#something was awoken in Eddie on this day

[biboomerangboi]

Eddie standing in Steve’s kitchen being mid conversation with Robin and just in general being in Steve’s way. Now normally Steve would just budge past him but with Eddie especially he’s worried about being a jock/bully and react like Steve’s shoving him. So Steve just puts his hands on Eddies waist and picks him up then plops him to side because that seems nicer, then just goes about getting stuff from the fridge. Meanwhile Eddie is bright red and having an error 404 message blaring in his brain.

[urhoneycombwitch]

roommate!Eddie Munson x roommate!Reader

foreword: have u ever had a buddy so good you jack off with him <3 roommate!Eddie x reader fic for ya. link to roommate!Eddie mlist here

cw: drug mention, R wears a bra, has breasts (implied to be large enough to “spill”) + V, no pronouns used only petnames, nipple play, R is queer (talks about Molly Ringwald in a sexual nature <3), praise kink, mutual masturbation, but as friends, we’re all normal here okay, we Do Not talk about our hidden feelings in this one soz

wc: 2.3k

___

An unfortunate shift of the pillows supporting your body pulls you from the depths of sleep, consciousness surfacing, breaching with a soft huffy groan. 

Waking up on a normal day is hard enough. Waking from a good dream, one where someone’s head was between your legs and everything was swelling lush with heat? Now that’s torture. 

You burrow the cold side of your face under the covers, eyes still screwed shut in defiance of being awoken before the dream could pay off. There’s a heartbeat pounding near the apex of your thighs; with one leg stretched out and the other draped around the curve of your body pillow, your hips roll forward automatically, seeking friction.

The soaked front of your underwear drags against the pillow’s seam, catching your clit on the next glide of your hips. Another soft moan, breath fanning from your parted lips. If you can stay in this grey area of sleep and waking, maybe the horniness will swallow your mind back to the dream…

When someone’s hand brushes your bare shoulder, your movements freeze. Goosebumps prickling in the palm-owner’s wake, you blink against the morning light pouring in through your bedroom window and try to orient yourself.

Your head is nestled in the curve of someone’s neck, left arm tucked secure around their chest. Leg hitched over their waist, cotton boxers band digging at the plush of your thigh- something else solid and warm trapped against their stomach.

A snuffle from your human body pillow, and the waking world hits you sideways, all at once- Eddie. You’d fallen asleep with Eddie last night, after helping him play-test a new hybrid strain and dancing to records all evening, until you both collapsed in a heap of giggles. In your bed. 

Which means that you’ve been humping Eddie’s leg in your sleep. And the thick length trapped under your thigh belongs to him, too. 

Before you can even fully process or think up an escape plan holding the least amount of embarrassment for you both, Eddie’s stretching the arm that isn’t cupping your shoulder up and out with a long yawn. 

His hips shift, pressing himself into your leg unintentionally, and you can feel the moan that rumbles through his body- at your ear, vibrating under your hand on his bare chest. Eddie mumbles something incoherent and sleep-addled, pulling you in closer, nosing at the crown of your head.

“Uh-” your voice comes out half-squeak, half-croak, not fully pushing off Eddie but keeping your frame tight enough to roll away at a moment’s notice. “H-hey.”

Eddie’s palm smooths down the plane of your upper back, stopping at the wide band of your bra. He makes another noise, this time a bit less sleepy- and then he, too, freezes, all those points of contact along the length of your own body stiffening, muscles tensed with realization. 

“Oh, fuck. Shit.”

Eddie’s voice is like rocks on pavement, three shades of gravelly, really not helping your whole ‘wet as a river’ situation, one that he can probably feel leaking onto his bare leg at this point. He doesn’t immediately roll away, though; he remains in that freeze-mode, tense and poised, holding you against the span of his side still.

Well. As frozen as one can be with a throbbing case of morning wood.

“I guess we… fell asleep,” you say, carefully, adopting the same cat-like stillness, the pause before a big leap. “Sorry-”

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. Jesus.” Eddie uses the hand that’s not cradling your shoulder to scrub down his face. This close, nestled into his neck, you can feel his loose hair tickling your cheek, the light scratch of his day-old stubble against your forehead when he speaks. “I’m gonna… go take care of this. And then maybe. Breakfast? Christ. Can’t think. All my blood’s elsewhere right now.”

You breathe a chuckle. His arm is still wrapped around you. 

“Yeah. Okay. Or you could just- take care of it. Here, I mean. With me.”

Eddie’s breath stops, actually stops, then stutters back into steady rhythm under your hand. “...yeah?”

He sounds unsure but curious, excitement bleeding into the edges of that one word as your thumb sweeps across the spot where his ribcage meets. “Yeah. Be doing me a favor, too- I was kind of in the middle of a… a good dream. Prob’ly me that woke you up, anyways.”

Eddie’s hand drops from your shoulder, slithers back to his own space, disrupting your head rest briefly- until you realize he’s doing it to make enough room for you both to stretch out flat (on your mattress that was barely designed for one full-grown person). 

“A good dream,” Eddie parrots, as you both re-situate under the thin cover of your floral-patterned top sheet. Shoulder to shoulder, skimming the heat from each other’s bare skin as you stare resolutely at the ceiling, there’s a frizzy mass of black hair in your periphery. A hint of a smile in Eddie’s voice as he asks, “What were you dreamin’ about?”

You can feel the rippling shift of his bicep as his arm moves, hand sliding unseen beneath the sheets- a sharp inhale as his hand finds purchase over the bulge in his boxers. 

In response, your own hand follows the contoured path to the spot below your navel, toying with the band of your panties before slipping underneath. Cupping yourself, feeling the heated slick coat your fingers before dragging it back up to rest your middle against the beating pulse of your clit- “Ah- um. Was dreamin’ about. Uh. Molly Ringwald.”

A few days from your latest John Hughes marathon, it’s the first feasible famous person that comes to mind. Luckily, Eddie just laughs, in a stilted gasp when his fist finds his aching cock- “Oh, fuck- yeah? Redheads do it for you these days?”

“Uh huh.” Maybe if you keep the focus on someone else, you’ll both be able to come out of this event unscathed. Walk away with your hands clean- er. Well. Nope. 

A better analogy is gonna have to wait, because your abdomen’s tightening with each pass of your wet finger over your clit, pleasure licking and sparking, the usual slow-build to orgasm forming with shocking rapidity.

“What was she doing?” Eddie, sounding strained and strung-out already (really makes you wonder how long you’d actually been using each other, in sleep, grinding and working the other person up), hand moving in long strokes- “In your dream, I mean. Licking you out? Did she use fingers?”

It’s not like you haven’t heard Eddie’s dirty talk before- in fact, you helped cultivate it, years ago when he was nervous for a third date and wanted some advice. You’ve coached him on sex techniques, he’s given his own expertise, you’ve both appraised the other's nudes, for christ’s sake- this is just a natural extension of your friendship. Your closeness. 

Eddie’s feeling awfully close, now, his arm bumping against yours with each pass of his fist over his dick, your leg periodically grazing the downy hair of his shin as your hips jolt upwards, into the electricity stemming from the pad of your finger. 

Choking on your words around a bright surge of pleasure- “Y- yeah. Her mouth. Fingers. All of it.”

“Fuck.” Eddie’s form lurches, doing a half-crunch forwards- risking a glance, you catch a glimpse of the sweat beading at his temples, the dark slant of his brow in concentration, jaw working through the grit of his teeth- “Why don’t you use some fingers, then.”

Like he’s got you under some sort of command spell (because you’re not touching the alternatives with a ten-foot pole), you obey, middle and ring fingers curling into the tight channel of your cunt. There’s a spot you hit on your front wall, gummy and responsive, muscles reacting on instinct by contracting and spasming around your fingers.

You’re close already, panting, head tipped back against the bottom sheet, neck bared, eyes squeezing shut at the wave of pleasure that begins to pulse insistently. “I’m- fuck, Eddie. Keep talking, please-”

“So good,” Eddie says, almost funny in how quick he is to interrupt your pleading. “So good for me. Sound so wet, too, bet you’re soaking…”

You are, in fact, rivulets of slick joining into one just under the globes of your ass, cooling and sticky, a bit uncomfortable but since it’s laundry day and you feel this good you can’t really bring yourself to care.

A half-gasp whimper as you writhe your pelvis up, again, chasing that edge, tantalizingly close, the wet noises from your weeping cunt and plunging fingers spurring Eddie on.

“That’s it, baby.” He’s encouraging even in his own heady fog of pleasure (must’ve had a good sex-talk coach), voice low and rough at your ear as he drops his chin to get closer. “Tell me what you need, hm? Lemme get you there.”

“Need you- you, to…” Frustrated by your lack of breath, in lieu of communicating with words you slide your fingers from yourself, seeking Eddie’s hand before you can overthink the action. You leave a trail of slick against his hip bone, and Eddie releases himself to give you his hand- moaning, cock twitching, as you coat your own heated wetness over his dry palm. 

This time, when you both get your hands back on yourselves, it’s with a tandem whine, Eddie’s ending with a hiss through teeth- “Fuck. Fuck, yes. So wet. So good.”

“Yeah?” Like you never left, your pussy molds easily to the shape of your three fingers again. Your other hand leaves your side to paw at your clothed breast, nipples peaking through the lace. “I gotta- I’m gonna take my bra off. Please.”

You don’t actually wait for permission, but Eddie gives it anyways as you slide the cups down, babbling encouragement- “Shit, sweetheart, yeah. Whatever you gotta do. So good for me, tellin’ me what you need. Good job.”

One day, you’re gonna regret telling Eddie you get off on praise, but not today; with one nipple pinched firmly between thumb and forefinger, your other breast spills to the side, resting against Eddie’s upper arm.

He groans, from his toes, fist slipping over his cock with ease thanks to your contribution. The sounds filling your small room are obscene, sex-dipped moans and glossy wet hand movements all reaching a crescendo as both your hips jerk up at the same time.

Keeping the same pace against your clit as Eddie’s keeping on his dick, the spark of pleasure has turned into a roar that swims up to your ears, a white-out of an orgasm fast approaching each time the heel of your palm slams into your clit. 

“Eddie- jesus, Eddie- Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

You’d feel sheepish about how desperate you sound if Eddie wasn’t matching your energy two-fold. His lanky frame thrashes when your speech devolves into a repetition of his name, keening as his fist staves off tipping over the edge with a tight ring at the base of his cock- “That’s it, baby, y’can do it, angel. Come on. Come with me. Please, please-”

With a final cruel twist to your breast, you come undone, orgasm spooling heat throughout your whole system, Eddie’s name unraveling in a long cry. Eddie follows you, fucking up into his fist, ropes of cum shooting to the top of the sheets tent he’d made, hunching against the spasms crawling up his abdomen. 

You ride the last of your orgasm out on the stretch of three fingers, releasing your nipple when the pressure turns to a twinge of pain. Under the covers, your bare chest heaves around the stretched elastic band of your shoved-down bra; with shaky, uncoordinated hands, you reach behind and beneath yourself to undo the hooks, flinging the offending clothing in the general direction of your hamper.

Eddie chuckles, breathless, bellows of his ribs nudging your forearm as he sinks back into his (your) pillow. “Christ. Good thing it’s laundry day.”

There’s no room for shame, no ounce of you that wants to dwell on what this could mean, right now- although there’ll be plenty of time for that later. As it stands, you’re both swathed in a quiet, post-sex bliss, neither wanting to disturb the peace. 

In a dreamy haze, you take note of little things- the drag of Eddie’s pinky against the back of your hand. The glint of his rings stored in a neat line atop your nearby dresser. A block of mid-morning sunshine from the window cast over the bed, prickling at your legs with warmth.

After a few minutes of this, Eddie sits up, mumbling apologies when you snatch the sheets to keep yourself covered. “You want first shower?”

He looks at you over his shoulder, down the lovely arc of his nose, brown eyes tender and staying on you for a beat too long. Squirming under his gaze, you find anywhere else to look (other than the pale slope of his back, smattered and dotted with freckles), shaking your head. “Nope. All yours.”

You flick your interest back to the ceiling as Eddie pulls up his boxers, grimacing at the mess he’s made of your sheets; before leaving, he bends to scoop up your tossed bra, snapping his own underwear to emphasize- “I’ll start this load before showering, then I’ll come back for your bedding.”

At your nod, Eddie leaves to clank around in the laundry closet; then there’s a rusty squeak of the shower handle, a subsequent rush of water, and Eddie’s pleasant husky humming floats down the hall through the open doors. 

You roll onto your front with a contented sigh, burying your nose in the pillow Eddie was just lying on- it smells like him, now, smoky and spicy and familiar. 

You spend the rest of his shower time coming up with a good excuse to save this pillowcase from being washed.

___

for more roommate!Eddie content: masterlist

[ghost-proofbaby]

IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse. 

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him. 

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless. 

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings. 

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival. 

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles. 

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery. 

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating. 

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of  mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own. 

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him. 

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy. 

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.” 

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.” 

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him. 

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?” 

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun. 

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.” 

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl. 

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization. 

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault. 

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life. 

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal. 

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence. 

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town. 

Come to me. 

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence. 

Come to me. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems. 

“Why are you here?” 

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him. 

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible. 

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment. 

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…” 

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you. 

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give. 

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.” 

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch. 

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own. 

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths. 

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness. 

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-” 

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep. 

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns. 

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away. 

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs. 

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.” 

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down. 

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him. 

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.” 

“So why are you still in pain?” 

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other. 

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.” 

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps. 

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…” 

“Different?” 

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind. 

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night. 

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.” 

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger. 

“What was the cost?” 

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing. 

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now. 

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey. 

Blood shouldn’t be sweet. 

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow. 

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you. 

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance. 

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in. 

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration. 

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed. 

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?” 

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him. 

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees. 

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?” 

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.” 

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.” 

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance. 

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it. 

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them. 

“Don’t,” he lowly warns. 

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?” 

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches. 

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment. 

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger. 

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were. 

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s. 

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you. 

He could almost taste you. 

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.” 

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable. 

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger. 

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone. 

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch. 

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.” 

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer. 

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone. 

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him. 

He’s losing control. You’re losing control. 

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation. 

A road to your hunger. 

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease? 

Probably. 

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge. 

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs. 

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising. 

Come to me. 

“Please.” 

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out. 

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.” 

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now. 

You’re so close. So close. 

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. 

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat. 

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.” 

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him. 

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance. 

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push. 

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-” 

He breaks. 

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are. 

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you. 

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure. 

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment. 

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper. 

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you. 

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them. 

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly. 

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being. 

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you. 

I need more. 

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his. 

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously. 

Then take it. 

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt. 

My pleasure. 

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. 

Sweet as honey. 

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words. 

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?” 

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with. 

“Yes, please.” 

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to. 

And you most certainly did not want to. 

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control. 

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.” 

Yes. 

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.” 

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously. 

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this. 

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.” 

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy. 

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters. 

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts. 

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure. 

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.” 

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical. 

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him. 

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed. 

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine. 

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood. 

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin. 

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?” 

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.” 

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry. 

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you. 

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity. 

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance. 

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you. 

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself. 

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.” 

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares. 

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his. 

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth. 

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him. 

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure. 

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.” 

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it. 

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed. 

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you. 

Eddie. 

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire. 

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter. 

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours. 

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done. 

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.” 

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.” 

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.” 

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough. 

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough. 

Of course, lover. 

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them. 

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[mlmxreader]

Natural Habitat | Eddie Brock x m!reader

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↳ ❝ Hey, I wanted to know if you could write “What did you do? You never bring me breakfast in bed” with eddie brock x male reader ❞

: ̗̀➛ Eddie's acting suspicious, and you're not quite sure how to manage it when all you want to do is stay in bed.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing

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spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ help Mohsen's family rebuild

•───────────────★•♛•★──────��───────•

You stretched lazily, awoken by the sound of eggs smashing against the floor and hushed bickering in the kitchen; Eddie and Venom making breakfast, the usual routine. Venom insisted that he knew how to cook, Eddie insisted quite the opposite. You just wished you could have a lie-in for once.

You did think about getting up and telling them both to quit it and let you make breakfast, but you were so tired; days of overtime and constantly sorting things out at home, you just wanted to slip off and sleep for a few years. So you decided it against it, rolling onto your side and pulling the blankets up around your mouth; you snuggled into them, closing your eyes and doing your best to ignore the constant. Loud. Bickering.

At least they tried to keep themselves quiet, hushed voices slowly becoming raised the more they were in the kitchen, and you guessed that the effort was worth something. But it was still keeping you awake, as much as you despised the thought of being so.

Would it be such a fucking crime to just have five extra minutes of peace and quiet?

Then again, it wasn't their faults; Eddie and Venom did love you, you knew that, and they knew that you had been run down and exhausted the past few days. You did appreciate the fact that they at least tried to keep things down and at least did make an actual effort to not wake you.

Then again, it also wasn't either of their faults that they were two halves of a whole idiot, either.

The thought made you laugh a little as you pulled your knees up, trying to snuggle in as much as you could until you were - inevitably - ripped and torn by your blaring, annoying, disruptive alarm.

You stretched as you yawned, eyes watering and bones protesting when you moved; you just wanted to go back to sleep, you really did. Of course it would have been nice to have spent the day cuddled between Eddie and Venom, a thick gooey sling behind you where they were linked, but you doubted that that would have been possible, especially with Eddie's new job.

He had articles due, and he had meetings to attend to.

It wasn't like he could give that up just for a few extra hours in bed with his boyfriend, was it?

No, of course not. The notion was stupid, disastrously so.

Music turned on, which was a reasonably terrible thing, as they only ever did such a thing when they were well aware that they might wake you up with their bickering; you grumbled, shaking your head as you swallowed thickly and fought the urge to get up and go see what they were doing.

No, you were adamant that you wouldn't go and look. You needed your rest, and they were probably just up to their usual antics, you didn't need to go and get yourself worked up about it.

But then the music stopped, and everything fell silent for a moment; you allowed yourself to breathe for a moment, thankful that you were allowed to rest again.

But then you heard Eddie's footsteps, and every nerve approached the edge; he was heading towards the bedroom, and when you heard him gently push open the door, you assumed the worst. He was burning the flat down with his and Venom's little disaster in the kitchen.

Gently, he placed something on the bedside table, and shook you; you turned to look at him, eyeing him suspiciously as he grabbed the tray and grinned at you.

"What in the world?"

Eddie shrugged, placing the tray on your lap and moving to get into the bed beside you; you kept looking at him with great suspicion before finally turning your gaze to the plate.

Veggie bacon, beans, toast, and an egg.

Something was wrong.

"What did you do? You never bring me breakfast in bed," you glared at him with concern. "You didn't cause another fire, did you?"

"No!" Eddie yelped, shaking his head. "We didn't do anything!"

None of it was burnt.

"Are you sure?"

"We promise!" He all but howled, putting his hand to his chest. "We just thought maybe you'd appreciate it after how hard you've been working."

You could tell he was telling the truth, so you sighed as you smiled and nodded. "Thank you... really... did the kitchen survive?"

Eddie nodded as he kissed your temple. "There might be a stain on the side by the toaster, but that's all, I swear! We managed!"

You wanted to laugh, really, and he could tell from the way you looked away that you were trying to hide it; he nudged you gently, grinning from ear to ear.

"Eddie..."

"You worked so hard lately," he started, "me and V, we... we wanted to treat you a little bit - y'know, show the future Mister Brock what he's in for."

You rolled your eyes fondly at that, wondering where the fuck you were meant to begin with the plate. "What I'm in for? Really?"

"Yeah," he eagerly nodded. "You know, we've not asked you officially yet, but... it's on the table, right?"

"It is," you agreed with a soft hum. "If the kitchen has actually survived and isn't an absolute pig sty."

He laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck; now wasn't the time to admit that they had stained the saucepan, broken a cup, and had gone through eight different eggs trying to cook them properly. That could all wait, the kitchen did survive. Mostly.

"It isn't," he promised quietly. "And even if it was, you don't need to worry. Today, me and V are gonna spoil you and you can stay in bed all day."

That worried you. They couldn't be trusted, as much as you loved them both, a domestic setting wasn't exactly their natural habitat.

"Alright," you relented with a soft laugh, daring to kiss him sweetly. "Fine."

[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter three

Chapter Summary: Things turn sour in the days after you scramble out of Eddie's trailer, leading to an interesting confrontation at your old alma mater.

Chapter warnings: Oral sex (m)

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It’s been a week since that day in Eddie’s bedroom.

During that time, you hit the books, powered through your shifts, made it to every lecture and finished your midterms, now holding the fruit of your labor in your hands.

You managed to score in the 90’s again, relief filtering into your lungs with deep, calming breaths because it accounted for 25% of your final grade. With your academic progress still intact, you slipped the glowing results sheet into your bag, allowing yourself to think of your neighbor again.

And as weird as it is to say, you do feel strangely grateful for his contribution.

You’d awoken the day after bolting out of Eddie’s place with your head already crowded with thoughts of him but admittedly, having slept better than you had in a long time. He’d talked a big game and he delivered – the encounter having unwound you enough to get back to work with renewed focus.

So yes, you were grateful but also, you were furious.

Seven whole days had passed by and you hadn’t seen Eddie once.

You tried not to read into the fact that for that entire week, you didn’t hear him play his guitar once. Tried not to let your chest cave in when you didn’t catch him outside working on that tetanus trap on wheels he called a van when you took off for work. Tried not to grit your teeth when you didn’t run into him even when you returned home. Every trace of him gone.

It wasn’t that you wanted to see him exactly, but you couldn’t ignore how his absence made you feel – like a mistake he was trying to run away from.

On day four, the day after your exams, you’d even gone so far as to try wheedling some answers out of Wayne when you passed by the older man on your way to work, attempting to be as inconspicuous about it as possible.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to share a few polite words with Wayne whenever you ran into him but it was out of the ordinary for you to bring up his nephew in any other context that didn’t have to do with a noise complaint.

Segueing into it as gracefully as you could manage, you tried to make it sound as offhand as possible, like a casual observation rather than the heavily rehearsed thing that had consumed your mind all day.

“It’s been pretty quiet in the park lately. He sick or something?”, you asked him while toing at some nearby gravel like your own interest in the question was waning.

You refused to say Eddie’s name, afraid that just by mentioning it, it might put a crack in the eggshell thin mask that holds your hurricane of emotions at bay.

As you had expected, Wayne regards you with some surprise – catching his nearly imperceptible squint, his craggy brow crinkling too. It was both unavoidable and understandable. You would have reacted the same way if you were him.

The weight of his second long silence borders on excruciation, something almost surgical about the way he assesses you. Dissecting you is what it really felt like but thankfully, he shows you mercy.

“Says he’s got things to do at school – doubt there’s any studying involved though”, he lets out a huff, a dry, almost laugh that conveyed his long suffering history with his nephew’s unbeaten record for flunking.

Eddie willingly spending more time at school? The same boy who once climbed down out of a second story window, slipped and hauled ass on a sprained ankle just to get out of taking a math test?

So he was avoiding you.

Despite the bitter taste clawing at the back of your throat, you mustered up a laugh of your own and hoped it was convincing enough, waving goodbye to Wayne as you parted ways.

For those seven days you blocked out the thought of Eddie as best you could but now that your exams were no longer a concern, you were finally free to confront the spineless louse.

If he thought he was going to be safe holed up at your old alma mater he was dead fucking wrong.

Treading fire onto campus, you marched through waves of highschoolers, making a steady beeline for the drama room, remembering that was where he held those weird meetings with his weirdo friends in their weird matching t-shirts.

The teenagers hastily parted off to the side in an effort to get out of your way, some of the seniors who recognized you beginning to whisper, speculating as to what brought you back and looking so incensed.

Stomping up to the room, you let loose all that had been simmering inside you – all that frustration from being evaded and those acrid feelings that felt too close to rejection, parting the doors open forcefully with both hands. It makes for your desired entrance when they swing back and bang closed behind you like a thunderclap, startling the boy who’d been busy scribbling in his notebook getting ready for his next campaign.

His pen clattered to the floor from where it flew out his hand and bounced off a nearby theater prop. You can’t be sure given how abrupt it was but you think he might have yelped too, a high pitched eep like some sort of puppy who had its tail stepped on by mistake.

Sitting askew on his carved wooden throne, Eddie’s cast in warm hues of orange and yellow underneath stage lights and candlelight but nothing shines brighter than the sheer surprise overwhelming his face. It pleases you more to recognize the unmistakable tinge of fear he’s incapable of hiding behind his wide eyes when they land on you.

Good. He should be scared, your mood far from friendly as you turn to lock the door behind you and retrieve the key, clutching it tight in your palm.

Was this overkill? locking him inside with you? You didn’t think so. Not after he’d weaseled his way out of talking to you for an entire week. You weren’t about to leave room for him to plan an escape route too.

You stepped closer to where he cowered at the D&D table, your lips pulled into an imitation smile, curved up exactly like one but so clearly absent of any sweetness or warmth, only radiating danger.

To Eddie, your menacing saunter resembled a cobra leisurely winding its way up to cornered prey, jaw seconds away from unhinging to swallow him whole.

He flinches when you slap down your results sheet on the table, now crumpled from how you had it clenched in your fist on your way over here. Better the paper than his neck you supposed although truthfully, you were still on the fence about that.

“Uh, what’s this?”, he finally dares to speak, a nervous croak of a sound that scratched its way out of his throat, cautiously leaning closer to examine the paper. The spiteful devil perched on your left shoulder chittered and sneered, whispering all sorts of encouragement to make you reply with spite, to make some underhanded remark about how you’re not surprised he couldn’t recognize anything that didn’t have a row of F’s stamped all over it given it’s his second time repeating senior year.

