#or something. i am not eddie so i am not good with words

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

May prompt: delay

408 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“Harrington’s got her, don’t’cha, big boy?” Eddie asks, grinning wide like he’s talking about something lower-stakes than this, like stealing a Winnebago is a game.

Steve doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know what he can say.

Later, Robin certainly knows what to say. “Steve.”

“I know.”

“Steven.”

“I know, Robs.”

“Steven Annette-”

“That’s your middle name, Robin, and I know! Okay? I know! What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” He runs a hand through his hair, clamps his fingers shut. Pulls a little, relishes in the slight sting tickling along his scalp. “I froze up, and I’m just gonna freeze up again, because it’s the end of the fucking world and what am I supposed to do? Tell the dude?”

“Would it really be so bad?”

Steve levels her with a look. “Oh, I dunno. How would you take it if the person whose friends in high school bullied you came up to you and was talking about how they like you?” He sets judgmental hands on his hips.

“Yeah, but Dingus,” she says softly, “big boy? Even I couldn’t make that sound like anything other than what it is. He’s flirting with you. And what’s wrong with a little end-of-the-world flirting?”

“Nothing,” Steve mutters, scuffing his shoe and sighing. “Everything. I want it to mean something, Robbie.”

“And it won’t with him? Or it will with him? And which is the bigger problem?”

“Either. Both.” He sighs. “I dunno.”

“Well,” she tells him, “way I see it, you got two options. Either you tell him how you feel, or you don’t. You talk it out, or you keep it locked up forever.” She leans against him, taking a break from making Molotovs. “And I know which sounds worse.”

He sighs, watches Eddie tackle Dustin, their laughs ringing out over the field. “Yeah. Me too.”

It’s later, after the War Zone and planning and more preparation, when they’re in the Upside Down and Eddie tells him, “Make him pay.”

There’s no hesitation. No delay from Steve’s brain to his body, to his mouth to form the words. He steps forward and kisses Eddie, hard and needing. “Make it out alive,” he demands. Begs. His hands, around Eddie’s neck, tremble.

Eddie brings a hand up, clasps Steve’s forearm. “I’m no hero,” he murmurs. “I told you that. And you just gave me the best kind of incentive.”

“Good,” Steve breathes, off-kilter.

“Good,” Eddie agrees, grinning.

[fordiaz]

Leaving it Behind (Eddie Diaz) ⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ

“But I need you to know I’m trying. I’m trying to be the man you deserve. And I want to be the person you can trust.” 🤎ྀིྀི⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪🎻

Synopsis: After a string of broken promises and a failed relationship with Marisol, Eddie Diaz returns to El Paso hoping to rebuild his life—for Christopher, and for himself. There, he meets someone new: grounded, kind, and refreshingly honest. For the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to believe he can start over. But when a trip back to Los Angeles threatens to unearth the parts of him he swore he’d left behind, both he and the woman he’s falling for are forced to confront a difficult question: can you truly move forward if you’re still tied to the past?

Genre: Angst

AU: None

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Cheating because all men are dogs, Bobby’s funeral (😭), Eddie’s MESSY love life.

Note: I decided to be a menace for once and thought that maybe I should shake it up and try to make something super angsty, especially since I’m already at the point in S7 where Eddie is basically lying to himself and Marisol about Kim. I hope you guys like this, and no, I am not sorry for the gut wretching angst journey you are about to embark on. Happy reading!

El Paso wasn’t where Eddie thought he’d end up again. Not after everything he’d built in LA — the 118, the friendships, the years of growing into someone he could finally look at in the mirror.

But choices had consequences. And sometimes those consequences wore the face of your twelve-year-old son, standing in your parents’ kitchen with clenched fists and eyes rimmed red.

“I know what you did,” Christopher had said. No yelling. Just hurt. Quiet and heavy like a thunderstorm sitting low in the sky. “I know why Marisol left.”

Eddie hadn’t been prepared for that. He wasn’t sure what part stunned him more — the fact that Christopher found out or the way he didn’t scream. He just withdrew. Packed a backpack. Told him he was staying with Abuela and Abuelo “for a while,” because of Eddie’s actions.

Eddie stood there, breath stolen from his lungs. Watching his son walk away like he was just another mistake to sort through. And maybe, in that moment, he was.

He hadn’t meant for things to fall apart with Marisol.

She was safe. Kind. Familiar in ways that didn’t challenge him too much. And that’s exactly why it failed. Because Eddie wasn’t good at being vulnerable with people who didn’t push him past the surface. And when things started unraveling, instead of fixing it, he ran — into a mistake he couldn’t take back.

A one-time thing, a moment of weakness he couldn’t explain even if he tried. But it was enough. It always is.

Marisol had left without slamming the door. Just said she hoped he figured things out — not just for himself, but for Christopher.

But Christopher had already figured things out, and it broke Eddie more than the silence Marisol left behind.

So he packed up. Took a leave. Moved back into the house he grew up in, the one that never felt like home until it held the weight of his guilt.

There were days he didn’t speak much. His parents gave him space. Tiá Pepa dropped off food. Christopher barely made eye contact.

Eddie let it happen. Let the space fill with consequences and time and things he couldn’t erase.

He tried to be there. Tried to show up for every school event, every quiet breakfast. He even helped Christopher with a science project one weekend, and when he said “thanks,” it was the first word they exchanged in three days.

Eddie knew this wasn’t just about infidelity — it was about trust. About Christopher growing up in a world that already felt unpredictable. And now his father, the one constant in his chaos, had proven to be just as unreliable.

So Eddie started from the bottom again.

Therapy twice a week. No excuses. Long runs in the morning before sunrise. Checking in with the rest of the 118 even though it felt like salt in a wound. Keeping in touch with Buck — sporadically, because hearing his voice only reminded Eddie of what he left behind.

But what mattered most was Christopher. And Eddie was ready to earn his place again — not with empty promises, but with consistency. Time. Honesty.

He didn’t know what the future looked like.

El Paso wasn’t LA.

There was no 118, no chaos-driven adrenaline calls, no rhythm to fall into. Just this: a quiet city, a disappointed son, and a man trying to figure out what redemption could even look like.

Eddie hated the new Uber gig — if he was being honest with himself. It wasn’t the driving or the waiting or the awkward small talk; he just missed the uniform. The purpose. The feeling of waking up and knowing exactly who he was.

But ever since moving back to El Paso, he’d needed something to fill the silence. And he wasn’t above rebuilding himself from the ground up — again.

He told himself it was temporary. Just a way to stay busy when Christopher was at school. It gave him a reason to leave the house, clear his head, and, if he was lucky, make enough to buy himself some independence outside his parents’ walls.

He wasn’t expecting you, though.

You were standing on the curb outside a coffee shop, half-lost in your phone and half-wrapped in sunlight.

Your name popped up on his app — quick ride, five stars, “pick-up at 9:20.”

When you climbed into the backseat and greeted him with a smile that could cut through morning haze, something in his chest tightened. He glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

Your sunglasses slid down the bridge of your nose as you adjusted your seatbelt, and when you looked up, you caught his eyes.

“Morning,” you said, voice bright but casual, like the day hadn’t started until just now.

“Morning,” Eddie echoed, mouth dry. “You, uh, heading to work?”

“Something like that. Interview.”

“Good luck,” he said without thinking. “Though you don’t look like you’ll need it.”

You let out a surprised laugh, glancing out the window with a smile tugging at your lips. “Do you usually flirt with your passengers?”

“Only the ones who look like they could ruin my life.”

It was meant to be a joke. A throwaway line. But when your eyes met his in the mirror again, there was a pause — just long enough to feel like maybe neither of you wanted it to be just a joke.

There was something about you. Maybe it was your energy — confident, a little chaotic, alive.

It reminded him of something. Someone. Shannon, maybe. But not quite. This was different.

You talked the whole drive. About how you just moved to El Paso. About trying to find something new after too many years of making yourself small in cities that didn’t deserve you.

Eddie listened. Really listened.

And when you got to your destination, you didn’t get out right away.

“Thanks for the ride, Uber man.”

He grinned. “Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you repeated, like you were trying it out for size. “You always this charming, Eddie?”

“Only when I’m lucky.”

You smirked, thumb hovering over the door handle.

“Well. Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to ride with you again.”

He watched you go, heart doing something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t love — not yet. But it was the start of something. He knew it in his bones.

Later that night, he kept checking the app, wondering if he’d ever see your name pop up again.

He didn’t know then that the universe — messy, loud, inconvenient — had already decided.

You weren’t just a passenger. You were going to be something else entirely.

Ever since that day, the evening felt different. Eddie’s house was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge and the faint rattle of the air conditioner the only sounds.

The dim glow of the kitchen light cast shadows on the walls, making everything feel intimate, private.

You sat at the counter, your hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee, eyes occasionally darting over to Eddie as he moved around the kitchen.

He had a way of doing everything with ease — a methodical rhythm that came with years of practice.

The familiar clink of utensils and the sizzling of something in the pan were oddly comforting. But tonight, it wasn’t just the food that had the atmosphere thick with tension.

You could feel it. There was something on Eddie’s mind. He had been quieter than usual, his smiles more forced, his movements more deliberate.

It was almost as if he was waiting for something — or someone — to make the first move.

You set your mug down, catching his eye. “You alright?”

Eddie paused mid-slice, his knife hovering over the cutting board. He glanced at you, offering a tight smile.

“Yeah, just… thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. You had been with Eddie for a few months now, enough time to know when something was bothering him.

“About?”

Eddie’s gaze dropped, his focus shifting to the vegetables in front of him. His voice came out low, hesitant.

“A lot of things. Mostly about… what we’re doing here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, sensing the gravity of his words. You knew Eddie was a man who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders.

You’d seen the way he carried the burden of his past, the guilt that still lingered after everything he’d been through. But this — this was something new. Something raw.

You slid off your seat and walked over to him, not saying a word, just standing beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” You whispered, voice softer than you intended.

“I’m not going anywhere, Edmundo.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered to you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled deeply, setting the knife down with a soft clink.

He leaned against the counter, turning towards you fully. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve never really told anyone this,” he began, his eyes meeting yours, vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to seeing.

“But I guess… I guess it’s time.”

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. You could feel your heart racing, your chest tightening with the weight of his words.

“You know I screwed up,” Eddie said, his voice thick with guilt.

“With Marisol… With my son. I wasn’t who I should’ve been. I wasn’t even close. I made mistakes — big ones. I hurt people. And I didn’t know how to fix it. So I ran. And that’s what I’ve always done. When things get tough, I run. I shut down, I push people away, and I pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

Eddie’s hands were trembling now, but he didn’t seem to notice. He took a step closer to you, his eyes dark with the weight of his confession.

“I don’t want to do that anymore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t want to run away from this. From you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Eddie…”

He held up a hand, his other hand trembling slightly as it reached out to you, brushing your arm with the gentlest of touches.

“I know it’s not going to be easy. I know I’ve got a lot of baggage. But… I want to be better. For you. For Christopher. For me.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation to make things right, to rebuild what he had broken. And as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this — this — was the moment where everything would either fall apart or finally come together.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me for everything,” he added quietly, voice trembling with the weight of his emotions.

“But I need you to know I’m trying. I’m trying to be the man you deserve. And I want to be the person you can trust.”

Your heart ached for him.

You had known there were parts of his past he wasn’t proud of, but hearing him speak so openly about it — the guilt, the shame, the fear of losing you — made it hit home in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.

Eddie had been carrying all of that for so long, and you could feel the weight of it in the room with you. You reached for his hand, gently pulling him closer.

“You don’t have to carry it alone anymore, Eddie. We’re in this together. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat as you spoke, his eyes softening, that same guarded expression starting to melt away. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of everything he had been holding back for so long.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered against your hair.

You shook your head, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.

“You’re not perfect. And I’m not expecting you to be. But I’m here. And I know you’re trying. That’s enough for me.”

Eddie closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours, the two of you standing there in the quiet of the kitchen.

It wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but it was real. And for the first time in a long time, Eddie felt like maybe — just maybe — he was on the right path.

He let out another breath, slower this time, and opened his eyes. “I don’t know if I can ever make up for the things I’ve done,” he whispered.

“But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands.

“You don’t have to make up for everything, Eddie. Just… be here. Be the man you want to be. For you. And for us.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in the softest of kisses.

When he pulled back, his smile was small but genuine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Eddie truly believed that maybe — just maybe — he could be the man he always wanted to be. And you’d be there, right beside him.

“I’ll try,” he said, voice firm, yet filled with the kind of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

And for the first time in a while, you believed him.

Trust didn’t happen overnight.

It wasn’t born out of one heartfelt conversation or a single night of vulnerability. It had to be built — slowly, steadily, like the way Eddie once learned to rebuild his life after the army, after Shannon, after every time he’d broken something he wanted to keep.

He told you he was trying. And he meant it.

The next morning, he made breakfast before you could even blink — not to impress you, not as some apology in the form of eggs and toast, but just to show he was there.

He passed you your coffee with the exact amount of creamer you liked, no questions asked, as if memorizing the tiniest details about you was his new favorite thing to do.

He didn’t push you to talk about what the night before had meant. He just… let you be. Gave you space but stayed close enough that you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

And then came the small promises — the ones he didn’t even say out loud.

He texted when he got home from shifts, just to let you know he was safe. He picked up extra groceries when he knew you’d had a rough day, even if it was something silly like your favorite granola or that weird candy you mentioned in passing.

He showed up — emotionally, mentally, and physically — every single time you needed him.

It wasn’t flashy. It was simple, honest effort.

Eddie didn’t date with ease. He’d never been great at navigating love without fear. But something about you made him want to get it right this time.

You reminded him of a version of himself he forgot existed — the guy who used to laugh more, talk about books and movies, draw comics with Christopher on the weekends.

And you saw all of it. Not just the tough guy, or the single dad, or the soldier. You saw him.

But trust wasn’t just about what Eddie did — it was about what you let him do.

There were days you pulled away slightly, still uncertain if this was too good to be real. If he’d wake up one morning and decide it was all too much. But Eddie never flinched. Never took your distance personally.

He was patient, even on the days you weren’t sure how to explain the knot of fear in your chest.

One night, a few weeks later, you had a bad day at work.

You didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain why you felt raw. You just showed up at his place unannounced and sat on the couch like a ghost of yourself.

Eddie didn’t ask questions. He just sat beside you in silence and let your hand find his. Thumb brushing against yours in slow, comforting circles.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice so low you could barely hear it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

It was the first time you cried in front of him.

Not the sobbing kind — just quiet, exhausted tears from the kind of safety that surprises you. The kind of safety you forgot was possible.

He held you for hours. Not once did he pull away.

You started to realize that Eddie wasn’t just telling you he wanted to be better — he was showing it.

In the consistency. In the vulnerability. In the way he never once looked at you like you were too much to hold.

You weren’t used to that.

And maybe that’s why it mattered more.

It wasn’t a perfect relationship. There were still shadows. Still memories of Marisol, Ana, Kim, and Shannon, and mistakes that neither of you could completely erase.

But Eddie was doing the work. He went to therapy regularly again. He talked to Christopher openly about feelings, about what he learned from messing up — not just as a partner, but as a father.

You watched him slowly rebuild himself, not for you, but with you.

One night, lying on his couch with your head on his chest and his fingers gently tracing lines along your back, he whispered it again — not the words “I love you” just yet, but something that felt just as sacred:

“I’m not gonna mess this up. Not with you.”

You looked up at him, smiling softly, the kind of smile that comes when something broken finally feels like it’s healing.

“I know,” you said softly, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy, but slow movement is better than no movement.

“Sometimes grief doesn’t just reveal what you’ve lost—it shows you what you never really had.”

The city felt different the moment the plane touched down in Los Angeles.

It wasn’t the skyline or the dry California air. It wasn’t even the taxi ride that weaved past familiar streets Eddie used to talk about with fondness. It was the weight.

The weight of loss.

You’d never met Bobby Nash, but from the way Eddie had described him—father figure, moral compass, rock of the 118—you understood what this funeral meant.

It wasn’t just laying someone to rest. It was saying goodbye to the man who raised a firehouse full of broken people and gave them a home.

Eddie had been quiet since the news. Not withdrawn, exactly—just… cloaked. Like he was protecting something inside himself, and he didn’t want you to see it.

When he asked you to come with him, you didn’t hesitate.

You packed your bag, held his hand on the flight, and offered silent comfort as his eyes kept flicking out the window. You knew this wasn’t just about grief—it was about returning to a version of himself he thought he’d left behind.

The 118 turned out in full, along with more firefighters than you could count. There was something unspeakably reverent about the ceremony: the folding of the flag, the low hum of bagpipes, the weight of silence as the bell rang in Bobby’s honor.

You watched as Eddie stood beside Chimney and Buck—two men who seemed to carry just as much pain in their eyes. Hen offered you a soft, acknowledging nod from across the pew.

When your gaze met Buck’s for the first time, there was something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of curiosity, maybe. Or caution.

You didn’t blame him. You were new. And you were standing beside Eddie Diaz at Bobby Nash’s funeral. That meant something.

After the service, the wake was held at Athena’s—warm food, quiet chatter, a house that suddenly felt too big without Bobby in it.

You found yourself in the kitchen helping restock drinks when Buck appeared beside you, gently brushing past to grab a beer.

“You’re Eddie’s new girlfriend, right?” he asked, voice quiet, but not unfriendly.

You smiled, a bit caught off guard. “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”

“Buck.” He shook your hand like someone who knew his own grip scared people and tried to dial it back.

“I know. Eddie’s talked about you guys a lot.”

Buck gave a half-smile. “Good things, I hope?”

You laughed softly. “Only the best.”

There was a beat of quiet, a pause that didn’t feel awkward, just thoughtful.

“I’m glad he has someone out there,” Buck said, not meeting your eyes. “It’s hard to rebuild… when part of you never really left.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. But it stayed with you.

The next few days in LA were mostly a blur—visiting the firehouse, seeing where Eddie used to sleep, where he used to eat, where Christopher used to run up to the bunks and draw little doodles on the whiteboards.

You saw how tightly the team clung to each other.

And how tightly Buck clung to Eddie.

There were moments that made you pause.

Like when Buck asked Eddie if he was going to swing by Chimney’s with the rest of them, and Eddie glanced at you and hesitated—just for a second—before replying,

“Maybe. We’ll see how she’s feeling.”

It was small. Barely a pause. But it lingered.

Later that night, you found yourself sitting outside with Hen. She was warm and grounded, easy to talk to, and you’d mentioned how surreal it was to step into a world you’d only heard about through Eddie’s stories.

“He’s been through hell,” Hen said, looking into her wine glass. “We all have. But Eddie? He tends to bottle things up until the pressure’s too much.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ve noticed.”

“He’s not a bad man,” she added quickly. “Just… still learning how to be the man he wants to be. Even now.”

The words weren’t harsh. They weren’t even meant to be cautionary.

But they settled into your chest like an echo.

The next day, the return to Texas was quiet.

After the heaviness of LA, the stillness felt jarring. No radios blaring at the station. No long waves goodbye from a firehouse family. Just Eddie, driving you home, one hand on the wheel, the other clenched in a fist on his thigh.

You noticed it.

How he didn’t reach for your hand. How he didn’t turn on the music like he usually did. How he dropped you off at your apartment instead of asking if you wanted to stay at his.

“Just tired,” he said, brushing a kiss to your forehead. You nodded.

But something in you already knew.

After going back to work since the visit to LA, you didn’t expect to see him that night after your shift.

