eddie surprises himself with a flustered laugh. You’re a pretty girl straddling him in your pretty Valentine’s Day outfit, and not even he’s immune to the warmth that stirs in low his gut. And he keeps laughing because of the intimacy of it all.

His hands buzz with the desire to touch you, but he doesn’t know where or how much pressure to apply. Whether or not you’ll take it the wrong way. 

Lucky for you, he’s got just about the sweetest laugh you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but smile, even though you wish you could pout at him for laughing at a time like this. But something about the sound rumbling through his chest, puts you at ease. 

“See, now I’m starting to second guess myself ‘cause of you.” You’re teasing, but Eddie’s eyes go a bit wide. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” he starts. “I promise. Never.” 

“No, it’s okay. I see how it is.”  You pretend like you’re about to move off of him. 

But his hands shoot out to rest on your waist. His hold isn’t harsh, but it’s firm and steady enough to let you know he wants you to stay. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. When a tell-tale smirk stretches across your face, Eddie lets out a helpless sigh.  

“I’m starting to think you get a rise out driving me crazy,” he says. 

“If it’s taken you this long to figure that out—”

A squeal escapes you when he gently squeezes your waist a couple times. You grip onto his wrists with an anxious grin on your face, and he brushes his thumbs over your shirt to let you know you can relax. When you let go, he lets his hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt so they can settle on your skin. You’re soft and warm. It feels like you’ve known his touch for a lifetime. 

You note the way he starts blinking slower, as if his eyelids have grown heavier. The way his breaths grow a bit deeper, steadier. His curls look beautiful splayed around his head. The cut of his jawline is handsome even as he’s lying down. You can’t help but think you lucked out with this quiet, charming, handsome boy. 

When you shift over top of him, he shifts as well. As if to counter whatever feeling you’ve caused to stir within him. But it doesn’t quite work out. Not really. His cheeks have flushed a rosy shade of pink at the intoxicating weight of you overtop of him. 

“Sorry,” you lilt coyly. 

Eddie shakes his head because, as new as this all is, he’d never trade it. Never in a million years. And as he smooths his hands back down your thighs, he swears he’ll handle you with care for all the days of his life, if you let him. 

“Don’t be,” he assures. 

Thank you so much for reading! And Happy Valentine's Day. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

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