But the lenient angel on your right shoulder leaned in and spoke reason into your other ear, dulcet but insistent reminders that you only came here to inquire, not injure.

The devil withers away with a snarl when you clench your jaw, holding your tongue at bay, unable to spit that kind of venom at Eddie.

Before now, your main gripe with him was his disruptive influence, the way he wedged himself into your life like a splinter caught underneath your fingernail with his head rattling music and blood boiling snark. Grinning like his biggest pleasure in life was annoying you enough to darken his bedroom window day after day with a face full of fury and a mouthful of fuck you’s. He was too carefree for your liking as well, able to shrug off his plummeting grades when a minor slip of yours would have you digging out your emergency pack of cigarettes to chain smoke the stress away in secret. But taking shots at his intellect like all the other assholes you went to school with felt too…slimy.

The same assholes who had looked down on you and your trailer park background. The same assholes who rolled their eyes when you got accepted to your College of choice. The same assholes who cackled when you had to enroll in a nearby Community College instead when your family’s finances fell in the red.

Maybe you weren’t a cobra after all, only masquerading as one.

“My midterms. I passed”, you answered him flatly, watching recollection flash across his face.

The stress it had caused you was the reason why this all started in the first place after all.

 “Couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t helped me out”, you added pointedly, tone almost accusatory.

Even under the vivid stage lights that paint his complexion like a sunset, you can still make out the way his cheeks pink up at the vague mention of what had happened in his bed that day.

“Oh, uh– that’s great”, he offered you something that resembled a smile, face so twisted with nerves that he couldn’t get his lips to curve up the right way. Jesus, you’d never seem him like this before. He was barely recognizable and for the first time in your life, you found yourself preferring his usual tornado presence and boisterous anti charm.

“Yeah. So, why’ve you been avoiding me?”

His jaw tensed at that, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Obviously, you hadn’t come by to say thank you.

“Listen, the club will be here in an hour. They already know I’m in here so just give me the key and…we’ll talk about this later, okay?”, he attempted to negotiate with you in the same way one might try to approach a skittish horse, overly cautious with an undertone of fear, holding out a shaky palm to collect the key but you weren’t about to give in now.

“What, so you can find somewhere new to hide?”, you sneered.

To show him you’re serious about seeing this conversation to the end you make a show of dangling the key to the drama room in front of his face – his only hope of escape, but it’s what you’re doing with your other hand that gathers his attention.

Hooking a finger into the neckline of your t-shirt, you pull it low enough for your cleavage to show, soft swells sitting high on your chest, framed by pretty lace. And despite the dread trickling down Eddie’s spine, thick like tar, one thing becomes abundantly clear in that moment.

He’s only a man.

The little flash of tit is enough to trigger his hormones. Stupefied, he takes in an eyeful, committing the contours of your breasts to memory – the newest entry into the sordid vault of his spank bank before he’s able to snap out of it. He attempts to snatch the key from you but he’s too slow, stomach cartwheeling as he watches it disappear into your cleavage when you tuck it away for safe keeping in your bra cup. Honestly, he can’t decide if he’s more upset about it or turned on.

Face twisting with exasperation, he locks his eyes back on yours.

“You’re being ridiculous!” he accuses with increasingly reddening cheeks.

Unbothered by the claim, you shove a couple of dice and a few of his notes aside to sit yourself on the edge of the table, arms crossed underneath your breasts, showing your defiance.

This isn’t like when he’d gotten you to beg for your release, chipping away at your resolve with his touch and tongue until you crumbled under the weight of ecstasy. You’ve molded yourself into an imposing shadow of the girl who came undone on his sheets, obstinate and immovable and it’s clear that you’ll sooner wear him down for an answer even if it means being stuck here in this room all night than leave without one.

Eddie’s hardened expression falters as he realizes this, sighing. Relenting.

“Fine”, he slumps back in his chair.

“I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know what to say– “

“Bullshit”, you cut him off with an icy scoff. Eddie Munson at a loss for words? Sure. And Steve Harrington’s a bald virgin.

“It’s not bullshit”, he attempts to deny, some heat behind his words.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re the one who offered to help me “relax” in the first place?” you bit back with heat to match.

Your rebuttal has him silent – both of you knowing he can’t argue otherwise.

“Where’d all that bravado go, Munson?” you poke again just to see the vein at his temple bulge but he doesn’t answer, jaw set firm.

You’d hoped to scare it out of him at first or even force it out of him by locking him in here but for once that metalhead menace is tightlipped and damn good at it.

Taking another moment to consider your options you gird yourself to ask the one question you’ve been dreading. Casting your eyes down, arms tightening under your breasts, the key shifts into an awkward angle, jabbing your soft flesh but it’s not nearly as unpleasant as what you have to say next. You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer but you force it out, tongue turning more sour the longer the question sat there unasked.

“Do you regret it?”

It’s the way your tone loses all of its heat, crumbling slightly at the end of your question that makes him feel like the world’s biggest jackass. Another awful second of silence passes before you’re startled by him shooting out of his seat, chair screeching noisily against the floor as its forced back so quickly, his hand reaching for yours but he stops short of your fingers touching.

This close, you can smell him again. That same scent that clung to his bed. That same scent that hung on your hair. The same scent you reluctantly washed away in the shower that night you got back home. It makes you feel woozy, like a cloud full of pheromones to the face. If he takes one more step, you’re afraid you might leap up and bite his chest through his shirt like an animal in heat.

“I don’t regret it”, he answers you, gentle. Honest.

And just like that, all the anxiety you’d carried around for a week unravels with those four words. In its place, relief strummed on your ribs like nimble fingers plucking strings on a harp, a hopeful tune building up to a crescendo inside your chest. But you don’t let it show – forcing an impending smile away, keeping your expression unreadable because you liked the way he looked back at you, sweating with uncertainty.

“Okay – then you wouldn’t mind me returning the favor, would you?”, you rose up from the table, placing a palm in the middle of his chest.

“Huh?” he stumbles back, the back of his knee connecting with his chair.

“Fair’s fair right?”

With a little effort, you push him back into his seat, dropping down to kneel between his legs when they spread for you.

“Shit shit wait- really?”, he sputters as your fingers climb up to his belt, working open that damn handcuff buckle you’d become curious about to the point of near infatuation in the last few days.

You roll your eyes in reply like his question is a nuisance to you, growing excited under the surface.

Popping open the button on his jeans and pulling down his zipper, you can see that he’s already half hard underneath his boxers, a thick outline of his cock growing more prominent.

He’s warm in your hand when you pull his jeans and boxers down to grasp him, watching it spring up, feeling him grow harder by the second. Your fingers are dwarfed by the size of him although you already expected that after what you had seen in his trailer.

Eddie tenses when you bring your face closer, lips parted, breath puffing against his flushed, throbbing tip. Just a little more and-

“But before I do, you’re going to tell me why you avoided me”

He blinks back at your wicked smile and sharp eyes, plummeting.

“You’re fucking evil, you know that? First you hold me hostage and now you’re going to interrogate me with your fist around my dick?”

You grin back, squeezing him mostly gently, the warmth of your hand alone enough to make him feel compliant.

“Do it or I’ll stop”, you threaten sweetly.

Somehow, he likes the sound of that even less than the fear of you doing something like snapping it clean off.

There’s something so perversely satisfying about getting to use his words against him – withholding his release in the same way he had done with you. Being on the other side of it, you now understand why he enjoyed it so much, the potent thrill of being in control.

“Fuck okay”, he lets his head fall back to thud against the back of his throne, the column of his neck stretched and bared for you to see the way his Adams apple bobs in his throat with a thick swallow.

“I thought about you all the time…” he starts, tipping his chin down to look at you again, eyes dark and shadowy from this angle. “Shit, I couldn’t sleep after what happened in my bed – had to get away because I knew if I saw you again, I’d just drag you back there”

Something about the image of him manhandling you, maybe even hauling you over his shoulder, all overcome with unbridled cave man lust for you as he takes you back to his bed brews excitement in your bones. You only hoped it didn’t show on your face.

“And I knew that- well, I thought, because you didn’t actually say, but all you wanted was a one time thing…right?”, he asks, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

That was your intention when you first climbed into his bedroom, yes. But now…

“You seemed to hold back just fine when I came in here”, you skirt around the question in favor of focusing on what he’d said before that, starting to stroke him slowly as a small reward for his honesty.

“You scared the fuck out of me”, his breath grows shorter now that you’re moving your hand. “And we’re in school – didn’t think you’d actually come down here. You liked this place less than I did”

That’s true, you did. You just didn’t expect him to have noticed, let alone have remembered that fact. Guess all that ganja didn’t total his memory completely.

“Well, I couldn’t just let this go on after everything that happened”, you state plainly, twisting your wrist slightly around his base before pulling back up to trace his tip with your thumb.

This time he doesn’t shy away from the vague mention. You can almost see the memory reflecting off his umber eyes as it replays in his mind.

“Didn’t even want to throw my sheets in the laundry”, he admits, a throaty timbre to his tone that makes you stroke him faster.

“That’s gross, Eddie”, you deride, nose wrinkling but he can see right through it. He recognizes it easily – the same forced disgust you’d showed him when he flicked his tongue at you and offered to get you off, trying to hide how much you liked it.

“Could still smell you on them even after they were washed you know – even though I knew they were clean. Like one of those subconscious things or whatever. Every time I thought of you, I felt like I could still taste you on my tongue”

He’s clearly done holding back, no longer the shrinking Dungeon Master you’d stormed in on not too long ago. This is the Eddie you knew well and knowing the thought of you had affected him to the point that it impacted his senses, haunting him even, makes you rush with pride.

“I never got to taste you”, you suddenly recalled, surprised you’d forgotten even for a moment considering how much thought you’d given it in the few days prior.

And with that you leaned forward, lips parting, tongue seeking his cock, licking from the bottom of his veiny shaft up to the head.

The slow, wet drag of your tongue along his sensitive skin is the kind of sensation that will not leave him quietly, groaning around all kinds of expletives as his palms clamped down on the armrests of his chair, knuckles turning white.

Taking the first few inches into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked slowly. Swirling your tongue around the leaking tip, you get a proper taste of him, collecting a dribble of precum before pulling off. The texture of it is silky on your tongue as you sucked the mix of tangy and salty sweet onto the roof of your mouth, letting it slide down the back of your throat like honey and swallowed.

“What else did you think about?”, you asked, missing the sound of his voice as you moved to lick along his shaft again, tongue feeling around the veins adorning it.

How he’s able to keep up a conversation when you’ve got your mouth on him like this he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the fear that you might threaten to stop again. Maybe it’s the way your eyes look up at him all cloudy with need and your thighs clench together when he talks about the thoughts he’s had about you.

“Everything we didn’t get to do that day. I know we only agreed on helping you out but after watching you tidal wave my bed I couldn’t help myself”

The crass description nearly makes you snort against his dick despite yourself; your whole face going supernova with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. It makes Eddie grin.

“I thought about this a lot. I couldn’t believe it but I knew – you wanted me in your mouth back then too, didn’t you?”

Imparting a little honesty of your own, you answer him with a whisper, licking off another clear bead of precum from his slit. “I did”.

Eddie's eyes lit up, lips turning up into a smirk. “Watching you leave after that was torture, you have no idea. You’ve ran that smart little mouth of yours at me for years – hated missing my chance to shut you up for once”

That earns him a deadpanned look and calls for a warning.

You bring a hand down to squeeze his balls and smirked when he groaned, this time nearing on pained, hands releasing the armrests with his palms held up in surrender.

“Okay okay! Easy. You’re a soft spoken delight, alright?”

With a pleased chuckle bubbling up your throat, you relinquish your hold to massage them gently instead, rolling them in your palm, continuing to stroke him with your other hand.

“Did you think about fucking me?”

“Yeah…”, he answers at the end of a thick gulp.

“How?”

“Huh?”

“How would you fuck me, Eddie? rough?”

He considers it before answering. “Not at first…but yeah, I’d – fuck, do that again? – I don’t think I could be gentle for very long because I know you can take it”

It’s like he’s reached inside of you and flipped a switch you hadn’t even been aware was there. You’d been wound so tight for so long. You needed him to use you.

“Could you be rough with me now?”, you asked, triggering a sly quirk of his eyebrow.

“You asking me to fuck your face, sweetheart?”

There’s that cocky edge again and you're quick to spar with it.

“Yes or no, Munson?”, you return, all stony faced. There won’t be any begging from you today.

He frowns when you pull out his last name again.

“Aren’t we beyond that now?”

You grin back, too stubborn for your own good.

“No”

Eddie's frown fades, a grin stretching across his face to match your own.

“Open your damn mouth”

Ringed fingers weave into your hair as you part your lips for him, allowing him to breach the wet velvet of your mouth. His girth puts some strain on your jaw but you’re able to accommodate him, tongue cradling the underside of his cock as it glides over the muscle. You’re doing well so far, letting the hand on your head, firm but gentle, guide you down until the tip of his cock bumps the back of your throat and you gag.

“Go on – choke a little for me”, he grunts.

Tears wet your eyes as you try to breathe through it, throat squeezing back against the intrusion, saliva pooling in your mouth as it begins to drip past your lips.

Eddie starts to thrust into your mouth and you take him as far into your throat as you can manage. Your nails dig into his thighs through the short, ragged pumps, past even what you thought to be your limit when your nose presses close to his pelvis, brushing the thatch of hair at his base. You find that you like how he smells there too – musky and masculine.

The sounds you pull out of him make your core ache – every hitch of his breath, every choked off moan, every rumbling groan and throaty grunt. But you stamp down the hot roiling in your belly and ignore the sticky need pooling in your panties because you really did mean what you said about returning the favor. It was your turn to please him, sidelining your own pleasure for the time being in the same way that he had done for you. Not that there wasn’t any pleasure to be derived from being in your position.

The part of you that was greedy savored every sound and liked knowing you were making him feel good – that all those noises he was making was because of you. And the part of you that was competitive took pleasure in knowing you were proving he wasn’t the only one here with a skillful mouth.

Growing more and more used to it, you take it well as he fucks your throat and he tells you as much.

“Knew I was right about you. Knew you could take it – Christ, yes, just like that”

The praise makes you bob ardently, saliva soaking his cock, trailing down to his balls. You’ve adopted a pace of your own now, Eddie’s fingers still tangled in your hair but no longer guiding you.

"Shit– I’m gonna cum. where do you– "

You pull off his cock, his eyes trained on your wet, swollen lips gasping for air, your hand taking over to pump his spit-soaked length.

“Do it in my mouth”, you finish for him, desperation staining your tone.

You take him in your mouth again, not all the way this time, using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit past your sore lips anymore.

“Fuck – oh g- fuck”

Eddie’s hips jerk and then it happens – you feel the hot lines of his release begin to spurt onto your tongue, tangy and creamy thick. You swallow it down with his dick still in your mouth, throat contracting around his twitching, spent length. You pull off slowly until it’s just his tip your lips are wrapped around, lingering on it, sucking it like you don’t want to let go. You’re forced to let it slip from your mouth when his groans near pained again, sensitivity proving too much for him now.

Sitting back on your haunches, you watch his chest puff up and down while he recovers, head thrown back against the back of his chair.

When he’s able to, he puts his softening cock away, redoing his jeans before he pulls out a bandana from his back pocket and offers it to you.

“It’s clean I promise”.

The sweetness of the gesture makes your stomach flutter. Managing a meek ‘thank you’, you use the dark material adorned with bones and skulls to wipe your lips and chin of the sticky mixture of saliva and Eddie’s spend.

Next, he offers you a hand and you take it, letting him help you off your knees and on to your feet.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last time. When you had to leave, I mean. And for avoiding you after that”, he informs you, much more tender than you're used to with him.

“I didn’t even get to uh…”, patiently, you wait for him to finish but he doesn’t, watching his face twist, all conflicted. You can see the thought ping pong around inside his head, wishing you could just reach in and pluck it out for yourself but he brushes it off before he’s able to share it with you, leaving you wondering.

“Never mind. Jeff and Gareth are going to be here soon and you probably don’t want to be seen in here with me like um, thisss”, he drags out the single syllable, unsure of a more tactful way to phrase it.

You don’t need to ask him to know that “thisss” means you look like a fucked-out mess because that’s exactly how you feel with your unruly hair and your sore jaw.

Just as before, there’s too much that’s been left unsaid but the threat of another close call has you reluctantly fishing the key out of your bra, tossing it at Eddie while you attempt to tame your hair back into something presentable, wiping off your damp cheeks too. You’re yet to realize that you haven’t returned his bandana, still clutching it in your hand.

Eddie catches the key though he doesn’t make a move towards the door, staring down at his palm like he’d just been gifted a bar of gold.

“It’s warm”, he says quietly, one of those thoughts that wasn’t meant to be said out loud but slipped past the barrier of his lips quicker than he could notice, you surmised.

It’s kind of cute actually – that dopey, spellbound look spilling over his face.

“Unlock the door, Eddie”, you sigh, subduing a laugh. At least you didn’t accuse him of being gross again like you would have an hour ago.

“Oh, right”

He steps over to the door while you gather yourself, daylight shining into the dingily lit room when he unlocks it and pulls it open.

After a quick look around outside to make sure no one sees you leaving, he steps back and holds the door open for you but you linger.

…all you wanted was a one-time thing…right?

No. Not anymore.

You weren’t sure what the two of you were now. Neighbors who got each other off? Former enemies but not really friends with benefits?

The specifics didn’t matter. At least, not right now. All you knew was that you didn’t want whatever this was to end.

Turning to Eddie, you say something you never thought you would. Not to him.

“My family’s gone for the weekend. You can come over tonight…if you want”

The smile that crosses his face is both warm and cocky, much like the one he’d flashed you from his window when this all began.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you soften but only slightly. Unsmiling but not inimical.

“Oh, and if you stand me up?”, voice heating up, you jabbed a finger against his chest, right between the L and the F of his Hellfire shirt. “Try to run away again?”, you jab again and he staggers a step back, wincing when you press over the same sore spot again. “I’ll nail your balls to your front door, understand?”

For a moment he stares back at you. Stunned. And then, true to the freak riddle that he is, he smiles back even brighter.

-

Tag list - @honey-flustered @cryingglightningg @cadence73 @taccobelle @mrsjellymunson

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Losing your pet.

Triggers: pet loss; talks of depression.

Author note: I had to put my cat to sleep at the beginning of the month, he was my baby so things have been really rough lately. I'm hoping writing this will help with grieving and it may be posted it may not be. If it is I hope it helps anyone who is also experiencing something like this.

Eddie:

You call him when you were freaking out about what to do. You were awoken by your animal crying out and knew they needed a vet but it's so early in the morning you don't know where to go.

When he got the call he was instantly worried for you. He knew how much having your animal helped you cope with your depression and he didn't know how losing them would make you react.

He rushed over and took you two to the 24 hour vet.

He was there to hold you as you cry, he talked to the vet for you, he called the place to make arrangements for the remains

He'd offer to have you either stay at the trailer or for him to stay at your house. He thought being in a quiet house would make you feel worse and since it happened in your room he knew you wouldn't be able to sleep in your actual bed for a while.

The two of you slept on your couch for a week after everything happened.

He would set even more reminders to help remind the both of you that you need to take your medicine

I think he would have you come and sit in on a DnD session to give you entertainment and take your mind off of things, he'd feel pretty prideful when it works

He wouldn't rush you to do anything. There is still a box of litter, still a collar, still toys on the floor oh thats fine! We can get rid of it whenever you are ready to. You want to get a new pet great! Let's get into the van! You don't even want to be around animals that's fine too!

He will map out the store trips to make sure you do not have to even walk by the pet supply aisle if you can't handle it

Steve:

He paid for everything. He knows money doesn't fix much but he didn't want you to be worried about paying for anything.

He never had a pet but he knew how close you were with your pet and he knew you were going to take it hard.

He would make sure you ate and took your medicines, he isn't the best cook but he can do basics so it was about a week of mac and cheese before you started cooking again.

He had you stay at his house, he would worry about you being alone so he made a plea deal and convinced you to stay with him. It's already pretty big and there is more than enough room for the both of you

He would try and get you a new pet better soon after everything happened

I think he would try and get you to talk about your feelings, either by making you therapy appointments or getting you stuff to journal he doesn't want you to keep things bottled up

He tends to treat it as any other heartbreak. There will be days where you two just eat junk food and watch sad movies and when that happens he doesn't mind holding you as the both of you cry into your bowls.

Billy:

Alot of people would probably say Billy wouldn't be that helpful.

I think he would struggle with knowing what to do, he could tell you were struggling but he freezes when he doesn't know what to do.

He would make some sort of comment that made you start crying and that is when he realized how serious this situation was. "It was just a cat/dog/bird/lizard/etc. get over it." Seeing you break down in front of him was his wake up call.

He would bring take out everytime he came over, he'd act like it wasn't a big deal but he knew how much it meant to you.

I think if you were to journal it would be because of Max and if/when Billy tried to make fun of the new habit you both would give him a look that made it clear to back off and he took the warning loud and clear.

I think the next time he sees a stray he would pull over and try and take it home for you. He either comes home with the animal successfully or he comes home covered in scratches and is refusing to speak about what happened.

[radioactiveparker]

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart - Sub!Eddie Munson X Dom!Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - Eddie surprises you with a birthday present after a bad day

Warnings - Sub!Eddie / Dom!Reader / Strong Language / Bondage / Oral (M & F Receiving) / Face Sitting / Edging / Orgasm Denial / Overstimulation / Multiple Orgasms / Riding / Mommy Kink / Spitting / Dirty Talk / Gagging / Choking / Degradation / Creampie / Breeding Kink

Word Count - 4.8K

A/N - So, it's my birthday!!! 22 whole years of age. I'll be going away for a couple of days, so there'll probably be little activity on here, so I thought I'd leave you all with this parting gift haha. Enjoy x

_____

Today was shit.

There was no simpler way to put it.

It had started wonderfully. You couldn't deny that. Blissfully awoken in the strong arms of your lover, Eddie, with soft morning kisses and breakfast in bed (even if the pancakes were a little on the burnt side). But when the phone rang and you had no other choice but to go into work, your birthday plans had been successfully ruined. You wouldn't have minded if the day had gone smoothly, but it was filled with spilt coffee, raging customers, and an older gentleman who thought he had the privilege of being able smack your ass when you walked by.

Your heart leapt with delight when the final customer left the diner. All that was left to do was to wipe the tables, brush the floors, take out the trash, and lock up. It would have been a lot easier if your colleague hadn't let her drunkard of a boyfriend in the diner after hours. He had slurred a "promise" that he wouldn't get in the way, but he found it all too amusing to try and trip you up as you swept the floors and when it went a little too quiet, you just knew that they were getting touchy-feely in the pantry cupboard. You would have left if you could have, but she had been your lift to work, and therefore, she was your lift home. Thanks to their not-so-clandestine activities, you had gotten home an hour later than you would have liked.

The sun had already begun to set when you'd left the diner and dusk had settled by the time you got home. A birthday sufficiently wasted.

After a day like today, all you wanted was Eddie - just to feel his embrace, smell his musky cigarette scent, for him to listen to you rant about your awful day to get it out of your system. Maybe you could ask him for a massage and a hot bath to ease the stress from your aching muscles. Well, as close to a massage as you could get from Eddie. Because the two of you know how those always end. Yeah, that sounded really good right now.

You gave your colleague a quick thank you, trying not to roll your eyes when her boyfriend leapt on her almost instantly before you could say goodbye. The slam of the car door echoed in the quiet trailer park, and the tires screeched when she drove off immediately. You dragged your feet to the front door of yours and Eddie's trailer. Upon approaching, you noticed that almost all of the lights in the trailer were off, which was odd because you knew that Eddie was going to be home tonight. You fumbled your keys in the door and dumped your bag, shoes, and coat by the entrance. As you took a step, you felt something soft beneath your foot: a rose petal.

You observed then a haphazard trail of rose petals leading from the front door and down the hall. Your heart melted and puddled in your waterline as you followed it. The odd tealight candle meandered alongside the dappled pathway, its dim, honeyed light guiding you into your bedroom. The door had been left open, just a crack, and you could tell that there was more candle light glowing from inside. You opened it slowly and wearily. If you knew Eddie, which you did, you knew he had a particular penchant for jumping out to scare you when you least expected it. That was not the case this time to your relief.

Instead, the appreciative tear in your eyes was sniffed away with a laugh of your own. There on the centre of your bed, Eddie lay.

Stark naked.

Hands behind his head.

With a gift box over his crotch.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively before he reached over to his bedside table and dropped the needle on your record player. The powerful blow of a saxophone eased from the speakers as Careless Whisper played. It's a song that Eddie wasn't keen on, mind you, but he knew you had a certain fondness for during certain situations. Situations like this.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

You stalked over to him, already feeling your underwear dampen. "You did all this for me, handsome?"

"Uh huh, now come and open your present." He spoke all too eagerly.

You climbed onto the bed, rose petals pooling in the divots as you did. You sat yourself just above his knees, straddling his thighs and giving him a very obvious view of your lace panties from your up ridden pencil skirt and the wet patch of your arousal that resided there.

Your eyes moved to the box between your thighs - pretty pink paper with tiny red hearts wrapped neatly around the box. You wouldn't be surprised if he had spent all day trying to wrap it as neatly as he could. He had topped it off with a blushing ribbon tied in a bow. You reached for it, pausing to look him in the eyes. You both had the same look - a look that said you knew exactly where this was going. You took your time pulling the ribbon out of its loops, much to Eddies dismay, and then lifted the lid off the box to reveal what you had been yearning for.

"Oh, Eddie, you shouldn't have."

Eddie's throbbing cock was staring up at you. His tip was flushed and leaking, twitching with anticipation through the hole cut out of the bottom of the box. He had shaved for the special occasion even though you had told him numerous times that you didn't mind him having pubic hair.