You were walking back from the clinic after picking up extra hours. You weren’t far from the bar Eddie sometimes mentioned when he caught up with old friends. And you wouldn’t have looked — wouldn’t have even noticed — if the laughter hadn’t been his.

The unmistakable sound of Eddie Diaz trying to charm his way out of guilt.

And then you saw him.

Sitting across from a woman with long, painted nails and a knowing smile. She touched his arm. He didn’t pull away. He leaned in.

Too close.

And the worst part?

The relief in his face.

Like he wasn’t trying to hide.

Like this wasn’t a mistake — it was intentional.

You heard his key in the lock before the door creaked open. He didn’t expect to see you there — not seated on the couch in the dark, not awake. His steps halted.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

You turned slowly. No panic. No rage. Just the kind of silence that scares a man more than shouting ever could.

“Where were you?” you asked, your voice calm but cold. A glacier waiting to crack.

“I… I grabbed a drink with someone,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “One of my buddies from highschool.”

“No, Eddie. You were at the bar with another woman. I saw you.”

His breath caught. The truth stunned him like a slap, but he didn’t deny it. Didn’t even try.

So you nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

You stood then — and your presence filled the room. Strong. Rooted. Devastated, yes, but far from broken.

“Why?” you asked. “Why bring me into this if you knew you hadn’t changed?”

“I have changed,” he said, standing too now, desperation creeping into his voice.

“I didn’t plan for that to happen. It just… being in LA again… it reminded me of who I was. Before all of this. Before I tried to be someone I’m not.”

“Someone you’re not?” you repeated. “You mean loyal? Committed? Honest?”

“That’s not fair—”

“No,” you cut him off, eyes sharp with clarity.

“You know what’s not fair? Telling me I was safe to trust you. That you were working on yourself. That this—us—was something you wanted to build. That’s what’s not fair.”

Eddie stepped forward, but you didn’t budge.

“I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I wanted it. I still do.”

“No, Eddie. You wanted the illusion of stability. You wanted to believe you could do this… but the moment it felt too real, the moment you were surrounded by your past, you unraveled.”

His eyes shimmered, glassy with shame.

“I felt free there. Like the version of me before the guilt, the expectations… like I could breathe.”

You let the words sit in the air for a moment before speaking.

“Then you should’ve stayed there.”

That made him flinch.

“Because I won’t be your halfway house,” you said, voice rising just enough to cut through the air between you.

“I won’t be the woman who holds your hand while you figure out how to not betray her. I’m not a stop along the way to you finding yourself. I know who I am.”

Your chest ached, but you didn’t let it crack. Not in front of him.

“I’m not perfect, Eddie. But I’m worthy. Worthy of someone who means it when they say they’ve changed. Someone who doesn’t mistake old ghosts for new beginnings.”

He tried again. “I swear, I didn’t plan it. I just got lost for a second.”

“A second,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “That’s all it took to throw away everything we were building.”

He stayed silent.

“I loved you,” you admitted. “And I let myself believe you were different. That you were done running. But I see it now — you’re not done. You’re just getting better at disguising it.”

The room was heavy now. Quiet and full of things unsaid.

“And if this is what freedom looks like to you — lying, sneaking around, hurting someone who only ever showed up for you — then I hope you enjoy it,” you said, voice steady and laced with steel.

“Because you’ll be enjoying it without me.”

You walked past him, grabbing your keys from the counter.

“I deserve something whole. Something real. Not this watered-down version of love you’re still trying to figure out how to give.”

Eddie reached out, but you shook your head.

“Don’t. I won’t let you make me doubt my worth again. Once a cheater, Eddie… no matter how much you try to bury it, that part of you always finds a way out.”

And with that, you left.

Not in pieces — but finally, for once, intact.

It was the second night you hadn’t slept. The silence in the apartment was heavy, the shadows deeper somehow—almost like they knew. Like even the walls were mourning something that wasn’t dead, just lost beyond return.

Your phone lay face-down on the couch cushion beside you. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to blink away the sting behind your eyes.

The ache wasn’t loud. It didn’t shout. It whispered. It echoed. It lived in the empty coffee cup still sitting on the kitchen counter.

In the jacket Eddie left hanging by the door. In the memory of his hands on your waist as he kissed your shoulder and said, “We’re building something real here, you and me.”

But he hadn’t built anything. He had wandered.

And he had left you behind in the wreckage.

You didn’t even know who to call. You were new here. You had no family in El Paso, no lifelong friends. It had always been Eddie and Christopher—your whole small, carefully built world. And now it was just… you.

You thought about calling Hen, maybe Chimney. Ravi, even. But there was only one name that kept circling back to your heart like a warm current in freezing water.

Buck.

You hadn’t spoken much since Bobby’s funeral. He had been kind, a little guarded, but incredibly present.

When you met, it felt like an echo of something familiar. Like someone who carried similar scars, even if they weren’t visible at first glance.

You swiped up your phone and stared at his name. You didn’t want to be a burden. But you also didn’t want to feel like you were vanishing.

So you hit the button.

It rang twice before his face filled the screen, tousled curls and all. His brows furrowed in concern the second he saw your face.

“Y/N?”

Your voice cracked. “Hi.”

His smile faded. “Hey. What’s wrong? You okay?”

You swallowed. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

He nodded, gentle and calm. “You don’t have to explain. I’m here.”

That was all it took.

The tears came fast and unfiltered. Ugly, broken sobs that clawed their way out from the hollow in your chest.

You held your phone like it was the only thing tethering you to solid ground, and Buck didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush you. He just stayed on the other side of the screen, letting you cry.

“Eddie—he said he changed,” you finally managed, voice hoarse. “And I believed him, Buck. God, I believed him.”

He sighed softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I thought he was it. He made me feel safe, like I could finally let go of everything I was trying to prove. And then I saw him with someone else, and it just… shattered everything. It felt like I was the problem again.”

“You’re not,” Buck said firmly, eyes steady. “You’re not the problem, Y/N. Don’t let what he did trick you into thinking you’re less.”

You wiped your cheeks, your hands trembling.

“It’s just… When I left everything behind and met him, I built a life here thinking it would grow roots and let him in. And now I don’t even know where home is.”

Buck leaned forward on his end, his voice low and sincere.

“Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes it’s just people who see you. Who stay. Who don’t make you question your worth every time things get hard.”

You blinked at him. “You really believe that?”

He nodded. “I’ve lived that. My parents didn’t really see me. Not the way I needed. It took years to realize that family isn’t blood—it’s the people who choose you. Over and over.”

You were quiet for a long moment, breathing in the calm he offered.

“I’m so tired, Buck. Tired of trying to be enough. Tired of picking up pieces I didn’t break.”

He smiled gently. “Then don’t pick them up alone. Let someone help. Let me help.”

You exhaled, shaky but real. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I know what it’s like to lose your sense of self in someone else,” he said. “And because you don’t deserve to go through this alone.”

Something in your chest unclenched at that.

He didn’t pity you. He understood you.

So you kept talking. For hours.

About Eddie, about your family, about the parts of yourself you’d fought to protect. And Buck listened—really listened—until the heaviness didn’t feel so suffocating.

By the time you ended the call, the sky outside had shifted to early morning gray. You still hurt. You still felt hollow in places.

But for the first time in days, you felt seen.

And safe.

© fordiaz 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

oops, i buddie'd a bit too close to the sun and barfed up 3.4k words woo!

by all means

buddie | T | 3,498 words | on AO3

this is set during/post S6 E11 "In Another Life" so spoiler warning!

God, he’s never going to look at a hospital the same way again. 

Buck shakes off the thought; weird, admittedly kinda scary, ComaBobby’s simple “Go.” echoing in his head, the sight of Maddie’s arm, the rosary beads clutched in real Bobby’s hands keeping him running down another endless hallway.

Running, running, running. Methodically checking himself as he goes, lest his dumb real-him lungs start to give out.

He finally makes it to the next tee, and is about to take off down the hall to the left when, 

“Can you help me find my dad?”

Oh no

No no no nonono he cannot see what his brain will cook up with that one.

“Sorry, you’re not real and I have to leave.” Buck tells Chris right to his adorable little face.

He looks away, muttering “Always gonna feel guilty about that one…” and takes off down the hall.

Finally, finally, he makes it; the door out to his world, the real world, only millimeters from his fingers when it’s tugged inward out of reach.

“Daniel?”

“Evan.” his brother says coolly, closing the door behind him.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“I have to.” Buck says, smiling, “My life isn’t here. It’s there."

“What about me?”

Something cold and dread-flavored drops into his stomach.

“You’re not just gonna leave me here. Alone.” Daniel continues as if he couldn't, won’t imagine Buck leaving without him.

“Daniel, this is hard for me, don’t make it harder.” he pleads to Daniel’s unwavering expression. “I–I finally know what it would have been like to have an older brother and I love you.. But you’re not real. None of this is.”

Again, Buck reaches for the door, but is blocked by Daniel’s hand.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t I deserve to live? What if I want to exist, hm?

“Out there, I don’t. Out there, I’m barely a memory. Out there, I am nothing.

“The real world sucks, that’s the beauty of this place, It can be anything you want it to be.” he grins, “You could have it all, here.

“Like the family you never had.”

Buck opens his mouth to protest; he already has the family he needs. His real family who need him when suddenly, a third figure lopes into their stretch of the hallway; stopping himself short from his half-panicked jog.

Oh Jesus Christ.

“Buck! There you are Cariño,” Eddie sighs, striding the couple steps more to cup Buck’s face in both hands, those dark eyes of his studying every minuscule inch of his face. “Are you okay? Have you seen Christopher?”

“Eddie, wha—“

“It’s okay, querido, we can look for him together,” Eddie’s hands slide from his cheeks and down his arms, grabbing tight to Buck’s fingers and tugging him back the way he came.

Cariño, querido.. He may not be fluent, but he knows these. Buck 1.0’s attempts to broaden his horizons into LA’s much more common romantic language for the sake of getting his dick wet.

“No, no Eddie wait,” Buck manages to pull one of his hands free, “I have to—” he looks back at Daniel, “What is happening?”

“This is your mind, Evan, there’s nothing you can deny or hide or brush off like it’s nothing. Including your feelings for your best friend.” Daniel says, while Eddie keeps trying to guide him away from the window, smiling emptily up at him, “You could have him here. He could be yours, here.”

Buck freezes completely. Eddie– ComaEddie holds tight to him.

“Eddie,” he gulps, “Eddie, sweetheart, I’ll come with you in just a minute, I have to talk to Daniel.”

Heartbreak shifts in where emptiness was. “But Chris—” 

“Chris is fine baby, I left him with Hen and Chim down at the Nurses’ Station on this floor.”

ComaEddie sighs in relief, “Okay good, I’ll meet you there mi vida,”

Buck’s heart stutters once at the name, then once again before rabbiting into high gear when Eddie steps into his space and kisses him.

It was barely a peck. A chaste, normal, we do this every day kiss, but it sends Buck reeling all the same. 

His fingers are released, and Eddie disappears down the hall.

For a few heartbreaking seconds, Buck actually considers following. 

Here he can have, already has, the domesticity he’s longed for with Eddie since even before the tsunami. 

Here he doesn’t have to panic about what having feelings for his best friend and partner would do to the station, to Chris, to him if it ever went wrong.

Evan is only a teacher here. And Eddie can be his here.

No.

“I do have a family.” Buck says, simply. “Not the same one that I have here, but one that needs me.” 

He shoves past Daniel and into the room beyond, but his brother stays on his heels as he crosses to the window, dull light glowing out from between shelves of orange prescription bottles.

“Do They?”

“Daniel, stop doing this, okay? I have to get back before it’s too late.” Again, ComaHen and ComaChim’s words swirl through his head. Even just a cursory glance through the glass tell him all he needs to know.

Bobby still sitting there, rosary in one hand, Athena’s in his other. 

His real parents hovering over the other side of the bed.

Maddie standing in the corner, like she can’t bear to be any closer.

The white coat standing over him and unhooking—

What?

“It’s already too late.” Daniel says as Buck focuses more clearly on the scene in front of him “Your real family? They’re already pulling the plug, Evan.”

“No. No, that’s not what’s happening.”

“Oh,” he coos condescendingly, “They’re just waiting for you to die so they can move on with their lives. Without you.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“And yet.”

Buck looks back out at himself.

Lying there in that bed.

He knows enough not to believe Daniel. They’re probably watching, waiting like he is now, for him to take a breath on his own. 

Without the machine.

“They don’t care about you. Why would they? You’re never good enough, never have been. The only reason you were even born was for spare parts and they weren't even effective.

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“We both know you don’t really believe that.”

Buck turns, and Daniel is no longer there. 

His own face glares back at him, standing between him and the real world.

“Just stay, Evan. You know you want this.”

Between one blink and the next, HisDanielFace shifts into Eddie’s.

Something burns behind his ribs.

He’s right.

He does.

He wants the real Eddie.

The real Chris

The real Bobby

His family.

A weight settles into his palm.

“I do.” buck says, smiling. 

FakeEddie smiles back.

Then Buck swings the axe.

Waking up in that bed, staring across the room at a wall where there should have been a shattered window trips him up the first time he really can register it.

Wracking his brain for any memories, he registers that the ones he has from Before come in dull snippets, then the sharp contrasted color of his Coma World, then back to fuzzy half-remembered moments of waking up, of asking for water, for Bobby.

And now, Maddie smiles down at him while he munches away on some peanut butter and cheese crackers. “First thing I’m gonna do when I get outta here,” he says around a still-too-dry and still-too-sore throat, “Buy a pizza. I’m so done with hospital food.”

“You should buy a lottery ticket.” Maddie says, passing him his water, “You’re the luckiest man in the world right now.”

Buck opens his mouth to respond when there’s a short knock on the door. “Surprise!”

Chim and Bobby are the first through the door, followed by Hen. Someone calls him “The firehouse lightning rod.”, Hugs are exchanged, kisses plastered to his cheeks, a bony eleven year old hiked up into his arms (and his dad’s protests and concerns about all Buck’s tubing ignored by both son and Buck).

(Looking down at Chris at his side shoots a bolt of unease (hah) through him; the Chris his brain invented was much smaller than this one is. Did his brain present him with the Chris he knew from a few years ago to try and get him to stay??)

Buck’s doctor comes in a few minutes after the hoard did, the sea parting for her to check on him as she needed.

“How long’ll he be out, Doc?” Chim asks as the noise and chatter settle down around them. 

“Few weeks; no strenuous activity, and no heavy lifting.”

“Damn.. Better call Bosko, Cap.” Hen says, to the others’ enjoyment, and Chim continues, “So, how was it? Do you remember anything?”

Buck can feel the others that were there still.

“About what, my near death expirience?”

“Any of it; the call? The fall? Though I wouldn’t call it an NDE..”

“Oh yeah? What would you call it, smartass?” Eddie quips, a crooked smile on his face.

“Well.. it’s not a near death experience if you actually did die, right?”

The gathered masses start booing and hissing at him, saying “Too soon, Chim.”, and “That is terrible!”, but Buck can only laugh at his continued defence of the topic.

“What?! I’m curious if my close-to-deaths were anything like his actual one!”

Eventually the hospital staff comes by to chide the hoard for being too many, too long, and the group starts to peter out with promises to return the next day.

Hen, Karen, and Denny are the first to take their leave, having to get going for a big field trip Denny is taking in the morning, Chim and Maddie are next, a long tight hug from Maddie before they and Phillip and Margaret head back to the apartment for the night.

Eddie and Chris slip out to grab Chris some dinner from the hospital food court, and Athena follows, promising to bring back pizza for him if they find it.

Which leaves Bobby.

“You really gave us a scare, Kid.” he says, settling down in what Buck only knows as his chair. “Thought I’d lost you.”

“Worried about me, Pops?” Buck tries to joke. His voice catches on the name. He has to clear his throat.

“I was.” Bobby states, “Very worried.”

“I know,” Buck nods, “You had to break out the rosary and everything.”

Bobby stills in his chair, “How’d you know that?”

Buck’s stomach, wheezing emptily around only those few crackers he’d had earlier, squeezes with nerves. He wants to tell Bobby everything, wants to tell him it really was him who’d helped him get out, but he’s not sure if he should.

“You were there.” He croaks, voice and throat even more sore now with all the talking he’d been doing, “I could see you while I was under, both out here and In There.”

“Where is There?”

“In the other world.”

Bobby continues to gaze steadily at him. There’s something there, behind his eyes, that echoes the crazed, purgatory version of him.

“It was like an alternate universe in there. In my head. I was a teacher Bobby.”

That loosens him up a little, “What kind of teacher?” 

“I dunno, never made it into the classroom.”

He finally laughs, a soft Dad-like chuckle, and Buck pushes on. “Everything was all wrong, but it.. Wasn’t? My brain was trying to show me everything it thought I wanted but it was.. Cock-eyed? Like, Maddie was there, but so was Doug. My parents were there, all loving and stuff, but so was Daniel.”

“Your brother being there was a bad thing?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t actually have been, but my brain was telling me that he was there and because he was, I shouldn’t have been. And also he was a huge dick to me there at the end.”

Bobby chuckles again, and Buck can see the gears turning in his head.

“Hen and Chim were there too, they were trying to help as best they could, but you were the one to really give me that push.. So, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, kiddo.” Bobby’s eyes crinkle up at the corners, then, they fall on something outside his door.

“You get only a single slice of cheese, Buckley. And no complaints.” Athena says, striding in with a triangular to-go box in one hand, and Chris’ in the other.

“I got two pieces!” he calls triumphantly.

“And I’m sure I won’t live to regret that.” Eddie mutters, a smile on his lips.

Chris hands his box back to his dad and proceeds to do his damndest to get back up on the bed with Buck, who reaches down to help, only for Bobby to beat him to the punch.

“Be careful, mijo.”

“I will dad,” Chris sighs, holding out a hand again for his pizza which Eddie passes over.

The five of them chat for about an hour more when Athena stands, puts Buck’s now empty box on his table, and leans in for a hug, “So glad you’re okay, Buckaroo.”

Bobby comes around to give him a hug too, “We’ll see you back when you’re all healed up, are we clear?”

Buck laughs, “Yes, dad.”

The two take their leave, and Buck turns to ask Chris something, when a soft snore snuffles out his mouth.

“Well, so much for asking him about his science club.”

Eddie laughs, looking over at Chris from his chair at Buck’s side. “Don’t worry, he’ll use that as an excuse to skip school and come back tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing my two favorite Diazes again so soon.” he says, glancing down at Chris’ slack-jawed face.

“I hope I’m one of the two.”

Buck’s stomach flips, “No, you’re number three, actually, your abuela is number two. Her sopes are to die for.”

Buck chuckles at his own joke, glancing down again to make sure he didn’t jostle Chris too much, but pauses, and looks back up when he doesn’t hear Eddie laughing along.

Eddie’s face is tense, “Eddie, I was kidding, okay? You’re number tw–”

“Three minutes and 17 seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long your heart stopped beating.”

Buck blinks at him, then down at his knees.

“You died Buck, and I couldn’t— I tried— You were hanging there and—” 

Buck’s eyes widen; Eddie was going to have a panic attack if he didn’t calm down soon, 

He grabs onto Eddie’s wrist, “Eddie, Eddie! Eddie, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m fine, see?” he squeezes his friend’s arm, “I’m right here, I don’t blame you, no one does.”

Eddie slides his arm through Buck’s grip and holds tight to his fingers instead. “I had to– Chim and I were doing CPR the whole way.”

“And I’m alive because of it.” he and Eddie both knew that wasn’t all the way true, but he pushed on. “You guys brought me back, you brought me back.”

