#THE GHOST OF THE SANDHILLS... IT'S REAL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dyhayc · 2 years

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could you please please please write this,literally everyone I've asked doesn't want to write my idea!

ok so basically reader x Eddie Munson. Reader and him are on the roof of reader's house,both looking at the sunset,when reader wants to try smoking for the first time. Also they're giving each other surprise birthday presents because their birthdays are 6 days apart. (Eddie's is first,then reader's is 6 days after)(Oh and Eddie gives reader a mixtape and a malachite ring to match it with her malachite necklace and reader gives him crystals and a lot of expensive metal casettes and he flips).

A lot of fluff,really. Oh and they're not dating,they just have the biggest crush on each other.

Title: Real Rings and Expensive Things

Pairing: Eddie x gn!Reader (fluff, mild angst)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Marriage Iguana (Marijuana), Eddie And Reader Are Stupid Idiots, Reader Is Down BAD (And Also Super Impulsive)

A/N: While thinking up ideas for this oneshot, I became enamoured with the characters I created. I think I’m going to make this an entire AU, but I don’t want to make the original anon uncomfortable, so this specific oneshot will be a spinoff and not canon in the universe. Most of my ideas aren’t relevant to this piece anyways, so I hope it’s okay!

I didn’t explain it in the oneshot, but the reader was adopted by a super rich couple. Also, I changed the request a tiny little bit. You freak out more about your gift than he does for his, but there’s a good reason for it. I hope you like it, anon! <3

By the way, I know absolutely nothing about crystals, so I kinda glossed over the crystal part. I didn't want to make any mistakes so I made it as vague as possible!

Masterlist

The sun is beautiful, golden rays barely peeking through the dense trees behind your house. Birds fly in the distance, most likely Sandhill Cranes– they call the wetlands beyond the line of trees home. Clouds dot the sky, perfectly framing the sunset in pink and purple hues.

All of this natural beauty, and yet, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen is sitting right next to you. Eddie Munson, with his unruly curly hair and big doe eyes, has the most important star in this solar system beat.

He’s looking out, lips slightly parted in wonder, as he watches the horizon. Your heart clenches at the sight even though you’ve seen him thousands of times. He’s been hanging out with you since literal birth, his face is in photos posted all around your house, and he spends almost every Saturday with you. But, still, there’s something about his face that takes your breath away— every single time.

God, he’s so pretty. You desperately wish you could tell him. Sober, that is. Sometimes, when he’s so fucked up he can barely walk, you whisper the things you hold back. You’re not sure if he remembers or can even comprehend your words through the fog of his high, but you find comfort in the fact that somewhere, hidden deep in his brain, Eddie may know you love him.

Impulsively, you speak before your brain can stop you. He has to know. He needs to know.

“Eddie, I-”

But you choke, frozen like a damn deer in headlights.

He’s turned his head. Looking into his eyes, you’re consumed by an ocean of brown— hundreds of shades, highlighted by the golden sun setting to his right. The depth of his stare cuts deep into your heart, and you see adoration, and kindness, and warmth. Things that most people never bother to see or even look for within him. The grim reality hits: you’d never be able to ever emotionally recover if he rejected you.

What if he only sees you as a friend? Or worse, a sibling. Your parents basically adopted him, too, all those years ago. It wouldn’t be surprising if he saw you as family and nothing more. Would he stick around after you’ve confessed despite the awkward air when he rejects you? Or would you drift apart until he’s just a ghost from your past? Overwhelming emotion wells in your chest. How could you live without him?

You turn your head away to hide the quickly forming tears, pushing the fear of abandonment down. “Can-” you swallow thickly, willing the pain away, “Can you. Er– Well, can I smoke? I know I haven’t tried it before, but– Just, well– yea.” Heat floods your entire body, you’re absolutely mortified. Sure, you couldn’t confess, but damn, did you have to make a complete fool of yourself?

He chuckles lightly, an attractive sound to match his attractive face. “Haven’t even tried cigs yet, and you wanna go straight to weed?” he questions, raising his brow.

You scoff, trying to hide your emotions behind annoyance, “How do you know I was talking about weed?”

“Would you have gotten all stuttery over a cigarette?” Well, he had you there.

Lamely, you shrug. He huffs but digs around in his jean pocket, pulling out a ziploc with a joint. To this day, it still shocks you how brazen he is with his drugs. When you were in school together, he’d bring his food in the same metal lunchbox he carried the little baggies of marijuana in. You assume he still does it, not that you’d know definitively since you graduated in ‘84.