"Thought I'd get you something you'd get a lot of use out of."

"I love it." You leaned over to give him a thank you kiss, giggling into his lips.

"You wanna know the best part?" He mumbled against your lips. "It's all yours tonight, whatever you say goes."

"I get to do anything I want to you?"

He nodded confidently.

You bit your lip in thought. You could go slow and romantic, let him make love to you to ebb the tension out of your body, said the angel. Or you could absolutely ruin him, argued the devil. It was something you hadn't got the chance to do yet. Eddie was always very dominant when it came to bedroom activities, not that you minded, but sometimes you wanted to make him crumble - give him a taste of his own medicine. That, and it would be a good way to let out all of your frustrations of the day.

The devil won.

"Oh, your gonna wish you hadn't said that." You teased, trying to keep your assertive composure and not laugh when Eddie's face fell . "Still got them cuffs pretty boy?"

You saw Eddie's Adams apple bob with a not-so subtle gulp, obviously not expecting those taunting words to ooze from those pretty lips of yours. He nodded anyway and informed you that they were still in the shoebox under the bed, along with the other toys, gags and restraints the two of you had collected over the years. You made a show collecting them, flashing him as you climbed off him, swaying your hips as you sauntered around the bed, and keeping your ass high in the air as you bent over to reach under the bed. You stifled a giggle when you heard him groan at the sight.

You clambered back on top of him, sitting higher up on his thighs and removing the box from around his cock. His hands immediately reached for your ass, grabbing a handful of your cheeks while he had the chance. You let them rest there, smiling at him while you unlocked the cuffs. You took his wrists one at a time, probably handling them a little harsher than you should've, but Eddie didn't seem to mind. He obediently allowed you to chain him to the bedpost, to your surprise. Eddie certainly wasn't one for being submissive, and often hated when you bested him at anything. Like when you would play fight and you wound up pinning him beneath you, Eddie would never let you bask in your victory for very long before you were back underneath him - "where you belong" he would say. You were beginning to understand his notion, Eddie looked exceptionally delectable beneath you; brown waves cascading over the plush pillows, matching irises twinkling in the candlelight, his pouty lips looking oh-so kissable.

You decided to appease your craving and firmly plant your lips to his when his wrists were finally in place. You could hear them rattle as he pulled on them, already finding it hard not to touch you. He forced his tongue against yours, toying with it and moaning into you. You suckled on his tongue, deciding then that you wanted to feel it inside of you.

He whined reluctantly as you removed yourself from him. You stood before him at the end of your bed and began unbuttoning your coffee stained shirt. You did it slowly, putting on a show for him as you revealed your dolled up breasts with every button. It was Eddies favourite, deep red lace to match your panties. His cock dripped onto his abdomen at the sight, his mouth practically watering. You pulled the shirt from off your shoulders and leisurely unzipped your skirt to let it pool at your feet. Easing your finger beneath the waistband of your panties, you flicked them teasingly before sliding them down your legs. Eddie groaned once again when he caught sight of your juices glistening in the candlelight. You playfully chucked them at him, landing directly on his chest, just out of reach for him to smell your juices, to taste them lingering on the lace. His head threw back in annoyance and he didn't see you approaching him until your thighs were either side of his head.

Your begging pussy hovered above his pink lips. "You gonna be good for me?"

He nodded eagerly, pulling at the restraints like he had forgotten he was tied up. You smirked down at him, he was so used the gripping your thighs and pulling you down to his tongue. You gradually lowered yourself onto him, feeling his wet muscle instantly delve into your folds as soon as it could reach. You moaned at the sudden sensation and rested your full weight on him - he would only ask you to otherwise. He massaged your clit bounteously and it wasn't long before you were gasping for air between every moan. His strategic tongue lapped every drop that leaked from your aching hole until you were practically grinding on his face, using his nose to rub along your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your entrance.

"Fuck, that's so good baby." You cried. "You wanna make me cum?"

He hummed a yes as he kissed through your folds, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He worked double time, wanting you to cum to fulfil his desperate need to taste your release on his tongue. He took to harshly sucking and slurping on your clit until it was raw and swollen. Your hand gripped his hair tight enough to keep him in place and started a fast pace jerking your hips into his mouth. With a final sob, you release yourself onto his tongue. Not a single drop was wasted. He continued to lap you up until you were shuddering and jolting above him.

With shaking legs, you pulled yourself from him, watching him lick the sheen of your slick from his lips. You sat back on his hip, feeling his erection press against your inner thigh before leaning down to give him a kiss.

"Awe, you were such a good boy making me cum." You praised against his lips. "I think you deserve a little something in return."

Moving yourself so you lay between his legs, you trailed a soft hand along his pulsing length. A small yelp tumbled from his lips at the sudden sensation. He was already trying to thrust into your hand before you had even got a proper hold of him yet. His desperation pleased you greatly. His cock was verging on purple when you finally took him in your grasp. The sensitive skin was hot under your touch and he couldn't help but jerk away.

"Don't you want me to touch you, Eddie?"

"NO, I do. Please. It's just-" He hissed when you dragged your hand along him, "It's just so fucking sensitive."

"Bet you've been waiting for me all day, huh? You need me so badly, don't you my poor baby?" You cooed, continuing to stroke his cock.

"Yes, baby. I've been so fucking hard for you all day. I need you to make me cum, please."

"Such a good boy using your manners." You gave him a little squeeze, watching more of his arousal leak from the tip.

You used it to glide your hand up and down his length at a slow pace. Eddie was already whimpering beneath you with every tug, biting his lip and bucking his hips. You alternated your pace between rapid and slow strokes, only slowing when his moans grew louder. He groaned in annoyance every time you did, making his high ebb away before riling it up again. Every now and then you payed particular attention to his tip, running your fingers along his head and kneading his balls, applying pressure to both to extract more of his leaking cum. He was sweating and crying beneath you, twitching when it was too much and thrusting when it wasn't enough. You had to swallow the saliva that was pooling in your mouth.

You sped up your hand movements, only this time when he began moaning loudly, you didn't stop. You wanted him as close to the edge as possible. His moans were louder and longer and his voice was cracking between them.

"Fuck Mommy, I'm gonna cum."

You stopped. Pussy throbbing.

"Mommy?" His cheeks somehow flushed even redder, fearing he had crossed a line by the tone in your voice. "You want Mommy to make you cum?"

He released a breath in relief when you played along. His cock twitched in your hand and he nodded hopefully.

"Don't worry, you'll get to cum. But Mommy isn't finished playing with you yet."

And with that, your hands started again. A sob escaped Eddie's mouth when you let a glob of saliva drip from your lips and onto his tip, the extra lubrication letting your hand glide effortlessly along his extensive length. If you thought he was loud before, you were not prepared for the sounds he made when your lips wrapped around his tip. His already hot cock rejoiced in the warmth of your mouth and he accidentally thrust upwards into your throat. You swallowed him whole, having being trained to take him completely. You bobbed your head up and down, getting through eight successful drags before Eddie's thighs tensed beneath your palms. You paused, keeping him down your throat but not giving him enough to make him cum. You stayed there until his high subsided before moving again.

"Please can I cum, Mommy? I've been so good."

You pulled off him with a harsh pop. "Didn't I say you would get to cum? You've got to be patient baby, or I might just leave you tied up like this for the rest of the night."

"NO! I'm sorry. I'll be patient."

It was so unusual to hear Eddie beg like that, but you were lying if you said you weren't enjoying it. You were finally getting payback for the countless number of times Eddie had teased you, edged you, and made you beg for him.

You wanted him weeping.

You started by ceasing contact all together and climbing higher up on his body so that your aching pussy hovered over his cock. But not touching. You kissed up his body, licking and nipping and leaving deep purple hickeys along your path, tasting the salt on his skin. You payed particular attention to his nipples before trailing up to the sensitive spot below his ear. He was wreathing beneath you, pulling on his chains at your unrushed pace and whimpering in your ear.

"You okay, Eddie?" You took a pause to see if he was aright when you heard him panting unusually hard.

He simply nodded.

"C'mon Baby, use your words. You should know this better than anyone." You teased Eddie the way he normally would you.

"Yes." He breathed, taking deeper breaths now that you had given him the chance to simmer down.

But his cock was still rock hard and throbbing, begging to be sucked deep inside of your pussy. You finally removed your bra, chucking it to the side and grabbing your breasts, playing with your nipples in front of him. Your arousal was leaking onto his cock, letting your folds glide over him with ease when you sat your weight on him. A harsh curse fell from his lips at the sensation, and he repeated it again when you started to grind your bare pussy on his solid shaft.

You had finally had enough teasing yourself and soothed his tender cock with your soft walls. Your hole stretched to accommodate his length, giving you immense pleasure with every inch you sank down on. You eventually got yourself completely seated on him, giving yourself time to adjust and watch the flush spread across Eddie's chest. Your juices dribbled into the smooth skin of his pubic bone and dripped down his balls.

To Eddie's delight, you finally started moving, rolling your hips along his and raising yourself up and down his length. The pair of you were moaning messes, sweat gleaming off the two of you and the sounds of slapping skin echoing in the room. Your hands rested on his chest to motivate some rhythm, toes curling as his cock speared into you. Your pace was building, as fast as you could go for as long as you could.

"Fuck, you're riding me so good baby."

"Keep bouncing on my cock."

"Fuck, just like that."

It was second nature to Eddie to talk like that. It was his dominant side peaking out. But you weren't having any of that. You wrapped your hand around the base of his throat, applying enough pressure to have his eyes roll back and then taking your discarded panties and shoving them in his mouth as a gag.

That certainly shut him up.

You couldn't fight the smirk when he went back to being a whimpering mess beneath you, tasting the arousal you had left on the material that he had so desperately wanted to taste when you had first thrown them at him.

Your nails were unintentionally sinking crescent moons onto his neck as you bounced, thighs and shins burning at the exertion. You were getting tired. Your hips weren't moving fast enough for you to reach your high, despite being pleasured greatly.

"C'mon Eddie, I hope you didn't think I was going to be doing all the work tonight. It is my birthday, after all. If you wanna cum, then your gonna have to start pulling your weight."

His arms moved as if they were going to go for your hips, but instead he let out a frustrated sigh when they didn't move more than two inches. He found it harder to thrust into you without the leverage of your hips, but he still complied like a good boy. You were moaning almost as loud as he was when his hips began buckling up into you, reaching the deepest parts of you that had your eyes rolling back into your skull. He was pounding faster than you ever could riding him, making the warmth pool into your stomach until it was about to boil over.

But he stopped.

"Did I day that you could stop?"

Eddie let out a pathetic muffled excuse from behind your panties that you didn't understand. You ripped the lace from his mouth, staring deep into his watering eyes.

"No, but I was gonna cum. Please let me cum."

"You can cum when I say. And you can stop when I say. Now keep fucking me before I change my mind about letting you cum at all."

He continues thrusting upwards, but his pace wasn't as quick and his rhythm was faltering. If felt amazing of course, but it didn't have the same warmth fermenting deep within you as he had before. 

"Faster."

"But I'm gonna cum." He whined, thrashing his arms in his cuffs. He wanted to push you off, yet at the same time he wanted to stay buried inside of you forever and ever. He was in a catch 22.

"That's so disappointing Eddie. You don't want to disappoint me, do you? No? You want to make me feel good, huh, baby?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll fuck me faster, won't you?"

"Yes, mommy." He choked.

His hips pounded into you so relentlessly it shocked you. You had never had Eddie fuck you so fiercely in you life. Perhaps he was willing his torture to end. Get you to cum so he could cum. The veins along his shaft rubbed along your walls and the tip of his cock jabbed at your cervix. It punched the air out of your lungs and drew you closer and closer to the edge. But as his hips thrusted and pounded, his orgasm was swift approaching. Far too swift to keep it up for much longer.

"Fuck can I cum please?"

The tears in his eyes made you somewhat merciful. He had been on the edge for long enough. You wrap your hand around his throat, feeling his groans vibrate through it.

"You wanna breed me? Shoot your load deep inside me?" You rasped in his ear.

"Yes. Please." his hoarse voice scratched his throat.

"Then cum for me."

The second his words left your lips, his hips were stilling and he dumped his load inside of you. You gasped the the sensation, the heat of his cum spreading inside you and filling you up until your completely full.

"Awww such a good boy for me." You cooed, leaning down to peck his lips.

"Thank you." He took a few more gasps to catch his breath. "Can you uncuff me now?"

"Uncuff you? Oh baby, you didn't think I was finished with you, did you?" You laughed wickedly. "You didn't even get me to cum. How pathetic."

His face dropped. The shameful look in his eyes almost made you feel bad. 

Almost.

"I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. Ride my face again, I wanna taste you again."

"Oh, but it isn't about what you want, is it? No, I do want to ride something, but it's not gonna be your face."

He looks at you confused until you roll your hips again, and he winces at the over stimulation. If you thought Eddie was loud before, you were not ready for the sounds that left his mouth when you began fucking him again. He was practically screaming for you, whether it was for you to stop or keep going, you didn't know. But it didn't matter because you weren't stopping. You rise yourself up again before dropping harshly, hearing the squelch of his release when it tried to leak from your stuffed hole. His cock barely had anytime to go soft before it was perking up again, ignorant to Eddie's reluctancy. You continued the fast pace you had before, but your legs were shaking from pleasure and pain, and you couldn't keep the pace long enough. You were getting frustrated with yourself that you couldn't bring yourself to the edge again. Although you were opposed to the idea, you needed Eddie to fuck you. As much as you wanted to keep up this dominant side of you, you weren't getting yourself anywhere. 

It's like you finally get out of your own head, and Eddie's still as loud as ever. You pause your movements and hop off him, resting your aching legs. His cock is completely solid and burning. The cool air makes him hiss as it twitched and shined with your mixed juices.

"Are you done now?"

"Me? No. You didn't think I was going to leave you like that." Still keeping your façade so Eddie knows your still in charge. 

You stroke his cock and he hisses and twitches away from your touch. "That looks painful. I bet another orgasm will do you some good."

"What? No, please. I can't."

"I'm sorry baby, but it's tough shit."

He's confused when you uncuff him, rubbing his sore wrists. You climb away from him towards the bottom of the bed, bending down in front of him. Face down ass up.

"I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Make me cum on your cock."

He rubs the back of his sweaty neck. "I don't think I can, sweetheart."

"Fine then," you sit yourself back up, " I'll just cuff you again and do it myself."

"No! I'll do it."

So eager to please, you smirk to yourself, getting back into position. He settles himself behind you, resting his hand on your ass and squeezing them like he had before. You squealed when he unexpectedly took a bite of your ass cheek. He chuckled against the skin and gave it a kiss before lining himself up at your entrance. He took a breath to prepare himself, watching his previous release leak from between your folds before plunging himself deep inside you. The two of you moaned in unison. The angle had him somehow pushing deeper into you than before and directing his tip straight to your sweet spot. Eddie was wincing and whimpering behind you, the overstimulation was becoming too much to bare and his thrusts were wavering.

"You call this fucking? C'mon Eddie you can do better than that."

He knows your only playing the part, but he couldn't help but take that comment a little bit to heart, and forces himself to put your pleasure over his pain. As if possessed he pushed your head into the mattress and bends over you to shove his cock as deep as it will go. His hips are moving faster and harsher, fucking you just how you like - finally giving you what you wanted. His hands were gripping your hips hared enough to leave bruises, contrasting against the soft, wet kisses he pressed onto your shoulder. His moans were in your ear and his guttural groans were going straight to your core. You could feel his body shaking above you, trying hard to keep himself up on fatigued legs. But he continued to push himself inside of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to stroke your clit and using the other to grip one of your tits, using it as leverage to pound into you. He rubbed harsh circles on your sensitive nub and pinched and rolled your nipples, wanting so desperately for you to cum so he could to. 

You walls began spasming around him. "Fuck Eddie, I'm gonna cum."

The squeeze around his cock sends him over the edge. The two of your are left moaning and panting as your orgasms wash over you and send you into pure bliss. You take his second load like a champ, his hips still stuttering to keep it deep inside you. You've never had him cum inside you twice before, but now that you've done it, you don't think you could go back.

He pulls out of you swiftly, to your disappointment, and collapses back onto the pillow. He watches from the opposite end of the bed as his cum seeps from your folds and drips onto the bed below as you both catch your breath. If he wasn't so exhausted, the sight alone would have had him hard again.

You manage to catch your breath first, forcing yourself up and walking on trembling legs to the bathroom. You take time to clean yourself up, grabbing a warm washcloth and taking it into the bedroom after a quick stop to the kitchen to get you both a glass of water, blowing out the candles along the way. When you return, Eddie is nearly half asleep, hands resting on his stomach and head lolling to the side. You wake him up with a soft kiss before wiping him down and making him take a sip of water. He thanks you while you reach for a discarded shirt of his and blowing out the rest of the candles. You snuggle up to him in the darkness, the smell of candle smoke reminding you that it was probably late enough for your birthday to be over.

"Fuck baby, where did that come from?"

"Somewhere deep within." You joked, giggling into his chest.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head and the two of you lay in a comfortable silence, allowing sleep to consume you. You forced yourself to peek at the time through bleary eyes before it did.

11:59pm

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

-----

Taglist:

@ali-r3n @mrsmarch64

[enam3l]

the godparents (rockstar eddie x reader)

a follow up to baby fever!

4.4k words / PG friendly / fluff / angst /

CW: pregnancy/fertility and it's downsides, if pregnancy is a sensitive topic for you, i'd skip this one!

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Eddie doesn't have a clue what you're saying. Your mouth is moving but all he hears is blood rushing past his ear canal. That's basically the only thing he's been able to hear for the past two months. Only vaguely observing his surroundings as he stays stuck in his own head, raging with thoughts and questions. Stuck this way ever since his best friend, Steve Harrington and his partner Marissa had their firstborn. The moment he held Rob Harrington, he was screwed. As Steve had put it 'Eddie Munson has baby fever.' 

Actually, Eddie had caught the fever the moment he first saw you interact with a child. A desire to have children awoken but only with you. He'd managed to sit on this secret for a few years now but ever since the gang's latest addition, the fever has raged. Ultimately, he knows now he has to confess to you about what plagues him. Really, Eddie knows he should've mentioned it somewhere between realising he wanted kids and asking you to marry him. But, in his defence, you've never mentioned them and it wasn't worth the risk of losing you. 

Each day the secret burns harsher. Now, Eddie sits, on the edge of the bed in his Hawkin's home with a gormless look on his face as he watches you. You're flittering around the bedroom in a pretty, expensive dress, worrying about today. Today was Rob Harrington's Christening. Today Eddie became a godfather and you became a godmother. Subtract one word and his dreams would be coming true. 

It's a tug round his neck that brings him back down to earth. You're stood between his legs, tying his tie carefully. Only you know how to do it right, nice and loose, stopping him from feeling like he's choking or looking like a real adult. You tuck the curtain of hair he's trying to hide under, behind his ears. 

'You okay, baby? You've been real quiet,' you hum with concern. 

He blinks, totally dazed by you. The way your pretty face looks at him all wide eyed and full of love. Oh god, he hopes your kids look like you. He wants to be endlessly tormented by an army of your mini clones. 

'Yeah, yeah, sweet, I'm good, I'm...' good lord, Munson, think of an excuse, 'just nervous about today.' 

You sit on his lap and kiss the round tip of his nose. He could stay sat like this, being loved on by you forever. 

'Oh god, did you have the dream where the priest dropped Rob in the water again because I promise that won't hap-' 

Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his curls, although, that dream had been bothering him. 

'S'just a big day, isn't it,' he shrugs. 

You nod in agreement, thumbs soothing over his freckled cheeks. 

'Mhmm, we're gonna be godparents. That's like being appointed to be an aunt and uncle by God... or something?'

Eddie chuckles and softly kisses your lips. Neither of you were exactly religious. Honestly, neither were Steve and Marissa but it just felt like one of those things you're supposed to do. After everything the boys had seen and been through, putting a good word in with the Big Man (or whatever exists) felt like a good precaution. 

After speckling his face in a few more gentle kisses, you hopped off Eddie's back and returned to fretting. The Christening present, you had now wrapped and unwrapped several times, was back in your hands. 

'Do you think it's okay? I mean will he like it? I know he's too young for it at the moment but when he is old enough?'

You'd chosen the present. With some plotting, Eddie had managed to swipe the signet ring Steve always wore with his initials inscribed. Then, you had it replicated with Rob's initials instead.  

'Yes! Sweetheart, it's perfect. More than perfect. It'll make Harrington cry like a baby!' 

The thought made you giggle. Steve had been a hormonal wreck ever since Marissa had gotten pregnant. It reached the point where his mood swings outdid the ones of his actually pregnant partner. Eddie knew his reassuring had worked once he saw your body relax. Now, you returned to ensuring not a hair was out of place. Your hair was pulled away from your perfect face that looked fresh with effortless make up. The straps of your dress tied in bows over your shoulders, revealing the expanse of the delicate skin that covered your collar bones. The only downside had been the ban imposed against Eddie marking you up. But, now he saw you stood there before him, it was clear his sacrifice was worth it. The structured silk bodice fitting you perfectly then flowing down just near your knees. It wasn't often he saw you in things so glamorous but soft; it made his heart fizz thinking this was almost a taste of how you'd look on the wedding day that was just a month away. 

The church was crammed with Steve and Marissa's loved ones who'd travelled from all over the country to celebrate baby Robert. Attending events like these made Eddie nervous ever since he was outcast kid however now he sticks out more so. He saw the way attendees eyes gazed at the boy of the hour, cradled in his parents arms. Then their eyes would flicker to Eddie - who stood beside them at the altar - and do that classic squint. The do-I-know-him-from-somewhere-oh-wait-is-that-the-one-from-that-noisy-band squint. It was something he never found flattering, always embarrassing. It was one of the first things he'd thought about when Steve had asked him to be godfather; the gawping and whispers taking away from the special day. But Steve and Marissa would have no such thing, aside from Robin and Marissa's oldest brother, there was no one more perfect for godparents. 

So Eddie stood at the altar as that became official. Forever grateful you were by his side and understanding his nerves without ever mentioning it. Soft hand gripping his, thumb rubbing calming circles onto his skin. The whole process of baptism was still a little baffling for him. For one, he was unsure why Rob had been forced into what looked like the wedding dress of a small Victorian ghost. Also, he'd kind of lost track of what was going on once he stepped inside the church - just thankful he hadn't gone up in flames. But luckily, he had you. Now, Eddie felt a small tug on his hand as you guided him to where the priest, Rob, Steve, Marissa, her brother and Robin all stood around a little bath of water. 

'Are they going to do the spell now?' Eddie whispered in your ear as the priest set up. 

His question had clearly been overheard by Robin who stifled a snort whilst you batted him for misbehaving. 

'It's not a spell, I explained this to you! You're such a heathen, Munson,' you mouthed back. Quite enough to not disturb the ceremony before you but loud enough that Eddie could hear the tone in your voice that said you better behave, Mister. 

Yet, despite his original confusion and gentle mockery, Eddie found himself getting transfixed by the ritual. The soothing recital of prayers by the priest as he dipped a thumb into some ointment and proceeded to mark a cross on Rob's head. Eddie smiled to himself watching as Rob looked around, wide amber eyes just like his dad's, a little confused but pleased to be surrounded by his favourite people.

Then, at the big moment when Rob's waft of hair was wetted, Eddie felt himself quietly gasp in awe with the rest of the room. Knowing the small action symbolised something big. When a small sob began to croak from Rob over the water, Eddie felt himself jerk forward - a built in reaction to protect his godson. Clearly, you felt his movements too as you tugged him back. Soothing Eddie with soft strokes to his arms, mirroring Marissa's to her own son. He felt himself calm as he watched you mouth along to the prayer. A smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye watching your now official godson be swaddled by his parents. Eddie followed your gaze, longingly wishing the pair of you were in Steve and Marissa's position with your own baby. He should've known today would've been more of a struggle than he previously thought. 

Finally, the priest announced Robert Harrington as an official mini member of the Church, protected by you and Eddie. The crowd clapping and sniffling at the momentous event. Quickly, the pair of you were shuffled closer with Rob, Steve, Marissa and your fellow godparents, for an array of photographs whilst in the church. A sense of pride filled Eddie as he looked at the beaming grin of his best friend, knowing he'd been part of this moment. 

As Rob's gummy little smile was directed at Eddie, he couldn't deny that he was proud of himself as well. Proud that despite everything, his own shambolic upbringing and opportunities to go off the rails, he had ended up being someone people would trust to care for their child. And Eddie couldn't deny that he was good at it and actually wanted to do it. Looking after Rob, hell, even the kids when they were still his little sheepies, gave him a sense of accomplishment unmatched by even being on stage. He couldn't hide it anymore, Eddie Munson knew he would be an amazing Dad and the secret could no longer be contained. 

'Let's get one of him with his favourite aunt and uncle!' Steve had cheered, earning an outraged cry from Robin.

A little wriggly Rob Harrington was placed in your arms as the photographer positioned you both. Your fiancé stood behind you, head resting against yours as little fat grabby hands reached up to the pair of you. 

'It's a big day for you, mister, huh? Are you excited to get spoilt rotten?' You cooed, slipping a finger into Rob's grasp. 

The other fist remained unsatisfied, still reaching out, desperate to grab a ringlet of Eddie's hair. A fascination he'd had since birth. 

'You wanna play with your uncle's hair again? We've got to take our pictures first, cutie. I know, I know, I love playing with his hair too,' you giggled.  