Eddie just gazes at him; through the grip he has on Buck’s hand, he can feel how high Eddie’s pulse still is, so Buck keeps talking.

“Out here, and in here,” he points to his head, “My brain was trying to tell me all sorts of stuff to keep me from coming back to you.” He pointedly ignored the fact he forgot the ‘guys.’ there at the end, and secretly hoped Eddie would too. “But the thought of the real you, the real Chris, my real family got me out of my own head.”

Eddie’s pulse was much slower now.

“All that stuff about Chris and I being your real family and I’m still the number three Diaz.”

Oh thank god, he’s making jokes again.

Buck breathes a sigh of relief, laughing along, and continuing to hold tight to Eddie’s hand.

It was time. He could do this.

It had been a month.

Buck was going back to work the next time they were on shift, but right now? The rest of the 118 were nearing the end of their 96 off, he had it on good authority that Chris was not at home (science camp), and Buck was slipping on his shoes to drive over to his favorite place in the whole world.

He’d told Maddie about ComaEddie, the only one he had told, and she encouraged him to say something, if this was really something he wanted.

“Knowing all the baggage that comes with someone is a big deal, but you know all Eddie’s.”

“I’d carry all of it for him if he’d let me.”

“..Okay, that’s not the point of the baggage, but good start.”

So here he is, on his wa— okay, not on his way, he is pulling into the driveway now.

Holy shit this was happening wasn’t it?

He pulls up behind Eddie’s truck. 

He gets out.

He walks the short path to the door.

He rings the doorbell.

Eddie opens the door.

“Buck? Hey man, why’d you– you know you have a key, right?”

Oh yeah. He does, doesn’t he?

“Oh yeah, I do, don’t I?”

Eddie just gives him a look and moves out of the way for him to enter.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” he starts, “But what are you doing here?”

“I uh, I knew Chris’d be gone, wondered if you wanted some company?”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, sure, what do you wan—”

“Okay, I lied, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh..kay?”

“You were in my coma and Daniel tried to tempt me and I almost wanted to, but I didn’t! I knew it was fake, I knew you were out here, y’know?”

“Sure–”

“But what if I told you how I felt and you didn’t reciprocate? I mean, it’s new for me too, the whole liking guys too thing, what if you think I’m disgusting and weird and I can never see Chris again?”

“Buck, wha–”

“But I had to take the chance,” he says, finally actually turning back to look at Eddie again and stop. Pacing. “You mean so much to me and now that I’ve let myself think about it, I feel like I should probably have said something to you sooner?”

“Said what Buck? What are you trying to say?”

For a moment, Buck just looks at him. Maybe for the last time. Then, 

“I love you, Eddie.” Eddie sucks in a breath. “I’m in love with you. I had to tell you, okay? I had to make sure you knew in case something happens to me. Please, you don’t have to feel the same way, you don’t, really, I just– you got shot, the tsunami, the well—”

“Cariño,”

The rest of the air that was left in his lungs for wherever his brain was gonna go next wooshes out of him. “...Huh?”

Eddie finally moves, striding over to him and taking his hands, “Buck, Evan, mi amor, mi vida,” Buck’s insides melt into goo., “You are my everything. You are Chris’ everything.”

“I am?”

Eddie scoffs out a laugh, “I put you into my will. To take care of my son if something happened to me.”

“...What else are best friends for?”

“You dragged me out of the street, out of my own blood to get me to safety.”

“..We’re partners..?”

Eddie laughs again, “Why are you trying to poke holes in me loving you back.”

“...I didn’t think I’d get this far, to be completely honest.” Eddie shakes his head, and Buck continues on with, “Well then why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Sighing, Eddie pulls them down to sit on the couch. “I was selfish,” He holds up a finger to stop Buck from cutting in, “I was selfish; you had done so much for me and for Chris and never asked for anything in return. You supported us, you saved my life, you made it so I could come home to him. I, selfishly, did not want that support to go away. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

Buck squeezes Eddie’s hands, “Would you believe me if I told you I had the same reasons?” Eddie only smiles and shakes his head. “Whenever it was that I had fallen for you, Edmundo Diaz–”

He pulls a face, “Urgh, don't say that..”

“---I knew that if I told you and it all went wrong, I’d never see my Superman again.”

“He’d be pretty pissed at me if he could never see you again.” Eddie confesses in a low voice, as if someone would hear them.

Buck smiles, and after a moment, says, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Eddie smirks at him, releasing his hands to lean back into the couch cushions with them behind his head instead; He gestures with one to his face, “By all means..”

Rolling his eyes, but not letting the moment (or any moments that may or may not follow) go to waste, Buck leans up, hooks a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.

i've probably read a grand total of five (5) buddie fics so..... hope you like! 😅

dividers from @/saradika-graphics!

[lesbiansforeddiediaz]

Buck is the kind of guy to get turned into an animal. Any animal really but especially one with big wet eyes and general pathetic demeanor

[strangersatellites]

posting this feels like I'm crawling out of my grave and gasping for air

anyway- inspired by this post by @inthedarknessofnight

here's 1.3k of concert photographer!Steve and rockstar!Eddie because I couldn't get this out of my head

gimme, gimme more

1.3k words | this is the most g-rated thing I've ever written, it won't happen again

Steve’s feet hurt.

They always do after a show, but this one was particularly hard on him.

He’s been at this venue for two years now and shot countless shows in that time. But never in his career has he been challenged so– athletically. 

The photo pit at this place is light years better than his last venue. There’s more than enough room for all of the photographers and their gear without stepping on each other. Usually Steve is grateful for this because surely there is only so many more beatings his 35mm can take before it kicks the bucket. Today though, he’s grateful for the space because of the full-tilt sprint this band had him in. 

He’s never seen anything like it.

Well, less so did the band have him in a sprint and more so the frontman but, semantics. 

The guy is everywhere. Steve could barely keep up with the way he ran around stage, jumping, climbing on equipment, leaning off-stage toward the barricade.

It was fun but Jesus, what is his deal?

Steve hadn’t even known who Corroded Coffin was 24 hours ago. Now he’s burned through two SD cards in an hour and a half. 

The guy’s hot and a good photo subject, sue him.

Well, he thinks he’s a good photo subject at least. He won’t know until he’s culled through every single shot. Steve’s a good photographer, took to it naturally the first time he picked up a camera. His downfall though, according to his college professors at least, was that he pays absolutely no attention to what he’s shooting while he’s shooting it. Hence the overshooting. 

On more than one occasion he’s gotten started on editing and someone is wearing an outfit he’s never seen before, someone’s got sunglasses on in every photo, a tag hanging off their jacket. All he’s concerned with is the framing, the lighting, and the focus. The content can be a problem for Future Steve. Everything can be fixed in post.

Almost.

Anyway, his feet hurt and he hates culling, so he pours himself a full glass of wine and plops down on the couch in front of an episode of trash tv with his laptop and props his feet up. Settles in for a long night.

2,461 images.

He throws his head back with a groan. Ugh. 

The first hundred or so are garbage.

They always are.

A few shots spent fucking with the exposure, a few the focus, some the flash.

He denotes the purple flag as his ‘good’ tag and orange as his ‘trash’ tag. The orange is stacking up fast. Around 163 he starts finding some good images. Ones that aren’t tainted by motion blur from his running around after this frontman. 

His photos of the drummer are pretty sick; he can't lie. The lights and the smoke and the near-manic smile on his face make for great photos. He’s not even this band’s personal photographer but he can imagine at least one of these will get posted to the band's socials. He’s good, what can he say?

He has a good bit of the bassist, his energy infectious enough you can almost feel it through the screen. Purple is making a comeback.

He finally gets through some crowd pics, some more drummer, some guitarist, some detail shots before he finally makes it to the frontman. 731 photos later. 

What did Wikipedia say his name was? Eddie, he thinks.

Weird, the very first shot Steve has of him he’s making fierce eye contact with the camera.

Ew.

No matter how long Steve does this, photos of people looking directly at the camera never get less jarring. 

Orange tag. Trash.

The next one is exactly the same.

Shit. 

He’s really bad to fall victim to the high speed shutter on this camera and often finds himself with a dozen copies of the same picture. Looks like he’s done it again.

Orange.

More piercing eye contact.

What? He squints and flips back and forth between the last two photos.

They’re not even remotely similar. As a matter of fact, Steve was in a completely different location in the pit for the second one. 

Green tag. Come back to this.

Taking a long swig from his glass he shifts so his laptop is closer to his face. Thinks that surely he’s not seeing this right. 

He takes to forgoing his tagging system and just flipping through every photo as fast as his fingers can press the arrow keys.

He’s clicked through about 200 when he starts getting worried, his heart rate speeding up. Surely he got something usable.

“What the fuck?”

He’s clicked through 50 or 60 more when he decides that, no he did not fall victim to the shutter speed at all. This guy is just making direct eye contact with his camera in every single photo.

Steve’s not mad, the opposite really. He didn’t spend much time looking at the guy during the show and now he gets to have an eyeful while he works. What’s there to be mad about? 

He is, however, mildly concerned that he won’t have a single decent photo to use for the venue socials when he posts about this show.

Whatever. Maybe fans of their music are also fans of uncomfortable eye contact. Who knows?

He finishes sifting through the rest of the photos, Eddie staring directly down the lens in every one, one’s where he’s not the subject included. Throws them all in an editing software and mass edits them all at once. He’ll detail edit later.

While the eye contact was a little unsettling, he did get one photo he’s particularly happy with. One that makes it look like the staring was on purpose.

It’s during the second to last song, a ballad– or as close as you can get with a metal band. Eddie’s standing center-stage and Steve had snagged the spot directly in front of him. He’s looking straight down, backlit with red spotlights, surrounded by smoke pumping from side-stage, and just close enough that Steve can see the sweat dripping down his neck. He looks a little bit scary, but that’s how Steve likes ‘em. 

That’ll be the cover photo for sure.

He shoots an album link to his boss to review before he distributes them anywhere, then spends  the next twenty minutes laughing to himself while he collects the goofiest photos of Eddie staring straight at his lens.

He puts them in a new album and copies the link.

When he opens up Instagram and searches Corroded Coffin he lets out a low whistle at the six million followers. Maybe he really should know who these guys are. With that many followers he doubts they’ll even see a message from his personal account, but whatever. He clicks on the message button on their profile and hits paste.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Great show tonight! Somebody tell this guy that he is allowed to look away from the camera though…

He only waits a few minutes for the reply.

@ corrodedcoffin HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ corrodedcoffin Wait hang on

His phone pings with a message from a new account.

@ whoiseddiemunson HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ whoiseddiemunson Sweetheart I wasn’t looking at the camera

Steve furrows his brows, confused. Starts typing a response but gets interrupted by another message.

@ whoiseddiemunson I was looking at the smoking hot guy behind it. Kinda hard to get a good look when he’s hiding behind the camera though.

Steve feels his cheeks flush and huffs a laugh to himself.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Well the guy behind the camera did manage to get a few good ones even though he was under surveillance the whole show. Wanna see those?

@ whoiseddiemunson Hell yeah I do. I just scrolled through your profile, your work is amazing. Do you want to show me the rest? Maybe over coffee tomorrow?

Steve smiles. His earlier heart palpitations replaced with butterflies.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Is this a date?

@ whoiseddiemunson It better be

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Guhhb. I need someone to lose my mind to right now. I ocould say a mountain of text but also. Nothing. Mhnvjvg. I. The voice actor for Axlerod- Eddie Izzard- I love listening to her comedy sketches I really do. I could go on about all her stuff but I love her things she is brilliant. Uh. And of course the reason I looked her up ages ago was because I wanted to hear just more stuff as Axlerod right. Wanted to hear Axlerod say more stuff cause she doesn't change her voice or anything when doing his voice right. But most her sketches are all on Amazon Prime, there's like two up on YouTube. But. I recently learned that she has a Spotify? ?and. She uploads some of her comedy sketches there. Which I think seeing them with video is best because the gestures and like things that she does during them is really good and adds to it but I will not complain for a minute about podcast format, nonetheless because with as much as I like her stuff I'd be better of me to just buy a CDs of all her stuff than repeatedly do a subscription for them. Anyway. That's all brilliant and fantastic cause I love her stuff and I get to hear it as Axlerod. And I don't know why but sometimes when I listen to her stuff my brain like... doesn't pick it up as Axlerod? Which it's the same exact voice. But sometimes she'll say certain things and it'll really hit me. And that's important for my second bigger thing.

So I decided to go back and listen to her sketches on Spotify again because I was looking for a particular bit but I don't know which act it's from(not that I mind going through all of them anyway) and I decided okay. Just so I keep track of which I have and haven't heard I'll start at the very bottom/with the oldest and work my way up. Which I discovered some other really really cool and awesome things there that maybe perhaps I'll just save sharing it for another day. But there were some like. Music things? That she was featured in? Like compilations of a bunch of artists that got together and did things and okay I just scrolled to where her name was at and it said she was doing it with another artist and I listened to it and I was like hm... I feel like I'd super recognize hearing her sing, no? I mean I've never heard her sing before and I am desperate for that perhaps for blatant reasons becuase. Axlerod. So I was like maybe I can look it up and see a video of it. And I felt a little bit better cause okay she didn't sing I didn't completely fail myself by not recognizing her voice. But oh. Oh. She was DOING THE PIANO. The piano. That's fantastic. Didn't know she played piano in any capacity. Maybe I will project that onto Axlerod in some time we'll see.

Now. Hold on. It gets better. So I go to the next seperate thing she was featured in, completely different compilation. Also music centered. Scroll down looking for her name. It seems to be from some other movie thing but whatever. Ah. Her name is by itself now. Perhaps I. Will hear her sing. Now. As I mentioned earlier sometimes my brain has the distinction between hearing her and Axlerod and I don't know why cause it's the same exact voice. Maybe it's the way she projects her voice or a slightttest inflection that makes the difference. Mm. Auto correct is saving me right now. I click on the Spotify thingy. Funky music starts playing that I can't explain ya just gotta hear it. Not funky as in silly bouncy but funky as in like 80s-90s funky. Like the villian is doing a swagger walk up to the protagonist with a fiendish grin like they're about to sing their entire plan and destruction. I have never seen whatever film this is from I have no clue what takes place in this darn thing. Ah. I don't know how to explain it but. Yes she does sing. And this is the most Axlerod sounding thing ever. Good grief man. Oh my days. I think it's cause in the movie Axlerod is mostly projecting his voice and doing speachy sort of things so hearing Izzard speak in a more relaxed tone my brain is still connecting the wires. But in the song she is projecting her voice more so it is there more. And I'm pretty sure if you watched me you would see it in my eyes. I could be put in a glass cage in a zoo for enrichment for others to watch right now. Pausing every five seconds and replaying it cause I want to savor this I don't want it to end. I wish there was a word for this. It's him it's him he's doing the thing guys.!!*×&#$>'w828. W. Same vibes. Same vibes. I'm going to lose it.i have to pause or else I will actually explode and erupt. Start screaming and shouting and jumping up and down and flailing and shaking my arms and my hands and running around and falling to my knees.

[ghost-proofbaby]

the hat rule. (e.m. x fem!reader)

the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.

summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.

wc: 13.3k+

happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.

If someone had told you last week that you’d be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, at Steve Harrington’s apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.

The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Tito’s. 

He’d never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, ‘slutted out’ as Robin had so kindly put it – men included.

Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadn’t even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writer’s costume (you’d hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out – a sensual bunny costume.

And then, there was Eddie.

Eddie fuckin’ Munson. 

“Pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,” he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, “Gonna start catching flies otherwise.” 

“There’s a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?” you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, “Something where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?” 

Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, “Oh, baby, you know me so well.” 

“Cut the pet names, Munson.”

You try to scowl. You really do. But you don’t mean a damn word you say. 

Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume. 

Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest. 

And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion. 

You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this. 

“You don’t mean that,” he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before he’s dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. “Or maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,” Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, “That better, darlin’?” 

You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation. 

“Terrible,” you flatly lie, “Cowboys aren’t even from the south, idiot. They’re from the West.” 

You have no desire to hear Eddie’s Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control. 

It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, won’t they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each other’s orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos – you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.

That’s just how the friendship worked. 

The friendship. 

Friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Eddie won’t leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, “Damn. You’re right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.” 

“Oh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.” 

“Yeah?” he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Why don’t you do it for him? I think I’d like a slap more coming from you, honestly.”

He’s acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you can’t stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesn’t change that. 

You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, “Wanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?” 

“Oh, trust me, you’d never have to do all the work with me, ba-”

“Can you two get a fucking room?” Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for. 

You’re aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly. 

“Sorry, Robs,” Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, “I promise I’ll behave myself the rest of the night.” 

And yet, despite the words you’re hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite. 

There’s no real need for him to do it. There’s plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you – and yet he still fucking does. 

His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, “We’ll both be on our best behavior tonight – right, kitty?” 

Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as he’s looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long. 

Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, “Right, cowboy.”

Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, won’t they of it all. 

It’s about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst. 

—

Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steve’s corset when he complains he can’t breathe (he certainly can, but you’re starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steve’s friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.

You’re not even at the club yet and you’re already regretting your revealing attire.

Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’. 

Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you don’t recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, “Jonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.”

“I concur,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand. 

“You’re also cheating, asshole. This is the first round you’ve lost the entire game.”

“Or maybe I’m just really good at cards, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’m really good at-”

“He’s not cheating,” Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as she’s served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and you’re certainly not going to comment on Robin’s hands toying with her permed locks, “Stop being a sore loser and just strip.” 

You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robin’s head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm. 

“I think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,” she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, “He’d look cuter that way.” 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt. 

When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though. 

The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost – none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as he’d win, time and time again. So far, he’d only lost his boots. 

He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.

And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser? 

Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips. 

“Trying to decide what to take off, Munson?” Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.

You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously. 

You don’t care what Stacy from Steve’s job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it weren’t for Stacy’s all-red, latex Devil costume.

Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, “Obviously. You know, it’s not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.” 

“What? Don’t think you’ll be as pretty without your hat?” you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process. 

The last thing you should do when you’re staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

It’s the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because – yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. You’d spent the last half hour imagining how pretty he’d look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs. 

You’re up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where he’s seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. It’s a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as you’d had a front row seat to the sight of him. 

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. He’s dangerous and he doesn’t even know it, “I only meant you were pretty with the hat.” 

“You wound me,” he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, “Gonna stand there and tell me I’m not pretty when I dressed up just for you?”

You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, “Just for me?” 

He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to – and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You don’t want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you don’t want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, won’t they?

And you want that answer to be will they – terribly, terribly so.

His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, “Okay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, I’d say Robin, but I don’t think she’s looked twice in my direction all night.” 

“I haven’t,” the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her. 

You have no idea how she’s tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you. 

“So,” you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes don’t meet yours, “Not just for me, cowboy.” 

He’s distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though you’ve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.

In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head. 

He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited. 

It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddie’s head. 

“Hey!” he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, “I didn’t say the hat is what I wanted to take off.” 

“Took too long,” you shrug innocently. 

“Yeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.

You should probably behave yourself. 

“No.”

But this is more fun. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, “No?”

“No,” you confirm a second time. 

And you’re done with this game of back and forth. 

The hat’s staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and it’s staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, “Surely you know about the hat rule.” 

Damn right, you know about the hat rule.

You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, “The hat rule? Please, enlighten me.” 

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” 

Perfect. 

You don’t even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when you’d seen him enter this damn party with the hat on. 

“Yeah?” you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, “Hm. What a shame.”

And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.

You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.

Strip poker doesn’t continue on for long after that.

You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates who’s riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction. 