“It’s your first time, so you’re probably gonna cough your lungs out,” he motions to the water bottle at your hip, “You’re gonna need that.”

“Is it… that bad?” You ask hesitantly. The only information you had to go on was Eddie’s ramblings about what it feels like to be high and your observations from when he’d smoked in your presence. You say “observations,” but really, you’d just been watching his lips.

“For most people, no,” he comments casually as he flicks on the lighter.

You quickly snap back, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I know you. You’re gonna find a way to choke to death on the smoke.” The little shit is smirking while he says it, knowing you’re gonna be angry with him. Your nose scrunches up, offended, but you don’t say anything because you know he’s absolutely right. Again, he chuckles.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he explains what to do before showing you a demonstration. Yea, you’re definitely gonna need the water. He doesn’t even bother handing the joint to you, instead holding it in front of your lips. Butterflies flutter intensely in your stomach. Fuck. He’s so hot, and he doesn’t even know it.

Maybe when you lean in, your lips “accidentally” brush against his fingertips, but who can really tell? Following his instructions, you don’t immediately breathe out the smoke. It feels… odd? A little uncomfortable, too. You’re sure it shows through your expression, judging by the amused look on Eddie’s face.

Finally breathing it out, you feel like someone’s just punched you in the throat. The muscles seize up suddenly, causing you to double over and cough hard. In the background, you can hear Eddie laughing at you.

He’s laughing. You’re dying, and he’s fucking laughing at you.

Once he’s done giggling at your expense, he scoots next to you and rubs circles on your back with his hand until you can breathe again. Snatching the water, you drink half of it in one go. You scowl at him, but he grins wide in return. Holding out his hand again, he asks cheekily, “Ready for another?”

Still aggravated, you go in for a second time, nipping his finger before you lean back. He murmurs “ouch” half-heartedly, but you both know it didn’t hurt. This time goes over much smoother, and you’re grateful because you don’t think your throat could take that again.

This continues until there’s barely anything left. He drops the burned paper onto the roof unceremoniously and squishes it under his boot. You really should say something, but this is a fight that’s lasted for years. Realistically, if he hasn’t stopped dirtying your section of the roof, he never will, so you decide not to bother.

You can feel him shift because of your head on his shoulder. When had you done that? Oh well, it doesn’t matter because he’s speaking. “Do you wanna exchange gifts now?”

Right, you’d completely forgotten about those. Today is what you affectionately call the “communal birthday.” Eddie’s birthday was three days ago, and yours will be in three more days. It’s the perfect in-between. As children, you’d have birthday parties together on your communal birthday. They had been fun in the moment, but looking back, you’re somber, knowing your parents threw those parties because his own parents didn’t care about his birthday. But, you shouldn’t dwell on such sad topics when you’re about to exchange gifts.

Humming, “Mhm,” you reach over to grab his present. A carefully wrapped cardboard box, tied together with a blood red ribbon. You used children’s Star Wars-themed wrapping paper, of course.

“Wow,” he whistles, holding up the box to admire the print, “Darth Vader, huh?” Giddily, you giggle and turn your head to press your face further into his shoulder. He smiles down at you, “You’re so quiet when you’re high. Normally, I can’t get you to shut up.” You just stick your tongue out at him.

He struggles for a little too long with the bow, but you don’t help him. You’re considering it payback for the teasing things he’s said tonight. Finally, he unties the ribbon and takes off the wrapping paper. He hands the ribbon back to you, knowing you’d reuse it. Gingerly, he picks up the lid and reveals the red tissue paper you’d used to protect the contents.

Carefully, he plucks out the sheets one by one. You smile wide at how gentle he’s being, obviously trying to be mindful of your gift. He comes across the first part of your present, a collection of various crystals, each with different uses and meanings. You want to tell him what they all do and represent, but words are escaping you at the moment. Instead, you promise, “I’ll explain ‘em t’you when ‘m sober.”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to it,” he responds, setting them off to the side. Returning to the box, he pulls out the last few pieces of tissue paper, revealing the best– and most costly– part of his gift.

“Holy fuck!” he blurts, taking a few in his hands to examine them. Limited edition cassettes, eight of them. All on his wishlist and all expensive. “I thought we agreed not to use your parents’ money?”

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little embarrassed, “I didn’t.”

He chuckles in disbelief, swapping the ones in his hands for the tapes left in the box, “Sweetheart, these are worth at least two of your paychecks.”

Yes, you’re working, even though you have rich parents. They’re big on humility and work ethic, so they’d encouraged you to get a job while attending community college. Not that you’d really needed one to form a work ethic. Sure, you grew up with money, but you weren’t spoiled. If anything, Eddie made sure of it, drilling into your head how important it is to not take your wealth for granted.