You looked back, searching for a response from Eddie. Expecting him to be pulling a ridiculous face at his godson but you were met by a blank, dazed look. Inside, Eddie was screaming. Watching you baby Rob so effortlessly. That sweet little voice that was reserved only for him. The way Rob looked so lovingly from you to him, to you again. Eddie wanted, no needed, his own little baby to gaze at you two like that. It had to happen, it was too perfect. Fate was tempting him, giving him a taster of what he could have. Torturing him by having you stood there before him, looking so heavenly in that damn dress, loving that little boy so much. A picture perfect new family but it wasn't Eddie's own... not yet. 

'Eds, baby, is everything alr-' 

The words fall out as fast as his heart beats. He can't stop himself. 

'I want us to have a baby!' Eddie blurts out. Your face drops but not a second passes before the photographer calls out

'Aaaand cheese!' 

The bright flash stuns you both but it doesn't erase the way your face dropped. It definitely dropped. It's etch-a-sketched into Eddie's brain for all eternity now. He's not only just ruined a perfectly nice photograph, he's probably just ruined his relationship with his soulmate. 

'So cute guys!' Marissa squeals as she approaches. Carefully lifting Rob out of your frozen arms. 

'So we're gonna start heading over to the house now to have the part-' Marissa's instructions are interrupted by you. 

'Uh, I've got to go. I'll be right back.' Suddenly you've reanimated and are fleeing down the aisles, dodging beloved great aunts and cousins and flying out the Church's exit. Eddie's heart sinks to the pits of his stomach. 

'Ok...' Marissa stares wide eyed, 'so I have never seen her move that fast before...' 

Now Steve appears beside a baffled Marissa and forlorn Eddie. 

'What the hell was that about? Did someone tell her about the weird shrimp thing that Marissa's mom made us put in the buffet?' He scoffs. Marissa shins him. 

'Don't say hell! You've just baptised your son! We're in a church, Steven!' 

As he rubs at his now aching shin, Steve sees a lost look on his best friend's face he's rarely seen since '86. 

'Eddie, man... what's going on?'

The frozen look on Eddie's face suddenly cracks and he crumbles before the couple. 

'I think I fucked up real bad,' he sobs. 

Marissa finds you back at the Harrington household, curled up in her en-suite. When you fled the church, you took Eddie's car and made your way to the house where the after party would be. You'd hoped maybe you could compose yourself by the time everyone had arrived - you were wrong. Sobs had racked through you non stop for the last half hour. The look you had worked so hard on this morning, now totally disheveled. The fabric of your dress littered with tear drops, stray hairs floating from burying your face in a towel. 

'Babe, it's Marissa,' she announces softly with a knock, 'can I come in?'

She takes the croak that comes out of you as a yes. 

Instantly, she's on her knees and wrapping her arms around you. Hands gently stroking your hair as you sniff against her shoulder. 

'What happened, Y/N? Are you okay?'

You cough, trying to clear your throat. 

'D-did he not tell you?' 

You felt awful leaving Eddie there, clueless. Sweet face dropped with eyes all wide and wet. But you couldn't process his words then and there, he'd blindsided you. 

Marissa sighs, 'yeah, he did but I wanna know how you're doing. What's going on in that head of yours?' 

Haphazardly, you shuffle away from Marissa's shoulder so the pair of you sit facing each other cross legged. Holding hands on the cool bathroom floor like you were back at a college house party. But you're not drunken college girls anymore, your friend is a mom and you're engaged. 

'We were just taking the picture and he said - he just said, out of no where, he wants one... wants a baby,' you gasp on another sob trying to erupt. 

Marissa nods waiting for you to continue. 

'I didn't expect it. He's never - we've never...' 

She squeezes your hand to stop you from falling into a fit of tears again. 

'Would it be so bad... having a baby? You're soulmates, you're getting married next month. You'd be great parents.'

Although she means well, Marissa's words make you break again because she's right - Eddie would be an amazing parent. Any kid would be lucky to have him as a dad and he deserves to have everything he wants. 

'No, no, it's just... god, I'm sorry, Marissa. I should speak to Eds first, god. Is he okay?' Your heart aches thinking of causing him distress, you know he'll be sick with worry. 

'He's just...' Marissa sighs, 'he just wants to make sure you're okay. What do you wanna do, girl?' 

You press your palms to your eyes. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Desperately trying to calm yourself. 

'I'm ruining your guys day. It's a happy day. I'm making it sad... I'm failing godmother duties already,' you chuckle mournfully, 'let's go and have a good time for Rob. Mine and Eddie's drama can wait.'

Marissa takes your face in her hands, swiping at your tear stains. 

'Are you sure, Y/N? We'd understand if you just want to go home?' 

'I'm sure.' 

The two of you pinky promise on the bathroom floor, maybe you were still slightly those college girls at heart. Marissa pulls you up onto your feet. 

'Okay, trouble,' she smiles, 'but before anything, let's fix your make up. Steve's aunt is such a nosy cow, if she sees those tear stains, she'll be prying all night.' 

When you come out of hiding and enter the bustling party, your eyes immediately scan for those big brown eyes. You find them gazing lovingly at baby Rob who Eddie is holding hostage outside on the decking. He looks so perfect like this, a baby in his arms. It's not making things easy for you. 

'Hi, Eds,' you announce yourself softly. 

He startles, eyes wide and cheeks flustered. 

'S-sweetheart, you're back? Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have -' 

You wave your hands in protest, trying to stop him before he gets lost rambling. 

'I'm fine, I'm fine. I just...' sighing, you take a seat next to him, nerves stopping you from just falling into his arms like you want to. 'Let's just have a nice time for Steve and Marissa and little Rob here... we'll talk about it later, yeah?' 

Eddie licks his lip nervously, a hesitant hand attempting to reach out to squeeze your knee. You take his hand in yours, his natural warmth taking over you. Really, you just want to curl up into him already. 

'Urm, yeah. Alright sweetheart, whatever you want...' 

Eddie's heart sinks throughout the day as he watches you put on a brave face. He knows when you're keeping your feelings locked up. It's impossible for him to ignore that not once does your smile reach your eyes. It eats him up inside that he's the reason you've shut down in a way he's never seen you do before. Repeatedly you find an excuse to slide your hand out of his, making up a reason to busy yourself. When the dance floor is filled, Eddie can't find you anywhere, not even for your favourite song. Even when it comes to the extravagant white frosted cake Marissa's mom made, it doesn't taste as sweet without you kissing off the frosting Eddie manages to smear over himself.

A part of him really thought his worst fears were just that life long self doubt toying with him. He didn't wholly believe the question of children would have you react like this. He's truly terrified he's done something he cannot take back. 

Eddie picks at the leather of the steering wheel throughout the silent car ride. From his peripheral vision, he sees how your gaze never leaves the window. By the time he pulls into the driveway of your home, the silence is gnawing away at him. The worst case scenarios crippling him. 

'Do you still want to marry me?' Eddie croaks. 

The question cracks all your resolve and the waterworks start again. 

'Eddie...' you gasp, 'of course! Nothing could stop me wanting you. I just don't know if I-' 

No longer can he hold it all in, Eddie just needs you to know what he was thinking. Needs you to know it's you before anything. 

'Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I just dropped it on you like that. I didn't mean to, it's just... I've been holding onto it for so long. Over the last two years, I never thought it but I want to be a dad but only with you! And we'd never discussed it so I never said anything. Then they had Rob and just seeing you with him. I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry it was just too much. But it's only with you. Only if you want it too. I don't need to be a dad...'

Hearing Eddie scramble over his words always tells you when he's distressed. You'd been clueless this whole time that he felt this way and you feel awful for never noticing.

'I don't think I can, Eddie,' you all but whisper.  

His face doesn't disguise how his heart clearly drops. She doesn't want kids. The clear disappointment on his face stings so much, you force yourself to look straight ahead through the window-screen. Straight at the home you have together, a home that would sound alive with the footsteps of little Munsons.

'I understand, I guess I should've asked sooner...' Eddie's sounds deflated. The enthusiasm that usually runs through his words, now completely drained away. 

'No, you don't understand,' you blurt, 'I don't think I can have kids.'

If it wasn't for the blood rushing past his ears, Eddie would've thought your words just stopped time. Words fail him and he's barely able to muster a croak. 

'Did you never notice how we've been together for five years and we've never even had a scare? Baby, we're not exactly safe... but you'd never mentioned kids so I just. I just pushed it away...' you mumble the last sentence, 'I told myself if you didn't want kids then there was no point stressing myself thinking about it.' 

You look at the man you love and you feel sick. Heartbreak evident in his tear filled eyes and fallen face. Heartbreak that's your fault. 

'Eddie, I'm so sorry. I should've said something. It's my -' 

Eddie stops you before you take the blame. Shaking his head profusely before jumping out the parked car and running round to your side. He opens your door, frees you from the seat and wraps you in his arms. The pair of you sniffling into each other's warmth. 

'Don't you dare apologise, sweetheart. Come on, please, let's go inside.'

 You find yourselves stripped out of the day's formal clothes, seeking comfort in well worn items. Curled up, facing each other on the bed. 

Eddie is the first to disturb the quiet. 

'So, you had thought about having kids?'

You nod softly. 

'Eddie Munson, I'd be stupid not to want to have your babies,' a sad laugh leaving you, 'I've seen how you are with people younger than you. Heard how you looked after Dustin and the gang. Seen how you are with little fans. Then when Rob came along... Eddie, how could I not? You'd be the most amazing dad. But you never mentioned it and with your own family... I just assumed it was an unspoken deal.' 

Regardless of the sad circumstances, Eddie can't help but smile. 

'You really wanted kids with me this whole time?' 

You nod, taking his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

'And you wanted kids with me?' You return the question. 

Eddie mimics your actions on your knuckles this time. 

'Only with you,' he confesses, 'you're the only person in the world I could comprehend having a family with.' 

The two of you smile weakly at each other. The beauty of your confessions so overshadowed by the sadness. 

'I'd understand...' you begin, heart twinging at what you're about to say, 'if not being able to have kids was a deal breaker. You deserve to have everything you want, Eds.' 

Immediately his brow furrows as if you were speaking gibberish. 

'No!' He practically spits the words out, 'no, no, no! Never. No.'

Eddie pulls you into his arms, clutching your head into the crook of his neck. 

'There is no future without you, sweetheart, you understand? I thought I just had the music and that was a sweet deal until you. Then I found myself for the first time picturing a real future for myself. A future kids like me never thought we got. It's always you before anything, do you understand?'

You nod into his neck. Inhaling the smell of home, something you'd never known until you met Eddie. He presses a firm kiss to the side of your head. 

'We're gonna spend the rest of our lives together, regardless. Promise?'

'Promise,' you whisper into his skin, punctuating it with a kiss. 

For a while you just hold each other, clinging to your whole world. Then, Eddie clears his throat. 

'Do you know, like officially? Has a doctor said something or... are you sure you can't have kids? I mean, it could be me.'

You retract from your hiding place, to shuffle back and look at him. A hopeful glimmer sparkles deep in those brown eyes. 

'Well, no...' you confess, 'I was always too scared and because we never spoke about it, I decided ignorance was bliss.' 

Eddie hums in thought, nervously toying with the frayed hem of the t-shirt (of his) that you're wearing. 

'We can check, y'know... if you wanted to? If you really wanna do this.'  

His shyness makes you want to weep. Now it's clear as day how much he's been wanting this the entire time but never wanted to upset you. 

'Okay,' you murmur, 'we can check. I want to, I want us to have a family, Eds.' 

Finally, he looks up at you and a smile breaks across his face. 

'Really?' He marvels. 

'Really.' 

With your hand you signal just how much you mean it - cross my heart and hope to die. Eddie crushes a deep kiss to your lips, one that relaxes every muscle in your body. It's the first kiss since this morning. Never have you gone so long without kissing each other whilst being in each others company. It hurt to deprive yourself of it. Once you pull apart, you brave the question you dreaded. 

'What if the tests or whatever say we can't have kids?'

Eddie shrugs like it's the most casual thing in the world before brushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

'I think whatever happens, you're so caring, so full of love... I think we'll find a way to create our own family regardless.'

His words make you sniffle tears for the umpteenth time today. 

'The Munsons. Our own little family of misfits?' You smile. 

The Munsons. Those words alone leaving your lips instantly heal Eddie's heart in all the ways he's felt it shattered today. 

'God,' he groans, 'I can't wait for you to be a Munson, honey.'

His over dramatics make you giggle, your first real laugh all day. 

'Just one month left and it's official. Mrs Munson,' you kiss the tip of his nose. 

Your sweet affections are overshadowed by Eddie practically howling like a wolf. 

'Mrs Munson, Mrs Munson, Mrs Munson. You're killing me here, sweetheart!'

The following giggles are quickly swallowed up by your husband-to-be as he pulls you into a desperate, wet kiss. Your limbs tangle as you lose yourselves in it. Gasping for breath in between repeating Mrs Munson. Mr Munson. Over and over until you pull apart to catch yourselves. 

Looking at the man you love, all smitten and loved on, you agree with his earlier thought. 

'You're right though, Eddie. We'll do it, no matter how. We'll make the family neither of us ever got to have.' 

Just over a year later, you're both proven correct when a little stick shows a pink plus. One Sloane Munson was on her way. 

So guys... I guess a wedding is on the horizon?

taglist babies: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @littlepotatobeansworld @josephquinncore @oscarisaacwhore @therosietoesy @luvrsbian

[navnae]

Rockstar Eddie being obsessed with influencer Steve’s grwm videos and he watches them everyday while on tour. He just loves watching Steve explain what he’s going to wear along with what he’s planning to do that day. Eddie might have a slight crush on him and one day he accidentally likes one of Steve’s videos, obviously he wanted to continue be anonymous when it came to him watching stuff online but it was too late for him to do anything about it.

A few hours later Eddie is getting loads of notifications from every app. His fans kept sending him videos of Steve talking about him liking the video and how he’s star struck, it was really cute.

The cuteness went out the window long after now that Steve starts off his videos with “Eddie, I know you’re watching me. Wherever you are.” With a wink following after. That awoken something in him, watching Steve on a tiny screen wasn’t working anymore. He needed him in his hotel room and Eddie was determined to get him.

[penny00dreadful]

Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 5] [Part 7] [AO3] [Cover Art] [Eddie&Chrissy Art]

In the light of a new day, Steve was beginning to feel a little more positive about things.

It helped that he seemed to have awoken before most others in the castle and with the morning sun fighting off the darkness, he saw something out the window that he had missed the night before.

His room overlooked the back of the castle, over the clifftop and out to sea. He could see as far as the horizon could reach, miles and miles of grey choppy water and low hanging clouds visible from edge to edge.

It was like he was floating on a lone island out at sea, but that wasn’t what had really caught his attention.

Down below, directly underneath his bedroom window there was what looked to be a small, disused, but private beach.

There was no sand, just grey stone pebbles and a weathered dock that had probably seen better days extending out into the water.

It looked like it would only be able to moor a fishing boat, it definitely wasn’t a dock for all of the warships he knew this kingdom boasted.

The beach was small, maybe only fifty yards across but it was definitely a part of the castle grounds. There was a long set of stone steps leading from the castle down, looking as ancient as the rest of the stonework here.

Steve figured that maybe a refreshing morning swim would be enough to get his mind back in the right place again. It’s what he always did to relax back home. 

It would probably be a lot colder than he was used to, maybe slightly rougher and a lot saltier but he reasoned with himself that he was a strong swimmer, and he was a little desperate to work out his anxious energy.

Robin and Hopper would probably tear his head off when they found out he went swimming alone again, but he wasn’t worried.

He would be fine.

There was only a single moment when Steve first stepped onto the slippy pebbles down below that he wondered if he had perhaps been a little too cocky about his swimming ability.

The early morning air was damp and crisp and the sun would occasionally break through the clouds in bright little patches but even then, it didn’t bring much warmth.

But this was water and Steve understood water. He’d spent his whole life swimming so he pushed the thoughts out of his head.

He would look back on that moment and curse his stupidity later on. 

He did have the presence of mind to start slow, though.

He knew the water was going to be freezing compared to home and if he didn’t properly prepare himself he could easily seize up once the cold hit him and that could put him in a lot more danger than he needed to be in. 

So he slowly waded in, allowing himself to become submerged up to his knees and he already felt fucking numb.

If he were home he would have just stripped nude and dove right in, but he didn’t exactly want to flash any nearby fisherman who had gotten blown into the dock at the back of the castle or give anyone looking down from the windows above an eyeful.

So he’d kept his braies on and tucked his undertunic in tight. Though he knew once the water made contact with the white linen, they would be practically see through, anyway.

So he had attempted to combat this by keeping a change of clothes nearby as well as the thickly woven linen sheet he used to dry himself off after bathing. 

Steve kept wading forward, almost making it a challenge to himself to push through the cold. 

Once he got moving he’d warm up. Once he got in and started to swim he would barely be able to feel it anymore. 

He crouched down until he was covered up to the neck in bolstering sea water that would have been hip height had he been standing and once he had allowed himself a few breaths to push through the chill, feeling the movement of the water tilt him around in a way that could almost be called relaxing if it had been warmer, he ducked.

The shock of the cold and the salt and the movement of the water all still hit him, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been had he just jumped in with no preparation. 

Steve took off at a stiff and hard pace, being sure to keep himself parallel to the shore for his own safety and only managed to get a couple of laps in up and down the short length of the beach, getting tossed around by the waves before he started to wish for warmth again.

He turned, pushing his way back towards the shore, arm over arm and legs kicking behind him but as he kept swimming, he found he was moving nowhere.

Almost like he was stuck in a nightmare, no matter how hard he pushed against the cold grey waves around him, the shore refused to get any closer.

Fear was beginning to take over his mind now and the cold had crept into the very bones of him, his body was beginning to tire the harder he pushed against the waves and still the shore refused to get any nearer. 

With a quick glance around, trying not to panic too much, he looked for anything that might be available to him.

Why had he come out swimming alone?

What was going to happen if he drowned here?

What were Robin and Hopper and Chrissy and Eddie and Max going to do if the crown prince suddenly disappeared while at the royal seat of another kingdom?

It wouldn’t be good.

It would not be good at all.

What would the kids at home think?

What would happen to his people?

He had no siblings. No one to take up the mantle for him if he were to disappear below the waves.

In a last ditch effort to survive Steve began to swim parallel again, aiming for that broken down dock and he nearly shouted in relief when it came closer and closer as it should have done. 

He grabbed onto the pole extending down into the water, wrapping his arms and legs around it for a few moments before he gathered the courage to let go with one arm and reach up to use the half rotten slats where one would usually walk, to lead himself back to shore.

The feeling of the stones beneath his feet was salvation.

He crawled out of the choppy waves on hands and knees, almost kissing the ground beneath him, his lungs burning, his muscles heavy and tired and panic only truly managing to set in now.

His blood must have still been high, pumping through his veins because as he sat there, back on his haunches, shivering in the cold air, he pushed the panic away from him and remembered he had to get warm. He wasn’t going to freeze to death out here after just escaping the water.

Barely five minutes later he was as dried as he could be, dressed and hobbling his way back up the steps, determined to get back into his room and camp out in front of the roaring fire until someone came to get him for his dreaded meet-up with Billy.

He didn’t look back at the water. 

Maybe he would leave swimming as an activity he only did in Torthúil from now on.

Steve let out a heavy exhale and swore to himself he would never let Robin or Hopper find out about this.

“WHAT IN THE HELLS WERE YOU THINKING, STEVEN?!” Robin screamed at him. “GOING OUT THERE ALONE?!”

She had zero care for anyone overhearing her and the scandalised looks she was getting from the household staff passing in the halls told Steve all he needed to know about how often they saw someone of his status getting screamed at by their advisor.

Not often it seemed. 

They were all looking on warily, eyes darting between the two of them like a fistfight was about to break out, which wouldn’t be the most unbelievable thing to happen.

She had burst into his room without a care in the world, something she hadn’t done in years. 

Not since the time when she had slammed open his bedroom door only to find him on his hands and knees on the bed, enjoying himself in a way he had never, ever wanted to discuss with her again.

But he supposed she felt safer here, felt like he wouldn’t be slamming himself back onto a specifically blown and shaped glass item he’d attached to his headboard. 

At least not on his first night. 

So Robin hadn’t found him in a position like that this morning, but she had found him dry and dressed and primped to perfection but with the guilty evidence of his wet clothes and drying linen on the rack by the fire.

She’d only needed to take one look outside the window to the beach down below and then another at his guilty face before she’d started screaming the whole castle down.

Two of his household guards, Callahan and Powell, standing sentry by his door hadn’t reacted, one of them had yawned as she had screamed that she was going to pluck the guard's sword from his hip and cut all of Steve’s hair off.

They did become more alert, however, when two Stoirmeach guards had been drawn down the corridor by the shouting and had stood more firm in the entryway, jovially but with finality telling the guards that there was nothing to get so fired up about. 

It was just a sibling spat.

Steve hadn’t heard what had been grumbled in response, but judging by how Powell’s back had gone ramrod straight and Callahan’s hand twitched at his side, it wasn’t pleasant. 

“Thank you for your concern, but we can handle our own affairs.” Powell had growled back. “As we said. It is a sibling spat.”

Robin hadn’t cared about what had happened outside the door and she hadn’t cared that they were garnering a lot of attention from the staff and the Stoirmeach guards who looked at them like they were committing some kind of crime.

Or more specifically, looked at Robin like she was committing some sort of crime.

Steve had to grab her by both shoulders and turn her to look him in the eye, begging her to calm down and remember that they were not at home and that they needed to be more careful.

“He’s right, kid.” Hopper’s gruff voice came from behind her, speaking to Robin but with his eyes open around the courtyard they were just beyond the bounds of, keeping a watchful eye out. “This kingdom doesn’t seem to share our… egalitarianism.”

He leaned a little closer to the two of them, lowering his voice.

“We are in what could very easily become enemy territory if something were to go wrong.”

“You don’t think it’s as serious as that, do you, Hop?” Steve asked, a little scandalised.

“Yes I do.” He replied, his face awash with seriousness. “We have only been here a day but the entire castle already knows you two do not put much stock behind the way they do things here. Regardless of our feelings on how they run this kingdom and their people, this is their culture and their way of life and it is not… becoming to scoff and disregard it so easily.”

“You can’t be asking Steve to start treating me like… like dirt?” Robin asked, bewildered.

Steve would never entertain the thought, regardless of whether Hopper was asking him to do so or not, but Hopper just shook his head.

“No I am not. But I am at least asking you to have some more respect and maybe think about how your actions might affect those around you.” He turned to face Steve again. “You are here as Princess Christine’s guest and therefore, she is responsible for you—”

“Hop, I am the only one responsible for my actions.”

“At home, maybe. But here, they will blame anyone else instead of the ones in power to save their own skin. Whether that be the princess, Eddie or any of the other staff. You are not at home.”

Steve's mouth straightened out into a thin line.

He knew Hopper was right, as much as he didn’t like the thought of it, he was amongst a different culture and a different peoples and it was not his place to look down upon how they did things here, no matter his personal feelings.

Across the courtyard, the figure of Billy appeared, walking in long confident strides towards them.

Steve had hoped that he would have been able to have Chrissy at his side for this tour, at least as a buffer between the two, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her this morning.

“Could one of you go and locate the princess, see if she’s okay?” Steve tilted his head back to Hopper and Robin, keeping his eyes on Billy. “Send my condolences that she’s been usurped in this way. Maybe see if you can happen to run into us on this tour while the other stays with us for propriety’s sake?”

And so Billy doesn’t try to shove his hands down my pants in some dark corner, Steve thought to himself.

He immediately looked to Hopper as the most suitable candidate to find Chrissy but he was surprised when Robin volunteered herself almost before he had finished speaking.

He eyed her suspiciously while she fidgeted under his gaze, her cheeks slowly getting pinker and pinker.

But in the end he couldn’t really see an issue with it. Billy would inevitably be far more deterred with Hopper following a few paces behind in his gleaming armour and with his sword on his hip, rather than Robin with her willowy figure, ornate waistcoat embroidered with musical notes and nothing aside from her barbed words to throw.

“Prince Steven.” Billy’s oily greeting washed over him as Robin hurriedly excused herself and Steve was sure it was so rushed so she didn’t give herself a chance to snap at him.

Steve’s smile was strained as he turned to face him.

“Steve, please.”

“Oh?” Billy grinned at him, extending himself into a shallow bow. “So familiar already?”

He straightened up, holding an elbow out to him.

Behind him, Steve could feel the heat of Hoppers glare directed both at that elbow and from the lack of acknowledgment

Steve took his elbow with light fingers, trying to keep the touch as minimal as possible but Billy immediately pulled that elbow in tight to his side.

“Not familiarity, necessarily.” Steve had to fight to keep the words from lashing out as Billy began to lead them. “Just a preference.”

“Seems a little improper to have everyone address you in such a manner.” Billy leaned a little closer, still with that smile, obviously angling for some kind of confirmed favour.

Steve knew his returned smile was cold.

“As I said,” he turned his head, being sure to catch Billy’s eye to drive his point home. “Just a preference.”

Billy, to his credit, didn’t let the sour mood surrounding them dull his hosting skills, pressing on as though Steve had been nothing but receptive towards him, slowly taking him on a stroll through the castle.

In the daylight, without the harsh storm of the night before, the corridors and hallways were a little brighter, but not by much. Braziers and lanterns still fought to chase away the dark and the chill, fireplaces, large and imposing flared with light in every room.

Their windows were undecorated, their walls held a scant amount of art and the rugs they had keeping the cold at bay were plain and functional.

Steve had rarely seen the seat of a royal family kept only to practicalities.

“The castle appears to be quite… conservative in its decoration.” He said, after Billy had shown him through yet another reception room that looked as plain as the others.

“We don’t do pomp and circumstance here.” Billy replied. “There’s no need for braggadocious smuggery. We’re a kingdom of substance, so we don’t see the need to pretend to have more by showing off.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Wonder what the king and queen would think of my kingdom, then.” His tone was light but pointed at the same time but it didn’t seem to properly register with his tour guide as they stepped outside and into the castle grounds.

