It Can't All Be Bullshit

It Can't All Be Bullshit

Read part 2 here

Eddie Munson x fem Reader x Steve Harrington (unfortunately no steddie in this)

Summary: pinning after your best friend can be hard, especially when he doesn’t seem to like you back. You were trying to get over a crush the last thing you needed was another.

AN: this and the next chapter have been in my drafts for far too long so I thought I'd post them (not the best piece of writing but I like the story) I have tried to prove read it but I have dyslexia so sorry for any mistakes

Warnings: Angst, use of Y/n, mention of break ups, miscommunication, drug and alcohol use, swearing

Word count: about 2000 words

Halloween night 1985

Of all the people you had to have a crush on, why did it have to be your annoying, oblivious dork of a best friend? You knew you needed to get over it, and even if there ever was a chance of being with him, you feared you’d lose him. You weren’t what Eddie wanted in a girl, and you knew that. You were surprised he kept you around now with how much you nagged at him. It’s not like it was all the time, but someone had to look out for that boy, especially if he wasn’t going to do it for himself.

Eddie interrupted your plans for a Halloween movie night, which you had planned out for a month, costumes included. If anyone were to look at you together, they would assume you were a couple; most people did. You were dressed as Jack and Wendy Torrance from the shinning. He even let you put makeup on him to give him the frostbite effect. So when he suddenly announced he had to go to Tina’s party to deal, you were annoyed. You tried not to nag, even though you hated the sound of your voice at this point. Plus, he promised it would only be an hour tops, and then you could get takeout with some of his earnings so that you couldn’t complain, especially when he looked at you with those eyes. You could never say no.

You weren’t the biggest fan of drugs or him dealing them; you knew he was better than that life. But you understood how hard things were on him and his uncle, so as long as it wasn’t forever, it wasn’t really bad drugs, you let it be. You never liked to be around when he dealt, though. Something about watching it made you feel weird. You could never explain why. Eddie was kind, though, and he never did anything in front of you. He didn’t even smoke weed, especially after that one time when he got super paranoid and scared you. You weren’t part of that life. You didn’t do drugs, you didn’t drink, and you didn’t party. It’s not that you were boring. It was just never you. Hey, maybe you were boring, but at least you didn't need drugs to enjoy yourself. You liked to be in control.

You are currently leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb with a Coke in your hand. You look at the clock, he’s 30 minutes late. You were trying to turn a new leaf, so you were trying to be understanding, even if his time-wasting was cutting into your Halloween plans. You couldn’t take your eyes off the clock, not like there were other things to watch at this party: teenagers making out, getting too drunk or being sick. The clock seemed more appealing. When it hit the 2-hour mark, you started worrying, so you looked for him. What you didn’t expect to find was him in the garden with a blunt in his hand and his other hand on a blonde’s thigh.

The voice in your head telling you not to nag was now becoming quieter with how annoyed you were. He ditched you, and he was smoking, which showed he had no intention of continuing your plans. He just wanted to get high and laid. “Eddie!” you said loud and stern enough for him to hear you, but too high he was in his bubble with his girl for the night. “Edward Munson!” you said louder; he only ever hears that name when in trouble, so subconsciously, he straightened his back and tried to hide the blunt, failing miserably. He turned around to face you, he waved “Hi darling”. You glared at him. “Are you high, darling?” a mocking tone coming from your voice, using his usual pet name for you against him.

He pitched his fingers together “a little”. Eddie always thought you looked cute when you were mad; he usually tried to get you a little angry so he could see that face. Usually, though, he could hide his smile and keep a straight face since he was sober. But now, when he tried to keep a straight face, he couldn’t; even more irritating for you, he couldn't stop giggling, making the girl to his right giggle, too. “If you wanted to go party instead, you should have told me; you didn’t need to lie”. If Eddie were sober, he would see how hurt you were, but in his mind, this was a joke, “you don’t have to stay. You can go home and watch the films. Tell me what happens”. You freeze; this is why you hated High Eddie; he never realised how hurtful he came across. How selfish he became. And when he finally sobers up enough to realise you must forgive him because he ‘wasn’t in his right mind’. It’s a frustrating cycle, which is why he stopped smoking in front of you. Except for now, apparently. That’s probably why he ditched you so that you wouldn’t find out.

