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pedgito · 2 years

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Ok but what about love sick Eddie? Like is head over heels and is always itching to have a hand on the reader but is also conscious of the way Steve/Dustin/RobinTHE OTHERS BASICAALY see him

author’s note: i can picture this so perfectly, i really hope this prompt suffices your request!

cw: sfw, just lots of fluff and reassurance toward eddie, also touchstarved!eddie, he really has five love language & they’re all physical touch.

word count: 1.5k

Eddie never strayed too far from your side, always a step behind or huddled around you. He was the normalcy in your life, as of late, and had wedged himself there in every way possible. Home, his home, school, hangouts with your friends, he was always there, right on you.

You weren’t used to it initially, but you quickly realized that all Eddie needed was you. He didn’t care how he had you or when, but that you were there—you were a physical person he could touch. He could hold you when you were sad, or happy, or just begging for his arms around you. It didn’t matter, Eddie had no qualms about loving you. But still, he couldn’t shake the idea of everyone watching his every move—they weren’t, trust me. But, Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to believe that. He’d been judged and ridiculed all his life.

Dustin always joked about how unhealthy it seemed, but never really meant any harm. You knew he was joking, Eddie knew too—but it still made him pull his hand away from where it was wrapped around your arm, forcefully shoved into his jacket pocket.

Robin thought it was adorable, but it made her sad, seeing how in love Eddie was with you, and you for him. She couldn’t have it, as badly as she wanted it. Eddie toned it down out of courtesy, not wanting to shove it in her face.

Nancy didn’t have much room to judge, not that she would, since she was always wrapped around Johnathan in one way or another. They had a strong bond—through hell and back, it was unbelievable how much trauma one person could handle. She always squealed at how you described Eddie to her, finding it sweet how someone could love a person so intensely.

And Steve—oh, Steve. He always brought girls around, but it never stuck. He likes to say that he was just surfing through the bin and seeing which one he could land on that would stick, not that women were just cheap pickings from the bargain bin—Steve was very adamant about that after getting a mouthful from you about mistreating women. His luck was sour, unfortunately. Steve didn’t want to admit how bitter he was about being surrounded by love. Still, he was always in Eddie’s corner.

You were just as touch starved and drunk on Eddie; it wasn’t something that happened out of nowhere, it took time. You’d never felt love like this, with anyone. It started with holding your hand at home, curled up on his couch—occasionally switching to drag his fingers along the expanse of your arm, afraid you might disappear through his fingers. Or a hand on your knee while he drove and if he was feeling risqué enough, he’d rest his hand against the inside of your thigh, fingers a gentle pressure on the sensitive skin. It drove you wild, Eddie knew that much.

You liked to cradle his face, as often as he’d let you. Just hold him, stare at him, until he was blushing and looking away because he couldn’t stand it any longer. Eddie would never openly admit it, but he enjoyed it. You would rub your thumbs along the apples of his cheek, along the lines of his jaw, having to remind yourself that yes—he was real. In the more intimate moments, you’d cradle his head, let him bury his face in the crevice of your neck and run your fingers along the slope of his back. Those touches were wired, electrically charged—you’ve never met someone with more eager and exploring hands than Eddie.

Touch was love to both of you, that was something you both knew well. You didn’t need gifts or acts or words, you just needed touch. Eddie was touchy with everyone, in his own way, but had a special kind just for you.

He liked to grab Steve’s shoulders and shake him, just because it fucked with him so much. He’d always pat Robin on the shoulder, wrapping his arm around her in a hug anytime he saw her. Dustin hugged him everyday, which was more endearing than it should be, but you knew that Eddie was the older brother he never had.

He tried to tone it down around the others, he really tried. Though for you—you never tried.

“Hey,” His voice is soft, lips pecking the tip of your reddened ears, cold from the unforgiving Indiana winter, “Still cold?”

Eddie was always prepared for everything, an extra one of his jackets slung over his arm. You nod, arms tightening around yourself, hands slipping under the sleeve of your jacket to create friction, desperate to tell some type of warmth in your body.

“Where the hell is Wheeler?” Eddie pipes up, hanging the coat of your shoulders, lifting the hood until it covers your ears. “She’s got us freezing our balls off out here.”

“Speak for yourself.” You snort, huddling closer to him. Eddie doesn’t pull back, arm wrapping over your shoulder.