When you meet Eddie’s gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup. 

Good. 

—

The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.

Which is fine. Really. It doesn’t cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one. 

You’re definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that you’ve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. You’re not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead. 

Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you. 

Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets. 

Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy. 

“So,” Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, “Do we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?” 

“Real drinks,” you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, “Shots are… well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.”

Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night? 

He needed his hat. He couldn’t ignore you the entire night. 

“You’re right,” Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have us a round.” 

Nancy’s smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze on her way past her. 

Where the fuck is Eddie? 

“Did you see where the guys ran off to?” you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab. 

Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, “Honestly? I have no idea.” 

Fuck. 

As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head. 

“Trying to find a certain cowboy?” 

“What?” you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? “I mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.” 

“Should have just given him your ears for an even trade,” Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, “I’m sure he’ll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s too focused on what everyone’s costumes are as long as they’re… well…”

“Slutted out,” you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy. 

You fucked up. You shouldn’t have taken his hat. 

“Exactly!” she’s excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, “Look, free shots!” 

The free shots don’t do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.

You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke. 

“You know what they say,” he’s flirting – he’s using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and it’s clear he’s fucking flirting, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steve’s apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.

He’s stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her. 

“If you’re a cowboy,” she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, “Then where’s your hat?” 

Well, that’s as good of a queue for your arrival if any. 

“Good question,” you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, “Where is your hat, cowboy?” 

You’d expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesn’t. 

He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, “Well, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.” 

The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, “I think…. I’m gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”

You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave. 

You’ve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isn’t even phased. 

“Been lookin’ for you,” you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, “Thought you might have gone home without your hat.” 

“Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten about the rule, you know.” 

Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips. 

“No?” you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, “Good thing I haven’t either.” 

He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, “You haven’t? Then that means you’ll be giving it back, right?” 

Over my dead body. 

You’re on a mission tonight. You’ll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or you’ll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. It’s up to him. 

You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, “Not a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once you’re done playing around.”

As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried he’s about to steal the hat back now, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip. 

From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat. 

“I do, don’t I?” he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. “I don’t think I’m the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.” 

Does he think you’re joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you? 

You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were. 

Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. “It’s okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.” 

Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins you’re desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again. 

“I’m not playing,” you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if you’d be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. “Whenever you get that through your big head, come find me.” 

“Big head?” he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. “Who says I have a big head?” 

“I do, as the one wearing your hat,” you readjust it for emphasis. 

You thought the tension had misted away until he’s smirking, tsking a little, “Oh, thought you meant the other one.” 

It’s a replay of the scene in Steve’s apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. You’re the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what he’s just said. 

“Bastard,” you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you. 

A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad. 

—

You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie. 

You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.

A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, you’d catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him. 

You never did. You’d look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished. 

That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head. 

You’re starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. You’d jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you weren’t prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and you’d be reminding him that you wore his hat. 

You’d be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you. 

When the night begins to wane, you’ve already talked yourself out of it all. 

“I’m heading out,” you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where you’ve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, “I’m getting way too tired.” 

“What?” your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, “No! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-”

“Robs,” you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, “It’s seriously okay. You’re having fun! I’m just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was like…. An hour ago.” 

You highly doubt you’ll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadn’t talked yourself out of your perfect plan. 

Maybe, imagining Eddie’s hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises. 

“I…” she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, “Okay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?” 

Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddie’s going to be there.

“Sure,” you lie, already knowing he will be there, “Just text me.” 

With that, you make your grand escape. 

Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy – stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-

“Where do you think you’re going, Kitty?” 

You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously. 

“Home,” you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. You’d figured you wouldn’t see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Smoke break,” he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, “It’s hard work, keeping you entertained all night.” 

You scoff, falling back into what’s almost a normal rhythm for you two, “You were not the one keeping me entertained all night.” 

“I hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.” 

“I did!” you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. “Robin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.” 

“I watched you swat a guy’s hands away not once, but three times.” 

“Unsolicited touching isn’t a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.” 

Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Damn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.” 

“Why do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?” you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, it’s nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but he’s a friend.

And maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Oh, no, yeah. You’d be posting my bail.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’ve got my hat, ” he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldn’t mention it again, “Kind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking of….” 

You already know what he’s about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night – or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.

Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend. 

“I’m gonna need that back, sweetheart.”

At least he’s asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why he’s asking rather than taking. 

The looks across the room. The way he’d been unbothered by the girl he’d been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when he’d been provided ample opportunity. 

He thinks it’s a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isn’t for him. He’s giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this. 

And fuck, you really want this. 

“Nope,” you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. “My hat now, cowboy.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. “Is that so?” 

“Yep.”

Another ding, another buzz of your phone.

Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule. 

“That your ride?” he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car. 

You glance over your shoulder, “Pretty sure it is, yeah.” 

“And you remember the hat rule?” 

Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten – you’re still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt you’ll be slipping anything on after it. “I do.”

“Great,” those hot hands you’d been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “In that case, that’s my pussy now.” 

His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere you’ve only dreamt of. 

You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride – you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling. 

“After you, kitty,” he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first. 

In that case, that’s my pussy now.

You hope he ruins you. 

In the backseat of the ride, it’s all polite distance and hands to yourself. You can’t even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head. 

Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips. 

Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out. 

Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him. 

Eddie simply fucking your brains out. 

Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly. 

The entire time, you can see Eddie’s hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you. 

It’s a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat. 

Slowly warming the water, you start off simple – playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here. 

You’ve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. You’re going to have fun with it. 

He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull you’ve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold it’s going to feel against your skin. 

You can only imagine the imprints it’ll leave if he grabs your hips just right. 

“You know,” the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, “You guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think it’s just barely picking up now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, “I think you’re right. It is getting pretty late-”

He’s entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target. 

His thigh. 

Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction. 

You’re looking straight ahead. 

There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where you’d learned Eddie had… sensitive knees. You’d been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, he’d nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.

You’d seen the tent in his jeans then. You’d just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but you’re quick to slide it even higher. 

His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser. 

“Nothing,” you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. “Absolutely nothing at all.” 

The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher. 

And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.

By the time you’re five minutes out from your place, you’ve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know he’s catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips – you’re pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up. 

You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather. 

And then he flips the script. 

You’re so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. It’s not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament you’ve gotten into. 

Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddie’s hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear. 

Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely. 

“What?” he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench. 

You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Still playing games I see.” 

In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when he’s this close, it’s a hopeless battle.

When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when you’d first crawled into the backseat?

You’re trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. It’s all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up. 

He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and you’re the one coughing now. 

“Had enough?” he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them. 

“Never.”

You almost think you’ve won when his knuckle pulls back. 

But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles. 

You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh. 

The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, “You sure about that, Kitty?” 

You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment. 

“I-”

“We’re here!” the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. You’re both visibly flustered – you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddie’s chest and neck. 

“Thanks,” Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open. 

A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before he’s grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him. 

You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it. 

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring. 

“Here, let me-” he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one you’re looking for. 

“I’ve got it-” you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. “Shit.” 

You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. There’s no real reason for you to do it, but you do – you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.

Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much he’s been biting them. 

You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your building’s hallway. 

You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides – the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a stranger’s car. 

“Like what?” you’re dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him. 

“Like you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.” 

That’s a new one. That’s a vision that hadn’t come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night. 

It sends your clit throbbing. 

You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors won’t hear as you ask, “Would you? If I asked nicely?” 

He doesn’t let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like you’ve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs. 

No need to say it – you know he would. You probably wouldn’t even have to ask nicely. 

You’re staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you – where he needs you. 

One second, you’re pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, he’s managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment. 

Hidden from the world, and you’re still reeling as you wonder what it’d be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name. 

Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, “Sweetheart.”

A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front door’s lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe – but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only. 

Your body isn’t your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesn’t even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddie’s pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands can’t undo it fast enough. You’re about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you. 

“Hey,” he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.”

Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and you’re quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy – right?” you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his. 

His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. “That’s right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?” 

Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off? 

Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours. 

And - oh.

Oh. 

That surely didn’t feel like you were scaring him off. 

You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived. 

He wants this. You want him. 

“I’m not a very patient person,” you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where he’d held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth. 

His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey. 

“That’s okay,” he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, “I can teach you, baby.”

Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words. 

You’ve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, you’d wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time he’d pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, you’d wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette you’d witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didn’t want to find funny but did – you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face. 

“Can’t the lesson wait until tomorrow?” you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths. 

“Nope,” he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, “But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about tomorrow.” 

A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth – it’s a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesn’t feel very patient. 

But you can’t. Eddie’s taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards. 

Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest. 

He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later. 

“Figured you might want a more comfortable ride,” he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.

You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasn’t the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along. 

You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience. 

His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and you’re growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really don’t care. 

“By all means,” you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, “Take your seat, Cowboy.” 

He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants. 

The best seat in the house, as far as you’re concerned. 

“You just gonna keep starin’,” he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, “Or you gonna get over here?” 

His words are all you need. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels – the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right. 

“There,” he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, “Now we’re both in our seats.” 

When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.

“What happened to being patient?” you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, “Thought you were gonna take your time with me-”

“Between you and me, I’m not gonna last,” he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings you’d been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, “Been dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.” 

Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you. 

“What?” 

Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He’s wanted this, too? This entire time? 

Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, “I mean- I just-”

“Munson,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re telling me, this entire time, you’ve been flirting with me?” 

Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as you’d thought, or simple for show? You’d so cluelessly assumed he’d never used that tone with you because he’d never genuinely flirted with you – and yet, it seems, he’d never used that tone because he’d been genuinely flirting with you. 

“I-” his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, “Maybe?” 

“Maybe?” you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, “My God, we’re fucking idiots.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who stole my hat-”

“I like you, dumb ass,” you state plainly, “I wanted this for a while, too.” 

He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, “What?” 

“Been thinking about this, too,” your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way he’s looking at you, “Thinking about you and your lips. Thinking ‘bout your hands and the places they’d go,” as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, “Thought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good they’d feel inside me.” 

His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, he’s placing his hat back atop your head. 

That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed. 

He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress. 

“Nice and slow,” he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. “Got it, kitty?” 

You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss. 

Your dress is up to your waist, and you don’t know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. It’s impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. He’d probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared. 

“Oh, and these?” his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, “Those definitely have to come off.” 

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” 

You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence. 

He’s fucking perfect. You’re sure there’s others who disagree, but you’d pay them no mind. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours. 

You make a show of taking off your panties only once he’s properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience he’d prattled on about. 

You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them. 

“Seems a bit unfair that I’m the only one undressing,” you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.

“Yeah, well,” he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, “One of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.”

“Take off the vest, Eddie.” 

Your command is velvet, and he’s quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor. 

“And the boxers.” 

You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does. 

The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color you’ve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of  precum slip down his shaft. 

He’s pretty, even in the fucking pants. 

Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before you’ve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that you’d trace your tongue over for hours if he let you. 

“Gonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?” 

He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare. 

He’s right though, and you’d rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission. 

Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind. 

You could have prepared yourself more, but you’d already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive. 

The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Feel good, baby?” he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out. 

You don’t answer him as you both moan out. 

You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly. 

It’s better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddie’s cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his. 

“Go ahead,” he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, “Ride your cowboy, kitty. Don’t make me ask twice.” 

Nice. And. Slow.

Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. You’re about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you. 

“No, no, no,” he’s chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, “C’mon, now. We both know that’s not how you ride.” 

His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips. 

“Do it like this, sweetheart.”

He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern. 

Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly. 

The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull. 

This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but it’s getting you there. 

At some point, Eddie’s grip on your hips slips, but it’s fine – you’ve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat. 

You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head. 

Just like a cowboy. 

“Like this?” you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, “Just like that. Keep- keep going just,” he thrusts up, “Like,” another thrust, “That.” 

You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. There’s a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .

A hand on your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he won’t. 

“You like that?” his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck. 

You nod.

“Tell me with your words,” he commands.

“I like it,” you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. “I like it so much, baby.” 

When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath. 

“You like that,” you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. “Wanna be my baby, Munson?” 

“Always have,” he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, “Since the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.

It was serious. And if you’d just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago. 

Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. You’ve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and it’s your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it – his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you. 

You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory. 

Your touch is driving him insane; it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you. 

It’s when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that he’s finally a goner. 

“‘M close,” he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, Eddie.” 

Maybe it’s the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue. 

Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, he’s beautiful. 

Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips. 

Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude – a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when it’s said in Eddie’s desperate tone. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, “Shit.”

You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, “Sounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.” 

His eyes shoot open, and for a second, you’re terrified.

Those aren’t the eyes of someone satisfied. 

“You didn’t cum.”

“What?”

“You,” he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You don’t miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, “Did not cum.” 

You hadn’t really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. You’d been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips. 

“It’s fine,” you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you aren’t. “I can-”

“You’re not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.” 

And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasn’t racing as far away from you as you’d believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him. 

“Get on all fours for me, baby.” 

Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.

When you don’t move to follow his command immediately, he’s using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how you’re reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.

You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but you’re cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass. 

A silent command this time, and you’re finally listening. 

You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when- 

“I’ll be taking that,” For the first time since you’d stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, he’s smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, “You can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.”

“At least once?” you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak. 

He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass – right where an imprint of his hand still sings, “At least. By all means, if you feel the need, don’t hesitate to give me a few. God knows you’ve earned it.” 

You don’t have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt. 

Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously. 

“Oh, God,” you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.

He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.

“Don’t be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.” 

And let him hear you, you do. 

Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, you’re chanting his name. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, “Your fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.” 

Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, “Say my name again.” 

You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more. 

More, more, more. 

There’s nothing nice and slow about this. You’re chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way. 

Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises. 

You really, really don’t give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap. 

Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until he’s flipping you back over. 

You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge – lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears. 

You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs. 

He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, it’s all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him. 

The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddie’s back, almost effectively trapping him in place.

You cum hard for him. 

You’re entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows who’s responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.

He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until you’re physically having to shove him away. 

Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body. 

“There,” you don’t even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction – his voice is dripping in it. “Now you can keep the hat.” 

One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all. 

“I’m not sure I’ve earned it,” you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, “Pretty sure I didn’t break you when I made you cum.”

“Oh, you did,” he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, “Just in a different way.” 

You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though he’s scared you might disappear. 

“Well,” you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, “Good.” 

Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Give me a few minutes to recover,” you insist, all but nuzzling into him, “I’m sure I’ll have a smartass comeback for you once I’m…” you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air. 

The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.

All the things you’ve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality. 

He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

“Am not,” you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content. 

“Am too,” he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, “It’s okay. You can. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, “Promise, cowboy?” 

“Absolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?” 

You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world. 

Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddie’s breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table. 

Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.

[hot-patootiee]

I love the idea of Steve just forgetting to tell people he’s bisexual.

He’s actively wine-ing and dining Eddie and it just completely goes over everyone’s head.

Bonus points if Eddie also doesn’t know what’s going on.

He shows up to Steve’s house which is decked out with candles and dimmed lights. A fancy tablecloth draped over the table, the Harrington’s good china is on display, and there’s a fucking rose on the table in a vase.

“Do you have a date or something?” Eddie inquires.

Steve stares back at him, a little dumbfounded by the question. “Yea”

“Oh really? Am I interrupting, you invited me over so I assumed we were going to hang out?” Eddie rambles.

Steve continues to stare at Eddie blankly. “You’re not interrupting, you’re here to spend time with me.”

“What about your date?” Eddie vaguely gestures to the setup.

“Eddie, you are my date.”

“Say what now?”

“I asked you to go out with me!” Steve stressed.

“Yea, but then you called me dude, so I’m sorry if my signals got crossed.” Eddie replied, voice laced with disbelief. “I failed senior year twice, I need clarity.”

“I want to fuck you.” Steve says slowly, sounding out every part of each word carefully.

“Wow! Where’s the romance?”

Steve wordlessly gestures at the set table behind him.

[ms-spkhd]

It's not like there's anything inherently wrong with Steve. Just...weird. Odd. A wealth of other various synonyms to describe his decidedly bizarre behavior.

Well, Bizarre's a strong word.

But Eddie's point still stands! Steve's a little to the left and it makes Eddie feel endlessly awkward for noticing. The fact that he's uncomfortable about it compounds his unease over it.

"Wanna talk about it, then?" Jeff asks, riffling idly through the record crate. Of course, the one day off they spend window-shopping in Indianapolis results in Eddie getting the fucking 'let's discuss our feelings about things' talk from Jeff. He wonders how the man isn't green with sickness from therapizing all the goddamn time.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'd look like an idiot."

"Would the idiot keep running or confront his problems head-on?"

"This feels like a trap."

"Oh yeah," Jeff says simply.

"Like the ones with the cardboard box and the stick."

"Pre-cisely."

Eddie's shoulders slump in defeat. Better the idiot who speaks, he supposes. "He's very smiley about me being gay."

"Smiley."

"Smiley. As in he's acting like I vomit flowers and shit rainbows." Eddie shakes his head in frustration. "I'm not opposed to the support and everything...it's just that. He's like an octave higher than usual about it."

Jeff purses his lips in thought. "Like, his voice?"

"No--like...like, he's very enthusiastic about my sexuality."

Eddie leans back against the shelf behind him. Steve's a nice guy, really, but the way he goes about his support of Eddie feels like he's trying to compensate for something. A lack of empathy when he was younger, perhaps.

"He always asks if I have a boyfriend, or if I've been hooking up with any guys lately--which, hello, does he not know that queer metalhead nerd isn't a very hot item here?"

Jeff pulls a face but nods in understanding.

"And when I tell him obviously no, he says he can hook me up with his, what? Fucking father's brother's cousin's former roommate? It's like he's begging for a double date with him and his new squeeze, it's goddamn ridiculous." "New squeeze?"

"I'm hyperbolizing." Eddie blows a raspberry and shrugs. "He says it's sad that I don't have someone for how good-looking I am. You're making the face again."'

Jeff snaps out of whatever trance he's in, his drawn eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. After his gawking mouth clacks shut, he cautiously gestures at Eddie to continue.

"It's stupid," Eddie concedes, "but I really don't understand what changed, y'know? He used to be this cool, confident guy with a dorky side, but now he's just so...I don't know."

Jeff smiles lightly and knocks Eddie's shoulder with his. "I have a theory."

"Go on."

"I think Steve isn't being supportive."

"Uh-huh."

"Far from it, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever you say, chief."

"He isn't smothering you," Jeff points out. "He wants to fuck you."

Eddie blinks. Takes a moment to access and really take in what Jeff just said. "What?"

"Or at least, he wants you in an entirely non-friendly and possibly even carnal way."

"Excuse me?"

"Biblically."

"Dude," Eddie insists. "What. The. Fuck."

Jeff raises his hands placatingly. "Steve clearly likes you. A lot. He probably sees you being gay as an in for him."

"Okay, well, I don't understand. He tries to set me up with randos he knows all the time."

"He called you good-looking."

"While he was trying to set me up with said rando!"

"Guys like him have a really backward way of doing things." Eddie crosses his arms sternly. "Or he's straight," he says.

"Again," Jeff asserts. "Good. Looking. Dude, he's fucking obsessed with you! You said he's an octave higher around you now, right?"

"Because he's a well-meaning friend?"

"Eddie, remember when he crashed band practice last week?"