“I couldn’t say.” Billy shrugged then leaned in again, conspiratorially. “What do you think I would think of your kingdom, Your Highness? I would love to see it sometime.”

I’m sure you would.

Steve grinned back. “Perhaps too braggadocious for your tastes.”

Billy hummed at him, as if they were in the middle of some coy tête-à-tête.

“I suppose you’ll just have to invite me to find out.”

Steve couldn’t even find the words to respond. The audacity.

Billy glanced back at Hopper, who had remained silent the entire time apart from the sounds his armour made as he followed close behind.

“I had hoped we could have taken this tour alone.” He said, his tone light and probing.

“I don’t think that would be quite proper.” Steve’s answer was firm. “I am betrothed, after all. Don’t you agree?”

“If you are missing your kingdom, however,” Billy pushed on as if Steve hadn’t said anything, grinning at him as the clack clack of wood on wood started to reach them, “my home is quite a sight to see. More decorated than the castle by far. Perhaps you would enjoy seeing it?”

“Perhaps not.” Steve almost snapped back, coming swiftly to the end of his patience.

But again, the corner of Billy’s mouth turned up in a smirk, like Steve was a child throwing a tantrum or simply playing hard to get.

“Deflect!” A familiar voice shouted, drawing Steve’s attention over to a small sparring circle enclosed with a rough wooden fence. “Good! Again!”

Eddie lunged forward with power, swinging his wooden sword down towards the determined freckled face of a red haired girl who deflected his blow with a shout.

Lucas was leaning his elbows against the fence, looking completely enraptured at the sight in front of him and as Steve got closer he could see that Lucas’ eyes only followed the girl that Steve recognised as Max.

If he was a betting man, he’d bet that a wistful, lovesick sigh wasn’t too far off.

The loud crack of another hit echoed across the grounds. Neither Eddie, Lucas nor Max had noticed their presence.

Max’s deflection faltered, leaving her open for a quick twist and a killing blow from Eddie, though he didn’t take it. Steve wasn’t sure if Eddie even knew the opening was there or if he was just going easy on her.

“C’mon, Red. More power!”

“You’ve got this, Max! Take him down!” Lucas shouted at her from the sidelines. Eddie didn’t turn to look at him but Steve could see the small grin on his face.

“Stalker.” Max shot back but she also couldn’t stop the small tilt at the corner of her mouth.

They readied themselves again and Steve found himself leaning forward, eager to watch.

Eddie pushed himself forward, lunging with force and swung.

“Plant your feet, Maxine!” Billy shouted out of nowhere, startling everyone in attendance.

Eddie’s sparring sword cracked down hard on Max’s shoulder as her deflection lost power in her surprise.

Wood thunked to the ground as Eddie dropped his sparring weapon, his expression hidden by his hair but his back and shoulders tense, fists clenched at his side.

Max glared at her stepbrother, her opposite hand cradling her injured shoulder and she took a few bold steps forward.

It almost seemed like she was putting herself in between Billy and Eddie on purpose.

Lucas looked like he was ready to jump the fence and run to her side but his movements were halted when Hopper’s voice boomed out.

“Sinclair! Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

Lucas jumped to attention, his eyes swinging between Hopper and Max, but Hopper wasn’t even looking at him, he was glaring at Billy who seemed to be staring back at Lucas with just as much vitriol.

Lucas, one of the most observant of all of the kids Steve knew, quickly realised that it was less that he was in trouble and more that he was being told to get away. So with a shaky nod and a bow in their direction, he scampered.

“I don’t like my squire to be caught dilly dallying.” Hopper said, mostly for Billy’s benefit, letting him know exactly what rank Lucas had.

“That boy is your squire?” Billy scoffed with cruelty in his tone.

“That boy,” Hopper growled back, barely containing his irritation, “is the firstborn son of Lord and Lady Sinclair of Sycamore, so yes. That boy is my squire.”

Steve could see something in Billy begin to boil and if his suspicions had been correct before about him being the type of man to have a temper, he didn’t want any of them to have to suffer the fallout.

He turned back to the two in the ring with what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face. 

“You were sparring very well, Maxine.”

“Max, Your Highness.” She sneered right back, still cradling her shoulder. Eddie still had his back to them, fists clenched at his side.

Steve held his hands up in surrender, well used to teenagers at this point in his life.

“Max.” He smiled at her again, moving up to the edge of the fence and leaning his arms against it. “Eddie seems to be teaching you well.”

There was a light scoff next to him, Billy coming to settle right at his side, their shoulders pressed together and Steve had enough of the subtle hints. 

He shifted his body away, putting a gap between them again, so they were no longer touching.

“Surely you’d be better off sparring with someone actually trained, Maxine.” Billy grinned.

“What? Like you?” She spat back. “The last time you made me train with you, you broke my fingers.”

Steve felt his own fingers tense against the wood. The message underneath that statement was profoundly uncomfortable. It was clear that Max wasn’t suggesting it had been an accident.

“That’s because you don’t plant your feet.” Billy leaned a little further forward. “How about a sparring match then? A little one to one between me and your pretty boy Outsider?”

The look on Billy’s face was downright lascivious, all of his attention now firmly on the length and curves of Eddie’s body and Steve could almost sense his desire to get up close and personal.

He wanted to jump in, almost physically and put another barrier between Billy and Eddie but he had no right to, it wasn’t his place and nothing had been outright stated or enacted upon in front of him, so he would also have to deal with the fallout of Billy probably claiming innocence while everyone here could feel that that was not the case. 

A light shudder ran through Eddie’s body when he heard the words pretty boy, and Steve could see his throat bob with a swallow before he turned.

Eddie’s usually warm brown eyes were now cold and sharp as flint, hardened and wild like a cornered animal.

“No.”

“Hey now.” Billy smiled again, the same way he had at Steve, like everyone was playing hard to get. “That’s no way to talk to a knighted superior is it? What would the queen have to say of such things?”

“You are not knighted. Your father is.” Eddie growled back, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “And it was bought.”

“Oh.” Billy simpered. “Well maybe it was just that certain others didn’t have what it takes to be given such a title.”

“Okay.” Steve held his hands out again, trying to figure out how to bring this boiling situation down a notch, but Eddie turned his cold eyes onto him and seemed to lump him into the same category as Billy.

“You want to ‘spar’ too?” He asked, using air quotes around the word spar like Steve had some kind of ulterior motive. 

Steve looked at him, the way he was gripping his wooden sword, the way he had lunged and attacked Max with so much control over his swings, so confident in his body and where he was putting his sword.

Eddie was skilled, no matter where he was born or the lack of title he’d been born under. 

Steve himself was skilled as well, he had years of training from the swordmasters of Torthúil but he didn’t want to get involved in whatever one sided harassment Billy had going on towards Eddie.

“Maybe another time, I think Max is more deserving of your skills at the moment.” He gestured back over to her. She was still glaring at Billy and looked like she was a few seconds away from swinging at him with her own wooden weapon.

Steve wanted to get Billy away, he didn’t want to bear witness to him throwing his status around anymore, trying to use it to get his way, something Steve was sure he had done numerous times before and he didn’t like the idea of Eddie or Max having to face the consequences of it.

He outranked Billy and while he was only a visiting prince he was still a prince.

“I believe we still have a tour to complete?” Steve asked, angling his body back out towards the rest of the grounds.

Billy turned his smile back on him, offering Steve his arm again.

Steve took it and while they were walking away, he glanced back over his shoulder and found Eddie still staring at him, watching him retreat with something unreadable on his face. 

Steve, thankfully, wasn’t forced to deal with Billy on his own for much longer. Even with Hopper behind him, there wasn’t much he could do to intervene but the sight of Robin and Chrissy rounding the corner in front of them, arm in arm in a much more familiar way than Billy and Steve were, was a relief to him.

Billy had just finished lamenting to Steve about how heartbreaking it was that Eddie had such an attachment to him, an attraction that he was clearly fighting, trying to push Billy away to deal with his feelings and Steve had to bite his tongue hard not to bitch Billy out because in what world was that the truth.

From what he had seen, Eddie was nothing but disdainful and defensive around him.

Billy’s mouth turned down into a frown when he saw Robin and Chrissy approach, their heads bent low together and Chrissy seemed to be glowing.

Robin had a sweet almost lovestruck smile on her face looking down on the princess that wavered slightly, her eyes almost looking guilty as Steve took his excuse to get out of Billy’s grip and offer his own arm to his betrothed.

Steve kept trying to catch Robin’s eye, tried to figure out what was going on inside her head as the five of them continued on through the castle, Billy sulking behind Steve and in front of Hopper, Chrissy on Steve’s arm and Robin on her other side, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

He would have to find out from her later what was bothering her.

[Part 1] [Part 5] [Part 7] [AO3] [Cover Art] [Eddie&Chrissy Art]

As always, major thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work, @arelliann for their beautiful artwork, dividers and header, and to all my cheerleaders helping to keep me motivated. 🥰

[finniestoncrane]

12 Days of Kinkmas • Day 9: Exhibitionism - Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist • dividers minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: public sex, handjob

It was a festive miracle that you’d managed to convince Edward to join you at the New Year’s party of the guy in your desk cluster. He hadn’t technically been invited, but you were given a plus one, and you were determined to prove to the others in the office that he was worth inviting. He could be sweet, and he was interesting, they just needed to see him in the right light.

And Eddie of course had agreed. It was absolutely no secret to you, regardless of how well he thought he hid it, that he had a little crush on you. You were always catching him staring at you, always finding him right behind you with exactly what you needed, be it a pen or a coffee or some friendly advice. He didn’t speak to anyone else like that. He didn’t speak to them at all.

His sweet personality, and the intriguing secrecy that seemed to run beneath it, had captivated you. You’d developed your own crush. But, given how shy he was, he had rejected every other offer from you to hang out. This, however, was less pressure. This was a party with everyone you both worked with. It wasn’t one on one. There was nothing he could mess up. So, he had reluctantly decided that it might be a nice idea.

Entirely unaware of your ulterior motives, Eddie had stayed standing next to you as the TV was turned to one of the many channels showing the big countdown. He hadn’t flinched, not quite realising, when you turned to him as you reached the number four, looking into his eyes as you counted down the remaining three seconds together. And when you leaned in to kiss him as the clock struck midnight, you were pleased to find he didn’t pull away.

But finally having him in your grasps had awoken something in you. It was either that or the champagne you had been drinking since 10pm. Either way, finally getting what you wanted only spurred you on, and you found yourself deepening the kiss even after everyone else had left their partners and had continued dancing and talking.

It felt like it was just you and Eddie there, close to the corner of the room. Emboldened by the success of your plan, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, holding him there, as your other hand drifted from his waist to his hip, and then quickly moved to the front of his pants. Palming at his cock, you were surprised to feel that he was already stiffening, and as you looked up at him with a smile, he began to stutter, his cheeks a bright shade of red.

“It’s ok, Eddie…”

You unzipped his pants slowly, reaching your hand inside of them and feeling his warm length against your palm.

“… no one will know… it’s so loud in here, and so dark…”

He gulped loudly, swallowing his nerves, his eyes rolling back as you pulled his cock free of his pants and began to stroke it, holding him close to you to offer some semblance of privacy.

“A-are you… sure you uh, want to do this? With me?”

You pressed your lips to his neck, letting your tongue flick over his skin, feeling a dribble of precum on his tip as you ran your thumb over the head.

“Of course, Eddie. I’m going to start this year as I plan to finish it.”

[jmagnabo92]

For the kiss prompts (if you still want them) can I please request Buddie + good morning kisses? I'm such a sucker for those🥰

Hello Anon! This is the first time I've posted anything Buddie (Only recently watched the show and fell in love with them), so, I really, really hope you like it :)

***

There’s a part of Buck that still can’t believe this is real.  That in the aftermath of his coma and the lightning strike that he and Eddie had both come to realize that they’re friendship was not-at-all normal and they’d much rather be together than spend another minute apart. 

The confession had come on the heels of Buck getting out of the hospital and Eddie insisting that Buck stay with him and Christopher despite his parents arguing that they would stay with him at his loft. 

The way that Buck had looked at him hoping he would save him had Eddie blurting out that he’d be staying with him and Christopher because he needed to be somewhere that’s healing (and they learned with his broken leg that alone in his loft wasn’t the answer, hence why he ended up staying with them after two weeks back then). 

Buck can’t help wondering how they didn’t end up together back then – sharing Eddie’s bed and acting like a couple should’ve given them a clue, but well, they’ve been clearly oblivious.

He doesn’t care how it happened, he’s just grateful that on getting home (to Eddie’s) and Christopher off to sleep that Eddie confessed.

“I know I probably shouldn’t have jumped in and assumed that you wanted to come be with me and Christopher, but I love you and I hated the way that they were making decisions for you after all the shit they’ve put you through.”

Buck had only heard one thing… “You love me?”

“I – uh – don’t – I mean, I don’t – can’t … ruin this… friendship.”

If Buck thought that he meant he loved him as a friend that stutter wouldn’t make sense, and after his coma experience and the way that he felt when he heard about Eddie and Chris in that dream, he knows how he feels now. 

He’s never been the best with his words, so he pulled him close and kissed him passionately.  Right in the middle of their kitchen and never looked back.

It’s only been like a week, but Buck’s happy to wake up in the mornings wrapped up in Eddie and met with sleepy eyes and lazy kisses. 

Especially when he’s awoken by those kisses. 

Eddie’s always the one waking up first and he always leans in to kiss Buck’s neck, his cheek, and then, once Buck’s eyes open, his lips.  There’s something special about those lazy, good morning kisses.

He hums as he feels Eddie’s lips against his neck, and then, his cheek.  He knows what comes next and he’s thrilled that in a week, they’ve already developed a happy routine. 

He blinks his eyes open, and Eddie leans forward, brushing his lips, somewhat cracked from sleep, against Buck’s.  It’s lazy and comfortable and not meant to provoke anything, but Buck always chases the kiss back when Eddie pulls away, putting him on his back and leaning up above him. 

They’re both grinning by the time that Buck pulls back. 

“Good morning,” Eddie breathes, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Good morning,” Buck grins.  He glances as the clock and notes that they still have a couple of minutes before the alarm goes off.  “Any chance you wanna make it a great morning?”

Eddie laughs.  “We don’t have long enough for all that, but I think we can spend a few minutes making out if you don’t mind a little morning breath.”

“Not at all,” Buck assures him.  “Best way to start the morning.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing him again, thrilled that Eddie seems to agree… at least until the alarm blares and they have to start their day officially, still, those few minutes every morning are worth waking up before the alarm, always.

***

Thanks for Reading :). Thanks for the ask, if you wanna play along, send me a Type of Kiss + Pairing.

:)

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 17: Repair

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 16

March 1986

The news has been replaying the same story all day. It should be shocking, sort of is, but Julie’s kind of numb to it at this point. Each year, like clockwork, something big happens. Something this small town hasn’t faced in decades. A kid missing, turned up dead, just to be found alive again. A government laboratory had a gas leak that caused the death of many more people. The mall catches on fire causing a mass casualty. Now this.

She was awoken by sirens this morning. Ruined what was supposed to be a day where she slept till noon. It was spring break; she was allowed to be lazy. But instead, the spring break was wrapped up by police tape. The cause of a whole new type of stress.

Beloved student of Hawkins High School, Crissy Cunningham, found dead in the Munson’s trailer. Eddie Munson, the prime suspect, still at large. The body, found by Wayne Munson, a hard-working man of the community, is disfigured beyond belief. The police don’t have enough evidence to make a statement. But are advising the public to be aware and alert the police of any suspicious behavior.

Julie doesn’t know Eddie that well. They’ve only been neighbors, acquaintances. Sure, he drove her to school a few times. Made sure that she got there safely and was an ear when she needed to rant. But that didn’t make them friends. That didn’t make them close.

It didn’t take an idiot to see that Eddie wasn’t as big as scary as he was chalked up to see. Unfortunately, this town was full of idiots. Ready to point their fingers to the person the papers blame. Since they were already so influenced that metal music was from the devil and all dungeons and dragon’s players were Satan worshippers. It only took one headline for them to believe that. What’s stopping them from believing it now?

The evidence is damning. Wayne worked last night so it can’t be him. Multiple witnesses saw Chrissy leave with Eddie after the game last night. He is a known drug dealer, which most people would say is a step away from murder. His van was heard by the entire trailer park at both their entrance and his exit.

But there was one thing that Julie’s not sure anyone really heard. His screams.

Trailer parks are a hive for nosy neighbors fueled by the powers of thin walls. Lots of open air for noise to travel. It was nice outside last night, so Julie sat out on their little porch with a book. Peacefully reading.

Until Eddie pulled up with music blaring out the windows. Slamming on the breaks before he crashes straight into his own trailer. Right before the queen herself gets out of the car and walks right through his front door.

Julie says she’s better than gossip, but this she just had to know. Had to witness. Two people who never interact, going into an empty trailer. A recipe for disaster.

And disaster it was. Not long after, Julie can hear some yelling from the trailer. Something about waking up. Chrissy not being able to hear Eddie. It just increasing in volume until it devolves into a terrified scream. Then Eddie runs out of his trailer, gets into his van, and speeds away.

Julie doesn’t know a lot about how murderers act, but she can guess they don’t normally scream while killing their victims. That’s a pretty obvious sign that something’s wrong. But the police just brush her off when she tells them. The arrest has already written itself.

. . .

Present Day, April 1987

It’s been almost two full weeks since Steve and Julie moved into the new house, and Steve still feels off about it all. About taking the next step in the case. Passing the point of no return.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. It’s like he’s being backing into a corner. On the one hand, he could drop this and make himself a fool to his parents, to his friends, probably a good bit of the town. Or he can go through with it just to drag up his baggage all over again. Feel like shit all over again.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Then there’s all the other stuff. The looming piles of bills in his future, the fact that they still don’t have a couch. That Steve still doesn’t have a proper mattress. And the fridge is getting kind of empty, so he needs to go shopping soon.

These are new worries for him. Making a strict budget and making sure it’s enforced. Saying no to the kids when they want something, forcing Robin and Eddie to pay their share of the meals when they go out. Even though it was really always him ensuring he was alright paying the bill. Making small stacks of coupons and waiting deals to show up in the paper. It’s a lot.

Steve’s never been poor before. Not to say that he is now. Well, he kind of is. He has a good bit of debt because of this loan and lost a large chunk, most, of his savings to buying this house and the initial furniture. Paychecks are split between bills, food, Julie, savings, and then him. He’s the last on his list of priorities.

It’s all bringing up more issues, as if it already wasn’t enough. He’s always been the friend that picks up everyone’s tab. Pays for the check, the parties, the supplies, the fancy gifts. It’s all been from his money. His dad’s money. Which he doesn’t have anymore.

He knows it’s stupid to think that the friends he has now would care about that. Just because his old friends definitely would have. But these guys, they care more about the money. About the name. What Steve can give them.

Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like it.

Steve’s always been a giver. It felt wrong to keep what he had just to himself. He never took, just gave. What would he be when there was nothing left to give?

Julie shuts the door just a hair away from a slam when she gets home. Giving her bedroom door a harsher treatment. It squeaks all the way shut. He’s been meaning to fix that, hasn’t gotten around to it yet.

She’s been like this ever since they moved. Her demeanor shifting almost immediately. At first, he chalked it up to the stress, having a new place that didn’t feel right. The change uncomfortably itching beneath the skin.

But after a week went by and it was the same thing every day, he knew something was up.

He walks over to her door, knocking lightly.

“What,” Julie yells through the door.

Steve’s taken aback. “How was school?” he asks calmly. 

She whips the door open. “Fine,” she huffs. “That all?”

“You ok?” he asks as if the question didn’t answer itself already.

“Yeah,” Julie rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Steve crosses his arms. “You sure? Cause to me it seems like you’re upset about something. You know you can talk to me about this stuff.”

“Whatever.” Julie slams the door in his face.

It takes all Steve has to not rip the door open and give a whole lecture on how rude that was. To restrain himself from stepping into old shoes. To react differently than his father would have. Come back when the moment dies down and the anger stops bubbling. To be better. To be him.

Whatever he is at the moment.   

. . .

Julie tears another piece of paper out of her notebook. Crumpling it in her hands and throwing it across the room, watching it miss the trashcan. Landing next to the other balls of paper. Each one being more wrong than the last.

She should be doing homework. There’s an essay due for her English class in a few days and she hasn’t gotten around to writing it. Too busy with the move, then the adjusting. Now this. The same thoughts over and over again in her mind. All of them screaming that this can’t be happening right now.

Every time Julie thinks she can have any sort of break, another thing comes along just to punch her down again. Her mom died, then she moved, then she moved again, then she started getting better but that’s this whole other thing, then she gets kicked out, moves again. Now she has a crush on one of her best friends. What a great fucking life this is.

Julie tugs at the roots of her hair, pushing her fingers under the tightness of her braid. Hoping if she squeezes long enough, the unwanted thoughts will just leave. She’ll be able to think of a theme in the Catcher in the Rye that speaks to her enough to get five pages out of. Be able to write enough in her stupid notebook that makes sense. Get her grades back to where they were before and her life back together again.

Falling apart is a tune run dry and Julie’s tired of playing it. All she wants to do is go back to being normal. Like she was a year ago. Happy, kinda pissed at the world in different ways, but happy. Where there was something that didn’t quite make sense with the way she felt about girls, but it was easy to brush it all off. And her mom came home smelling like syrup and bacon grease instead of alcohol. Her knew sobriety chip kept proudly in the pocket of her apron. Constantly reminding her what the tips really needed to be spent on.

Life was good. It was normal. It was everything. Julie misses everything.

She misses the way the house always smelled a little stale and like mildew. The flowery candle her mom burned doing nothing to cover it up. She misses the way she would trip on the pile of shoes by the door. And how the singular hook on the wall would always drop her coat so much she started to throw it over a chair. How the kitchen would always be a little bit messy, and there would be dishes in the sink and pots on the stove. The couch that had it’s built in divot made by someone else with cushions that were squished beyond compare. Doors that fell off hinges every year or so and the sounds of the radio flowing through the walls.

All of it aches in her heart the more she moves on. The more she grows away from the place she called home. Having to keep retracing it all in her mind so she won’t forget it. Hold her mom’s sweatshirt close to her nose and pray to smell her cheap perfume again. But all that’s there is Julie. All there is left is Julie.

Julie is the only thing left of her mom other than the picture sitting on her desk. Which sucks for so many reasons she can’t find the words to explain. Mainly because looking in the mirror gets harder. Each time looking a little less like herself than the day before. Not quite knowing who she is anymore.

Reflections almost heighten to the imperfections on Julie’s face. The darkness underneath her eyes, the red dots forming on her chin and forehead. The fakeness of her smile, the way it can’t seem to reach her eyes quite right. Growing into a face that lost its childhood. Fighting to keep all she can of what’s left.

Growing up was always going to be hard. Slowly seeing herself morph away from childhood dreams and expectations. Having them crushed by the cruel realities of the world. Having memories trapped in confines of the mind that can’t seem to be open again. Becoming someone is hard in a normal life, let alone one with as many hurdles as Julie’s.

Julie can’t even begin to fathom what she would say to herself half a year ago, five years ago. How could she crush that little girl’s dreams right before her eyes. Witnessing the pain from the outside rather than the in. Tell her that there would be no princess wedding, or even one at all. That her mom wouldn’t even be there if she could. Gone far too soon. She left Julie far too soon.

Childhood isn’t missed until it’s stripped away. Until it can never return. For what its worst, Julie’s mom made sure she had it for as long as possible. Before the inevitable kicked in and took it away for her.

Now Julie’s filled with hate again. At herself. At Steve for trying. At him for not being who she wants on the other side of the door. A constant reminder that this good thing could only come once her mom was gone. Finally, a house, but without the mother to make it a home.

It’s not fair to blame him, she knows that. Can hear the upcoming words of her therapist as she relays this all to him in the next session. How she’s placing Steve in a box that he was never meant to fill. Just because the emptiness was too crushing to face in whole.

Giving up on the homework, Julie lies on her bed. The new mattress smell still seeping through the covers. She takes her Walkman and presses play on whatever’s in there. Noise blasting through her ears, loud enough to hopefully cover these thoughts. She grabs a pillow, wanting to squeeze something close to her chest. All of her childhood stuffed animals gone with the first move. Another piece of her that is forever lost.

The tears start to form, and Julie lets them fall.

. . .

The next day doesn’t seem to be any better. She insists on biking to school today. Doesn’t really make it a choice as she hoes straight from her room to the door. Without saying as much as a goodbye.

Steve doesn’t push. Thinks it would be best after the outburst yesterday.

The last time Julie acted like this was her mom’s birthday. Where she was hurting so bad that she decided to hit at the closest target. If that’s what she needs to do again, he’d be happy to take it all. Hold some of the hurt so she didn’t have too anymore. Distract him from his own hurt at the moment.

It’s so bad that she forgets her lunch on the counter. Even though it would probably have ended in the garbage. Like how last night’s dinner landed right into a container to be revisited later. Still sitting in the fridge when Steve went to make breakfast this morning.

He’s not quite sure the last time she’s eaten more than half her plate. Too busy with his own stuff to notice her dip back in her progress. Kicking himself that he didn’t see it all sooner. That it took for her slamming a door in his face to understand how bad it had really gotten. Not like he could have stopped it. But it might have helped.

“That conversation you had with Julie while me and Eddie were out getting the pizza,” Steve says while explaining the situation to Robin. “Was that about her mom? About the move?”

Robin takes a second to think. Physically stopping and starting her movements a few times before speaking. “No, it was about something else.”

Something else. Steve didn’t know about a something else. “Was it because of me?”