These touches were simple, nuanced. They were literally second nature now.

“Hey, sorry!” Nancy apologizes, out of breath as she yanks the door open, buttoning you both inside. “The rest of us are downstairs. I’m just grabbing snacks.”

Movie nights had also become a regular thing, oddly enough.

Eddie tumbled down the stairs in his usual roundabout manner, determined to make an entrance. He spots Dustin immediately, slapping the wall as he rounded the corner.

“Henderson!” He shot a finger gun at him, which Dustin returned with eager enthusiasm, pulling him into a brief hug. Eddie makes his rounds, a welcoming pat or nudge to each of them. They all welcomed him openly, as they always did.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” You ask, shedding your layers. Warmth, heat—finally. You settled onto the unoccupied couch in the corner of the room, motioning for Eddie to take a seat beside you. He flops down lazily, settling into the cushion.

“Fast times.” Nancy says begrudgingly, shoving the tape into the player.

“Again?” You ask, followed by a unanimous groan from the group—everyone except Robin.

“Hey—I’ve sat through a million rewatches of The Goonies, you all can suck it.” Robin provides emphasis by using both of her hands to flip everyone off collectively.

“It was her turn.” Eddie supplies, nodding his head in her direction. “We must obey the ladies orders.”

Despite how often everyone complained, you all enjoyed whatever was on the screen—it wasn’t really about that anyways.

You shove yourself in the corner, knees pulled to your chest as you watch the movie, too enraptured to realize Eddie’s hand playing with the edge of your sock, clearly begging for a touch.

You smile, shifting your leg a couple inches forward, letting Eddie’s hand wrap around the length of your ankle.

There wasn’t anything to it, Eddie almost always did it out of habit. But, he pulled away like a startled cat anytime someone moved in your direction, afraid someone would have some stupid remark—though, you knew they never would. Eddie had it all in his head.

“Johnathan and I are gonna refill the popcorn,” Nancy calls over her shoulder, bowl clasped in her arm, “don’t worry about pausing it.”

“I really hope they wash their hands.” You grimace, watching them ascend the stairs. Popcorn with a side of whatever the hell they were getting up to within those five minutes.

“Gross.” Robin half gags through a short chuckle, biting at the tip of her fingernail while Steve ranted about another one of his recent dates.

Eddie’s fingers are flexing and unflexing, you can see it in your peripherals. He wants to touch you, he really does—but he’s trying to force himself not to. “Hey,” You whisper in his direction, nodding your head to motion him closer, “come here.”

If he wasn’t going to do it, you were.

He shifts from where he’s reclined against the other arm of the couch, moving until he’s settled between your legs, nearly reclined if it wasn’t for his back resting against the front of your chest. Steve connects with your eyes for a split second, offering a soft smile—despite his bitterness, he was happy that you and Eddie had each other.

“I don’t want to make everyone else uncomfortable.” Eddie argues, though he showed no complaints adjusting in your lap, your own arms draping over his chest.

“Nancy and Johnathan are probably doing the unspeakable upstairs, I think the rest of them can handle a little cuddling.”

“We literally don’t care, Eddie.” Dustin finally speaks, feet propped up on the coffee table, reclined in full relaxation mode. He truly didn’t have a care in the world. Eddie’s touchiness wasn’t even a blip on his radar.

“See?” You tell him, grabbing his chin to pull his face toward you, effectively smooching him on the lips, upside down, in front of your friends. “Stop worrying.”

Eddie smiles, leaning into the crook of your arm, rough ringed fingers wrapping with your own. “Sorry.” He whispers into your palm, kissing the skin there.

“I like your touches,” Voice hushed low enough that only Eddie could hear, “don’t ever feel ashamed about it.”

Eddie’s never felt love like this and admittedly, neither have you.

Eddie gently coaxes your hands to his face, fingers finding their way into his hair, combing through the long, dark strands of curls. He felt at home with you, even if he never said it out loud.

And no one dares to say anything when he falls asleep halfway through the movie—they don’t know about the restless nights where he can’t sleep, curled up in your arms. They don’t know how he always falls asleep holding your hand, leg, shoulder—anywhere on your body, just to remind himself that you were still there. But, that wasn’t for them. It was moments shared in vulnerability.

Eddie could love you as hard and as much as he wanted too, without judgement. But he had to know, you would love back just as intensely.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #god when is it my turn #1kfic

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