Oh yeah, Eddie remembers that. The man of the hour randomly parked in Gareth's driveway, leaned against his Beemer with his arms crossed, and watched Eddie play like he fucking hung the moon. Afterward, he'd sung his praises for the band and gave Eddie a yellow guitar pick attached to a sparkling silver chain. "Found the pick a couple of towns south with Robin the other day. Reminded me of you," he said softly. "Since you lost your last one."

It went unspoken where Eddie lost 'the last one'.

Eddie remembers smiling back at Steve with the force of a thousand supernovas, and thinking later in the night that it felt like a scene from a romance movie. Steve's favorite color is yellow, isn't it? It was like he wanted a piece of himself with Eddie at all times, right next to his heart.

Eddie didn't want to give himself that stupid hope. That Steve Harrington wanted in on his heart.

It doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

He looks back at Jeff and says, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Part two

[kenacoki]

Tease Me Please Me

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

//Summary// If there’s one thing you love more than firefighting it’s getting under Eddie Diaz’s skin. That, of course, can only end one way for you.

//Word Count// 5.40k

//Request//

//Warnings// munch!Eddie Diaz, recording during intercourse, borderline exhibitionism, dirty talk, kitchen sex

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

Entering the station, you take a moment to yourself to bask in the quietness of the house. The fire station was fairly empty at the moment, with it being morning and all. The only person seemingly out is Eddie, who’s cleaning the firetruck.

You smirk to yourself as you approach him, "What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You call out, before leaning up against the side of the firetruck.

Eddie, who’s focused on his work, seems to pause for a second at your voice, before realizing it’s you. He looks over, shaking his head with a small scoff, his annoyance not being genuine.

"That’ll never get old to you, will it?"

You smile up at him, crossing your arms as you lean your head on the truck.

“Of course not; Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, Eds." You chuckle to yourself as you begin to admire his appearance, watching the way his muscles flex as he works on polishing the firetruck.

As you call him by the nickname you’ve picked up from Buck, he once again pauses, this time fully turning to look at you.

"Harmless for you maybe, I’m the one who has to actually deal with it."

You tilt your head to the side as you shrug, your grin growing larger as you continue to tease him, "Come on Eddie…I’m not that bad, am I?"

Eddie’s eyes meet your gaze as he sets down his rag, "(Y/n). You flirt with me every chance you get. I’m pretty sure that Buck, Chim, and Hen have a bet on when you’re gonna jump me."

You hum, acting oblivious as you shrug again, “And here I’d hoped I was subtle.”

“Yeah,” Eddie lets out a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving your face as he leans against the firetruck as well. "About as subtle as sirens in the dead of night."

You fake a pout, “I mean, it’s not my fault you’re insanely attractive, Eds.” You take a step closer to him, sticking your hand out as you lightly brush your fingers against his mustache.

“So, do you plan on keeping the ‘stache?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as you touch his face, the light, delicate caress sending a shiver down his spine. He sighs, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I-I don’t know.” He stutters out, the sudden proximity and the way you’re looking at him makes his breath catch in his throat for a brief moment. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second, before he clears his throat and pulls away. “Why? Don’t like it?”

Your face softens as he leans into your touch, your heart practically pounding as your eyes lock onto each other’s.

“Oh no,” You pause for a moment, letting your hand fall away as you admire his face, “I like it. A lot, actually.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes, but only for a moment. Still, you notice it. Before he can say anything else, the sound of footsteps echos from behind you guys

You turn to look behind you and see Bobby emerging from his office, a small grin on his face.

“Good morning you two. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, Cap,” Eddie instantly straightens, clearing his throat and glancing away, trying to act casual. “Just finishing up here.”

Bobby hums, seeing right through Eddie’s act, his smile growing as he turns to you. “And what about you?”

You chuckle, sending another smile in Eddie’s direction, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Just keeping him company.”

Eddie glances back at you, eyes narrowing slightly at the look on your face. He opens up his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Bobby continuing.

“Listen, I’m gonna have you guys hang back if we get any fire calls today. Eddie, I want you to be able to show (y/n) how the ambulance works on medical calls.”

You give Bobby an affirmative nod, “Sounds good to me. Hear that Eds? Sounds like you’re gonna be stuck with me all day.”

“Great.”

Bobby chuckles again, shaking his head at the two of you as he grabs a clipboard for his office and walks back inside.

The smirk immediately reappears on your face as you take a step closer to Eddie, looking up at him with wide (e/c) eyes.

“Aw come on, don’t look so grumpy.” You give his shoulder a playful shove; trying not to let your thoughts linger on how hard his muscles feel under your touch. “You get me all to yourself, shouldn’t you be happy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head in mock annoyance, though he can’t help the smile that curls at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I’m ecstatic.”

You grin wider, knowing you managed to get him to smile. You give his shoulder another pat, letting your hand linger for a moment, before stepping back again. “That’ll work for me.”

You give him a wink before turning and heading in the direction of the locker room to change.

Eddie watches as you walk away, a mix of amusement and irritation playing across his features. Suddenly the sound of Buck and Chim’s voices breaks his gaze, and he quickly averts his eyes, getting back to work on cleaning the truck.

A few moments later, you reappear, now in your uniform. Leaving the top unbuttoned just enough to barely expose the skin of your chest, but still technically fall within the dress code.

You open your mouth to call out to Eddie when the station alarm suddenly starts ringing.

Eddie’s head snaps in your direction at the sound of the alarm, immediately noticing your outfit. His eyes roam over the exposed skin of your chest for just a second before averting his gaze. Buck, Chim, and Hen appear from the loft and rush past you guys to the fire truck.

Chim, Hen, and Buck are about to hop in the truck when Bobby stops them, averting his attention over at you and Eddie.

“(y/n) Eddie, dispatch said that this call was just a small structure fire, and no injuries were reported.”

You nod as you glance toward Eddie, “So you want us to stay back?”

Bobby nods, “That’s right. If we need anything though, we’ll let you know through the radio.”

Eddie lets out a small sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got it.”

You glance over at him, your eyes lingering on his for a moment before looking back at Bobby, “We’ll be on standby then.”

Bobby nods again, patting the side of the ambulance before turning to get into the firetruck. Buck sends both you and Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows as he follows Hen and Chim into the back of the truck.

Eddie ignores them, moving to lean against the back of the ambulance, crossing his arms.

The sunlight makes his brown hair almost shine. His dark brown eyes have an almost golden look. Despite having been up since the early morning, he is still somehow effortlessly attractive. His uniform shirt hugs his upper body in the most delicious way, his muscular build being noticeable through the thin fabric.

You're snapped from your daze as Bobby flips on the lights and sirens and swiftly pulls out of the station.

You let out an internal sigh as you drink in the sight of him, your head filling with thoughts of how the fabric would feel against your fingers. You had only been on the job for a few months, but you somehow already wanted to do unspeakable things to this man. You take a step closer to him, leaning on the back of the ambulance.

“What do we do now? Just…wait?”

As you step closer to him, Eddie’s head turns to you, his eyes roaming over you for a moment before he speaks. There’s a slight hint of tension in his voice, though he tries to play it off.

“Yeah.” He lets out a huff of air, his eyes darting out to the street before settling back onto you.

You hum, looking over at him and tilting your head slightly so that you’re looking at him dead on. You continue to admire him, your eyes slowly raking over his face.

“So…how long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

Eddie sighs as your gaze lands on him, your smirk already telling him that you most likely have something in mind.

“If it’s just a small fire then I’d say probably an hour and a half.”

A mischievous look fills your eyes when he says an hour and a half. You bite your lip to suppress a smile as you push yourself up off the ambulance, moving to stand directly in front of him, your bodies nearly touching.

“An hour and a half, huh? That’s an awful lot amount of time for us to be…alone.” As you speak to him, your voice has a low, almost sultry tone to it; it takes everything in him to not shiver.

He lets out a shaky breath, glancing around for a brief moment before focusing back on you and clearing his throat.

“And what do you suggest we do?”

Your smirk softens into a more suggestive smile. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers ever-so-slightly grazing his skin.

“Well, I could think of a few things.”

He lets out a quiet gasp at your touch. His muscles are coiled, and you can see the way his jaw clenches in a halfhearted attempt to stop himself from reacting.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, "You really need to stop doing that, (y/n).”

You move even closer to him, closing the tiny amount of space that was left between your bodies. Your hand moves, instead coming up to rest on his chest, just above his heart.

"Doing what, Eddie?" You look up at him, feigning innocence as you tilt your head to the side.

He can feel your body against his, the warmth from your skin sending jolts of electricity up his spine.

He looks down at you, a look of frustration and desire in his eyes, “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

You bite your lip, holding back a chuckle as you see the look in his eyes. You can tell he’s fighting a losing battle, slowly giving in to his desires. You brush your thumb across the logo printed on the fabric of his uniform, feeling the hammering of his heart.

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” You hum.

"(Y/n)." he mutters, his voice a low, strained warning.

His resistance just adds fuel to the fire inside you. You want to see him lose control, want him to finally give in to the obvious tension between you two. You let your hand slowly trail down his side, lingering on his hip before coming to a rest on his thigh.

“Yeah?”

Eddie's breath hitches as your hand trails down his body, his hips twitching involuntarily when you rest your hand on his thigh. He swallows hard, the feeling of your body so close to his and your hand on his skin sending a shiver through his entire body. Your breath on his face does absolutely nothing to help him.

It takes every last ounce of restraint he has to not spin you around right here and—

“Well,” you abruptly distance yourself from Eddie, a sly smile curling on your lips. “I'm starving, so I'm gonna go fix myself something to eat."

He looks at you, blinking rapidly, his mind fighting to come up with a response while you smirk at him. However, all he can manage to say is a quiet “uh”

"Have fun being all alone, Eds." you wink, before waltzing away towards the kitchen.

He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Half torn between wanting to give in to your games and wanting to just grab you and slam you against the nearest wall.

Reaching the loft, you open the fridge and pull out a small pack of bacon. Cutting it open, you plop a pan onto the stove and lay a few slices onto the hot metal.

As you wait for your food to cook, you pull out your phone. You scroll through your Twitter to pass the time; completely oblivious to Eddie’s figure sneaking behind you, until it’s too late.

“You think you’re so damn funny, huh?” His breath feels hot against your neck as he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

Your eyes widen slightly, but before you can muster anything his body is pressed up against your back, his arms caging you against the counter in front of you.

A chill goes down your spine as you hear his voice, low and gravelly in your ear. The feeling of his body pressed against your back makes you shiver, the combination of his words and his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck makes you go weak in the knees.

“Depends on what you think is funny.” You manage to gasp out.

"You're a tease, (y/n). A goddamn tease." He growls in your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, sending a wave of heat through your body.

A shiver runs through your body when you feel his lips press against your neck, the feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin making you let out a sharp gasp. Your head tilts to the side almost involuntarily, giving him more access to your neck.

You grip the edge of the counter in front of you, trying your best to keep yourself upright.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" Eddie mutters against your neck

You let out a shaky breath as you turn your head towards him, the look in his eyes dark and full of desire. His thumb moves from your chin to your bottom lip, gently tracing the soft skin there.

You know you should reply to him, say something clever to keep up your usual attitude, but your mind is suddenly empty of anything but him.

His teeth lightly nip at your skin. You arch your back as best you can with the way he has you pinned against the counter.

"F-fuck, Eds—"

“I'm about two seconds away from bending you over this counter, don't push your luck." Eddie grins against your neck, his lips moving to bite at the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his voice low and full of desire. "Bent over the counter for anyone to see."

"Eddie, I-You can’t—" You gasp out, your back arching farther into him. You can feel his body pressed up against yours, his hips grinding into your backside.

Eddie hums against your neck, his hands running down your sides until they find the edge of your shirt, slipping underneath and trailing up your stomach. His touch sends jolts of electricity through you.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? You wanted to drive me crazy, to have me lose control?" His breath fans against your skin.

Eddie's words make your head spin as your body responds almost instantly.

"It worked though, didn’t it?”

Before you can even realize what’s happening, Eddie’s spinning you around and bending you over the kitchen island so that you're facing the entrance of the station.

The feeling of his hips pressing against your backside makes a full-on moan escape your lips, his body heat almost overwhelming.

“Voy a hacerte comer esas palabras, princesa.” He growls into your ear.

Jesus Christ.

His Spanish makes your head spin, the low, sultry tone of his voice as he murmurs the words into your ear nearly sending you over the edge. You feel him press up against you, his hips rolling into you, the feeling of his growing arousal against your backside making a shudder go through your body.

You let out another moan, his name on your lips between gasps for air, “Oh my god.”

"You never know when to quit, do you?" He mutters against the back of your neck, his lips delicately trailing kisses down your spine.

You whimper at his touch, your body responding to him as if he's a drug and you're hopelessly addicted.

"It’s like you enjoy being a little minx, huh? Teasing me all day, getting me all bothered.”

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts consumed by the feeling of his lips on your skin, the sound of his voice in your ear, the touch of his hands on your hips.

"F-fuck,” you stutter out before biting down on your lip, trying to hold back another moan.

He rolls his hips into yours again, his body grinding against yours.

The friction from his hips against your clothed core has you gasping again, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. You feel like you're on fire, your entire body thrumming with heat and desire, and all you can think about is him.

“Eddie, please...” you gasp out, your head spinning from the combination of his touch and the sound of his voice in your ear.

Then suddenly, you feel him shuffle behind you. Confused, you crane your neck over your shoulder only to see him grabbing your phone. He leans back over your shoulder, bringing your phone up and holding it to your face. You can barely focus on the screen, your eyes unfocused and dazed.

"Unlock it."

You blink, the request taking a moment to register in your foggy mind. Still, you unlock your phone with shaky hands, managing to type in your passcode through your daze. You don’t know what he’s planning, but at this point, you’re so far gone you don’t even care.

He opens the camera app on your phone before propping it up a few inches in front of you; it perfectly captures the two of you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low in your ear. “Now let’s see just how much you regret your little game.”

Your eyes grow wide when you comprehend what he’s doing. The thought of it has you suddenly even more turned on. He hits the record button and roughly tugs down your tight uniform bottoms and sinks to his knees.

Your breath hitches at his actions. You can see yourself on the phone screen, your face flushed, your (e/c) eyes darkened with lust, your hair already slightly messy from the way he had you pinned down against the counter.

You try to turn around to look at him, but his hand finds the back of your head, "Keep your eyes on the camera, carñio."

Your breath catches in your throat at the pet name. You'd never seen this dominant side of Eddie, not to this extent at least.

"Y'know, you didn't even ask me if I wanted anything to eat."

Your mind is a hazy mess, your eyes half-lidded as you keep them focused on the camera. You’re at his mercy, and you find that you don’t mind it one bit.

You let out a gasp as you feel his hands move up your thighs, nearing where you need him the most, your breathing stuttering and your body shaking with anticipation.

“But that’s okay,” he continues, “I think I’ve found something much better to eat.”

You hear his words, but you’re too caught up in the feeling of his touch to process them, your mind still trying to regain some lucidity as his hands move even farther up your thighs, just barely grazing the lacy hem of your (f/c) underwear.

“God, you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He murmurs, voice low and full of need. His hands grip the skin of your thighs, his touch slightly rough.

“And look at that, you’re soaking through your panties, carñio.” Carefully, he drags your underwear to the side, exposing your soaking folds to the cool air.

The feeling of his hands as they slide your underwear to the side has you trembling, your legs shaking as you try to keep yourself upright. You feel him sink to his knees behind you, his breath fanning against your skin, the proximity of his face to the core of your being has you clenching your teeth.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his presence, and the anticipation is nearly enough to make you cry out.

Eddie runs his hands up your thighs, his touch firm and sure. Then, you feel his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. You shiver, your body growing hot in anticipation.

You can’t help but gasp as he lets his tongue run up your thigh, so close to where you need him most.

"I swear to g-god, Eddie. If you don't do-" Your words fail you as his tongue slowly breaches your wetness. He holds your hips steady as his tongue dips deeper, just barely breaching your slit.

"M-Motherfuck—" You moan out, your voice growing louder from the sudden pleasure.

Eddie pulls away from your folds with an obnoxiously dramatic pop, "You gotta stay quiet, princesa. Don't want the team to come back and hear these pretty noises, do we?"

You bite down on your lip again, trying to restrain your moans. But it's practically impossible with the way he's slowly teasing you.

"Y-you're being mean." You say, your words coming out shaky from your attempts to stay quiet. You can feel your clit throbbing with desperation.

"Mean?" He mutters, his breath fanning against your skin. "Me? Not at all. I'm being...very generous."

At an agonizing pace, he slides his fingers through your wetness, just missing your sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his lips, his tongue licking around the digits.

"You taste so sweet...como el cielo.”

You let out a strangled whimper, your body begging for more as his hands continue to wander. He presses a kiss against your clit, the friction of his mustache making your eyes roll back.

“Please,” you gasp out, your voice just above a whisper. “Please, please, please…”

Eddie hums at your words, letting his tongue just barely brush against your sensitive bud. You swiftly cup your hand over your mouth to muffle your noises.

You look absolutely debauched as you catch sight of yourself in the camera. Your hair is falling in messy wisps across your forehead, uniform bunched around your hips, face flushed, and eyes darkened with lust; The sight of yourself only serves to heighten your arousal. Before you can say anything, you feel two of Eddie's thick fingers press into you, drawing a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat.

"F-fuck—" You bite down on your hand to keep yourself quiet. "More, Eddie—Now."

“Bossy little thing,” He growls as you speak, his fingers curling inside you. “You're not the one in charge here.” he gives a harsh suck against your soaking folds.

You glance at the camera, still recording the two of you. Eddie’s right; and that made something in your stomach turn violently.

You grip the counter, your fingers clenching and unclenching at the edge. You let out another moan, your eyes squeezing shut from the immense amount of sensation.

“So beautiful like this, sweetheart,” he mutters, his words partially muffled against your skin. “Aching and dripping for me. All mine.”

He curls his fingers again, pushing into the spot that makes you cry out, and you barely manage to muffle your cries against your hand.

“God, you’re so loud.”

"Eddie! P-please, please! M’sorry for earlier." You slur deliriously with pleasure, eyes brimmed with hot tears.

He can practically taste the desperation in your voice, feel the tension rippling through your body as he pumps his fingers inside you. He pulls away, standing and smirking, watching as your walls flutter around nothing.

“Are you?”

You nod eagerly, your head hazy with lust, but your mind is just lucid enough to know that your answer will have an effect.

“Yes—” you gasp out, your breathing heavy. “I’m so sorry! Please, Eddie, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t tease you anymore, just please!”

Eddie hums, low and satisfied. He runs his hands up your thighs, watching as they shake in his grip.

“We both know that's a lie, cariño.” He says, his tone slightly mocking. He leans in closer to you until his mouth is right by your ear.

“You know what they say, cariño. Payback’s a bitch.” He gives your shoulder one last teasing bite before dropping back to his knees.

Your mind is still reeling from his words, trying to catch up with the events that just took place. But that all quickly changes the moment you feel his tongue thrust into your soaked slit; replacing where his fingers had previously been.

You wail in delight. Your eyes clench tight once more as Eddie lets out a deep moan from behind you, your sweet taste flooding his tastebuds once again.

He grips your hips to keep you from moving too much, his mouth working you with a newfound fervor as you struggle to keep yourself upright.

"Jesus…just a little more, m'so close—"

This only serves to ignite Eddie. Hearing you admit how close you are, all because of him. The way you’re now falling apart at his touch makes him growl against your skin; the vibrations almost send you over the edge.

He reaches around, harshly rubbing at your sensitive bud as he pulls his mouth away, "Fuck, best meal I've ever had..."