“No, no. It was just something really private that she wanted to talk to me about. I would tell you but it’s really not my place to.”

Steve ignores the alarm bell ringing in his head. She’ll tell him about it, whatever it is, when she’s ready. “But you would if you thought it had anything to do with the way she’s acting.”

Robin shrugs. “It depends. If I thought, it would help. But honestly,” she takes a deep breath. “I think telling you about it might make it a million times worse.”

“Make what a million times worse?” Eddie asks after walking in. Sliding into his designated spot at Steve’s side and placing a kiss to the side of his head.

Robin rolls her eyes. “You guys can’t be this happy while Nancy’s away at school.”

“Oh boohoo.” Eddie sticks out his tongue.

“I thought you had work today?” Steve asks Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’m sick.”

“You’re going to be jobless if you keep calling out for no damn reason,” Robin chastises.

“Well clearly, I was needed elsewhere because there is a situation that needs dealing with. Make what worse? By a million times?”

Robin rolls her eyes again, gesturing Steve to fill Eddie in on the situation.

“Julie’s hitting a low point again, she slammed a door in my face yesterday.”

“Do you think it’s about her mom?” Eddie gets a soda out of the fridge and sits on the countertop.

It could be. One of the first things Julie said when she saw the house was how it reminded her or her mom. How a place like this was all her mom ever wanted for the two of them. That had to drag up some feelings. Especially since they were now living here.

Steve shrugs. “It could be. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.”

But there was something else. Either the thing she talked about with Robin or him pushing yesterday. Something going on in school. Anything.

There were so many places to mess up. For Steve to fuck up something that didn’t just involve him. He’s bad at dealing with things. Pretending his problems don’t exist so he doesn’t have to think about them. Or lashing out just to feel more powerful than them.

Steve just didn’t want Julie to feel like she had to keep it in. That she had to keep the war in her mind because no one cared enough to listen. Or that she would burden him just for talking to him about it. He wanted her to be better than himself. Maybe that was too high of an expectation to have.

“Just talk to her about it,” Robin says softly. “She’s always come around to telling you how she feels. She just needed to blow off a little steam, that’s all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Maybe was a lot of things right now. None of them made Steve feel any better.

“Hey,” Eddie kicks Steve gently. “What’s really going on? Other than the Julie thing?”

“It’d be easier to say what isn’t going on than what is?” Steve pulls out one of the metal folding chairs from their makeshift kitchen/dining table and sits down. It squeaks under his weight, proving his point for him. “Maybe I bit off more than I can chew.”

Robin pulls out the chair next to him. “You did what you had to. It just happened to be very overwhelming.”

“I’m not talking about that. Well, I am but not really. It’s just,” Steve takes a deep breath. “This case. If I’m still going through with it. It’s just adding more to the pile and I’m now realizing I didn’t really think it through as much as I should’ve.”

“What do you mean,” Eddie interrupts. “You seemed liked you thought it over a lot, actually. Had evidence all laid out, contacted people, got witness statements. People to testify. Had multiple people who know their shit tell you that this was a good case. You checked off all the boxes.”

“Yeah, sure. But I don’t think I’d realized at the time that I might be going to court twice in a short amount of time.”

Steve asked Sarah a few weeks ago what it would take to make him the permanent guardian for Julie. Maybe even adopting her. If that’s what she wanted, he hasn’t brought that specifically up yet. Sarah mentioned something about permanent guardianship, since Julie’s only a year away from becoming an adult.

But no matter what, it probably leads to presenting his case before a judge. Having them make the final decision. With all the things that have happened in the past few weeks, and Sarah pulling some strings she shouldn’t have, the risk of relocation raised a bit. Making this permanent would get rid of the risk. Neither of them would have to worry about this anymore.

“Wait, twice,” Robin questions.

“Yeah, once for this case against my parents, twice to get permanent custody of Julie.”

“Is that something you guys have talked about?”

Steve shrugs. “A bit. She definitely wants to stay with me long term, and I said I’d start asking about the options. I just haven’t talked to her about which one she would prefer, since she’s got less than a year before she turns eighteen. Most of them involve at least going in front of a judge to prove that I have the means to care for her until she’s an adult.”

“And if this case falls through, it might look bad on you,” Eddie connects the dots.

“Exactly. And I’ll have to pay all the legal fees out of my own pocket where I would have gotten that back from the money I won.”

Then there was the reason for doing this all in the first place, getting them to understand what they did to him. How he was affected because of their neglect. Would they even listen? Would this change anything? Would this all just become another story to tell their friends?

They would go around telling their friends how much of a disappointment he is. How he is ungrateful of everything they’ve done for him. How he wouldn’t even be here without them. As if that makes up for the fact that they were never around.

Creating someone doesn’t immediately garner respect. It still has to be earned. Each time he was left, his respect, his love for his parents shrunk. Now all that is left is a sliver so small, yet it still feels like a mountain. Still crushing him.

He doesn’t want to be crushed by it anymore.

Steve gets up, goes to his room and pulls out all of the evidence he’s built. The entire case against his parents laid in a binder. Copies of bank and credit card statements. Highlighted lines of hotel stays and flights books. Lined up with dates that Steve could recall they missed. Birthdays and holidays lost. Memories begged to be made. Years gone.

Statements of the many nannies that he had. Each confirming their own payments, the lengths of their stays. Empty cards filled with not even the signature of their names. Cursive congratulations and happy birthdays printed instead. Hospital records that show his own signature on the discharge form. Mrs. Henderson’s name on the contact form since his parents couldn’t care to show up.

It was enough, it had to be.

He brings it out to the kitchen, laying it all out on the table. Asking Robin and Eddie to go through it. Tell him if they think it would be enough.

Witnesses, one of them asks. Steve could think of a few. One of the nannies had offered when he asked. She would still do it. Hopper said he would not only be a character witness, but also get the records for that one house party he broke up where Steve was caught underage drinking. How he had to drive him home, his parents nowhere to be seen. Nancy probably would too. She could tell the courts how she knew his parents were never home, even if he was seventeen.

It is enough.

Eddie grabs Steve’s hand. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Robin grabs his other hand. “If this would be too much, no one would blame you for walking away.”

Here in this small kitchen with old cabinets with squeaky hinges and tile that he absolutely hates. In a house that he bought on his own, for the family that he made, it’s finally starting to feel like a home.

The walls were never what made it empty. The unopened rooms and unused furniture. It was the energy that never flowed through the doors that made it devoid of all life. Sucking what it could from the person in it to make up for the loss. Now, as people come and go, as Steve and Julie live here, the house feels full.

With these people by his side that showed up by surprise. Chose him for whatever reason that he might never understand. But circumstances led them to each other, and they don’t leave. Even when he tried. Gave them the opportunity to. Yet, they stayed. Every. Single. Time. They helped him learn what home should feel like.

Steve is enough. He always was.

“I want to do this,” Steve says without a doubt in his voice. “Even if they still won’t believe it, or be pissed at me for the rest of their life. I want to show up to the court with rows of people behind me, while their side is empty. Show them the real thing they lost was me.”

. . .

When Julie gets home, she goes right to her room. Ignoring the happy mood Steve is in. Ignores the fact that she saw Eddie’s van drive down the street as she was biking home from school. Ignores the slight rumbles in her stomach and the ache in her legs. Lets her body fall limp onto her bed after her bag slips off her shoulder. Filled with work that won’t get done. Marked with a big red “F” when she turns them in blank.

Just adding on to how Julie is already feeling.

What would her mom say to her? Her daughter’s grade dipping. Another new home. Not eating. Slamming doors in the face of the one person who was beside her during all of this.

Liking girls.

She would pull some of her mom wisdom out of her ass for some of it. Not really helping or making much sense, but it worked out in the end. Julie always ended up figuring out something. Got better after some time and picked herself up again. Kept moving.

Time just keeps moving. It’s endless and doesn’t stop. Forcing all to move along with it. Whether they want to or not. Even when life gets in the way and forces them to stop. To become stuck. Julie feels stuck again. Did for a long time. It was easy to become stuck when there was security blanketed around her.

Julie doesn’t really feel like time moved as fast as it did. How it was six months, almost seven since her mom died. And Julie still feels like it was yesterday sometimes. Especially right now. Transported back to the day the police officers knocked on her door. Took her away. When she was frozen, but kept moving. Had to keep moving.

She doesn’t have to keep moving anymore. There’s no goal anymore. No checkmark in her progress or hurdle she has to jump over. Just a pile of tasks that are too overwhelming to acknowledge or unpack. So she lets them pile up. They aren’t important right now.

Julie winces when she tugs off a scab on her thumb. Starting the bleeding all over again. With a deep breath, she forces herself off the bed and to the bathroom. Digging for the first aid kit under the sink for another band aid. Ignoring her reflection in the mirror. The greasy strands of hair pulled back into a French braid. The dark circles around her eyes. That person isn’t her anymore.

Julie isn’t Julie right now. She’s something else. Unrecognizable. To herself. To her mom. To anyone.

“Hey, Julie,” Steve says before she can escape back to her room.

She takes another deep breath, ready to push him away again. Not ready for a talk. “What?” she asks, too tired to even sound pissed.

Steve holds out the phone. “Phone for you.”

Julie presses her lips together, taking the phone and holding it closer to her ear. Curling around herself. “Hello.”

“Julie, it is me, El.”

Great. “Hey, El. What’s up?” Julie tries to feign excitement. Terrified at the brief flutter of her heart that spawned by the sound of El’s voice.

“I realized I never got around to asking you this at lunch, but are you free next Friday?”

“Uh, I think so. I’ll have to double check.” No, she won’t. She doesn’t have anything going on, just wants to seem like she does.

“Would you like to come over for a sleepover? I know we just kind of had one, but I want a better one. And then Max can be there too.”

Julie doesn’t want a sleepover. Well, she does, but not one with Max. Because it would be Max and El on the bed. Because why would they make the girl in the wheelchair with chronic pain sleep on the air mattress on the floor. That’s rude and stupid. And it’s El’s room, so she would also be in the bed.

Meaning that Julie would be alone on the floor while her two friends share a bed. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem. Normally she wouldn’t care. But now she does. Because she knows what it’s like to sleep in the same bed as El and the midnight talks that are kind of really serious but also really nice. The nervousness that creeps under her skin every time El’s eyes meet hers. The pounding of her heart as she tries to get a singular word out.

But she can’t say no. Can’t see the disappointment in El’s face or hear it in her voice. Would rather be there, suffering in silence, than miss out on time with her friends. Which she would enjoy for a majority of it, and could kind of need right now.

“Sure,” Julie says. “If I’m free and everything.”

She wishes she sounded more excited, but she can’t.

“Yay. Let me know as soon as possible if you are free. I will see you at school tomorrow.”

Julie’s slight smile drops. “Yeah, tomorrow. Talk to you later.”

The phone clicks onto the receiver as tears start to spring to Julie’s eyes. For reasons she doesn’t really know why but feels deep inside her chest. A pain she’s never felt. Crushing. Terrifying. A tear rolls down her cheek as she runs to her room, wiping it away quickly so Steve doesn’t see.

But he sees.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asks as Julie crosses into her bedroom.

“Just leave me alone,” she yells with a sob, slamming her door. Right in his worried face.

She can’t even make it to her bed before she falls. Slamming her back into the door and pulling her knees close to her chest. Wet patches forming on her knees. Breathing in stutter breaths just to let them out as broken sobs. Trying to pull herself together. Trying to keep it quiet. Knowing Steve is right behind the door, wondering what he can do.

What Julie’s feeling can’t be fixed. No matter what she tries. No matter how hard she tries. She can’t be normal anymore.

A slip of paper gets slid under the door next to her. After the sobs start to slow and Julie can see things again. She picks it up, unfolding it.

When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.

All it does is start Julie’s sobs again. How could she have been so lucky to have someone so understanding waiting for her outside the door? When her life went to shit. When things just keep going to shit. He’s still there. Even when she slams doors in his face and uprooted his entire life.

Without even blinking, he’s still there.

“Steve,” she says to her empty room when the tears slow. Hoping he can hear.

“Yeah,” the answer comes from the other side of the door.

Julie lets out a wet laugh. “When you said you were waiting, I didn’t think it’d be right outside the door.”

“Well, technically, it’s right next to your door. Only since I slid the note, though. I gave you space for a bit.”

Her knees fall to the ground, hands falling in her lap. Resuming the picking of her unbandaged thumb. “I appreciate that.”

A beat of silence. “You’re talking to me again. Does that mean you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.” She takes a shaky breath. “I’m not sure how to talk about it.”

“That’s ok. Do you want to wait to talk about it, see if you can find the words later?”

Her head gently bangs against the door. Mind racing to find the words. To say something so he can find the solution for her and the pain can go away. But it all leads to a question so unfathomable that she can’t even bear to ask it. Gets mad at herself for even thinking about it.

She does though. Over and over again. Her mind finding answers she doesn’t like. Doesn’t want to believe were a possibility. Truth is, she will never have an answer to that question. No matter how hard she searches for one. The one person who can give it isn’t here anymore. Leaving an uncertainty that would weigh over her head forever.

“I’m sorry,” Julie says instead. Apologizing for the things she can instead of searching for what she can’t. “For slamming the door in your face.”

“You can slam the door in my face as many times as you need to. Just as long as you agree to talk to me about it, when you’re ready to. I may not always follow my own rules, but it’s better to talk about things before they start to build up.”

Julie wipes away the stray tear rolling down her cheek. Moving to pick at the strands of her jeans so she doesn’t need another band aid. “I think this has been building up for a while now. I just didn’t know it was there.”

There’s silence across the door for a minute or two.

“You know what I kind of really want right now, chocolate chip cookies,” Steve says suddenly.

It’s so random that is makes Julie laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, you know, freshly made, warm chocolate chip cookies. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Julie smiles. “That actually does sound kind of nice.”

“Great. I’m going to go make some, you can join me if you want.”

She does kind of want to. After taking a deep breath, Julie picks herself off the floor. Wincing at the soreness of her legs from sitting on rough carpet for so long. Opens the door and heads to the kitchen. Steve is pulling out one of the many cookbooks he stole from his parents and turning to a recipe. Starting to grab the different ingredients.

He smiles when Julie searches their cabinets, searching for the mixing bowl they also stole from his parents. Probably thinking he’s had some sort of victory over this. Maybe he has. She’s out of the room, and probably about to eat something. It’s a small victory for the both of them.

The oven takes an eternity to preheat. Leaving the rolled-out cookies on the stovetop. Some of them mysteriously gone missing. Well, not mysteriously, she had a few more than she should. But so did Steve, so it was fine.

When the cookies are finally baked, Steve waits a few minutes before placing some on a plate and bringing them over to the blanket pile that is still acting as a couch. But instead, some of the chairs hold up the blankets, making a small fort.

It reminds her of the ones her mom and her made during thunderstorms. When the trailer would shake with each boom, but not the fort. With soft pillows and flashlight shadow puppet stories. Falling asleep when the thunder was far enough away that it became calming. Paired with the patter of rain on the roof. They were always safe in the fort.

Julie was safe in the fort.

She breaks the cookie in her hand, the warm chocolate smearing across her fingertips. Melting in her mouth as soon as they hit. Giving her the energy to say what she needs to say. What she wants to say.

“You know it was El that called, right.” Julie breaks the cookie again. “Well, of course you know. You’re the one who gave me the phone.”

Steve sits straighter, giving Julie his full attention. “Yeah, I know.”

“She was asking if I was free next Friday, for a sleepover.” Her heart starts racing as the words still stay unsaid. Trapped in her throat, even though she knows he wouldn’t care about them.

“That sounds fun. Did you want to go?”

Julie continues to stare at her hands, unable to look up. “Yeah, I do. It’s just. It’s harder now. Because I think, no, I know that I.” She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I have a crush. On El.”

Steve takes a second to respond. Keeping the moment tense. Julie can only hear the sound of her own heart beating.

“That would make it harder,” he finally says.

“Yeah,” Julie chokes as the tears start to form again. “Yeah, it really does.”

Steve moves the plate of cookies out from in between them before scooting closer. Reaching out to place a hand on Julie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” Julie stops him before he can try to comfort her. “I hate that I’m like this. It’s terrifying. I don’t want like this to be but I am. And I’m going to screw everything up.”

She pulls her legs up to her chest again, the tears retracing their tracks down her cheeks. Even when she thought the wells had dried, it keeps flowing.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Steve exhales. “I felt the same way when I figured out I liked guys. So much so, that I pushed it down and forgot it for years. Kept pretending that this part of me wasn’t a part of me. Hated myself for it. Pushed that hatred outward toward people who didn’t deserve it. Just because I was so angry with myself that I couldn’t be normal.”

Julie clenches her eyes shut, trying to force the tears to stop flowing. Wanting this hurt to stop.

“There were a lot of factors that made me want to hide who I was, I think. My parents, mostly. My reputation. I was the kid that threw parties and had all the nicknames. Hawkins High School’s poster boy. A Harrington. Any wrong move and I was done for. I didn’t need that wrong move to be dangerous.”

She pulls herself more inward. Wondering if she becomes small enough, the problems will just go away. No longer hunting the prey hiding in the bushes.

“It took a lot for me to realize that I wasn’t-. That I wasn’t broken.” Steve takes a deep breath, clears his throat. “That this part of me was normal. Is normal. Just doesn’t always feel like it in a small town. It took meeting other people like me to realize that this was something I could be and still be happy. And believe me, there’s so much happiness waiting for you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Julie mutters into her knees. “It feels like everything keeps breaking apart over and over again.”

“Yeah, yeah it does.”

Julie lifts her head up, finally turning to look at Steve. “I just don’t want to mess up one of the first friendships I’ve had in years because I can’t stop acting weird around her. I can hate myself all I want, I can’t make her hate me too.”

Steve takes a deep breath, turning himself so he’s facing Julie completely. “And you won’t. El is one of the most loving and forgiving people I have ever met. Well, when she cares about someone. She can be pretty brutal to the people who she doesn’t like, but that’s not the point. El cares about you, she won’t judge you for this.”

“I can get not judging me for the liking girls bit. But liking her?” Julie doesn’t know how that could ever work out in her favor.

“Ok, so this next part doesn’t directly apply to your problem. And I’m not sure if any of this is even helping, but it just feels like it needs to be said and I know he won’t care if I share this for him.” He takes another breath. “But Eddie and I were kind of going through this same problem with each other. Only difference is I knew he was gay, and he didn’t know I was.”

“And the only difference between that situation and this one is that yours was a success story,” Julie says before he can continue. Shocking him. “You two aren’t as good as hiding it as you think you are. I picked it up a while ago.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, kinda figured. I’m more just trying to say that this thing you’re going through isn’t unique. Hell, half of the people in our group have had that feeling some way or another. And we’re still friends. You’re going to be just fine, trust me.”

Just fine doesn’t exactly sound like anything she wants to be. She’s been just fine for months. It’s kind of shitty. Not feeling like anything important, knowing she should be feeling more but can’t. Moving without really moving through life. Just going from one day to the next, them all blending together. Right up until fine becomes a lie again.

Until something unearths itself in the mind and can no longer be ignored. Brings all of its own problems and piles on top of all the others. Dragging up old baggage with it, only adding to the problem.

Leaving Julie with one more question she’s too afraid to ask.

So much in her life has changed. So much is different now. She’s a new person, one her mom wouldn’t recognize. Overwhelmed by grief. Brought into this large group of people, a giant family. Surrounded by people who are like her. Who show her that this is a life she could have. If she just put enough trust in herself.

If she put enough trust in her mom. And stopped wondering if she would still love Julie the same knowing that she will never marry a man. An answer Julie will never actually get.

Steve reaches out and pulls Julie into a hug. Comforts her the way a brother can, but it doesn’t bring the same comfort that Julie craves.

It’s things like this that makes Julie’s heart ache the most. How she will go through these big life events and never hear the same words of comfort again. Never have her mother’s weight sit on the foot of her bed, telling her it will all be ok. That no matter what, she will always love Julie. Never will stop as long as she lives. And even then, the love will transcend death and continue for infinity.

Nothing can stop infinity. Julie hopes that means nothing will stop her mother’s love either. Even this.

“Sorry for taking your coming out moment away from you,” Julie says after she calmed down. “I know you were waiting to tell me about it.”

Steve shrugs it off. “That’s ok. I was really dragging my feet with telling you, I’ve been ready for a while now, just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“For what it’s worth, it kind of helped. Made me feel a little better knowing that I’m not alone in this.”

“You’re not alone in anything, Julie. No matter what, there will be people behind you. Whether that’s me, your friends, anyone else lucky enough to meet you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Thanks, though.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

. . .

The notice from the courthouse comes a week later. Alerting Steve that it’s time to approve the court date. One’s been selected for him, but can be pushed back if he needs it to. But it’s there. It’s real. This is actually happening.

He goes over the evidence again, confirms with Hopper that he can actually witness. Get the files all ready on his end. Then contacts his old nanny and gets talked into coming over for brunch. To catch up and see how he’s doing. Make sure she is what he needs for this case. Which she is. She was the longest one he ever had and was extremely meticulous. Most likely still has her pay stubs after all these years.

The last person he has to call is Nancy. Who doesn’t even know that he’s moved yet. Or that his parents are home.

It’s been a while since he’s called her, obviously, and he’s been avoiding it. Not wanting an earful of her again. But he needs to know when she’s back and if she’ll testify for him. She he dials her number.

“Nancy speaking.”

“Hey, Nance, it’s Steve. I have some things to catch you up on.”

She sighs. “Oh, I know. Robin refused to tell me anything about whatever’s going on. I think it was to force you to call me.”

“Yeah probably.”

After a long conversation and a lecture from Nancy on the importance of phone calls, she agrees to testify on his behalf. As both a character witness and also to back up some of the evidence he has.

Everything’s starting to get put together. Now all there is to do is wait.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[ghost-proofbaby]

69 + eddie munson

that number is just so fitting for eddie lmao. we love to see it. (also, are we even surprised taylor is all over my damn wrapped?)

#69: "MIDNIGHT RAIN" BY TAYLOR SWIFT (EDDIE MUNSON)

"he was sunshine, i was midnight rain."

warnings: serious thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation, angst?, hurt/comfort (this one ends happier i SWEAR)

wc: 3k+

There was more to Eddie Munson than what meets the eye. 

An entire town, somehow, had gotten it through their heads that the boy who lit up your days was something dark. A storm cloud, a hellraiser, a Satan-worshiper, a tornado of the utmost destruction – every nasty synonym they could roll off their tongues, they would spit at him. He was violent rain, he was uneasy nights, he was howling winds. They looked at him like an overcast for their sweet summer days, and they couldn’t be further from the truth. 

There was nothing violent nor stormy about the boy currently curled beneath bed sheets with you. Something soft and to be held – and that’s exactly what you did as the night swallows the two of you whole. You held him. His soft breaths ruffled the material of your shirt against your stomach, his curls tickling all the way up to your chest as a hand mindlessly twists at the end of a few stray strands. 

The clock on the nightstand blinks with a time far too late for you to be up, but you can’t help it. You’d woken up a few hours ago, and begged sleep to return to you, but it simply wouldn’t. Eddie had even roused at some point, twisting and noticing you awake in his half-dazed state, but his supportive state had been plagued by drowsiness, and the beckoning of his dreams won the war in the end. You didn’t mind it – it was nice to lay like this, the weight of his head on your torso and to feel his steady breathing rather than being left alone to your own thoughts. 

This town assumed Eddie was the terrible storm, but you knew better. 

He was the farthest thing from a storm possible. Even amongst his chaos, even amongst his wild demeanor, he still managed to embody the sun at the end of the day in your eyes. Warm, sought after, calming, relaxing. Bright and brilliant as ever. Those chestnut ringlets, those honeyed doe eyes – how anyone saw so much as a strike of lightning in them was beyond you. You were the one carrying storm clouds. You were the one with heavy forecasts, downpours that slaughtered in the dead of night. 

It was the thunder in your head that was keeping you awake. Not his, never his. 

“R’you still up?” he mumbles, nearly scaring you. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d awoken again, too busy staring at the ceiling as you watched shadows of the current rain trailing down the window reflected on the walls. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking down, moving your fingertips from the ends of his hair to his scalp before scratching in small circles, “Go back to sleep, baby.” 

“Can’t-” he starts to mutter, cutting off in a yawn as he twists so that his face is no longer buried in your chest, eyes still pinched shut for a moment before he can continue his thought, “Can’t sleep if I know you’re up. What’s bothering you?” 

Endless things. Your chest was coiled in terrible knots, strangling you on repeat with each second passing as you had been left alone with your thoughts. Haunted by every echoing step you had taken the last few days, taunted by every word you hadn’t said. 

Just how many mistakes had you made in the last twenty four hours alone? And how had they still, somehow, led you home to him? What had you done to be deserving of him?

“Just the storm,” you lie easily, keeping a soft tone, still trying to beckon him back to sleep. As if on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard following a brisk flare of light through the window pane. 

But his wide eyes only blink up at you, clearly awake now, “‘s that all?” 

His words are still slurring together a bit, but as he lifts his weight off of you, you know there’s no coaxing him back into rest. There’s no facing the storm alone tonight – and not the one that currently pelts the outside of the house. 

You can’t look him in his eyes. You’re terrified for him to see the rolling waves of nimbus formations behind your own. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” you say, patting your chest, trying to change the topic, “C’mere. Lay back down, there’s no use for us both to be tired tomorrow.” 

He sits up fully, your hands falling from his scalp, out of reach as he balances on his knees with a face of newfound determination, “I’m not letting you just lay here awake while I use you as my own personal drool catch. I know there’s something more than the storm bothering you.” 

Damn him. And damn his attentiveness. 

Even with the moonlight illuminating him, he emits his own specific shine that gleams golden through the dark room, striking you right in your heart. Your boy made of sunshine and kindness, good intentions and a pure heart.