It was a little… how do you say? Impulsive to buy these for him, sure. But Eddie’s your best friend, and he’s always been there for you, so he deserves a thoughtful gift to show him just how much you appreciate him.

Your mind completely skips over the fact that he’d called you a pet name.

His reaction makes you insecure, so you ask, “D’you not like ‘em?” You still have the receipt somewhere in your room, so you can probably return them if he really doesn’t want the cassettes.

“Not like ‘em?” he repeats, astonished, “I fuckin’ love ‘em! This is an amazing gift, thank you.” He continues to flip all the cassettes over in his hands, inspecting them. They’re in pristine condition, so hopefully, Eddie will keep them safe.

You beam, “Your welcome!” excited he likes the tapes. You’d spent a lot of time thinking of what to get him, so you’re glad your thoughtfulness paid off.

He sets the box aside and picks up his present for you. It’s in a gift bag that you two have been swapping for years, but you’re happy to see it again. There’s colourful tissue paper covering the contents and spilling out the top.

You grab it carefully, as he had, and take your time unwrapping the present. The cassette grabs your attention first, and you chuckle at your similar gifts. It looks like it’s a blank until you turn it over and see Eddie’s signature handwriting on the front. It reads: “Really Cool Mixtape” and has a skull, heart, and fire symbol drawn next to the words. You bite your lip to hide your smile. He’s so adorable. Fishing in the bag, you find a piece of paper pressed against the bottom.

Opening the folded paper, you can’t stop your smile this time. It’s a song list, but what really draws your attention are the crudely drawn doodles of skulls, hearts, and fires in the blank space on the margins. The same shapes that are on the cover of the cassette. You decide to close it, wanting to discover the songs he chose organically.

Grinning wide, you exclaim, “Thank you! I really love it, Eddie.”

“That’s not all,” he says slowly, as if he’s not sure whether he wants to say it or not. Pulling something out of his pocket, he places it gingerly in your hands. You hesitate before looking down.

It’s a simple dark brown box. You take off the top, revealing cream pleather embossed with a fancy logo directly in the center— a jewelry box. Looking up at Eddie, he doesn’t meet your gaze, instead glancing bashfully to the side.

You turn the boxes over so the cream one will fall into your palm. Flipping open the top unveils a beautiful silver and malachite ring.

Sure, you’re high, but you’ve been around authentic jewelry your entire life. This is one hundred percent real, down to the 925 imprinted on the inside of the ring. The malachite appears to be high quality, too, the bands of colour within the stone being distinct and striking.

The ring is so delicate, the polished green stone in the middle is surrounded by silver leaves, which are attached to stems that intertwine to make the band. It’s an exact match to the necklace you’re wearing right now. The one that your mother bought for you when you turned eighteen, the one that’s made by an expensive designer who charges ridiculously high prices. Yea, that one. And now, it’s your turn to freak out.

“Holy shit, Eddie! Oh my God! Holy shit! Eddie! Oh my God!” your words loop as you try to accept just how much his gift cost. If yours is worth two paychecks, his is worth five, easy. You can’t even imagine the amount of drugs he’d had to sell to pay for it.

You carefully take the ring out of the box and slip it onto your finger, holding your hand up to examine it. He smiles sheepishly, “Do you like it?” Your jaw literally drops. How could you not like it? Your mouth moves before your brain can filter your words.

“I– I love you.” Fuck.

You just sit and stare at each other, not moving an inch. Dread settles heavily on you. You’ve just ruined everything. He’s going to leave and never come back. Tears gather in your eyes as you whimper uncertainly, “Eddie.” That seems to break him out of his trance.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not lying?”

“No.”

In place of words, he grabs you and brings you into a tight hug. You’re a little disoriented but still cling to him, regardless. “I’m so stupid,” he murmurs in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, “I love you, too. Ever since middle school.”

You smile, pulling back, “Me too.”

He grins up at you, “Well, the buzzcut was irresistible, really. Everyone wanted me.”

You both burst out laughing. Eddie’s buzzcut was so bad that he refused to let your parents hang any photos of him from that era. Calming down, Eddie lifts his hands to your face. He rubs his thumbs across your cheek before pulling you down for a sweet kiss just as the sun passes below the horizon. You swear you’ve never been happier, even if it took years to finally get here.

For someone so emotionally intelligent, he always fell short when it came to you.

But maybe you were the same way.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #fluff #mild angst #my writing #request

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