“Oh god—“ You try to choke out, but the words quickly devolve into another whine. “Please, E-Eddie, I’m gonna—”

And right at that moment, a loud, familiar sound fills your and Eddie’s ears; the sound of the firetruck pulling up outside.

"Oh shit." You mutter, your (e/c) eyes growing wide. You glance back at Eddie, your breath catches at the sight of his face.

Eddie’s pupils are blown wide, his face red and sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. He gives another shaky breath before his eyes lock onto the camera still pointing at your form. For a moment, he considers stopping the recording, but...

Maybe it’s the way you look, all breathless and needy. Or how your uniform is pulled down, completely exposing your bottom half. All Eddie knows, at this moment, is that you two can’t stop.

“Eddie, W-We can’t—“

“We can.” Eddie says, his voice firm.

He reaches out, grabs the camera from the island, and holds it inches from your face, his voice still firm.

“You see this? You see what you look like all flushed and whiny, princess?” You can hear him give a low noise, his voice slightly shaky. "tan hermosa, tan perfecta, toda mía."

You spare one last look over your shoulder to Eddie. His chin is practically dripping with your juices, his lips red and swollen.

His dark brown eyes meet yours. As you open your mouth to speak, he suddenly dives right back in. Going to work with a newfound vigor.

You feel your hips arch slightly against his mouth, your legs shaking and your breathing coming out in quick gasps. You clench your teeth, trying to keep yourself from crying out.

Your hands, which had been gripping the counter, quickly move to cover your mouth, trying to muffle your series of pathetic whines.

You bite down on your hand, as hard as you can to keep from moaning, but the more you hear your teammates' voices, the harder it is to keep yourself in check.

You listen to Buck's laughter, you hear the deep rumble of Bobby's voice talking about dinner plans, you hear Hen's voice as she enters a conversation with Chimney—

All you can think about at that moment is that at any second, any one of them could walk into the kitchen and see the two of you.

Shamefully, that thought is enough to send you over the edge.

Your body feels tense as your climax washes over you, "F-fuck—E-Eddie!"

Your legs are shaking more than ever, so much so that you're sure if Eddie wasn't holding you up, you would have fallen to the ground. Wave after wave that rolls through you, Eddie’s tongue is there to accompany it.

It’s too much. Everything’s overwhelming. You’re overstimulated, your brain is fuzzy, and your body is hot. You’re sure if this continues any longer, you’ll break. The sounds of the team outside seem to fade into the background for a moment.

"Goddamn Eddie, p-please.” You can barely hear your voice over your ragged breathing.

The rest of the team's voices echo through the station, you swear you can hear footsteps coming closer to the kitchen. You feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he finally lets up.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, his face flushed and sweaty. You breathe heavily, leaning forward on the counter, your body still shuddering from the aftereffects of your orgasm.

You're about to try and fix your uniform, to make yourself look at least a little presentable when suddenly, you hear footsteps clambering up the loft stairs. You panic and start to scramble to pull your pants back up and as you manage to, Eddie swiftly slinks beside you so they don't suspect anything.

You see Buck’s head of curls as he clambers up the loft stairs, "You guys cooking?" he chirps.

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Eddie pipes up.

“Yep, figured that we’d go on and get a head start on dinner.” He says, leaning casually against the counter. Y’know, his tone is surprisingly calm for a man who had just had his head buried between your legs.

Buck smiles right back, seemingly clueless to what had been going on mere seconds before.

"Alright! Lemme know when it's ready, I'm starving."

He quickly turns back around and disappears, and you let yourself breathe again. You feel Eddie's hand fall to the small of your back.

"You did so well." He whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravely. "I'm proud of you."

You give him a weak smile, trying to keep your breathing under control, but it doesn't help that every nerve ending in your body is still on fire. Everything is still so sensitive, and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

He turns you so you're facing him, and you practically collapse into his chest. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his sweat and cologne.

"Y-you're a dick, sometimes.” You mutter, still trying to calm your breathing as he steadies himself, you look down at the front of his pants and then back up to him. "Do you want me to...?"

Catching your drift, Eddie's cheeks suddenly flush with a light pink dusting.

"I uh—I a-already..." He stutters for a moment, trying to find his words.

You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, and your lips pull into a sly smile.

"Really? I didn’t even touch you.” You tease him, your finger slowly moving down his chest.

He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat as your hand slowly makes its way down his chest. He looks away, his cheeks still a dusted pink as a shiver goes through him.

"Yeah well,” He stutters, "Can you blame me?”

You can't help but giggle at his response, your face splitting into a grin as you look up at him. You reach up and pat him on the cheek.

"You're cute when you get all flustered."

His blush deepens at your touch, and he lets out a huff, trying to hold on to any shred of composure he has left.

“I am not flustered, I-I don’t get flustered.” He says defensively, finally meeting your gaze.

“Really? Cause you look pretty flustered to me.” You say smugly.

"Oh, shut up, cariño." he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You give a soft hum, "Never, Eds. I'm gonna enjoy this for as long as I can."

"I'm gonna make you eat those words later, princesa."

You raise an eyebrow at him, fighting the shiver that runs down your spine at the nickname.

"Is that a promise?" You say, leaning your body a little closer to his.

He grins down at you, a cheeky look on his face, "It's a guarantee."

[oneforthemunny]

all dressed up |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie won't come to a halloween party with you, so you decide to go by yourself... in a costume you know he won't approve of. based off of this prompt :) thank you to whoever sent it in! you can read the rest of my spooky stories series here!

contains: smut. minors dni. language. dom/sub themes- really dom/brat themes lol. all pre-consented ofc. spanking, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex. daddy kink. eddie's a little more of a hard dom in this. mafia themes but nothing graphic.

You saw the mess of curls move behind you once, then again, snapping towards your frame with a fury that had you fighting back a shiver, trying to remain casual and unbothered, applying your lipstick on in the large vanity mirror.

"What are you wearing?"

Your lips pursed, rolling them to keep your own triumphant grin back. His tone, the sharpness and snapping of his words, eyes still boring at you through the mirror; you had him right where you wanted.

"A costume." You hummed, so casual it made Eddie's head spin. Your eyes finally met his in the mirror, calm and vacant of the usual bratty, defiant glare he was expecting. "It's Halloween, Ed. You're supposed to wear a costume."

Eddie's snort follows before you can finish your sentence, posture straightening just enough to look menacing, his own expression still calm but entirely unimpressed. "So you chose to wear that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, dramatic enough that you were sure he saw it- you wanted him to. "What's that supposed to mean?" You eyes narrowed, meeting his challengingly through them mirror, though you didn't turn around to face him.

Eddie nodded slowly, no signs of aggravation, or irritation even at your snarly mood. "Stand up f'me." His voice hardened, slipping into commanding that had your body jolting, eager to please. "Let me get a good look at you. See the whole thing."

You scoffed, despite the rush of excitement that was flooding red hot through your entire body, pushing your small stool back from the vanity. The dress barely covered your ass, resting just below the swell- dangerously short. Eddie's chest roared with possessive furious heat at the thought of you bending over, showing anyone what was between your legs, what belonged to him.

"You look pretty, baby." He didn't miss the way your shoulders fell, slumped with shocked disappointment. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm an angel." You batted your eyes sweetly, a purr to your tone that had Eddie's heart jumping.

"You sure are." Eddie matched your tone, effortlessly flirtatious, lips curling in a half grin.

"I don't have my wings and my halo on yet." You smoothed the white material of your dress down, smoothing out a wrinkle.

"You don't have your dress on either, do you?" Eddie cooed, his tone soft and light. You almost missed his question.

"Yeah I do." You frowned, looking down at your dress. "This is what I'm wearing."

"Oh, baby," Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's cute, but you're not going out in that."

"Yes, I am." Your voice was fierce, already snapping with fight.

"C'mon," Eddie scoffed with a slight smirk, rolling his eyes lightly like you were so silly, like it was a teasing joke you were playing on him. "You're not wearin' that out, sweet thing. Especially not with me not around. Go on and change into something else."

"I'm not changing." You huffed, nose scrunching with annoyance. "I'm wearing this, and if you don't want me wearing it without you, then you should come. Like you said you would."

Eddie nodded slowly, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. "I told you, baby, I can't come tonight-"

"-You don't want to come tonight." You snapped. "There's a difference."

"Hm," Eddie hummed, exhaling slowly, eyes still on you so fiercely you were beginning to squirm.

"You said you would come, Ed." Your voice teetered off into a whine, turning to him with pleading eyes.

The same fight you'd had for the past week, since Eddie pulled out of going to Nancy and Jonathan's Halloween party with you, claiming he was "too busy". You knew the truth. That he was uncomfortable being around your friends, people who might judge him, side eye him with fear when he came in.

"No one's going to care that you're there. You're coming with me." You pleaded, trying to rationalize with him.

"I told you, I'm busy." Eddie's tone clipped with harshness, eyes scanning over your frame.

Your lips pressed together, arms crossing over your chest in fury. "Fine." You snapped. "But I'm not changing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." You growled. "I like what I'm wearing, and I think other people will like it too." It was a low blow, one that you knew was risky, might send Eddie over the edge and break his calm exterior- which was exactly what you wanted.

He knew that, which is why he swallowed back the commanding bark in his throat, though you didn't miss the way his nostrils flared.

Nails tapping against your folded arms, your lips twisted. "I thought you'd like what I had on, too." Your tone was still harsh, but filled with an edge of a sultry purr at the end, hands sliding down your hips suggestively. "I thought you liked it when I dressed up for you."

You were definitely playing dirty now, you both knew it. But Eddie allowed it, allowed you to walk towards him, straddling his lap, legs spread and on either side of his spread thighs so your dress rode up, exposing the tiny, lacy white g-string underneath.

"Thought you liked it when I wore a little costume, hm?" Your nose was brushing his, lips tickling when they ghosted over his.

His jaw clenched to keep himself from breaking, to keep from kissing you and pinning you to the mattress, fucking you until you were a pliant mess under him, knees knocking when you walked afterwards, still leaking him down your thighs.

"I do like it." Eddie's voice was strained, swallowing back a flustered shake. "Love it when you dress up f'me, you know that."

You hummed, soft and airy, your hands wrapped around his neck, nails raking over his skin. "So come with me tonight. See me all dressed up." Your lips brushed over his, just light enough to drive him wild, have his hands twitching.

"You don't even have to dress up, Ed. Just come with me." You grinned, nipping at his bottom lip, smug at how his breath hitched. "I'll be dressed up enough for the both of us."

"Not in that dress, you won't." Eddie's eyes met yours, hard with challenge. "Told you, you're not wearing that dress out."

You blinked at him, scoffing before pushing back, sitting back on the tops of his thighs. Eddie couldn't help but look under your parted legs, lacy panties fully on display and barely covering your slit.

"Yeah? You won't be there to stop me from wearing it." You snarled, pulling your legs down onto the red carpet beneath you with a stomp.

"I'll wear whatever I want." You growled, standing between Eddie's legs, pushing the dress back down and into place, smoothing out the wrinkles. Your gaze met his, eyes narrowed with anger, a gentle snarl on your lips that told him your were about to say something mean.

"Maybe I'll find someone there who actually appreciates my costume." You turned with a scoff, barely stepping out from between Eddie's legs before a strong hand caught your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

A gasp tore from your chest, shocking realization flooding your system as Eddie hauled you over his knee, pinning each of your wrists to the small of your with his hand effortlessly.

"Wait! Wait! Eddie-" You squirmed frantically, trying to loosen his grip while he wasted no time shoving your dress up, leaving you bare in your tiny panties.

"Wait, no, I-I'll change, Ed. I was just- oh!" You squealed at the impact, his hand leaving a stinging impact on your left ass cheek.

Eddie didn't lecture you, didn't coo at you until you were sniffly and babbling while he spanked you. Instead, he stayed silent. delivering thundering hits to your backside, heavily focusing on the underside where your thighs met your ass- where he knew people could see the lasting handprints in your dress. It was calculated and mean, left your sniffling and wailing with each hit, shamelessly soaked and grinding onto his leg.

"I'll change! I'll change my outfit!" You wailed, hips lifting and thrashing to the right, trying to twist and avoid his burning assault on your ass.

"Stop it, Ed! I said I'll change!" You huffed, stomping your foot onto the ground, bratty and demanding. Eddie's cock strained behind his dress pants at the sound, delivering another hard spank to the center of your ass, that echoed through the room with a resounding clap.

"Stooop!" You whined, high pitched and nasally, wriggling in his grip. "You're gonna r-ruin my makeup!" You could feel the prickling of a sob threatening to take over, a floodgate that would be much worse than the few tears that had already slipped out.

"I'll be good! I'll change my dress! Ok? I will, Ed!" You howled at the next two blows, leaving your spine arching, lifting off the silk sheets.

"Look at me." Eddie finally spoke in a gravelly growl, his free hand catching your jaw, holding you up to look at him. Your eyes shifted to his, blinking back tears and fighting back wet, pitiful sniffles.

"You gonna listen to me now? Ready to be good for me?" Eddie's voice still wasn't in it's usual coo, but softer than before, leaving your lip wobbling.

"Yes," Your voice squeaked, teary though you tried to fight it.

"What do you say to Daddy?" Eddie lifted a brow, sternness still in his features. "For being so mean before, what do you say? Hm? What do good girls say when they've been mean and bad?"

"'M sorry." You muttered, eyes dropping from his gaze with bashful shame.

"Look at me." Eddie growled, hand tightening around your jaw lightly. "You know better. Need me to take you in the office, hm? Go get the paddle?"

"No," You tried to shake your head, stiffened by his grasp.

"Then what do you say? Let me hear you, loud and clear. And you better keep those eyes on me when you say it. You know how you're supposed to do it." Eddie's voice was harsh, enough to leave you shaking with fear and pleasure, throbbing between your legs. He didn't miss the way your hips rocked down on his leg when he spoke to you.

"I-I'm sorry." Your pitch raised, voice wobbling when you spoke up, your eyes locked on his. "I won't be mean anymore, Daddy. I'll be good. I-I promise."

Eddie hummed, satisfied, his grip loosening on your cheeks, letting go of your hands. Your arms ached, wrist rubbed sore from the chafing of skin on skin. Eddie settled you back, perched on the edge of his thigh, fighting back a grin when you hissed at your raw backside touching his pants.

"That's a good girl. That's my good girl." Eddie cooed softly, pulling you into his chest, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. "You know I hate having to be mean to you like that, but you have to listen to my rules, baby."

"I-I know." Your hiccupy voice was soft, chest heaving with a cry you were still trying to swallow. "I just... I really want you to come with me tonight, Ed." You squeaked, tilting your head back to look at him.

"I know you don't want to, but... it would mean a lot to me if you did." You whispered, fingers nervously toying with the edge of his shirt. "I just want to be with you and my friends. I don't-I don't like it having to be separate all the time. I just want one night where- where it feels normal."

Eddie's chest ached, pulling you closer to him. He was going soft, he was sure of it. Soft and ruined completely by you- not that he minded.

"I'll go with you tonight." Eddie hesitated, eyes flickering down to yours carefully, watching yours fill with excitement, lighting up at his words. "But, I'm having Gareth and Max wait outside. In case any shit happens-"

"-It won't-"

"-Just incase." Eddie cut you off, giving you a pointed look that had you nodding, curling back into his hold. "And, you're still changing."

You bit back a smile, nodding. "Yeah, probably can't wear this now." You giggled lightly. "Kinda ruined it."

"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't ruined it yet." Eddie grinned, hand squeezing your waist just to hear you squeal before he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you.

"I do like this costume." His lips hovered over yours, curls from his bangs tickling your own forehead, leaving you squirming.

"But I think I want it," His lips pressed to yours, a full kiss that lasted far too shortly for your liking, eyes barely closing in pleasure before he pulled back.

"All," Kiss.

"To," Kiss.

"Myself."

You whined into his mouth, his thigh strategically moving between your legs, bumping with your clothed pussy, teasingly.

"You think you can do that for me?" Eddie's breath ghosted over your lips, dragging over your cheek, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Think this can be just f'me, baby?"

"Mm-hmm." You whimpered, hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him back towards you, closer and closer. "Just for you."

"Just for me." Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing barely, leaving you jumping with excitement.

"You do look so pretty though. My pretty girl, always." Eddie praised softly, pushing off the mattress to look at you fully. You whined, fist balling around his shirt, trying to keep him close, flush to you.

Eddie batted them away gently, his hands sliding down your frame to your legs, wrapped around his waist, spreading them gently. "I do think you should keep on these," Eddie rasped, finger tracing over your clothed slit, down the seam of your panties while you arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Please, Ed, please." You begged, mind already spacing with needy pleasure.

"Shh, I got you, baby. I'll take care of you." Eddie soothed you gently, hands cupping under your knees, pushing your thighs back to your chest. "I've got you, sweet thing. Just hold your legs up f'me. Can you do that?"

You nodded eagerly, shaking hands grabbing at your kneecaps, jerking them towards your chest in a tight grip. Eddie grinned, sliding down your frame, knees sinking into the carpet. "Good girl." Eddie growled, hands on your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed, grinning at how you gasped.

His fingers ghosted over your slit again, pressing in and giving a gentle, teasing rub over your aching clit that had you crying out, nails digging into your skin before he finally hooked your panties to the side. Tongue tracing down one lip, down the other, then right to the middle, just a featherlight, teasing that had you squirming in frustration.

You were close to voicing your frustration, the whine caught in your throat when Eddie's face pressed into your cunt, nose brushing with your clit, tongue lapping at your folds. Your hands moved to his hair, pulling him in closer and closer, hips swiveling down, pressing further and further into him. He didn't stop until you were crying out, breathy and broken, babbling on and on, "'m gonna cum, E-Eddie, I'm- oh!" music to his ears.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, stilling himself when he filled you, stuffed full of his cock, grinning at the glassy, love stricken look in your eye. "You are an angel, hm? The prettiest fuckin' angel I've ever seen."

Nails sinking into the mattress, you balled the silk sheets in your hand as he started to move, slow but deep rolls of his hips into yours. "I-I don't have my wings on." You babbled brainlessly, mind spinning and reeling with pleasure. "O-Or my- oh! Right there, Ed- Or my halo."

"Don't need it." Eddie sucked a breath in between gritted teeth, his strokes coming faster now, sending your eyes rolling back.

"You're always an angel. Prettiest- fuck- prettiest angel in the world. My pretty angel." Eddie reached for your chin, grabbing it so you looked at him through fluttering lashes. "You're my pretty girl. You know that? You know it, don't you, baby?"

"Ye-Yes." You clenched at his words, and for a moment, he saw stars, letting out a deep groan of pleasure.

"Let me hear you." Eddie's grip tightened around your jaw. "I wanna hear you say it. Say you're my pretty girl."

"I-I'm yours, Ed." Your head tilted back, tummy tightening as you teetered closer and closer to your orgasm.

The small slap to your cheek had you gasping, attention pulled back to Eddie. His brows furrowed, lips in a tight, concentrated line. "That's not what I said." Eddie shook his head. "Thought you were gonna listen to Daddy?"

"I-I am." You whined, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling Eddie in closer to you.

"Then do what I said." Eddie tilted his head towards you, looking down the slope of his nose at you. "Say it. I wanna hear you."

You bit back a whimper, gasping at a particularly perfect stroke that had your vision blurring. "I-I'm you're pretty girl."

"Who's pretty girl?" Eddie coaxed, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. His breath ragged, chest starting to heave- you knew he was close too.

"Y-Yours." You choked out, tears of pleasure brimming your waterline.

