#ray holloway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsbrookemunson · 1 year

Note

Request for the 30-days-of-insecurities-thingy, smile. I'm very insecure of my smile because i got bullied a lot for it.

Could I get tagged??🙏🙏

But, of course, @maddymadquinn !!! When I read this, I knew it had to be the first part to my insecurity series, and I hope I did your request justice.

Warnings: no use of 'y/n', gn!reader, use of pet names like 'sweetheart', and 'love', insecure!reader (obvi), intrusive thoughts, self deprecating thoughts, Eddie being in love with you, 'L' bombs all over the place, bullying, fluffy, kinda rushed ending, most likely typos, and what the request says-it's all about teeth and your smile-I tried to keep it basic, if you have braces or a gap tooth or whatever, it'll fit in with the story. Enjoy :)

Word Count: 2225

Taglist: @strangerthingsstories5255 @totalmesstm @kiszkathecook @poofyloofy @beeblisss @stylesxmunson @munsonsguitarpick @mlvgren @dream-a-little-nightmare @munsonsuccubus @katsukisimpsblog @iheartyouyou @eddiebaemunson @emma77645 @eviethetheatrefreak @pappachismoth @erinsingalong @letitiasleftfoot @eddiesguitarskills @trixyvixx @myfangirlheartsblog @emxxblog @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @prettiest-angel @ajokeformur-ray @livsters @cherrycolas-things @chloe-6123 @hazydespair @wolfstarsiriusly @steveharringtonswifey-09

Series Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist

~ Just Smile ~

"You would look prettier if you smiled more."

"Why don't you ever smile?"

"Just smile."

You're used to comments like that, often hearing them from your classmates at Hawkins High...

But, here's the thing—

#1: My Smile

You hate your smile, often giving people the closed-mouth smile or a tight thin-lipped smile that doesn't quite ever reach your eyes. But, you refuse to smile with your teeth.

This makes one day very hard for you every time it comes.

Picture Day.

A day made from Hell to torture you, where people reassure you—"Oh!, it's not that bad..." or "Everyone looks bad in school photos." Really? Tell that to the Queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham, or Steve 'the Hair' Harrington, or Heather Holloway, or Nancy Wheeler—even Robin seems to pull out a good one.

But, you?

Freshman Year—

"Big smile!" the photographer instructed.

And did you give her one-flashing your teeth... only to receive said photo later on just to cry to your mom about how bad it looked... and that your teeth looked wrong. The demon in your head won the longer you stared at the photo.

"Honey, it's fine—no one likes their school photos."

It was after all the other girls and boys bragging about their photos did you swear you'd never smile with your teeth in photos again.

Sophomore Year—

You prepared yourself, watching the person before you take their picture. Hearing the lady call 'next' with a short glance toward you. You took a deep breath, walking to the seat. When you sat down, your heart began to race a little—a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It felt as though things were moving in slow motion, a deep, patronizing voice, "Give me a big smile". The lady demonstrated, exaggeratedly.

Your eyes flickered to a group of your classmates, snickering at you with pointed fingers. They taunted your smile with their own.

"Big smile!" the lady repeated.

You heard the laughs of the group echoing in your ears, you quickly revealed your teeth in a wide grin. The flash of the camera temporarily blinding you.

"Next!'

You blinked a few times before moving along. You shuffled past the group until you heard the call of your name from one of them. With that you spun around to face them with nervous, wide eyes, and a once again, pounding heart.

One of the teenagers smiled at you, a fake, catty, insulting smile as they stalked closer to you. "Thought you'd want to know you have something—" They gestured to their mouth, specifically their teeth "Right there."

One of their friends snorted loudly in the back.

You frowned and went to the bathroom in a slight rush to check it out. When you found your own reflection in the mirror you bared your teeth only to find... your teeth—your smile.

All you saw was yourself.

Quickly understanding, you felt yourself falling apart—

Is that why they laugh at you when you smile and say hello passing them in the halls?

You thought you heard it in their tone—the fakeness of it all.

