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mrsjellymunson · 20 days

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That Was You?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Summary: A meet cute in a record store. That’s literally it.

WC: 1.6k

CW: SFW, FLUFF, swearing, flirting, awkwardness, reader relives an embarrassing situation. Reader’s physical characteristics are not described. Brief mentions of the devil’s lettuce and non-consensual touching. This was supposed to turn into a story but never did, and it was too cute to waste. IDK how homemade volcanoes or US schooling years work so if I’ve messed up let’s all just pretend I didn’t 😂 The gorgeous Eddie edit in the banner is by the utterly fantastic @jqmunson 🙏👏

I have a general taglist now, just ask if you’d like to be on it 😊

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You’d first become aware of him in High School. You were a freshman and he was, theoretically, in his final year. But then you’d unexpectedly had two extra years in which to ogle observe him and commit his form to memory.

‘Crush’ would be an understatement. ‘Obsession’ would be more accurate. You’d doodle his name in your notebooks, covering the characters with pictures of roses or skulls, or hearts done with thick markers, before anyone saw. You’d always sit where you could watch him across the lunch hall, wondering what it would be like to hear one of his world-changing rants up close, or join in with that game he played.

But he was four years older than you, practically a lifetime in High School terms. So you always kept your dreams to yourself, not once even daring to catch his eye, let alone talk to him.

So when you see a familiar-looking, black-clad silhouette as you enter Hawkins’ only record store, you’re pretty sure it’s him. Eddie Munson.

You freeze. You’d come in to browse their ‘Rock/Metal/Indie’ section to look for a gift for your cousin, not that you really had any clue about what to look for, but a figure was already there. His presence somehow pervades the entire aisle, despite there being numerous bins of discs to look through.

The shoulders are broader than the ones you remember. The deep chestnut hair is longer, down to the figure’s mid-back, and by the looks of the shiny and softly-defined waves, it’s benefitting from a decent product regime. The hands that reach out to browse the cardboard sleeves make you shiver; tattooed and strong-looking, with prominent veins. The rings and bracelets that adorn them are less gaudy and more modern in style than the ones you recall from school; they look fantastic. And those biceps fill the sleeves of that tight, black shirt better than those of the skinny teen you once idolised. And even if it’s not him, you’re still enjoying the view, because those faded black jeans fit whoever it is really, really well…

You stand there gaping for a few moments, the hand nearest to your messenger bag clamping and releasing around the strap.

You swallow hard. You must look like an idiot, standing there in the middle of the aisle like a startled deer. But by the way your legs are shaking, you kinda feel like one.

Okay, just walk forwards. You need to look at the records anyway. Just… move your legs. There you go! See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Just go and stand next to him. If it is him, he’s not gonna bite. Okay, maybe you wish he would, but that’s a mental image for another time…

You slowly meander up to the racks of records, trailing a finger along them hoping it makes you look like you know what you’re doing: a knowledgeable music fan just casually browsing for new tunes. Yeah, that’s it, you can totally pull this off.

You stop short of where he stands, leaving a gap of a couple of bins between you. It’s close enough for you to catch his scent: cologne, cigarettes and a hint of the subtle earthy sweetness of another smokable.

You flick a couple of the records back and forth and inhale half a breath and huff it out, as if in thought. Not loud, just enough to let the figure know you’re there.

He turns his head towards you, and it makes the waves of his hair sway slightly. They shimmer and settle around his shoulders as he cracks a polite but friendly closed-mouth smile in your direction.

Fuck. You’d know those deep pools of melted cacao anywhere, and the merest hint of a dimple appearing in the cheek closest to you seals the deal. It’s definitely him.

As you make eye contact with the boy you had a crush on for practically your entire High School career, you offer a slight half smile back to him. At least, that’s what you hope you do, as you suppress a squeak that threatens to leave your chest. You acknowledge that it’s entirely possible you just look like you need to pass wind.

After what seems like a millennia, but in reality is probably only just slightly longer than is necessary, the figure turns back to the records in front of him. He continues to browse, but you think you see his eyes flick in your direction occasionally as he makes a show of checking out the album artwork of some band you’ve never heard of.