"That's right." Eddie growled, folding himself over top of you, lips catching yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slid between your bodies, circling your clit just right until you were writhing, scratching down his skin as you came undone, his own release following shortly after.

You were late to the party.

Not that either of you minded, really. And it wasn't like anyone there dared to say anything either. Even Nancy, who just gave you a wide smile when she opened the door.

"You made it!" She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry. We had to take the dogs out." You lied easily, eyes cutting over to Eddie's with a small smile.

Nancy's brow raised gently, though she said nothing. "H-Hey, Eddie." You didn't miss the way her grip tightened on the door, opening it wider so you two could walk in. "Glad you could come."

"Yeah. Thanks for havin' me." Eddie nodded, stiff with an unusual uncomfortableness. He felt awkward being in his street clothes- ripped jeans and chains, a band tee (a Dio shirt you claimed would be perfect- "a devil and an angel!"), instead of the usual designer wear he'd grown so accustomed to. He felt truly back in high school, just as nervous as he was then.

Your hand slid down the leather of his jacket, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Um, well, drinks and snacks are in the kitchen- you know where the kitchen is." Nancy looked at you with a nod, the music growing louder and louder as soon as you entered the house.

You followed her through the house, passing by the numerous people, ignoring how they'd stop, still, eyes wide and stare when Eddie passed, whispering in shushed tones behind your back.

"Help yourself to whatever." Nancy smiled, motioning to the array of alcohol. "I got you Bacardi Breezers, a whole pack." She gave you a teasing smile.

You laughed back, shaking your head, giving a slight shiver. "Oh, great. It'll be just like senior year all over again." You smirked. Eddie's interest piqued, though he kept his gaze nonchalant, scanning the room, making a mental note to ask you about that later.

"I'm gonna go make sure no one's broke anything, but I'll be right back." Nancy nodded, giving your arms a gentle squeeze, before shimmying through the crowds of people.

"You want anything?" You asked, reaching for the colorful glass bottle out of the pack.

"No." Eddie shook his head.

"Not even a beer?" You lifted a brow, turning back to him. "They have Miller."

"I'm good, baby." Eddie nodded sweetly, eyes catching with a guy who was staring, narrowing his gaze just barely before he looked aways. "You get whatever you want."

You looked over at him, twisting the bottle in your hand. "Can you open this?"

Eddie obliged, of course, cracking it on his belt buckle- a trick he learned from years ago, from when he still saw half of these people every day in the hell that was high school.

You took him to the living room, finding a corner tucked away from the beer pong set up in the middle, the people drunkenly dancing and chatting.

Eddie sat down in the small arm chair, hand around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You hissed, face crumpling for a moment, wiggling to a comfortable spot.

"You hurting?" Eddie frowned, head ducking towards you.

"No, I just forgot." You muttered, bashfully. "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?" Eddie lifted a brow.

"You know I would." You smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I think I like this dress better." You looked down at the long, silk, white dress you'd swapped the other out for. "Looks more angelic."

"Anything you put on looks angelic, baby." Eddie grinned playfully, positively sweet and silly. His face fell after a moment, scanning the room, looking to make sure no one was watching- he couldn't dare have someone see him like this, boyish and silly and so, so in love.

You giggled, pressing the bottle to your lips, taking a quick swig. "Thank you for coming with me." You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the feathers of your halo headpiece tickling chin.

"C'mon," Eddie muttered lightly, squeezing your hip. "Do anything for you, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie nodded, looking down at you. "You've ruined me. Made me soft."

You giggled, pulling back to look at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"For you? No." Eddie grinned softly. "Best thing that's ever happened to me. You know that."

You beamed under his praise, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into a sloppy make out right there in the corner of the party, and Eddie felt like he was sixteen again.

"You're so sweet." You hummed, starry eyed and airy when you pulled apart. "So good to me."

"You deserve it." Eddie muttered, cheeks pricking with a heat he couldn't fight off. "Plus, this isn't all bad. Better than I thought it would be." He looked around the room. You both seemed to blend in, get lost in the crowd now, everyone else doing their own thing while you watched.

"Really?" You grinned widely. "Told you it would be fun."

"Yeah, you were right." Eddie nodded, eyes rolling down your frame. "Plus you were right, I do love to see you in a costume." He growled, leaving you squealing with giggles.

[fuctacles]

More of this

Eddie almost falls off his bed with how hard he's craning his neck to observe his uncle. It seems like he's getting ready to go somewhere, but it's kind of early for a boys' night and--

And he just pulled on his good flannel.

Eddie makes a manouver between falling and rolling off his mattress and nonchalantly leans against his doorframe. His flushed cheeks and askew hair probably ruin it but hopefully Wayne will think he was just jerking off.

"Going out?" he asks.

Wayne grumbles out an affirmative, not looking away from the mirror.

He never looks in the mirror. But now he's fixing his collar and inspecting his beard.

"Where?"

"Springsteen concert."

Eddie frowns.

"Why don't I known about this?"

"Well, firstly because I'm an adult and don't have to tell you." Wayne's reflection raises his eyebrows at him. "Secondly, it's a last minute thing. Jake couldn't go so he offered the tickets for taking his weekend shift."

Eddie nods.

"You said tickets. Who are you going with?"

Wayne sends him his best poker face and doesn't say a word. But he reaches for his special occasion cologne, and Eddie perks up.

"Is it a date?" He grins, and Wayne scoffs.

"No."

There's a knock at the door and Eddie swiftly puts himself between them and his uncle, even though the man doesn't make a move to open.

"Is that her?" He teases, walking backwards.

"No."

Eddie gasps.

"Him?" he grins, before turning to open the door.

"NO."

On the other side stands Steve Harrington. In a white, snug polo, and the army jacket. There's chest hair peeking from the unbuttoned collar. A perfect dad-fucking outfit.

He sends Eddie a warm smile.

"Hi, E--"

"No." Eddie slams the door in his face. Behind him, Wayne sighs.

"No." He turns to face his uncle, arms crossed. "No. Why? No." His brain is stuttering and his tongue is apparently following its lead.

"Everyone else is working." Wayne shrugs.

"I'm not!" Eddie motions to himself.

"You wanna go see Bruce Springsteen?" His uncle cocks his eyebrow pointedly.

"Fuck no," Eddie scowls, recrossing his arms.

"And Steve likes him. A no-brainer if you ask me," Wayne shrugs. "Now open the door."

Eddie just gapes at him.

"No! You said you won't fuck him!" He hisses, barely lowering his volume.

"And I stand by it."

"Does he? Did you see what he's wearing?!"

"Kinda didn't give me a chance, kid." Wayne tries to maneuver around him but as Eddie keeps blocking hum, he sighs. "Listen, if it really bothers you that much, I won't go. I can say I have a headache or something."

"You can't stand him up!" Eddie bristles immediately.

"You can go in my place," Wayne offers with a shrug.

As much as he'd love to hang out with his friend, the idea rubs him the wrong way, somehow. Steve clearly dressed up with one thing in mind, and that thing wasn't Eddie.

He scoffs, sidestepping away from the door.

"No way am I suffering through Springsteen. Just use protection," he grumbles, walking away.

"I always do!" Wayne yells after him as he opens the door.

concert

[secretlovezz]

----------♡

Eddie is the type of boyfriend who attempts to teach you guitar but he's the one getting distracted.

You sit in the space between his legs at the edge of the bed with the tip of your tongue sticking out the tiniest bit between the pout of your lips. The crease in the middle of your brows deepens in concentration and Eddie just absolutely loves it. His eyes can't seem to find a spot to focus on, darting from your eyes and lips, keeping a particular focus on your tongue every once in a while.

His hands are braced against your thighs, rough fingers digging into the coarse fabric of your jeans -though he wishes he was touching the softness of your skin- and his nose moves to not so subtly dig into the juncture of your shoulder.

You take a second to look at him and God does it feel good for him to know that even just looking at him removes the frustration from your face and replaces it with a warming smile.

"Y'know, you're supposed to actually teach me something right?" Your smile turns into an almost devilish smirk and one of your brows cock up in a teasing manner.

Eddie only nuzzles his face deeper into you, loving the way you've started to smell like him the longer you're in his room. "You're distracting me," Your eyes roll at the way you can almost hear the faux sulk on his face.

Laughing you push his head away from you - he groans dramatically and throws himself back against the bed- and place the guitar gently against the floor, "How am I being distracting, I'm not even doing anything!" Eddie adores the giggles that escape you between words.

He scoffs like your words bring him offense, "Well maybe if you weren't so damn gorgeous I could focus better- ever thought about that?"

You roll your eyes again but you secretly find much delight in his theatrical personality.

You twist your body and move to straddle him taking pride in the way Eddie gulps, "Oh you're right," Your hand gently cups his cheek; he leans into the touch without much thought, "It's all my fault, isn't it, baby?"

He gulps again, "Mhm, yeah, all your fault."

[moonstruckme]

may i humbly request our lovely steddie with a carsick reader on a roadtrip. i imagine it’s eddies poor driving that sparks it and i could so picture steve and eddie bickering about it but still being very sweet to reader until she feels better

ily feel free to change what you want or not write it at all! thank you either way <3

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: nausea

poly!Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 771 words

Steve is on to you. Glancing at you at first in his visor mirror and then by turning around in his seat, an uneasy set to his brows. You try to focus on the A/C blowing on your knees via the small plastic vent. 

Eddie swerves into the next lane, and your throat tightens. 

“Hey,” Steve says to him, agitated, “take it easy.” 

“What?” 

“You’re driving like you’re trying to kill us.” 

“If I was trying to kill you, I’d have done it back in Iowa.” Eddie gives Steve’s leg a jostle, firm but fond. “And if you’re gonna be a backseat driver, I’ll put you in the backseat.” 

You aren’t looking, but he must be too distracted to notice the car in front of you slowing until it’s close. Your body rocks forward as he puts on the brakes. 

“I’m gonna open my window,” you say weakly. The windows in the front seat of Eddie’s van have hand cranks, but yours in the back only has a latching mechanism that allows it to open barely an inch. It’s enough for a concentrated stream of wind to hit your face if you lean your head against the glass. 

“Baby, on the highway?” Eddie asks over the whistling of air. 

“You’re making her sick,” Steve accuses. 

“I am not.” Eddie glances back at you. “Am I making you sick?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“Stop driving like a lunatic.” The range between the glare Steve pins Eddie with and the soft look he gives you is impressive. “Hey, try to look out the front window if you can, okay? Do you wanna switch seats?” 

“That’s okay.” You breathe in, focussing on the fresh air hitting your face. “I’m good.” 

“Is it the heat? Are you hot?” 

“She’s always hot,” says Eddie, earning him a shove. “Hey! No attacking the driver.” 

Steve frowns at you. “Do you want to stop? We can pull over for a while.” 

You shake your head, stopping when your nausea worsens. “It’ll pass.” 

“Okay. Look out the front window, honey.” 

You do. Eddie’s eyes continually dart to you in the rear view mirror. You meet them once, and he pouts. 

“You want some of my coke?” he offers. “It’s, uh, kind of warm, but…” 

“I’m okay.” You offer a wan smile. “Thanks.” 

Steve turns around again. “Are you sure you don’t want to pull over? We could use a stop anyway.” 

You lean into the wind blasting through your window, breathing deeply. “I’m fine.” 

Five minutes later finds you sitting on the curb of a gas station with your head to your knees. 

Eddie lifts your hair. The sun beating down on your neck is worth it for the cooling power of the breeze. He’s asked how you’re feeling about every ten seconds since you exited the highway. You’ve stopped answering in anything but hums and grunts. 

The crisp sound of a soda can opening is about the best thing you’ve heard all day. 

“Here.” Steve sits on your other side. “See if this helps.” 

Beads of condensation roll off the can of ginger ale, wetting both Steve’s palm and yours when you take it. You tilt your chin up to take a sharp, fizzy sip. 

Eddie grins when you exhale. 

“Good stuff, huh?” he asks hopefully. 

“It helps,” you agree. 

“I think we should wait a while before getting back on the road,” says Steve. “But when we do, I’m driving.” 

“Uh.” Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “No, you are not.” 

Steve gives him an unamused look. He mimics Eddie’s intonation. “Yeah, I am.” 

“No! It’s Eddie’s Van Halen. Eddie drives.” 

“Oh, grow up. We were going to have to switch out at some point between here and California.” 

“I don’t know what you were thinking, but I have a twelve-pack of Jolts in the back. I can go all night.” 

“Perfect, that sounds super safe. It was your driving that got her carsick in the first place.” 

Something dangerously close to contrition flashes across Eddie’s expression as he looks to you. 

You give him a sorry smile. “I’m feeling a lot better now.” 

His mouth tilts. “Yeah? Glad to hear it, beautiful. Hey, maybe when we hit the road again we can try something new. Obviously you’re a better candidate for the passenger seat than Stevie here, so you can play DJ.” He waggles his eyebrows. “We have an array of music in Eddie’s Van Halen, with vocal accompaniment by yours truly.” 

Steve huffs, an eye roll in audible form. 

Before they can start bickering again, you say, “Yeah, sure. A distraction might help.”  

Eddie grins. “That’s my girl.”

[fearlessreid]

not a lot, just forever

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

summary: domestic mornings with eddie and your two daughters

warnings: eddies a fucking simp and needs to get a grip. tooth rotting fluff you’ll die from (also i’m ovulating so this is the result of that)

word count: 1k

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

It’s one of those sunday mornings peace floods through you and the domestic life you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a dream anymore and everything feels perfectly in sync. I stand at the stove, making eggs and bacon for the family. The quiet hum of the house, punctuated only by the sound of tiny feet pattering on the hardwood floor, settles me into a peaceful rhythm.

I hear Eddie before I see him, his voice a low murmur as he whispers to our daughters. “Come on, Elvira, Lilah, let’s go see Mommy!”

The girls’ giggles make my heart swell, and I can’t help but smile. Their little voices always manage to fill the house with a warmth I never thought possible. Elvira, or Ellie as we call her, is the older of the two at age 3 with her dad’s unruly curls and a wild spirit to match. Delilah, or Lilah, our 1 and a half year old, on the other hand, is the quieter one, her eyes a little more thoughtful, always watching, always listening.

Eddie walks into the kitchen, a grin stretching across his face. He’s holding both girls, one on each hip, and they’re clinging to him like little koalas. His eyes are locked on me, the affection in them so strong it’s almost overwhelming. “Morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice dripping with adoration as if he hasn’t seen me in years instead of just a few hours.

I chuckle, flipping the pancakes one more time before setting them on a plate. “Morning, rockstar. Got the girls up early again?”

He shrugs, but it’s the playful kind of shrug—the one he knows drives me crazy. “What can I say? They wanted to see their favorite person in the whole world.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s true. He’s always been this way, always putting me on a pedestal, treating me like I’m the most important person in his world. It’s something I never expected, but something I’ve come to cherish deeply. Eddie worships me in a way that makes my chest ache with love, and the way he looks at me now like I’m his whole universe,just reinforces everything I’ve ever known about him.

Lilah squints at me, her small hands still gripping Eddie’s shirt as she lets out a soft whimper. “Mama?”

I bend down to meet her at eye level, smiling warmly. “Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong?”

She just stares at me for a moment before reaching for me with a pout. “Want mama” she says simply.

I don’t hesitate. I reach out and pull her into my arms, kissing her head as she snuggles into me. “I’ve got you, sweet girl. Don’t worry.”

Ellie, always the confident one, giggles and wiggles out of Eddie’s hold, running to the table where the pancakes are piled high. “Pancakes!” she exclaims, her voice full of excitement as she grabs the syrup. Eddie and I exchange a glance, and both of us can’t help but smile at the sight of her already so independent, so full of energy.

“You’re a good dad,” I say softly, my eyes lingering on him as he watches our girls.

He looks back at me, that same look of utter devotion on his face. “You make it easy,” he murmurs, walking over to wrap his arms around me from behind. “You’re the glue that holds this whole family together. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I rest my head against his chest, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint trace of coffee. “You say that every day, Eddie.”

“I mean it every day, sweetheart.”

His words settle in my chest like a warm blanket, making everything feel right in the world. He’s right. I am the glue. But it’s not because I’m perfect. It’s because we’re perfect together, each of us complementing the other in ways we never would have imagined.

I glance down at Lilah, who’s now happily munching on a pancake in my arms, and then at Ellie, who’s happily drowning her stack in syrup. Eddie squeezes me tighter, his lips grazing my ear.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he says softly, his breath warm against my skin. “I look at you, and I swear I fall in love with you all over again every single day. You’re so… you’re everything to me.”

“I’m everything to you?” I tease, turning slightly to meet his gaze.

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, you and the girls. But mostly you.” he jokes

I roll my eyes, but there’s no hiding the affection in my smile. “You’re a dork.”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to my cheek, then whispers, “Your dork.”

It’s not just the words; it’s the way he says them. The tenderness, the raw love that pours through his every movement. I don’t think he’ll ever stop worshipping me the way he does. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love you,” I say, my voice low, full of sincerity.

Eddie’s smile widens, and he leans down to kiss me gently, lingering, full of everything I can’t quite put into words.

“I love you more,” he replies, pulling away just enough to glance at our girls. “And I love them, too. Every single part of this is… perfect.”

As I look at the family we’ve built together, I can’t help but agree. It’s not just perfect. It’s everything I ever wanted and more. And it’s all because of Eddie. The man who worships me. The man who is my everything.

And as the girls continue to giggle and clamor for more pancakes, I know that no matter how crazy or chaotic life gets, we’ll always be this: a little family, full of love, laughter, and a father who can’t help but adore the ground I walk on. little does he know, little munson number 3 was about to be known.

[chelseeebe]

too sweet (for me)

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of violence and drugs. eddie is a dick but not when it comes to r <333 :} female!reader

eddie munson had been hardened by life. how could one night possibly demolish all of the walls he had spent so long building?

a/n: sorry for being mia again lol i am trying i swear!! i have another eddie fic coming that i love and probably the other parts to the steve zombie au! i’m usually never busy but these last few weeks have been wild

read part two here.

the club is too loud, too busy and too sweaty. eddie wasn’t a fan, never had been.

he squeezes past the crowd, grumbling to himself as he goes. eddie preferred to be in bed by three. his mom was very spiritual and had drilled into him that nothing good could come out of being awake at the witching hour.

something or someone knocks into him, or vice versa, he can’t really tell. it’s too dark and he’s had too much to even really care.

“watch it,” you snap, twisting around to send the dirtiest glare.

“what the fuck? you bumped into me,” he shouts over the loud thumping beat. immediately wishing he could swallow his words, noticing your eyes narrow, sizing him up. you’re the prettiest girl in this place, the only one he’s even looked at twice and now you hated him.

“whatever asshole,” you snarl, before continuing your way to the busy bar.

eddie hesitates for a moment before shoving through the path you’d made, angering another ten people on his way. he didn’t care, that couldn’t be your only impression of him.

he catches up, squeezing into the tiny space next to you, leaning against the sticky marble as you wait patiently.

his hand brushes your arm, earning another sly glance, face screwing up as you realise he’d tailed you to the bar.

“sorry,” he starts, not giving you the opportunity to tell him to fuck off first. “i wanted to apologise.. i was rude,” tongue resting on his bottom lip, appreciating the new found lighting and how it made you glow.

“you were,” smiling pointedly, eyes trailing down his chest, “but you can buy me a drink to make up for it.”

eddie stares, mouth agape at your brutal, up-front attitude before it turns to a tiny smirk, “i think that’s fair,” honestly he admired it. the only girl in here worth a second glance.