Hurtful words were on your tongue, but you were in your right mind, so you could never say them. You knew you wouldn’t mean them. You were just hurt, so you stormed off straight out the front door, but when you made it to the front porch, it was like you were stuck in glue. You couldn’t leave whether he was being a dick or not. He was still your best friend, and you need to ensure he was safe. He shouldn’t drive high, and knowing him, he would try. So you waited. You couldn’t go back into the hell hole that was Tina’s Halloween party, so you waited on a porch swing. The air was bitter tonight, so you were glad your costume provided a jumper, not that it looked like a costume anymore without a partner to go with it.

Your eyes were drifting shut with how tired and bored you were, that was until you heard a huge slam come from beside you, making you flinch. You weren’t the only one having a terrible time at this party; Steve was having an even worse one. “You got cigarettes?”. He didn’t look at you, so you didn’t realise he was talking to you. That was until you felt his glare burning into you. You knew that look wasn’t meant for you, but it still made you feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was due to the shots you could tell he had taken from the blue tint to his lips, or perhaps he had gotten into a fight. But this look wasn’t meant for you, but it didn't make it any less scary when you were in his firing line. “Huh?”. With the way he spoke to you next, you could have sworn you had done something to hurt his feelings. “Are you deaf I said do you have any smokes?” he spoke slowly like you were a dumb child. He tutted at you and turned away from you “bullshit”. He kept repeating like a madman.

Jesus, was he that addicted to nicotine, you thought. Even if he did make you feel a little uncomfortable, especially since you knew he was a jock, and even though they didn’t necessarily pick on you because, in their words, “you were a girl,” they bullied your friends so you knew how bad they could be. But even for a jock, this was dramatic “fucking hell, I’m sorry, I don’t have any” you said a little sarcastically. He stopped his repetition and looked over his shoulder at you. “What?” He said with anger still laced in his voice, like you did anything to deserve his rage. You didn’t know why you were wasting your breath on him, but Eddie had pissed you off, and you needed to get the annoyance out somehow. “Are you deaf? I said I’m sorry, I don’t have any”.

He thought he knew girls well, but after tonight, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to figure out what was wrong with you either. He couldn’t be bothered by the grief. “Fuck off”. You couldn’t tell if his words were in reaction to what you said or if he meant it. That was until he repeated it, and you saw the look on his face, and the tears in his eyes that he didn’t realise were there. You didn’t know what was happening with him, but it was not your place to sort it. You were making it worse.

So you went back into the party, to look for two people, firstly Tommy Hagan everyone knew he was Harrington’s best friend, so even if you didn’t like Tommy you couldn’t leave someone when they were like that. It would only make you as bad as them. You found him around the beer pong table. You lightly tapped his shoulder as you couldn’t deal with another boy's wrath tonight. He turned around, looking you up and down, smirking. “What are you supposed to be a virgin?” You rolled your eyes. You knew you could think of a comeback and put him in his place, but now wasn’t the time; you needed to get him outside, and you didn’t want to announce that his friend, the king of Hawkin High, was crying on the lawn in front of everyone. You weren't cruel. “Can you just come outside with me?” The room erupted into “oh”, as if you were suggesting something sexual. “Wait, was I right about the virgin thing? Is the freak not giving you any? Do you want a real man instead?” He said, getting closer to you. He smelt of beer and body odour, but you let him closer so you could whisper in his ear. “Your boy is outside, and something’s happened. I’d go and sort it if I was you”. He looked at you confused and nodded. He walked out, but not before smacking you on the ass. “I’ll see you later, darling?”. God, he was the most enormous prick. You couldn’t hold your tongue anymore. “Is that with your girlfriend or alone?”.

Eddie came sauntering alone into the room after hearing your voice, “I hope you’re not starting fights”, he said, putting his arm around your shoulder out of comfort. You ignored his question, not wanting to get into it now. “You ready to go?” You looked at him and weakly smiled. Eddie couldn’t tell, though he was still high as a kite, just in the mellow stage, so all he could see was you smiling. You took the keys out of his pocket and led him to the van. On your way out, you walked past Tommy and Steve on the porch swing. Steve’s leg bounced. “She said we were bullshit”, he kept repeating; you were glad Eddie wasn’t sober enough to hear it. Otherwise, he would definitely use it against him. Everything about his mood towards you started to make sense. He and Nancy had clearly broken up. So you gave him a smile and a nod of acknowledgement as you left, which he only glared at. You didn't mind, though you were just glad he wasn’t alone, even if that meant being with Tommy.