You’re nervous as all hell, but something inside you can’t risk losing this opportunity. You’ve got the chance to actually talk to him for the first time ever, and you really wanna take it.

Bravely, you take deep breath, and mutter,

“Hey, is it…?”

Your voice dies in your throat. He cocks his head slightly towards you, a quizzical look on his face.

God, he’s still so pretty.

Okay, that didn’t go well, but in for a penny, as they say…

“Are you…?”

Again, the words dry up in your mouth. Flustered, you almost give up, huffing out a breath and slumping your shoulders.

You close your eyes for a moment, before deciding to give it one more go, quickly blurting out, “Is your name Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He looks at you fully now, lifting a brow and quirking one side of his mouth up in a smirk.

Shit. This is so embarrassing. He obviously doesn’t remember you. Why would he, you never spoke. Plus, you’ve changed a lot since school so why would you imagine he’d recognise you even if he did?

“Sorry. I’m- Ah fuck, I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m just gonna take what few shreds of dignity I have left and just, y’know, go.”

You turn on your heel and take a couple of wide strides, planning to hightail it out of there, move away, leave the state, maybe even leave the country. But a gentle hand brushing against your upper arm stops you.

He’s quickly closed some of the distance between you, and is looking at you with a soft smile and genuine interest.

“No, wait. Please! You can’t leave without giving me at least some clue as to how we know each other.”

You slowly turn back to him, to find him cocking his head to one side in contemplation.

All you can do is blink at him, so Eddie starts speculating.

Warily, he begins, “Do I owe you money?” His eyes flash with mischievous excitement, “Do you owe me money?” Wincing, ”Do you have an older brother who beat me up in high school?” Then finally, more discreetly, “Do you maybe, um, need weed?”

You’re finally able to speak.

“No. No. It’s none of those. But we did go to high school at the same time. I was even more of a nerd than the guys you hung out with, if I recall.”

You tell him your name, like it would make a difference.

It’s your turn to wince now. Eddie still looks blank, registering zero recognition. You sigh, knowing there’s one thing he might remember. Bashfully, you continue,

“I’m the one who made the blood volcano disaster at that end of year science fair…”

Your most mortifying High School memory. Oh god, why the hell did you bring that up?

But it’s something that Eddie remembers.

His eyes blow wide and his eyebrows disappear into his bangs. Grinning maniacally, mouth wide open, he almost yells,

“Oh my god, that was awesome! The chemistry accident that made the hall look like that scene from The Shining? That was you?”

He looks amazed, and takes half a step towards you. It’s like he’s meeting one of his favourite celebrities.

He furrows his brow a little as he squints at you, looking you up and down. Pinching his chin between his thumb and first knuckle, he remarks,

“Wait, you do look kinda familar now… But- also a lot different…”

“Yeah, I suppose I do. Not all of us nail down our personal style in high school, y’know”. You gesture to his all black outfit.

Eddie looks down at himself, before looking back up at you and responding with faux seriousness, “Hey, I’ll have you know this is timeless. Time. Less.”

You grin at each other. He continues,

“Y’know, people still talk about that. The giant volcano turned blood corridor thing. I bet you’d still find stains under the floor panels, if you looked hard enough!”

You bring a hand to your face, feeling its heat beneath your palm.

“Oh, please stop! It was embarrassing enough at the time. I really don’t wanna relive it! Besides, it wasn’t entirely my fault. I was distracted when I measured out the ingredients because I’d just given Tommy Hagan a black eye for touching my ass.”

“Really?”

He’s beaming now, his smile as broad as you’ve ever seen it, eyes wide and deep dimples fully on display.

“Oh, you gotta tell me all about that. That guy was such an asshole. But seriously, sweets, that was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen! You know, it was almost enough to get me interested in science. Almost. You should always be proud of that, and I’m totally serious.”