You ripped up your school photo when you got it after witnessing the same group as before commenting on it with their giggles and chuckles. You blocked your face with tape in your yearbook, so you'd never have to see yourself looking back.

Is that why they all laughed when you signed their yearbook the previous year? You only dug yourself farther into a hole, thinking about what would happen next.

That's when you swore you'd never smile again.

Junior Year—

The year you got a certain metalhead's attention.

He was in the same grade as you, and you shouldn't have even met, but you purposely ditched picture day and your mom forced you to go to retake day. Turns out you weren't the only one who hated this day.

The two of you grumbled under your breath, overhearing him next to you caught your attention.

"Mom forced you to do this too?" you asked.

"Uncle."

You chuckled, breathily. "What was his excuse?"

His posture straightened. "'You can't just run away and hide when you don't want to do something, boy! You have to stand up to it!'" he imitated this so-called 'uncle's' voice.

You giggled, but stopped when you suddenly felt his eyes on you. You dared to look and saw his gaze on your teeth. You cleared your throat and turned away from him.

You missed the way he frowned, as he missed the sight of your smile and the sound of your laugh in just seconds.

"What about you?" he chimed from behind you.

"Huh?" You kept your guard up, still turned away from him.

"Your mom's motive?"

"Oh—yeah! " You swallowed. "That I'll regret it one-day." You shook your head. "I highly doubt that though."

"Why didn't you attend picture day?"

"Tried to pull a you—ditch—avoid it..." you paused. "Run away from it." You suddenly found the palm of your hand more interesting than the beautiful boy behind you—actually wanting to talk to you!

You heard him chuckle. "Sounds like you and my uncle think the same of me."

"I don't know you—but I don't think you're a cult leader, that's for sure."

"But, most people do, hence why I try to get away with not doing this.” He gestures to the setup in front of you two. “Have no doubt they write freak over my face, or draw devil horns over my head in their little yearbooks."

There was a beat of silence and you could feel the slight nudge of his foot against yours.

You bit your lip, thinking about what he said. What he admitted to you so effortlessly. How could he trust you so fast without even knowing your name—who you are?

You sigh, "I hate my smile."

"C'mon, I just saw it and it's—"

"Ugly—I know."

"No, I was gonna say—"

" Next!"

You don't look back when you walk up ignoring Eddie.

"Show me a big smile!" she asks.

You, however, do not, giving her only a neutral expression. She takes the picture and looks down at it, uncomfortably.

"Uhhh... want me to take another one?"

"No." You left, hastily.

Eddie ignored the call for him as with narrowed eyes, watching you leave, he sets his own personal goal—

To get you to smile for him one day.

Senior Year—

"Ready for picture day, sweetheart?" Eddie asked, placing a sloppy kiss onto your cheek.

You grumbled, wiping his kiss away. "No."

He placed yet another kiss on your cheek in replacement of the old one. "I know, I know." He drummed a steady beat against the sides of your torso. "But, you look beautiful today, but then again you always do."

You grew flustered. "Thanks," you whispered.

"Next!'

You walked up to the seat and took your place.

"Big smile!"

You glared at the lady. "Seriously? I thought we were past this now."

Your eyes flickered to Eddie who gave you an encouraging thumbs up and a nod with an annoyingly cute smile on his face. That was enough for you to muster up a small closed-mouth smile and that was enough to make Eddie's heart soar.

Safe to say, he accomplished his goal.

Present—

Eddie did not accomplish his goal.

God, you haven't smiled in a week—a week! And at this point he thought he was going to lose his mind.

You've been having a tough week. With your allergies acting up, to school and work stressing you out, to even those special, rare moments of silence you have, only to have them be interrupted by one thing or another. And he tried, he tried to get you to even break a little smile for him, but he just couldn't do it.

Something had to be wrong.

Something was wrong, on your side of the story. Work, school, allergies, and lack of peace haven't been the only things keeping you up late at night. It was this intrusive thought every time you looked in the mirror, it was the people you interacted with at work whose gaze simply rested on your smile that made you falter, the once in a while backhanded comments people would make. You couldn't find it in yourself anymore to smile or even laugh—you felt exhausted and defeated.