You drove Eddie home, struggling to get his dead weight onto the bed and to get his shoes off. You were about to leave for your car outside when Eddie's hand grabbed for yours. “Stay”. This used to be one of the only things you liked about him being high, the cuddles and needing attention. However, right now, this was probably the worst thing for your heart when you were trying to get over him, but when you looked at his face, how could you say no if that made him happy, even if it would end up hurting you.

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

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16:00 ──────────ㅇ──────── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne. 

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie. 

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color. 

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year. 

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened. 

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

 You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.” 

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter? 

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.” 

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.” 

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel. 

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact. 

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself. 

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.” 

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?” 

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today. 

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?” 

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.” 

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.” 

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.” 

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait. 

An offering. 

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing. 

You won’t make the first move. 

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith. 

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?” 

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips. 

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers. 

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident. 

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again. 

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing. 

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.” 

“We can still have a marathon.” 

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go. 

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable. 

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him. 

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

 And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it. 

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter. 

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?” 

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” 

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?” 

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.” 

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.” 

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now. 

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing. 

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.” 

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me? 

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.” 

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.” 

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.” 

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?” 

“You’ve got something better to do?” 

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly. 

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.” 

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you. 

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat. 

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him. 

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you. 

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What would I do

THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME

Adding onto the whole deaf!Steve Harrington thing. He's been staying with Eddie and Wayne more often than not since he began to date Eddie. He had been completely surprised when Eddie had learned sign language for him, but it had thrown him off kilter when he woke up one morning, and Wayne started signing to him. When Steve asked him why, Wayne only signed in response:

You are my boy as much as Eddie is mine, son.

It couldn't be helped when Steve burst into tears, nor when Wayne pulled him into a tight hug.

joe keery has such strong dad energy, especially in recent photos from italy. can you write about joe traveling in italy with you and your baby daughter? i just know he’d be the type to wear his kid around and splash in the water with her, and fall asleep in the sun with her on his chest, and feed her little bites of pasta. with you, he’d make sure that your vacation was relaxing and that you felt treated like a goddess. insecure about wearing a bikini? joe can’t stop blushing when he looks at you in it even if you’ve been married for years. while the baby is napping, he massages your feet and cuddles with you. in turn, you set up reservations at his favorite restaurants and plan manageable but gorgeous walks around the city. idk man just dad!joe on vacation

Italy - j.k

a/n: hello angels. how have you all been? i’m so sorry i’ve been MIA lately but i’m back and better than ever! this request is adorable! let’s get into the imagine. it’s not proof read so please bare with me if this is shit lmfao, im still trying to get back into the swing of writing, i also can never seem to figure out how to end my imagines so if anyone has any tips please LMK!! for the ending the outfits are in the little collage🫧

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@johnricharddeacy @theshireisonfire @ssababe @phantomxoxo @livsters @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @kaverichauhan @missabsey @chxrrysprxut @thefrontofmymind @nightmonkeyparker @carinacassiopeiae @cherrymedicine13 @waratah-moon @minsugafour @k-k0129 @limelight23 @alwaysteveswife @krazykatkay456 @lma1986 (it’s been a while so lmk if you want to be removed 🫧)

“baby come on we wanna get to the pool, what’s taking you so long-” Joe barged into the bathroom without knocking making you jump out of your skin. after having your daughter Florence a year and a half ago you had been insecure about your new body.

you were curvier then before, had a few stretch marks scattered all over your body which had faded but in your eyes they were so visible. you just didn’t feel like yourself and with this being your first holiday since having her, you were nervous.

nervous that you didn’t look as good as you did before, nervous that you were gonna get papped and people online would say awful things about you, nervous people were gonna stare.

but to Joe, the sweetest man ever thought you’d never looked better. you had carried a whole human for 9 months and you looked incredible. “Joe, you scared me” you placed a hand on your chest and turned to look at him.

Joe looked at you, eyes darting across your body, seeing you in a bikini for the first time in over a year made him feel tingly. his face heated up “you look beautiful baby, jesus christ you’re gorgeous” he saw your eyes light up slightly.

Florence was in her playpen which you had brought along to keep her occupied, Joe had made sure she was safe before coming to look for you. even after five years of being together and three years of marriage, just looking at you made Joe feel giddy. he was so lucky to have you in his life.

you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he couldn’t ever get over your beauty. Joe knew what you were doing in the bathroom, he had caught you one too many times and he hated that you felt insecure.

he walked toward you and pulled you into him “my pretty girl” he kissed your head as he hugged you closer. “you’ve never looked so beautiful” you smiled shyly. there was something about Joe, he always knew how to make you feel beautiful. he had a special way with words.