As you reel slightly from him calling you sweets, Eddie takes you in properly for the first time. His gaze wanders your form, then briefly flicks back to the display of records before meeting yours again.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“Hey, uh, I'm pretty much done here. It’s hot out and I was gonna, um, go get a cold drink. Youuu… maybe wanna join me? Reminisce a bit more about the ole’ high school experience?”

He screws his face up at that last part. You muse that he realises the reminder of the age gap and how you know each other probably doesn’t make for the most enticing offer.

But you smile and twist in your place a little, your face and neck heating as you reply,

“Yeah, Eddie. I think I’d like that…”

“Great! Uh, great.”

You both turn and start to amble out of the store, a lot closer than you were a few moments ago, arms almost brushing. You spot a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he turns his head to face you again, and you return his smile as he says to you,

“Goddamn. Tommy Hagan, huh? I can’t wait to hear the rest of that story.”

Thanks so much for reading!

As always, if you enjoyed please support and reward your creators with comments and reblogs 💗

I have a general taglist now, so let me know if you’d like to see more ramblings like this.

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Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson

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stergeon · 3 months

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spending some more time chewing on the concept of byleth and edelgard constantly writing each other letters—both while one of them is off traveling and also when they're both at home and seeing each other every day. there's one on the emperor's desk in her study; one in byleth's storage locker in the barracks; one left on a pillow or slipped into a pocket or tucked into a book the other is reading.

the emperor is interrupted during a big meeting by a page delivering a "most crucial missive from the commander." she unseals it in front of everyone and it's a crude drawing of a smiley face that says "hello i love you"

edelgard would write these excessively verbose things, very heavy on the poetry and flowery language. there are a couple paragraphs of updates and then page after page after page of "i love you"s and "i miss you"s communicated in ten thousand different and increasingly grandiloquent ways. byleth has learned to bring a dictionary along on her trips so she can decode all the sesquipedalian nightmare terms edelgard uses to tell her she's pretty. most letters start and end with an implied threat that if anyone other than byleth reads it or finds out how soft the emperor is, there will be hell to pay, but it doesn't stop her from proceeding to go ham on the romantic sappiness.

meanwhile byleth's letters are. pretty straight and to the point. she's keeping her posted about the weather, about this dog that she met, about a cool tree she saw, and transcribing direct quotes and best wishes from their friends. but she also includes little mementos she picked up or shiny things she found (she's like a crow with pretty rocks, shells, and baubles), and presses flowers that she thinks edelgard will like, and attempts to sketch things she wishes edelgard got to see with her. it's painfully obvious that byleth will never have an artistic career, but edelgard adores every single drawing all the same.

(hubert made a suggestion to have the emperor and her adviser use different seals or envelopes for their personal and official correspondence. this was accepted as reasonable. several months later, edelgard found out he made the suggestion after the third instance in which he'd been doing his secretarial duties and responding to the emperor's mail, only to find the message from the emperor's adviser did not, in fact, contain the woman's latest report on the situation in fhirdiad or fodlan's locket, but a rather lurid list of her intentions for the emperor upon returning home to enbarr. one contained a diagram. hubert did not examine it.)

edelgard, who hoards every paper she's ever had reason to touch and who has a (frankly, pathological) filing system for everything in her life, has a special container for byleth's letters that is under lock and key. byleth, who lived out of a rucksack for most of her life and constantly had to consider carry weight when vetting her few belongings, doesn't really know how to... have... things. she struggled with toting around all this paper for a while, but couldn't bear to toss out even the simplest "meet me at 4pm for the council meeting" message. she had to make peace with the concept of using a drawer for something like long-term storage and frequently checks to make sure they're all still there.

both of them keep their favorite ones in the back of their respective journals and act like they're not so extremely, terminally soft on each other.

#sterge.rtf #edeleth #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth eisner #byleth x edelgard #them girls. y'know?#maybe i'll write something with this at some point. mostly i just think it's cute to shitpost about #i have them on the brain today #because i'm putting off solving a problem i ran into on a wip #and also putting off an annoying worldbuilding thing i have to sort out for a Different story i'm working on #so here you are. more fluffy nonsense about them girls.

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