Your sun. 

“It’s stupid,” you start, picking at the threads of the comforter as he settles to lay comfortably beside you. In an instant, the positions are switched, and he’s pulling you to lay on his chest, “I just… It can all get a bit loud, you know?” 

It’s not about the people in the town who talk. Not an ounce of their gossip can really get to you, hardly scratching at your skin. At most, they only leave their mark when they talk badly of Eddie. And even then, you know your truth. 

“We’re the talk of the town again, huh?” Eddie chuckles, fingertips grazing at the small bit of the nape of your neck that’s exposed from beneath the neck of your shirt. Lazy circles, wobbling triangles, hardly-distinguishable squares. All mindless shapes that he’s probably unaware of painting over your skin, and they send shivers down your spine all the same. 

It’s not the people in the town who are loud. 

It’s that voice in your head, the whisper that he’s too good for this. There is something simply so inherently good about the boy that lays beneath you. Something so golden, so warming that it aches and nearly stifles you. He deserves more. He deserves someone who can offer him the world, not someone who will never manage more than rotting away with the worms below the dirt. 

“Why did you choose me?” you blurt out before you can think better of it.

The storm outside the window picks up in pace, raindrops racing faster down the glass. You try and pick one to follow in particular, but they all disappear quicker than they appear to begin with. 

“What do you mean?” 

You can’t make sense of it, the way he loves you. As if he doesn’t see the storm always on the horizon, as if he can’t feel the sharp pain that resides permanently within your chest. A pain you were born with, a pain you’ll surely die with. The nasty thing that pangs every time you grow too comfortably, that screams for you to run when things get too good. 

You just don’t get it. 

“Everyone is always asking me why I’m with you,” you wish you could choose your words more carefully, but you can’t. They only come tumbling out, an avalanche of honesty over the crack of thunder that sounds, “Saying things like how I’m so nice, how you’re so… so… not. And I just don’t get it, because you are. You’re… everything, Eddie. You’re the sun incarnate, so good and so nice at your core. And they never have time for me to wax poetic, to go on and on about just how good you are. They always act like you’re the impending doom, and I’m always in danger, when it should be the other way around.” 

His slow motions on the base of your neck pause, “I’m not sure I’m following along, sweetheart.” 

You lift your head, look up at those eyes that could hold an entire Universe inside of them. The kind that do when the sun’s rays hit them just right in the daytime. He is everything. Every star, every first bloom of spring, every fresh breath of air. 

And you aren’t.

You’re built off of late nights and terrible troubles. Of racing thoughts and sweaty palms, and a mouth that always fumbles with its words. Something unhinged and something unattractive at its core. It’s not the outside so much, not that you don’t feel pretty enough for him, but the inside. That inner natural disaster waiting to happen. A tsunami of forces waiting to engulf you both, drown him right along with you. 

You want to run because you want to save him from that fate. You can’t save yourself, but you could save him. 

“I’m the storm, the unpredictable and violent one,” you choke out, placing a flat palm on his chest, “You’re… not. They think you are, but you aren’t. You deserve better than to sit around with me, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and for my torrential downpour to start. You don’t deserve to sit in the rain with someone who isn’t worth it.”

How many breakdowns had he already bore witness to? How many late nights had he already sacrificed his rest to spend talking you through a spiral? How many times had he given up all that he deserved, just to sit in the rain with you? 

“Quite the metaphor you’ve got going there,” he laughs under his breath, but all the joking fades when he sees that disaster-torn look cross your face, “Have I ever told you how when I was younger, and it would rain, I’d insist on sleeping with the window open?” 

Your brows furrow, “What does that have to do with-”

“You have your wild metaphors, let me have mine,” he interrupts, sitting up a bit, leaning forward until your forehead nearly bumps against his, “Wayne hated it. It would get everything soaked – the curtains, the carpet, my desk – and it would run up his electric bill. Said he’d always come into my room in the morning to find me shivering under the covers, and have to run up the heater to stop my teeth from chattering. The old man never lets me forget, either,” he pauses, and brings a gentle, warm palm up to your cheek, “But even after countless lectures, you know what changed? Nothing. Every day, whenever I saw the clouds or smelled the rain coming, I still got so damn excited. I still ran home to open up my window, and I smiled like a fool the entire fucking time. It only drove Wayne more insane.” 

“Okay?” you question, peering into his eyes, still not following, “So, you love rain. Are you trying to say you want to open the window right now? Or-”

“You’re so close to getting it,” he chuckles, closing the distance between the two of you, shutting you up with a brush of his lips against yours. 

“Getting what?” you mumble into his mouth, frowning a bit as he pulls back and his lips hover. 

That palm holds you steady, keeping you close as his other hand wanders to your hip, giving a soft squeeze to the tender flesh, “I love rain.” 

He loves rain. 

Your mind twists and gravels, tries to make sense of it when you’re still so consumed by him. The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers. The caress of his breath over your cheek, still minty from when the two of you had brushed your teeth together before bed. The warmth seeping out of his skin against yours, warming you even as the storm wages on. The smell of his sheets mingling with the damp air fighting through the vents from outside. 

He loves rain.

It clicks. 

“You love rain,” you say carefully, eyes fluttering open to find him already looking at you. 

He nods, forehead finally bumping yours. “I fucking love rain. Always have, always will.” 

The storm within your head that had been raging for hours, that had kept you up as your sunshine had slept soundly, goes still as night. It all stops – the wind, the thunder, the downpour. Every single thought halts in its tracks as you look at a boy who’s watching you with such adoration, with such promise of offering up the entire world if you asked. You have his heart in your hands, and he’s well aware you could destroy it at a moment’s notice, but he trusts you. 

He loves you. 

“Now, come here,” he insists, scooting back on the bed until his back is flush to the wall and his arms are wide open for you to crawl into. You don’t deny him. Slowly, you make your way to his chest, letting your ear press against his skin and listen to the steady and sure rhythm of his heart as his arms wrap around you, “We don’t have to go back to bed, but you do have to let me be here for you. Let me just sit with you in the rain, with the window wide open, yeah? Your storm can get the curtains wet, you can freeze me out – I don’t care. I like the storm… I love the storm,” he whispers as you settle against him. You finally glance at his old alarm clock, the one Wayne had bought him back in sophomore year when he’d insisted he was tired of waking the boy up every morning. Those blinking numbers read 12:43 just as his lips press to your temple, “I love you.” 

Such a quiet declaration. Full of meaning, full of intent. The only rain still pounding away is the one outside of the trailer, sounding off in a tinkling tune of water against metal slates. It’s almost melodic as you feel his exhale against your hairline. 

“I love you too, y’know?” you whisper right back, a hand coming up to curl around his wrist as he places his hand on your shoulder. It’s not enough to just hear his heartbeat; you need to feel the pulse beneath his skin, thumb digging in helplessly as you focus on just him and his rays of light as your clouds begin to break, “I’m sorry if I’m hard to love, or dramatic sometimes-”

“Never,” he cuts you off, “You’re never hard to love, sweetheart. Not for me.” 

No more words are needed as the seconds pass and the two of you stay like that. You, counting every beat of his heart. And him, still bleeding sunshine even in the black of night. Messy crown of curls, a smile that never quite leaves his lips. It’s impossible to wrap your head around – the boy who could light up even the darkest of rooms, who glows even at midnight, loves the rain in a way you never thought possible. Loves your rain specifically, and all the storms you always fear and battle with through every sleepless night. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest. 

“Are you ever going to get tired of me?” you ask, more out of curiosity than insecurity now as your fingers fall to trace over one of the tattoos inked into the skin of his chest, “I mean, I know you say you love rain now, but people can change. Hell, even I’m changing constantly. No two storms are ever exactly the same, or whatever the fuck they say.” 

“Do they say that?” he murmurs. You can hear the sleep returning to him, drawing him under, “To answer your question, no. I don’t think I will ever get tired of you. Change all you want. I’m just happy to be here.” 

You smile, and you know he feels it as he squeezes you a bit tighter, “What if I decide to shave my head tomorrow? Or dye my hair the ugliest shade of neon yellow I can find? Or tattoo my entire face?” 

“If you dye your hair neon, can you dye one of my strands to match?” you snort at his response, tilting your chin to catch him looking at you with a playful smile, “And I’ll still love you if you’re bald. As a matter of fact, I think I can see a bald spot already forming on the back of your head, so…” 

Your hand flies up to your hair, feeling for what he’s talking about as he descends into cackles. Head fully thrown back and eyes tightly screwed shut. 

God, he’s beautiful. Too beautiful for you to even get genuinely upset with his teasing. 

“Fuck you,” you say as you realize he’s joking, forcing a faux pout and throwing your head back down onto his chest hard enough to make him emit a small oof, “If either of us are going bald, it’s you.” 

He gasps, still dramatic even as he’s half-asleep, “How dare you. I was even going to offer up some of my luscious locks to make you a wig if you needed it.” 

“You don’t have long enough hair for that.”

“Yet,” he insists as your eyelids grow a little heavier, “I’ll just keep growing it out. You know, in case you need it, even though you were so mean to me.” 

Your body sinks deeper into him, as if you could bury you both into the safety of this mattress for the rest of your days. 

“I hate you,” you lie, half playful as the thunder outside the trailer becomes nothing more than a lullaby. 

He slips down further into the comforter, resting his head on his pillow rather than the uncomfortable wall as he holds you tight to him, “I love you, too, my little rainstorm.” 

You don’t even have a quick defense against his teasing nickname as sleep takes hold of you. You’re already far gone, eyes shut and mind slipping away as he kisses the top of your head before joining you. 

Storms are easier with Eddie. Window open and all.

[dumbslxtclub]

you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part ten

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: emotions reach a fever pitch, resulting in some unexpected revelations

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, mentions of a fight and wounds

word count: 8.4K+

a/n: here we go guys, gals and non-binary pals! shoutout to my zoom bestie @dickfics69​ for beta reading. hope you enjoy, this chapter was a labor of love!

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog  @reidstea @sashaphantomhive  @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86  @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975  @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95​

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Part Ten: Isn’t It Delicate?

It’s not until a streak of morning sunlight creeps across your delicate eyelids that you’re awoken from an unusually heavy sleep. Bright rays assault your corneas as you peel your eyes open, smooshing down into the feathery pillow to escape the call of a new day. God, your body feels so heavy but your mind is crystal clear, none of your typical morning grogginess present. Tossing over to your side, you catch a glimpse of the alarm clock perched on your bedside table, it’s steady ticking the only sound in the otherwise silent bedroom. 

8:24am.

Surely that can’t be right. 

Hoisting yourself up, you peer over to re-read the clock. Maybe one of the hands stopped moving during the night? But no, the seconds continue clicking away, making a sure revolution of the face as it has countless times before. It dawns on you.

You slept through the whole night.

You slept through the whole night.

Oh, god.

You slept through the whole night.

Panic surges through your body, jolting you out of bed and racing to the door on unsteady feet. How could this have happened? Even during the deepest of REM cycles, Audrey’s cries are enough to pull you out of your slumber and to her beckoning call. That familiar pang of dread hangs heavy in your stomach, is she okay? Did something happen to her during the night? She’s gone a whole night without a feed, a change, you push away the thought creeping in that something bad has happened…

Swinging open the door frenetically, the sound of it hitting the wall somewhat compensates for the fact that your eyes haven’t properly started working yet and helps you orientate yourself. Eyes darting to the crib, which is completely empty, only further exacerbates your stress.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.” 

The blinds have been pulled open, an abnormally sunny March morning casting a sheet of buttery yellow across the living room. Smack bang in the center of the ancient carpet, a play mat that was previously stuffed into the corner has been rolled out. A mobile hangs above it, brightly colored bunnies, foxes and barnyard animals dangling from the twine and twirling with the sudden influx of air caused by the door slamming. A small pillow props up Audrey, who is situated on her stomach with her hands greedily but aimlessly grabbing in front of her cheerful face. Across from her, mirroring her position, is Eddie, holding a rainbow sensory caterpillar toy, beads bouncing off the crinkly interior as he waves it in front of her. Like two dogs at an impasse as they stand their ground over a stick, both fighting for ownership of the plush insect. Eddie shoots you a wide grin, shadows cast into the deep dimples in his cheeks. Mentally, you should politely return the gesture, but you’re too desperate for an answer to worry about your expression.

“Oh my god, you should have woken me up during the night!”

“Didn’t need to.” Eddie retorts smugly, tightening his grip on the toy which emits a squeaking noise. “I had it all handled.”

“But- did you feed her?” 

“Sure did.”

“Every-”

“-Two hours? Like clockwork.”

“But what about-” “Changing her diaper? Sorted that too. Can’t say it’s my favorite pastime but we survived.” He chuckles, edging the caterpillar closer to Audrey’s desperate fingers. “Would’ve put her back to bed for a while, but thought she could use some time out of her straight-jacket to play.”

“It’s not a straight jacket, it’s a swaddle.”

“Well, it’s not as cool as what she’s wearing now.”

Printed on the back of the faded gray t-shirt is a tiny motorcycle, something you don’t recall purchasing for her. Eddie loosens his grip on the toy to readjust the one-size too big shirt she’s wearing, bare legs kicking excitedly on the plush mat. Her clammy fingers clamp down on the poor creature's head, which is swiftly brought into her drooling mouth for chewing. Eddie simply giggles at her antics while you try to slow your heart rate down with a calming exhale. As he rolls over, the sight before you causes your hazy vision to clear. Propping himself up on his elbow, hip taking the brunt of his weight to move his body in your direction. His hair is somehow even more unkempt than usual, but pales in comparison to Audrey’s, which looks like a half-sucked mango seed. But it’s not his hair that your eyes fixate on.

The shirt he borrowed last night has been discarded.

Light reflects off his pale skin, casting shadows into every groove and curve of his taut chest. It’s much easier to make out now the fine ink etched into his torso in the light of day, and much harder to hide your gawking. It’s not like you mean to stare at his uncovered body, but the contrast of the dark ink on his skin is positively eye-catching. Like a marble statue in a museum from centuries ago, made to be studied and appreciated for its beauty. Eddie, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious under your gaze, clears his throat.

“Sorry- she spit up on me about 20 minutes ago and I didn’t want to wake you up to grab another one. She’s clearly not a big Bowie fan, not that I blame her.” His cheerful demeanor and Cheshire-cat smile compensates for the clear tension between the pair of you, neither wanting to address last night’s almost-kiss. Heat rises to your cheeks, the image returns of his lips hovering mere millimeters from yours, the groan caught in your throat threatening to release- “I’m gonna make some coffee.” Excusing yourself to the kitchen, you busy yourself clunking around in the cupboard looking for two clean mugs. “How did you know to feed her every two hours anyway?”

“Robin. She’s like a walking, talking baby book. Spits random facts out all the time to me.” His voice calls back from the other room.

You prep the percolator, taking care to spill a good amount of coffee grinds all over the counter and floor. All the while, the pair of best buddies giggle over something in the living room. With two cups of fresh coffee poured, you take them in either hand and carefully dodge the mess of clean laundry and assorted baby toys scattered in the doorway. The laughter only escalates as you draw nearer, placing the coffee on the ground beside Eddie, who has assumed the same tummy-time position as your daughter. Studying the pair closely, you can see that Audrey has a fat hand firmly grasped around a lock of Eddie’s hair, laughing her head off at him.

“Ow, ouch! God, you’ve got muscles, miss.” He chuckles, wincing slightly as he attempts to free his long strands from her tight grip. But he never lets his smile falter, which only further eggs her on, pulling his face closer to hers as she squeals with delight. You chuckle, taking your thumb and forefinger and placing them on Audrey’s cheeks, smooshing her mouth together with a smile.

“Get ‘im, Audrey! Kick his ass.” If Eddie could move his head more than an inch in your direction, you’re sure you’d be on the receiving end of a dirty look. Proud of yourself, you take a sip of your beverage and allow the caffeine hit to clear the remaining brain fog, placing the cup down beside you. “Aha! You’re in trouble now, Squid.” Eddie manages to free his curl from Audrey’s paw, bringing his fists up in a fighting position. He throws a couple of soft swings towards her outstretched hands, barely making contact with her palms. Back and forth, causing the baby to emit the most gorgeous laughter you’ve ever heard, pure music to your ears. As he lands his final blow, her tiny palm locks around the top of his knuckle with a squeal. Eddie dramatically collapses to the ground, a mess of hair flying around him as his face lands on the plush play mat. “Oh no, she’s twisting my arm! Have mercy, please!”

His grinning face flies back up to eye level, her eyes completely transfixed on his every move. Grabbing her small wrists gently with his hands, her gummy smile somehow grows wider as he begins colliding her hands with his face. With each mimed blow, he falls to either side like a WWF wrestler putting on their best show, complete with an agonizing groan as he feigns pain. Left hook, right hook, uppercut. Each movement is complete with a mimicked ‘whoosh’ sound from the metalhead. Clearly, the bounty of fresh toys you’d been gifted are rendered useless when Eddie is around. Audrey remains transfixed, giggling and squealing so hard you wonder if a hiccup attack is due soon. Her gaze drifts to you, the sparkle never leaving her eyes while she continues her assault on Eddie. God, she was beautiful. You wish you could bottle everything about her. Her smell. Her laugh. Her chubby legs kicking frantically. Time is moving entirely too fast for your liking.

Eddie sees her watching you, and pauses his motions. He studies your face, then hers, a voyeur encroaching on a private world in which only mother and daughter exist. Trading mutual understanding he will never completely relate to, the safety and bond formed long ago. How you look at her, and see your whole world gazing back at you. It’s beautiful. Painful. The love simmering within his core begins bubbling too quickly for him to contain it, unless he can interject in some way.

Eddie is a soldier, and his weapon of choice is outlandish humor. The perfect deflection, in his mind, to quell any tension between himself and those around him.

A tell-tale cheeky smile spreads across his face, sending up alarm bells once you clock him. 

“What?” Your tone is dripping with distrust, shooting him a warning look which does little to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.

His eyes dart back to Audrey, who has been studying the interaction between the pair of you. As soon as their eyes lock, her gummy smile grows significantly, and you wonder if they have some psychic connection, the pair already cooking up trouble. He leans in close to her, holding his ear up to her babbling mouth as if she’s divulging some deep secret. Nodding knowingly, his expression drops and he turns his solemn attention to you.

“I’m sorry, my ladyship, but the queen has spoken. You are a traitor to the kingdom, and must be executed.” On his final word, he runs his forefinger along the length of his neck, spelling out your demise.

“Eddie, n-” Before you can finish, Eddie launches at your mid-section, spear tackling you to the soft carpet beneath you, barely avoiding the half-full coffee cup beside you. Lungs emptying with the impact, you are powerless in stopping the laughter already making itself known as a result of his antics. Eddie grin is back in full force, towering over you. You tuck your knees to your chest like a turtle stuck on its shell, arms outstretched and ready to fight. With one quick motion, he swiftly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pinning it to the floor and rendering it useless. 

“Accept your fate! It is for the good of the people.” A squawk not dissimilar to Audrey’s exits your throat as Eddie’s free hand bears into your ribs, tickling you as hard as he possibly can. His hair hangs haphazardly around his face, doing little to conceal his elated expression at his physical victory.

“Eddie! S-st-” You words are cut off as he hits a particularly sensitive spot on the side of your abdomen, your whole body tensing as you fail to control your hysterics. Eddie relishes in your discomfort, keeping a firm grip on your wrist glued to the ground. You never doubted Eddie’s strength, but seeing it in action is a different story. The brunt of his weight bears down on your wrist, but not to an uncomfortable extent, just enough to keep you in place. Mentally, you know, on your word, he would not hesitate to release you, prioritizing your comfort over any momentary joke. But the rush of endorphins rendered you drunk off their addictiveness, steady giggles vibrating in your chest and demanding more.

But you were never one to give up that easily. 

With your free hand, you snatch a clump of curls and grasp tightly, tugging slightly to bring his face nearer. His eyes light up, clearly tickled over this struggle for power and your willingness to indulge in his antics. Instead of resisting, he leans in closer to lessen the pull on his scalp.

“Pulling an illegal move on me, sweetheart?” His words are honey-sweet, juxtaposing his imposing demeanor. “Sorry, that one’s only reserved for the queen.”

“Yeah? What about this one?” Years of play fighting with distant cousins pays off in this moment, thinking quick before wrapping your legs around his small waist. The sudden contact about his midsection is enough to throw Eddie off his groove, giving you a window of opportunity to invest all of your energy into swinging your knees to one side. Thankfully, you’ve chosen the side opposite to where you’ve placed your coffee, leaving more than enough room for an Eddie-sized shape to land in the small expanse of your living room. With perfect momentum, Eddie topples over with your legs still firmly squeezing into his sides, forcing him onto his back as you take your winning position atop him. Straddling him like a schoolyard bully about to steal some poor child’s lunch money, you shoot him a smug smile to rival his own. Eager fingers find his ribs, poking and prodding and relishing in how he squirms helplessly beneath you. 

“Okay! Okay! I concede, you win.” His words are punctuated by grunts and laughter, along with frantic swats to your unrelenting hands. His flair for the dramatics has apparently rubbed off on you, throwing your fists skyward in victory. 

“Yes! In your face, Munson.” Encroaching on his space slightly, you raise your eyebrows as you relish in your triumph, drawing your face closer to his to ensure he doesn’t miss a moment of your pride. His cheeks are flushed, strands of hair littering his forehead and lips curled into a permanent smirk. Adrenaline courses through your veins, the way one would experience after a heated game of gym class dodgeball during childhood years. Giddy pride, pure indulgence over something so trivial. With a flourish, your pointer finger boops his nose condescendingly. “I own you.”

It’s hard to miss the way Eddie’s chest rises beneath you at your utterance, how his already racing heart somehow paces up a notch. He knows better than to wriggle, to give any unjust indications of discomfort beneath the soothing weight of your figure. Instead, his outlet for his energy manifests through the tips of his fingers, snaking their way around your hips. Through the thin cotton of your sweatpants, you feel the firmness of his touch. Calloused fingers mindlessly caressing circles over the fabric, setting the nerve endings hidden beneath alight. 

“You sure do.” Words barely a decibel above mumbling, as if they had slipped out with no intention of being heard by anyone other than the thinker. And unluckily, they don’t go unnoticed by you. 

Suddenly, you drop back into your body. The body currently situated above Eddie, knees either side of his waist caging him. Straddling him. Your breath catches, intellectualizing that you should probably dismount him and put much needed distance between the pair of you. But every square inch of Eddie’s framework refutes, screams and aches for this moment to last a beat longer. Begs for indulgence, fingers gripping at your waist a hint firmer, willing you to linger about his figure for an eternity. Shock waves seep through the pores of his fingertips, nullifying the internal debate you wage with yourself, leaving you needy. Possessed by comfort. Driven by the need for connection. 

Every shaky rise and fall of his chest, every circle completed by talented fingers, every miniscule shift of his waist beneath you, left you desperate for more. Simultaneously, these actions were more than enough and not even close to being enough. 

But, as with all good things, this comes to a short and sharp end as a firm knock rings out against your door. Your response isn’t immediate, no knee-jerk action to jump up and attend to your visitor, just an acknowledging head turn in the direction of the entrance. Instead, you linger, as if to mourn a moment cut short. Not knowing, but praying, there will be another like it soon.

“I’ll get it.” As if Eddie, pinned beneath you, could have any say in the matter. He relinquishes his grip on your waist, freeing you unwillingly. Climbing somewhat unsteadily to your feet, you turn your attention to the door, swinging it open to reveal a tired-looking Wayne. 

“Mornin’, darlin’. Hope I didn’t wake you.” He apologizes, placing a hand on the door-frame.

“Not at all! Eddie and I were just-” 

“What’re you doing here? You should be sleeping, old man.” Eddie’s voice cuts in behind you, you don’t need to turn around to hear the cheeky grin spread across his face.

“‘T’s what I was tryin’ to do, but I got a call from the shop. Somethin’ about one of the guys being sick, they want you to come in.” 

“Ah, but of course. No place I’d rather be on a fine day like this.” His words are dripping with sarcasm. “Let me just grab my clothes, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Feet scuffle into the bedroom as you take a step back to invite Eddie’s uncle inside. 

“Would you like a coffee, Wayne?” He takes a step into the living room, eyes landing on the playmat spread out. 

Shit, Audrey. 

For someone concerned over whether or not she was alive ten minutes earlier, your motherly instincts evaporated quickly. Lucky for you, you were blessed with a low maintenance baby, her greedy hands attempting to pick up the discarded caterpillar once again that has landed far too out of reach. Wayne’s weary eyes light up at the sight of her. “Oh, hang on, let me introduce you!”

A few short strides is all it takes to reach the mat, arms extending downwards to pick your daughter up and interrupt her important retrieval mission. Her knees scrunch up to her chest, a steady stream of drool leaving her parted lips. You settle her on your shoulder, tucking her face to your chin so you can leave a quick kiss on her forehead before turning back to your visitor.

“Wayne, this is Audrey.” It’s hard to hide your pride as you present her to him, like all mothers you’re sure you’ve got the cutest baby in the whole world. And her, a picture of big brown eyes, chubby cheeks and a gummy smile, does little to quell this notion. The older man’s weathered face transforms into a smile, extending a hand out to her.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Audrey.” He shakes her tiny palm in his, the formality of it causing you to giggle. He runs his hand across her mess of hair, which seldom tames it. “She’s as pretty as a picture, sweets. Glad to finally see her in the flesh, swear Eddie never shuts up about the two of you.”

“Is that right?” You don’t get an answer before Eddie comes strolling back into the room, clothes in hand and boots unlaced.