“come on, don’t want to keep you and flo waiting any longer” you said as you pulled yourself away from the hug. he ran back to Florence who squealed when she saw her dad, the two of them were best friends and although it made you jealous their relationship was your favourite thing ever.

seeing the two of them bonding was the most adorable thing in the entire world. even when she was in the womb he would spend hours and hours speaking to your bump with her kicking you in response. “my angel, let’s go. mama is almost ready” you heard him say as he picked Florence up out of the playpen, she squealed in delight as he did.

-♡-

the three of you were lounging around the pool, Italy was boiling hot and luckily the hotel you were staying at had a kids pool and an adult pool. Florence was a baby who loved the water, she never cried when having a bath, if anything she enjoyed it.

splashing around with her toys was her favourite thing to do. she loved your pool that you had back home, every time it was hot Joe would take her into the pool. your friends kids were a bit older than Florence and she loved watching them play in the pool too.

as soon as you and Joe got situated on your sun loungers he grabbed Florence and walked straight to the kid section which was thankfully right in front of you. you watched Florence splash the pool water with her toys, the biggest smile on her face.

Joe was sat opposite her with the exact same expression on his face. it was honestly scary how much Florence looked like him. they had practically all the same features except she had your eyes, she was a carbon copy of him.

aside from the fact that Florence and Joe where best friends and looked exactly like each other the worst of it all was when Florence said her first word which was of course ‘dada’. you had prayed that she said ‘mama’ first but nope. it wasn’t like it actually hurt your feelings, your daughter had days where you were the favourite parent and it made you tear up when she finally did say ‘mama’ for the first time.

Joe and Florence had only been sat in the kid pool for thirty minutes before his back started hurting but the look on his daughters face made it all worth it. other than you, Florence was the best thing to ever happen to him. before her, he didn’t really care about being a dad. it wasn’t something he had ever thought about. but that sunny Friday afternoon, the day you told him, showed him the positive test, he never thought he could love someone as much as he loved her.

“dada” Florence said as she looked up at him and lifted up a purple octopus for him to take. “oh thank you angel” he took the toy from her small hand. Joe watched Florence with the softest smile, she was the most adorable thing ever and he couldn’t get over the fact that you guys had made something so beautiful. Florence paused playing with her toys and yawned. Joe knew exactly what that meant, she only yawned when she needed a nap, it sounded odd because everyone yawns but the little eye rub after her yawn made it obvious. she was tired.

after waking up early (6:37am to be exact but who was checking? definitely not Joe) eating breakfast and all this playing in the pool, the girl had worn herself out. “come on sweetheart, you look like you’re about to fall asleep” Joe said as he stood up, picking up her few toys and shoving them in her pockets and then bending down to pick her up. she had her small arms lifted in the air, her eyes squinting as she looked up at Joe.

he picked her up and made his way back over to you. you where laying on the sun lounger now reading a book with your airpods in. you noticed Joe walking back with Florence hugging him tightly. you took one airpod out and smiled at the two of them. “you okay?” you asked, sitting up. Joe picked up the towel that was on his sun lounger and wrapped it around both him and Florence. “yeah, she just got tired. i mean, it’s around the time she usually has a nap isn’t it?” you looked at the time in your phone and nodded. “yeah, she’s actually stayed awake a lot longer then i thought she would”

Joe sat laid down on the sun lounger, making sure Florence was comfortable before he started running his hand up and down her back and through her hair. it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, her breathing slowed and she was completely relaxed against him so you went back to your book, letting the two of them have their moment.

it was about 10 minutes after Joe and Florence had sat down and the soft snores was the only thing you could hear from the two of them, it didn’t take long for Joe to fall asleep. he was just as tired as Florence was. you turned your attention to the two of them and felt your heart melt. your two favourite people in your company were the moments you treasured the most.

-♡-

“come on Joe i know it takes ten hours to do your hair but we are gonna be late” you said jokingly as you picked up Florence who was dressed in a white dress with the cutest sandals you’d ever seen, it was the last night in Italy before you went home tomorrow night and you wanted to do something special for Joe. he had planned this whole trip for you, knowing you needed a break from your town and the paparazzi (it’s not like you hit a break from that because they followed you everywhere!).

he needed to be appreciated just as much as he appreciated you and sometimes you struggled to do that with Florence. you weren’t saying that you didn’t love being a mum because you did, however sometimes you and Joe hardly spoke to each other because you were so focused on her.