Because it was you, your smile, something you owned—and people didn't like it. And at times you think you're cursed.

It's you.

You stumbled around your room, picking up random pieces of trash off the floor, and tidying things up before bed. You felt a slight pressure in between your eyebrows from wanting to cry a few times during your episodes.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed. Just before you were about to get comfortable you heard a faint tapping on your window. You jumped at the sound, until you saw a familiar ring adorning a finger. You got up and walked over to the window, opening it.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, tiredly.

He only smiled. "I got some stuff for you." His eyes glanced behind you. "Can I come in?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to the side, giving him room for him to enter. "Come on in, Prince Charming."

His smile got wider, stepping inside, and nearly tripping on a small stack of books near your window. He revealed a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "For you." He handed them to you. You took them, with a curious expression. Suddenly, he's rifling through a plastic bag he brought. "Okay, so I got Breakfast Club, Nightmare on Elm Street, I even brought The Outsiders, and that other movie you like uh—" He read the title. "Some Kind of Wonderful."

Your eyes widened. "You brought all of those."

"Well, I thought we could have a little movie night," he replied, nonchalantly. "I also brought your favorite snacks and candy, even your favorite drink." He looked at your dumbfounded face. He set down the bag and brought his hands up to caress your upper arms. "Look, I know you've been having a bad week and I want to make it a little better."

Your eyes avert away from him. You sniffled, holding the flowers closer to your chest. "I don't deserve you, you know."

He shook his head. "Not true."

You argued, "No, no it is true, you deserve someone who you can show off to—to prove those jerks from school wrong, and I-I can't do that."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tears rimmed your eyes. "Eddie, why are people so mean?"

He was taken aback. "Sweetheart..." He gently took the flowers out of your hands and placed them on your dresser. He pulled you into his chest. "What's wrong? Did someone say something to you?"

You nodded. "Yes..." You cry into his shirt.

"Who? I'll go kick their ass right now."

"No! It's—" You found yourself becoming embarrassed. "it's not just one person—so many people just—" You struggled to get the words out. "I just want to be able to smile without feeling judged—I feel like I'm forced to remain in bitch-face mode just so I don't have to deal with people staring or commenting or doing something that revolves around that—especially our classmates.” You pulled away to look him in the eyes. "I just want to feel beautiful when I smile Eddie."

He looked at you in shock at your confession. He knew you hated your smile, that was the start of you two, but hearing it now as someone more than a stranger was heartbreaking to him. Seeing the one he's so so in love with falling apart in front of him over something he couldn't stop thinking about for months and months.

"God, sweetheart, don't you see I'd do anything to keep you smiling."

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"I know you hate your smile, but god—I love it. I've loved it ever since I met you, and from that moment I wanted to make you smile everyday. Lights up my world and shit, if I'm being honest." He seemed nervous, fidgeting with the ends of your shirt.

"You mean it?" Your voice slightly cracked as the emotions of love rushed through you. You're almost starstruck by him. Over the moon. Your heart flutters and your stomach flips seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

Has he always looked at you that way? Have you just never noticed?

Truth is: Yes, he has, and no... you didn't.

"Jesus, yes, you're so beautiful and that smile of yours is beautiful," he pauses. "And who fucking cares what anyone says? Or thinks? Fuck them!"

You laughed.

His eyes widen as he stumbles back with a dazed expression. "I think I just died—" He dramatically falls on the bed. "And went to heaven," he finished. "Are you an angel?"

You laugh again, this time louder. "Stop it," you squeal.

"I'm serious." He pulls you over to him. You slot between his legs as he looks up at you with a slight pout. "I want you to talk to me when you're feeling insecure about yourself. I don't want you bottling up your feelings." He cups your face with the warmth of his hands to make sure he has your full attention. "I love every single thing about you, sweetheart. And I'll do anything and everything for you to realize that, no matter how long it might take. "

If only you knew just how serious he was.

Next Chapter: Actions Speak Louder Than Words (nsfw)

534 notes · View notes