“vodka,” you add, making room for him to order.

he takes one last admiring look at you before turning to the bartender.

you tunnel your way back through the crowd, your friends long gone by now. eddie didn’t mind keeping you company, not one bit.

his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you gently back towards him. rightfully earning another scathing glare as you stop, inches in front of him.

“you’re not gonna even tell me your name?” he leans in, smirking as he does.

your lips brush against his ear, name soft as silk as you mutter into his hair. it sends shivers down his spine, wanting your lips on his ear and his neck.

“eddie,” he replies, resting his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close in the packed club.

“are you a dancer, eddie?” the way his name rolls off of your tongue makes him unfathomably crazy.

“not really,” he mumbles, tongue poking out of his lips.

“too bad,” your smirk, pulling towards the bustling dance floor before he can argue against it.

he didn’t like clubbing nor dancing but if you insist, he couldn’t say no.

the music ripples around him, hazy when all he can focus on is you and the way your hips twist in time to the beat. you’re not even trying and yet he’s completely encapsulated by your body.

there’s an attempt at dancing along with you, though he’s not any good. itching to just place his hands on your waist and let you guide him.

the purple light catches your eye as you move closer, eddie’s eyes latched onto you the entire time.

“you’re really not a dancer, are ya’?” you lean in to whisper.

“can’t help it, i’m distracted,” he purrs, daring to place his hand on the small of your back.

you purse your lips, keeping whatever snarky comment to yourself.

fuck it.

“d’you wanna get out of here?” eddie asks, “i know a place.”

your brow quirks, “hm? how do i know you won’t kidnap me?”

he tilts his head, meeting your eye, “you’ll just have to trust me,” offering his hand for you to take, eager to get you out of this club.

really, he’d go anywhere if it meant he could look at you properly without getting elbowed in the back by sweaty drunks.

you hesitate for a split second, which he supposes is fair, before placing your hand in his, permission to lead you from the dance floor and out into the chilly night.

your arms wrap around yourself, shivering in the cold.

eddie doesn’t hesitate, taking his jacket off and placing it around your shoulders. “it’s not far from here.. we can walk?”

your eyes narrow once more, pulling his jacket tighter, “lead the way, eddie.”

he knows you’re trying to taunt him, maybe rile him up a little and by god is it working. taking your hand once more as you start the walk to his apartment, anticipating coursing through his veins.

-

the elevator ride up to his floor is hell, fingers twitching to touch you. he’d do it too, if you were alone. plagued with one of his neighbours just trying to get home as you hang off of his arm.

eddie’s thankful his floor is first, losing the will to not just grab you right then and there.

your mouth falls open, eyes flitting around the apartment he definitely didn’t pay someone else to decorate for him.

“you live here?”

eddie didn’t grow up around money. he lived in a trailer for most of his life, cramped into the tiny home with his uncle in some dead end town until he finally found the nerve to move himself to chicago.

there were dreams of a music career that wilted away pretty quickly after he realised that there were a hundred and one other screwed up teens just like him, all wanting the same thing.

selling drugs wasn’t exactly his chosen path but he’d sold a little weed in high school and found he wasn’t awful at it and now here he was.

with more money than he knew what to do with and a reputation for being a hard ass.

he doesn’t entertain your amazement, sidling over to you with his hands already finding their place to your waist.

“the bedroom’s even better,” eddie smirks, feeling your fingers twist around his t-shirt.

“go ‘head,” half-smile on your pretty lips.

your body brushes against his as you trail behind, not wanting to waste another second. he hasn’t even kissed you yet, has no idea how addicting you’ll taste, the slight hint of vanilla in your smudged lipgloss.

expertly twisting you around, stumbling over just slightly before he catches you, planting his lips on yours, manoeuvring your entwined bodies around the darkened room.

he’s done this dance a hundred times, but something about you feels different. you’re mailable, trusting in his hands to guide you to the bed while your hands sit atop his shoulders.

falling back onto the mattress, tugging him down atop of your body, fingers clawing at his collar while his hands roam your body, grabbing at your hips and waist.

eddie haphazardly reaches for the lamp, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment before the orange hue fills the room.

you groan in response, sprawled out on the mattress underneath him.

“i wanna see you,” he remarks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before he kisses you properly again. a full battle between teeth and tongues, barely catching against one another, lips wet with each other.

you sigh softly into his mouth when his hand travels beneath your dress, sliding between your aching thighs, panties already wet and begging to be torn off.

he doesn’t though, wanting to draw this out just a tiny bit longer, removing his fingers from your heat to toy with the hem of your dress.

“fuck,” you gasp, breaking away from his lips, “don’t be mean,” swollen bottom lip jutting out to make it all that much worse.

“okay,” eddie laughs quietly, “i’m done,” sticking to his word as your dress comes down in one rough tug, grunting as he does so.

he sits up on his knees, admiring the sight of your quivering body below. “worth it,” he remarks, tearing off his own t-shirt, and launching it across the room somewhere.

his jeans are next, shaking them off of his leg as they land on the floor with a soft thud.

your hand instinctively covers your chest, shying away from his hungry gaze.

“nuhuh,” eddie bites, pulling your arm away, pinning it underneath his as he comes back to your level, hovering just above. “don’t do that.”

you blink, pulling him closer with your free hand. the cat and mouse routine had been going on far too long, even for him. feeling your heat against his cock, almost painful to the touch as it strains his boxers.

“well if you hurried up..” you start, tilting your chin towards him with a tiny smirk.

eddie laughs loudly, yanking your panties down abruptly, “alright sweetheart, i hear ya,” returning his hand to between your thighs, spreading you open with his middle finger before sliding the digit in.

you huff in response, mouth falling open as that melodic tone he’s been waiting for falls from your lips, dancing around his ears.

your head falls back against the soft pillow, opening your legs further as he shifts fully in between, biting down onto his bottom lip.

“that better?” pumping his finger between your slick folds, your breath quivering with every move.

you nod quickly, readjusting your grip on his shoulder, taking a deep breath when his thumb finds your clit.

he can’t hold off any longer, pulling his fingers out and tugging his boxers down, cock springing up against his stomach.

“mhm,” he groans, teasing your sopping cunt with the tip of his already leaking cock, lapping up every last whine of appreciation you let slip.

eddie slides in, staggered breaths as he pauses, adjusting his position to allow his hand to find your hand, fingers intertwining while you huff into his ear.

“shit,” he utters, slowly thrusting his hips, gripping your hand tighter, pressing you into the mattress.

he wouldn’t have fucked around so much if he knew this is what you’d feel like.

your thighs squeeze around his waist, the soft skin encasing him. goading him on with your sweet breathless whines, repeating his name like gospel.

working his way to the hilt, debating why he could just sit there for a while with his cock buried deep inside of you or not.

your fingers twist around his curls, gently tugging on the messy mop atop of his head.

whimpering into the tiny shared space between your faces, your eyes fighting to stay open. cheeks warm and flushed, incoherent babbling trailing from your mouth.

“you.. you feel fuckin’ insane,” eddie growls, wishing he could swallow that familiar twist in his stomach, keep this going forever and ever.

the air is warm, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the room as you desperately move your hips against his. loosely connecting your lips in a hazy kiss, he can feel you tighten around him, whimpers strained and needy as you near your orgasm.

“ahh fuck,” eddie mewls, burying his head into the delicate skin of your neck, leaving lazy kisses in the crook. hoping he can hold out for just a minute more while you tremble around him. coming undone right beneath his body.

you hum into his ear, running your fingers along his scalp, pulling gently on his hair.

eddie can’t stop himself any longer, pulling his cock out of your cunt before he cums, letting his release cover your thigh instead.

your nails continue to trace through his hair while his mouths babbles a bunch of nonsensical bullshit into your neck, surely condemned by a life in hell for the blasphemous shit he was saying.

coaxing his head out of the comfort of your skin to gaze into his tired eyes, your heartbeats coinciding with one another.

instead of saying anything, you grin, laughing quietly to yourself. eddie thinks you’re crazy and yet, he’s sure he might’ve just fallen in love.

-

eddie feels like a creep, watching as you sleep, your leg twisted somewhere between his making him terrified to even think about moving.

he doesn’t want to startle you, in fact he doesn’t really want this to end. he knows that once you wake, he’ll be lucky to see you again.

maintaining relationships wasn’t exactly a skill he possessed.

you stir sometime later, feeling your way up his chest as you come around. maybe you’d think he was a freak, maybe you’d regret it and decide to file a restraining order or something.

“morning,” you croak, lips plump with sleep, eyes barely open as they peep at the other side of the bed.

“hi,” wanting to cringe at his complete lack of charm.

“you talk in your sleep,” you say pointedly, shadows of a smile on your lips.

“oh really? what was i saying?”

you shrug, “something about a fire,” scrunching your nose up. idyllic as you bask in the morning light, a real picture of beauty.

“a fire? that’s weird, i was dreaming about you,” undecided whether it were too much too soon.

you curl away from him, shying into the pillow when a bang at the door interrupts everything, damn near rattling his entire apartment.

you look to him again, confusion threading your brows together, “who’s that?” worry seeping through your tone.

“i don’t know,” well, he had a pretty good idea of who it probably was and he most definitely didn’t want to deal with that right now.

they bang again, eddie unfurling his arm from your waist, “i’ll be two minutes,” frowning to himself as he pulls his boxers on.

as expected, gareth and jeff stand outside, gormless as their eyes fall to his bare legs.

“woah,” gareth exclaims, eyes wide.

“what d’you two want?”

“you not gonna invite us in?” jeff presses, still marvelling at his legs.

“no.”

“why?” gareth peers into the apartment, “who’ve you got in there?”

“your mom,” eddie quips, “why are you here?”

the two idiots share a look, half-offended, half trying to figure out if eddie was telling the truth or not.

“well-“ they come closer, “we’ve got that shipment.. for the thing,” brows wiggling, “couple’a weeks and it’ll be in.”

this leads to eddie closing the door further round, in fear of you overhearing. he’s not sure how well received that’d be on your first morning together.

“shh,” he hisses, looking around the very empty corridor, “you couldn’t have told me this later?”

they shake their heads in unison, “murray said to let you know, no phones.. no paper trail.”

eddie searches both of their blank faces before nodding, “alright.. alright, you can go now.”

they oblige but not before jeff grabs his crotch, winking at eddie which makes him slightly uncomfortable and letting out an almost inaudible have fun before disappearing into the elevator.

the urge to knock their heads together had never been stronger, returning to his apartment to find you stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring at the pictures on his dresser.

“i used to be cute, right?” he knows exactly which one you’re looking at, startling at the sound of his voice.

you turn, still holding onto the frame, “is that your mom?”

“mhm,” he hums, taking the frame from your grasp, “she..” clearing his throat, “she died when i was younger,” tracing his thumb over the image of her crazy hair.

“oh,” you frown, looking at him with pitiful eyes, “i’m sorry.”

he shakes his head, hair falling out of the loose bun he’d thrown up, “don’t apologise,” placing the photo back in it’s rightful place, “she was sick,” turning to you with his half-moon eyes.

he wishes he hadn’t even said it, the look on your face was too woeful, especially after the large grin you’d had plastered on it just this morning.

eddie sniffs, jumping to action, “get dressed,” he practically orders, wanting nothing more than to change the subject, “we’re going out,” telling, rather than asking.

“where?”

he shrugs, opening the large closet which mostly consisted of plain black tees and his jeans.

“i don’t have any clothes.. or my toothbrush, give me an hour and-“

interrupted by a shirt flying over, just about catching it before it lands on the ground, “wear mine, there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,” eddie nods, sliding into his own clothes.

you stare dumbfounded at the cotton, before glancing back at him, “uh.. i don’t- what if people think..”

he turns, smile already peaking through, “if people think what? that we fucked? oh no,” riddled with sarcasm.

“you’re not funny,” you pout though you shimmy into the t-shirt, “i didn’t mean that i just..” trailing off into silence.

eddie’s eyes widen, something about seeing you in his shirt invigorated something within.

“don’t look at me like that,” shying away though there was really no need. he’d seen it all already.

“i can’t help it,” he remarks, standing wide-eyed.

your eyes roll in return, turning away to slip into his sweats though that makes everything worse. eddie instantly jumps to grab you, squeezing your arms against your sides, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you.

“maybe breakfast can wait,” growling into your ear, tripping over your legs as he barrels towards the bed.

-

eddie sighs, eyeing the seemingly stagnant clock on the dash. he knows you get off at three, toying with the idea of telling you he’s coming to get you or just turning up outside your building.

he figures he’s close enough that he won’t bother, shifting into drive. you’d only seen each other yesterday but he couldn’t get enough.

girls came and went in his life, never sticking around long enough for him to really get to know them. it felt different this time, he was itching to be with you, this constant need to be near you, with you. it scared him deep down, turning his stomach at the thought of someone actually meaning something to him.

he watches the door like a hawk, positioned outside so that you can’t possibly miss him.

it’s five after three by the time you emerge from the grand door, closely followed by who he assumes are your co-workers. eyes narrowing at the sight of the spindly guy following behind.

eddie clocks the exact moment you spot him, ducking your head as you break away from the group and slide into the passenger seat.

“what’re you doing here?” you flush, though your smile is evident, creeping onto his own face.

“i can’t come pick you up from work?”

you shrug, still coy as your co-workers dawdle, staring into the car with eager eyes.

“why’re you so shy all of a sudden? not even gonna kiss me?” eddie teases, feeling the eyes of your colleagues hot on his face.

“shut up,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

he takes this as a challenge, leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to yours, waiting for your approval before embarrassing you any further.

your lips lock onto his before he can think about it, deciding to turn the innocent kiss into what he can only describe as a sloppy, over exaggerated makeout session. something similar to his first attempts at kissing.

you pull back, groaning in disgust, averting your eyes from the nosy gaggle of colleagues that still stood gawping.

mission accomplished.

eddie grins before speeding away, not bothering to acknowledge them another time.

you want to be annoyed, eddie can tell. tutting in your seat as if you didn’t enjoy that just as much as he did.

“who was that? your boyfriend?” only half-joking.

there’s another sigh, “i wish,” as you mess around with the dials on the dash.

eddie would normally smack your hand away but for you, he couldn’t.

an absolute sucker for the way your fingers danced around the tortoise shell interior, making yourself comfortable in his car like you should.

-

“you’ve never been to brunch?” you fret, looking at him with pure amazement over the table.

“no,” eddie chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, “why would i?”

“why wouldn’t you?” smiling wide.

there’s been a lot of firsts for eddie these past few weeks.

you’d dragged him for a walk around the park in front of his complex, perplexed that he’d never even bothered. he’d been into a florist for the first time, hand picking some overpriced bouquet just for you.

he shakes his head, shrugging. there wasn’t any time for brunch when you had to move kilos of cocaine for rich aristocrats.

“you don’t live,” you scoff, sipping on your 11am mimosa as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

it’s ridiculous how soft you make him feel. he’d do brunch in some gentrified neighbourhood every day if it meant you smiled at him like that.

everything about you is too sweet, your clothes, the perfume you doused yourself in, the lipstick stains you’d leave behind on shared cigarettes. even last week when you’d made him stop for some cat food for the tiny stray that hung around your garden. who does that?

“some of us have to work, sweetheart,” eddie teases, shuffling around on the far-too-fancy chair.

“i work,” you hit back, “only difference is that what i do, isn’t illegal,” whispering the last part of your sentence, smug as you take a drink.

he looks on in pure awe. the fact that you could speak to him like that and yet still end up his favourite person was a miracle in and of itself.

“d’you want me to pay for your fuckin’ brunch or not?”

“i can pay f’myself,” you huff.

“but i don’t want you to.”

your eyes glint, pursing your lips to the side, “i don’t want to either.”

-

eddie’s already trembling in the car, murray droning on about the importance of gloves next to him. this all seemed like a good idea a couple of weeks ago and now his stomach flipped with every turn.

that was before he had something to lose, before he met you.

maybe weeks of you loosening him up had ruined him. the soft life was a dream in comparison to this. the complete fear coursing through his veins was enough to make him never want to leave the serene calm of your arms ever again.

a couple of years ago he was just some kid selling weed to the losers that hung around the block and now he’s clutching a pistol, contemplating whether he’d survive if he just jumped out of the car.

murray wouldn’t let him. he’d find him, make him pay for being such a pussy.

eddie’s eyes fall shut, head lolling back against the seat, conjuring up images of you in his head. if he had to do it, he also had to make it out alive.

for you.

-

a ringing bellows through his head, fumbling with the keys as his fingers shake.

he couldn’t remember if you were at work tonight, hoping you wouldn’t have to see this. get pulled into his ridiculous life.

eddie stumbles through the door, making a beeline for the bathroom when your voice calls out from the kitchen.

“eds?”

choosing to ignore it, focussed on the churning in his stomach and the need to empty whatever was rumbling around in there.

it all comes out into the toilet, heaving and retching as you round the corner completely perplexed by whatever was going on.

he’s slumped on the cold floor, gasping for air when you speak, “eddie?” terror in your voice.

“what happened?”

eddie barely looks up, focused on not throwing up again. he can’t explain it, there’s no words to tell you what happened without incriminating himself.

your eyes fall to the red splatters on his shirt, the cuts that littered his knuckles and the purple hue that had started taking over his cheek.

any idiot could put two and two together.

he’s been cryptic about what he does for work, never saying too much but just enough for you to understand. he didn’t want to tell you, to have to drag you into all this. that wasn’t fair.

for a moment, he thinks you’re about to run out of the door and never look back. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

instead, you take charge, stepping into the bathroom with your hands resting on your hips, “get up,” you order, tugging at his arm.

he doesn’t. still partially curled around the toilet bowl, confused about your attitude.

“i said get up,” barking again, holding onto his elbow with an iron clad grip.

eddie obliges this time around, shakily standing up. he feels like a child, waiting for you to tell him what to do, to make him feel normal again.

you pull him to the sink, running the warm water, scrubbing his hands with yours. the water runs a murky colour, red and brown alike.

“get under your nails,” you add, lathering the soap on his palms, laser focused on his hands rather than the sorry state that had overcome him.

he does as you ask, scrubbing under his nails. standing aloof when you turn the water off.

your hands find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, “off,” nodding towards his jeans.

it’s a little unsettling that you know exactly what to do, but eddie’s not complaining. grateful for your presence, for your forward thinking. who knows what he would’ve done if you weren’t here. he thinks he probably would’ve handed himself straight into the cops.

you hold a bag open for him, gesturing for his clothes to go in. “we’ll.. we can get rid of them tomorrow,” eventually meeting his eyes again.

he nods, allowing you to guide him through to his bedroom. pliable, completely at your mercy. if you told him that jumping off of bridge would help, he’d do it.

you dump the bag of evidence on the floor before pulling out a fresh shirt and sweatpants, flinging them on the bed.

“get dressed.. i’ll get you some water,” before flouncing out of the room.

eddie hated himself for dragging you into his life like this. it was always supposed to be something separate, something isolated from your relationship.

he’s barely dressed by the time you return, feeling like a pitiful mess. if the look on your face were anything to go by, he looked like it too.

“eddie,” you begin, that same sad tone you’d had when he told you about his mom, “i don’t..” stepping closer, “need to know what happened- i don’t really want to know either but.. you can’t let it fuck you up,” looking at him earnestly, which honestly hurts more.

he nods, “i know,” because he did. “i’m sorry for-,” he sighs, “for getting you involved, i never wanted you to see this.”

you respond by throwing your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his chest, “don’t.. don’t start with that.”

his chin finds the top of your head, nestling into your hair, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

it’s a nice type of silence, the air heavy with unspoken words but he thinks that’s okay.

you understand anyway.