“i’m coming honey, sorry” he came out of the bathroom with his hair perfectly styled, per usual, and he was wearing a comfortable but smart outfit. black jeans, blue t-shirt, let’s just say he looked perfect. he sat on the bed and put on his trainers and started doing the laces up, he stood up and kissed you on the cheek “you look beautiful baby” you smiled and thanked him with a a passionate kiss.

“and look at my angel” he took Florence out of your arms gently “you look perfect my sweet girl” he kissed her cheek a few times which made her squeal and hide her face in his neck. “right, let’s go, we can’t be late for whatever your mama’s planned can we?” you had seen a a popular restaurant all over social media which about fifteen minute walk from the hotel you were staying at which you also remembered was Joe’s favourite. he had been to Italy a few times and had always gone there with his friends and you had told him a few months ago when planning this trip that you couldn’t get a reservation which he was actually a little upset about. you and him hadn’t ever been there together and he wanted to take you there because he knew you’d love it. it was a surprise for him that you actually did get one. it wasn’t the best surprise out there but you knew it would mean something to him.

as the two of you walked hand in hand, Joe had Florence on his shoulders laughing as her dad played around with her. after about twenty minutes (due to Joe messing about) you guys approached the small town where the restaurant was and Joe’s eyes lit up, he could see the restaurant sign and turned his head to look at you.

“are we going in there?” he squeezed your hand slightly as his body filled with excitement. “yeah, i got us a reservation and wanted to surprise you. it’s not a huge thing but i knew you would like it” his heart melted, that’s one thing he loved most about you. always remembering the little things he had said and trying your best to get those things sorted. he had said about going here ages ago and honestly he had forgotten about it but you, you didn’t and you made sure you got one.

“aww honey, that’s so sweet of you” he let go of your hand and pulled you into his side and wrapped his arm around your waist. he kissed your cheek softly as the two of you continued walking towards the busy looking restaurant.

once sat inside the restaurant you sat opposite Joe with Florence in a high chair at the end next to both of you. she was babbling away in her own little language. Joe replied to everything she said as if he knew what she was saying but it made her happy, she had a smile on her face showing her four small teeth. “last night in Italy. is it bad that i want to live here forever?” Joe said as he turned his attention back to you.

you shook your head “no, it’s beautiful here” you smiled, if you could move to Italy you would, the houses were beautiful, the people were lovely, the views were gorgeous, so what was stopping you?. “maybe we could move here. i mean, not now obviously but sometime in the future we could” Joe said as he ran a hand through his hair.

“also just changing the subject, i really appreciate you doing this for us” he started but you rolled your eyes jokingly “Joe, all i did was make a reservation it’s not that big of a deal” you laughed but he took ahold of your hand and looked at you “it is to me. you went out if your way to get us in here and that’s just a small piece of what you do for us. you take care of flo when i’m away working which fucking kills me but you keep it together, make sure she’s okay and even make sure i’m okay and i’m not even there before you make sure you’re alright yourself. when we are at home together the only time we see each other is when we are in bed and at that point one of us is usually asleep. i know you miss up our date nights and even just being together in general” he was stroking your hand gently as he spoke.

“this vacation has been the best thing for us because we’ve actually spent time together which we rarely do. we have completely different schedules so i know it’s hard but after this movie is over i’m taking a break and i’m going to focus on you and flo. you’re my main priority and i need to spend time with you.” he kissed your hand and smiled.

“we do need to spend more time together and i do miss our dates, they were my favourite” his smile softened and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “i know, so that’s what we are doing. i’ll get someone to look after Florence and we will do something together” with happy your heart melting you leaned over the table enough to kiss him. you could feel him smile into the kiss which you always loved him doing, you didn’t know why, you just did.

“i love you” you said as you pulled away to sit back down “i love you more” you felt your cheeks heat up. you heard a small whine from the little lady who was sat next to you which made you both turn to look at her. she had the smallest frown on her face which made both you a Joe laugh “and we couldn’t forget our favourite girl” he said pulling her out of her high chair and placing her on his lap, smothering her with small kisses which made her giggle, making your heart melt at the sight. your favourite people in the world.