“Time to make some money! You two stay out of trouble, especially this one.” He wants a warning finger at Audrey, who shoots him her best puppy dog eyes. Grinning, he presses his lips to her chubby cheek, leaving numerous obscenely loud wet kisses behind. Audrey giggles, Eddie’s attention is her favorite kind. Once satisfied, he places his palm on the side of your head to give you a quick peck on your crown. Funny, you can’t help but feel jealous of your daughter at this moment. “See you later.”

And with that, Eddie heads out the door past his uncle, who shoots you a small wave.

“Come knocking if you need anything, darlin’.” 

“I will, thanks Wayne.”

Closing the door behind you, you look down at Audrey before heading to the kitchen. The day is still young, you have plenty of time to indulge in a slow morning with your daughter in your arms.

“Looks like we’re having a girls day.”

“I’m sorry, you what?!” Robin’s shock is enough to cause Audrey to stir in her capsule, nestled on the desk in the back room. Being the good friend that you are, you elected to grab Robin a coffee for her lunch break, the pair of you now sitting opposite one another on unsteady metal chairs. Her tuna salad is now all but forgotten with your revelation, giving the side of the black capsule a comforting tap. “Sorry, Squid. You rest that gorgeous big head of yours. Didn’t mean to wake you since your mom just dropped the bombshell that she and Eddie nearly k-“

“Oh my god, I don’t know if that’s what it was!” Your fingers drum nervously on the cardboard cup, trying to avert Robin’s stern gaze, like a student being lectured by their principal.

“Sure, he was probably just leaning in to count your freckles.”

“Shit, I mean, maybe I gave him the wrong idea?” You contemplate the idea with furrowed brows. “Like, y’know, asking him to share my bed and all…”

“Oh no, Eddie’s not like that.” Enthralled in your story, Robin chimes in through a mouthful of pasta. “Douche-nuts like Andy? Totally. A girl in his bed is free game. But Eddie? He treads carefully when it comes to the ladies. He must have been getting some serious vibes from you.”

“Well-“

“Did you give him vibes? Oh, you so did.”

“No!” You think for a beat. “I mean, I don’t think so- I don’t know! It was just- it was nice.”

“Nice? Dude, the last time you kissed a guy for ‘nice’, you ended up with her.” She points her fork at Audrey, raising her eyebrows all the while.

“Well, yeah, it just felt, like- comfortable. He’s just a good guy, and it’s been a while since I was around someone like him. And Audrey loves him to death. But, I don’t know- maybe it was a stupid thing to do…”

Trailing off, you take another sip of your coffee, the much needed caffeine picking you up from your post tickle-attack adrenaline dump earlier. Robin picks around at pieces of flaky fish stuck to the sides of the Tupperware container, uncharacteristically quiet. It makes you nervous.

“What? I can smell your hair burning from how hard you’re thinking.” You chuckle somewhat shyly. Robin takes a deep inhale as her eyes meet yours with a small smile, eyes fixating on a small paint scuff on the wall.

“Do you think it’s maybe… too soon?”

Eyes widening slightly at her insinuation, you shuffle forward in your chair.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- you’ve had a huge year. We all have. And Eddie’s wonderful, but I just can’t help but think-“

“What?”

“- that maybe you just need to give it a bit more time. Before, y’know, you get involved again.”

“Well, shouldn’t I be doing things like this? You know, the whole moving on thing?”

“Of course you should! It’s just-” Robin takes a sharp inhale, balling her hands into fists the way she does when she’s suppressing something. You can tell there’s more she wants to say. Words dancing on the tip of her tongue remaining caged, mind ceasing the unshared notion before it can spill out. You know better than to press, and so, you say nothing. “- you don’t know what the future holds. Things change, Audrey’s going to grow up so fast so I just want you to savor these moments with her. Give yourself some time, okay?”

It’s hard to avoid the Steve-sized elephant in the room right now, you understand what she’s implying. But the more time passes, the more you come to accept the fact that he’s not coming back, you find yourself looking at the future. After all, you have needs, not necessarily just physical, but emotional. Longing for comfort, safety, care to give and receive with someone outside of platonic friendships. You’ve spent months upon months trying to work out where to put your love for Steve now, shoving it into the quietest corners of your mind and doing your best to ignore it. But that care will always be there, it’s a monster you’re learning to become friends with. A beast with whom you can live side by side.

But you know Robin’s right. I mean, Audrey has been earthside for six weeks, and you’re just coming to terms with your new identity as a mother. Mentally, you understand that you need to prioritize yourself, begin standing your own ground for the sake of you and your daughter. Unfortunately, your heart is telling a different story.

With a defeated sigh, you shoot Robin an acknowledging smile.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know, I’m always right.” She quips back, polishing off the rest of her tuna salad and placing it beside a snoozing Audrey. “Oh shit, before I forget-“

She rummages around in her coat pocket, pulling out a slim, black wallet.

“This is Eddie’s. Accidentally grabbed it on my way out last night thinking it was mine. Take a couple of bucks out and give it back to him later, would you?”

Smiling, you shove the wallet into your bag, knowing full well you’re not about to rob the metalhead after the amount of diapers he’s changed in the last 12 hours.

Just go home.

You don’t need to drive all the way out there.

You’ll see him later.

Thoughts on repeat like a broken record plague your drive to the auto repair shop, located on the outskirts of Hawkins. Close enough to drive to without it being an inconvenience, but far enough out of the way for it to not convincingly qualify as “oh, I was just passing by!”. By the time your car is rattling along the gravel driveway to the shop, you wish you’d taken the time to straighten out your story, hoping you won’t be bothering Eddie in the middle of his work day. Audrey, clearly tired from this morning’s antics, is dead asleep in her car seat. You take care not to stir her as you swap her back into her capsule, readjusting her beanie and tucking her duck-covered blanket in around her tiny frame. As you swing the car door closed, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the window. The sunny day has been a perfect excuse to put in a bit of extra effort, a long floral dress the perfect scapegoat to leave constricting jeans at home. A small gust of wind blows through your freshly washed hair, doing little to dull the warmth on your skin from the unobstructed sun. Black Converse scuff along the gray gravel, sending small stones flying before your free hand pushes open the office door, the bell above jingling to alert the building of your presence.

The hum of the aircon is the only noise heard above the distant tinkering in the adjacent workroom, the steady flow of air causing paper’s on the receptionists desk to flutter beneath a cat-shaped paperweight. A mess of graying curls shoots up from behind the desk, an older lady shooting you a smile as she takes her seat. “May I help you?” Readjusting the baby carrier in your hand, you make your way to the desk before placing Audrey down on the carpet. “Oh, hi! I’m just here to see Eddie. Is he around?”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, she must not be accustomed to customer’s coming in and willingly seeking out an acquitted murderer. “I think so, he should be in the workroom-”

“He is.” A gruffer, older voice interjects from the doorway to the break room, a half-eaten PB&J sandwich in hand. A man, likely in his late forties, wearing the same brand of work overalls Eddie does, enters the office space, meandering behind the desk. “He’s working on the silver minivan at the moment.”

“Oh, wonderful! I’ll go and grab him for you, doll. Won’t be a moment, take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Shooting her a grateful smile, you oblige, picking up the capsule and making your way to the worn sand-colored loveseat in the corner. Placing the capsule down beside you, you give a stirring Audrey a small tickle on her side. 

“Good morning, miss.” Audrey’s eyes flutter open, taking in the unfamiliar building. The man behind the desk watches the pair of you, taking another bite of his mediocre lunch.

“She’s a cutie. I remember when my daughter’s were that small, long time ago now. Miss those days before they saw me as a walking credit card.” The older mechanic chuckles, taking a few cautious steps towards you. With maybe three regular faces to make conversation with, one being a baby, you welcomed the opportunity for a chat.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, she’s cute but still gives me plenty of grief. But with a face like that, she knows she can get away with it.” Your joke lands well with the older man, who shoots you a kind smile in return.

“What’s her name?”

“Audrey. Although she goes by Squid, most of the time.” The man’s expression further lightens, brows quirking as he studies you from head to toe. 

“Oh, this is the famous Audrey!” Chuckling out a confused exhale, the man elaborates. “We’ve heard all about her, she’s a legend ‘round these parts. You, too.” Heat flushes your cheeks, that embarrassing yet flattering notion of gossip around you causes a million thoughts to rush through your head.

“Good things, I hope?”

“You bet. Eddie’s got a picture of you stuck in his locker and everything, came in looking proud as punch after she was born. Told us everything, how your friend passed out in the delivery room-”

“Yeah, my friend, Robin.” You can’t help but smile and shake your head at the memory, hilarious in hindsight.

“- What a classic! Not that I blame her, nearly did the same thing with my missus. But Eddie, y’know he’s not much of a talker, wouldn’t shut up about how well his girl did, how perfect the baby is-”

“Sorry, his-”

There’s no time for answers when the workroom door swings open, the receptionist returning with Eddie. Wiping oil residue off his fingers with an old rag, he’s a perfect picture of the modern working man. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, loose strands stuck to his temples from the day’s work. His overalls are unbuttoned to his navel, a stained wife-beater underneath clinging to his sweaty skin. Oh, god.

“Hey, you.” His expression is laced with concern. “Everything okay? Wasn’t expecting you to swing by.” “No, no! Everything’s cool, um. I just-” The rugged image of a man before you causes you to trip over your words, rendering you a giddy school girl talking to her crush.

“Squid missing me already, isn’t she?” He shoots a wide smile into the capsule, Audrey, now waking up and smiling at Eddie, sticks her tongue out slightly as her gummy smile grows. Reaching into the carrier, he gently untucks her blanket and pulls her out, admiring your outfit of choice for her today. Snuggled up in a sherpa-material pink onesie, he gives her a quick kiss on her forehead before propping her into the crook of his shoulder. “Thought I told you to stay out of trouble, hm? Wanna tell me what you did?”

With each sweet word Eddie mutters to Audrey, Robin’s sensible ideas are thrown right out of the metaphorical window. Hell, maybe a second baby wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Oh, Bob! Gary needs you out back, can’t find his drillbits.” The receptionist calls out to the older man from behind the desk, busying herself flipping through the address book of clients.

“Right, I best get back to work then.” Bob gives the two of you a small nod. “Nice to meet you darl, hope to see you around.”

The mechanic leaves, but his words linger in the space like thick smog. His girl. Surely you didn’t hear that right. But, the words evoke a distant memory of being at your ultrasound appointment, how Eddie buttered up the receptionist and joked about not letting his girl go into the room by herself. He was joking. That must be what happened here, he’d just made a similar joke to his co-workers. No big deal…

“Did you, uh, need something?” Eddie’s question snaps you out of your thought spiral. “Or did you just want to give me a tiny apprentice for the day? Which I’m not opposed to, but I should warn you there’s quite a few sharp objects in there, plus I don’t think she’s strong enough to hold a wrench for me.”

“Sorry, yeah. Didn’t mean to bother you at work. Uh, Robin accidentally took your wallet last night and wanted me to drop it off to you.” Pulling the sleek wallet out of your bag, you hand it back to its rightful owner. Eddie studies the object with confusion, flashing it your way.

“Thank you, but- you drove all the way out here to drop my wallet off?”

“Yeah, well, I was kind enough not to rob you, but given how ungrateful you are for me driving all the way here to return it, I’m rethinking my good nature.” Eddie’s smile grows at your sarcastic retort, he loves having someone around that he can spar with when it comes to banter. 

“You gonna hold me hostage and drive me to the nearest ATM?”

“Actually, I’m just gonna let Audrey drool all over you until you sign the deed to your trailer over to me.”

Eddie’s expression turns deadpan.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would.” You quip, equally as serious. “Actually, I’m just gonna watch you hold her for a while. But, you know, I think she’s due for a diaper change…”

“Fine! Take me for all I’m worth, god.” He hands your daughter back to you, nose scrunched up but doing little to hide his growing smirk. “Well, I’d repay your generosity with dinner tonight, but I’ve gotta stay back late. Shop’s closed tomorrow and need to get everything ready for the customer’s Monday morning. Can we take a raincheck?”

“Of course. I mean, I know where you live, so…”

Eddie shakes his head as he picks up the capsule, gesturing for the door. 

The receptionist gives you a friendly wave as you exit, Eddie giving you a squeeze on the shoulder before retreating back inside.

“Get home safely, trouble.”

A new record plays on repeat as you drive home. 

His girl.

The days roll on, another week passes without incident. With a quiet Friday night on the cards, Robin joins you for a movie night before the pair of you inevitably pass out on the sofa together. 

Life is peaceful. Uneventful. Bliss.

Until you’re awoken by the flash of red and blue through the living room windows, breaking you out of your slumber. It’s well past midnight, and the commotion outside your door causes your blood to run cold. Leaping to your feet, you tear the sheer curtain ajar to see the doors of the police van slamming shut, a man in uniform escorting a familiar silhouette to the patio of the opposing trailer.

“Robin!” Rushing to your friend’s side, you give her a firm shake.

“What?” She grumbles, still fighting off the call of sleep.

“The police are outside.” Her eyes shoot open at your revelation, launching herself across the room to the window. 

“Oh, shit.”

Before you can comprehend, she’s swinging the door open and running outside, shouting out to the pair in the dark trailer park. Audrey remains oblivious to the commotion, and you make the snap judgment that she’ll be okay if you leave her for just a moment to join Robin outside. Pulling on the nearest pair of shoes and grabbing your keys, you dart out the door and jog across the gravel road to the vehicle. 

The cold night is illuminated by the flashing lights refracted off the walls of Eddie’s trailer, making shadows out of the two men at the doorstep. As you draw closer, you realize the red splotches marking Eddie’s face are not resulting from the lights. His nose is bloody, a small cut on his cheekbone prominent and angry, face contorted into a permanent scowl. He’s a mess.

“Hop! What the fuck happened?” Robin calls out to the older man, who shoots her a disapproving look.

“This one thought it would be a good idea to start a fight.” Hopper has a firm grip on Eddie’s collar, soldier-marching him to the front door. “Got there before he could break any bones.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would’ve if you let me get a few more punches in.”

“You got in a fight?” Shock and disbelief lace your warranted reaction, words small in the vast night. The underlying hurt in your voice hurt Eddie more than any blow landed that night.

“No! I mean- it wasn’t like that. You should have heard him, he started it-”

“I don’t care who started it! I’m gonna be getting a call from some trust-fund baby’s dad tomorrow wanting your ass in a cell.” Hopper roughly yanks Eddie towards him, getting right in his personal space. “Now, is that what you want after all the strings I pulled for you last year?”

“Shit, Hop. We’ll take Eddie from here, clean him up inside.” Robin pleads with the policeman before turning her attention to you. “Let me deal with this, okay?”

All you can do is nod. With a loud sigh, Hopper releases the metalhead from his grip, and you quickly rush to his side and grab a fistful of his jacket, leading him towards your patio. 

You swing the door closed behind you so violently it causes Eddie to jump. Pure anger courses through your body like poison, unable to stop the venom spilling out.

“What the fuck? You got into a fight?!”

“Listen, I-” Eddie raises his hands in defense, but it’s hopeless to stop your lecture.

“Who was it?” He looks down sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “Eddie, I said who was it?”

“Andy.” Mumbling his words, it does little to calm you down.

“Oh my god, you can’t be serious.” You run your hands down your face with exasperation as you begin to pace the room.

“Please, I can-”

“Do you understand how dangerous that was? You could have gotten hurt.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Your face is busted up, Eddie! Why would you do something like that?”

“Look, everyone is just making a big deal over nothing-“

“Nothing?! Eddie, you need to be keeping a low profile, if the town starts talking about you-“

“They already are, sweetheart.” Eddie spits back, much more harshly than he wanted to. He is quick to readjust his tone, scoffing his next words. “I could turn into fucking Mother Teresa and it wouldn’t do a damn thing to change what this town thinks of me.”

“Why did you do it?” For a moment, your fury subsides, genuine curiosity taking its place. Eddie sighs, pacing the room nervously.

“I, uh- ran into him when I went to grab some dinner for us. He was with a few of his meathead friends, probably out drinking. Started mouthing off to me, nothing I wasn’t used to, so I just tried to ignore it. Then he mentioned you-“ His fingers curl into his fist as he recalls the incident. “- I’m not gonna repeat what he said, but it fucking boiled my blood. I warned him to stop, but he didn’t, his friends were egging him on. So, that’s when I threw a punch, before I knew it Hopper showed up and pulled us apart- it was fucking stupid.“

“You got that right.” Expression stony, contrasting the erratically pumping heart within your chest. “I’m really disappointed in you, Eddie.”

“Join the five-mile queue, sweetheart.”

He looks completely pathetic right now. Dried blood clinging to his upper lip, the shiner beneath his left eye growing aggressive. Maternal instincts tell you to clean him up, ice his wounds and tell him he’s going to be okay. But anger permeates through your pores, causing your palms to grow clammy and making the room entirely too hot for your liking. 

“I think you should go home.”

“Please-”

“Just go, Eddie! I can take care of myself, alright? I don’t need you out there defending me.” You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re scared. And you know you’re not about to take it out on him. 

His brows furrow, mouth warping into an exasperated smile, devoid of any happiness. Shaking his head, he makes a beeline for the door. 

“Sure. It’s not like you’ll need me around anymore soon.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s cool, Audrey doesn’t need a fuck-up like me around.” His hand clenches around the door handle, tendons in his jawline flexing as he grinds his teeth. “Never signed up to be a dad, anyway. I don’t deserve this.”

Eddie slams the door before he sees the tears swelling in your eyes. He’s not sure if he could survive that heartbreak, knowing the words he just uttered hurt far worse than anything that left Andy’s lips that evening.

This is what drowning feels like. 

Eddie shuts the front door to his trailer, palms pressed to the cool glass window. Breathing feels like a chore, an activity of conscious choosing in which he has no interest in partaking. Eyes screwed shut, he tunes into the sounds of Robin and Hopper hushedly discussing something, rarely is Eddie so close to his own gossip. 

Emotions suppressed deep in his subconscious trickle out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth, wetting the matted stain of blood stuck to stubble. It aches, how his stomach knots itself with every heaving sob manifesting in hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He curses his wicked tongue, the drawbridge having dropped to let forth indelible confessions flow into the small confines of your living room. He’s lost you. A fuck-up, despite every effort to do right. Inevitable, Eddie supposes, knowing fully how the cycles of relationships end in his life. And still, the regret hangs heavy in his gut, like a corpse weighed down with rocks in some desolate lake, never to be found. He would consider himself lucky to meet such a fate.

It's unclear how long he remains there, forehead pressed to the white partition, exorcizing the hurt from his body. With every convulsing gasp, every unsteady shake of his hands, he wills the pain to evaporate from the trailer. It hangs heavy in the room, engulfing him in a blanket of man-made misery, suffocating him.

The muttering between the pair outside subsides, bookmarked by the sound of tyres on gravel and the shutting of an adjacent door. The room is no longer washed in flashes of primary colors, rendering the interior dim bar the streak of moonlight making its way in. Silence and desolation fill the small room, now simultaneously too small and too large for Eddie to comfortably exist in alone. 

Alone.

With unsteady steps, Eddie makes his way to the kitchenette, flicking on the overhead stove light. The room is bathed in sterile fluorescents, illuminating the stack of unwashed dishes in the sink as his eyes search for a wet rag. Ringed hands grip the lip of the bench, craving any form of physical stability. The burnt cheese stuck to the cast-iron griddle mocks him, craving his attention. He can’t look at the neglected chores a moment longer.

Like a specter floating through the room, he crouches down before his cassette player, mindlessly flicking through options in hope of drowning out his sorrows. Landing on Aerosmith’s self-titled album, he clicks open the contraption and places the cassette inside. Clicking it closed, he allows Steven Tyler’s voice to fill the empty airspace around him, Dream On playing at a comfortable volume to keep him company. 

The raspy vocals transport him back to his van, parked in the parking lot of some diner. And you, in the passenger seat, happily chowing down on a hearty burger like it was the best meal you’d ever had. How simple it was, such a small gesture on his behalf eliciting such a fulfilling happiness within you. That was the day that Squid first kicked. He could never forget the sensation, tiny feet against tender skin, his palm pressed down on your growing belly. The first hello. 

The pot begins to boil over once again, fresh tears pricking the corners of his eyes and threatening to fall. The words rattle around the inside of his head like the beads confined to Audrey’s caterpillar toy. He wishes he could take them back, his careless tongue letting his facade drop for a brief moment and exposing his deepest fears. 

Beyond the crescendoing music, he hears it.

A faint rap at the door, hands meeting glass.

Like a fawn finding its legs, Eddie stands, consciously placing one foot in front of the other. Unsure of his fate awaiting him on the other side of the partition. 

He swings the door open, and should feel a wash of relief.

Instead, he is hit with a fresh pang of guilt at the devastatingly beautiful sight before him. 

There you are, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed tears against bloodshot rims. Lip curled inwards, quivering slightly. So delicate. Your previously witnessed anger has dropped its deceitful mask to reveal its true identity; grief.

“Eddie.” He thought he would never tire of you uttering his voice, and yet, his name feels dirty being spoken by such fragile lips. Unworthy of a place within your mouth. He doesn’t reply. “I’m so sorry.”

Eddie shrinks in on himself, quickly facing away and retreating into the safety of the kitchenette. He won’t be accepting any apologies from you, knowing they’re completely unnecessary. Your comforting words twist the knife buried deep into his abdomen, further exacerbating the guilt he’s experiencing.

“Please-” Glancing over his shoulder at your quivering words, he watches you take a cautious step towards him. “I- I overreacted. It- I was just scared.”

Eddie’s face contorts into a grimace, the sudden muscle movement in his cheek causing a fresh wave of pain around the tender wound. As a steady stream of tears decorate your flushed cheeks, words begin spilling out uninhibited in their wake.

“I’m sorry I told you to go, I didn’t want you to. I just, I needed to process this. You fucking scared the shit out of me, Eddie. But I-” A hiccup contracts your diaphragm, dismantling any remaining composure. “- I really don’t want to lose you. I don’t know if I could survive that again. And what you said earlier, I know you didn’t sign up for any of this-”

Eddie wishes the ground would open him up and swallow him whole. Relieve him of the regret that is eating him alive from the inside out.

“- And I’m trying my best, but it’s so fucking hard. I know I can do this on my own.  But I want you around, I want you in Audrey’s life but I know it’s a lot. And I don’t want you to feel like you need to stay if it’s not what you want, and I’m so sorry. You were right, you don’t deserve this. And-” A sob dictates your quivering words. “- I’ll let you go if that’s what you want. I don’t think I deserve you.”

For the first time since getting home, Eddie feels like he can breathe. Like you are the source of the world’s oxygen, allowing you to fill his lungs. Standing stock still, glued to the floor beneath you, he understands that you are expecting no particular response. Filled to the brim with such strength, such self-respect, it’s contagious. 

There is no logic to his next moves, driven purely by the desire to comfort you. To be unabashedly close to you. To indulge, even for a fleeting moment, in you. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as he closes the gap between the pair of you. Clumsy feet met yours, sending shockwaves through Eddie’s system. Clasping your soft cheeks beneath his palms, running his thumb along your cheekbone, finding the firm ridges beneath supple skin. He wastes no time in pressing his wanting lips to yours, relishing in their plump sanctuary. It’s greedy, the way he laps you up, ringed fingers snaking along your jawline in a firm hold. The tip of his nose brushes against your cheek, growing damp from the residue of tears staining your face. You soften into his touch, hands finding the front of his shirt and balling it up into fists, desperately clinging onto him. As if to close off any remaining space between you, desiring to be fully consumed by one another. Boldly, his tongue meets your parted lips, relishing in their salty taste. A panting sign releases into his mouth, breaths intermingling under the sweetest of circumstances. The kiss is fumbling, entirely imperfect, teeth clashing as you greedily lap each other up. Neediness only somewhat satiated as Eddie feels the thrum of your pulse beneath his palm, the quickening of your heartbeat. A spiraling loss of control, motions dictated only by instincts. But restraint takes over, intellectualizing that you need verbal comfort in this moment too. Fighting off every screaming nerve ending in his body, Eddie’s lips pull away from yours minutely, catching much needed breath. Hot air fans across his sensitive lips as you do the same, opening your glossy eyes to gaze up at him. As your gaze bores into his, the regret within his belly is blanketed by an overwhelming sense of comfort. The bridge of his nose meets yours, bone on bone, shutting his eyes to relish in the sensation of his fingers laced around the crook of your jawline. The scent of your drugstore perfume lingering on your clothes, the track forgotten in the background drawing to a conclusion. For the first time in his sorrowful life, he is living for the moment.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[mywrittingprompts]

Fan fic below written by me.

Buddie - Someone who loves you wouldn't do this

Eddie laid on his stomach in his bed, awoken by the annoying sound of his phone ringing. First, he checked the time: 2:16, then he checked the caller ID: Buck.

He huffed out a sigh, not of frustration but more of an 'of course moment'

He awnsered assuming Buck was out partying or something since they were off the next day.

"Buck, if you butt dialed me again I swear to-" he immediately paused when he could hear Buck sniffling and breathing heavy on the other end of the line.

"Buck, are you okay?" Nothing.

He raised up, propping himself up on his elbow, "Buck?" Nothing but a harsh, shakey breath. "Evan?" He said harsher this time.

"I- I don't-" Buck started, and he had definitely been crying, Eddie notes.

"Buck what going on, are you hurt?"

The fact that Buck doesn't awnser that question gives him chills.

"Okay, Chris is at a sleepover tonight, I'll be there in like 10 minutes and we'll-"

"No!" Buck all but shouted.

"No, no, I'll just- can I come to you?" Buck asked his voice was still low and horse but getting him to talk was progress.

"Buck I really don't think you should be driving, I could come pick you u-"

"Please" it was a plea and how could Eddie say no to a possibility hurt Buck on the verge of crying.

"Okay" he agreed. "Okay just stay on the phone with me please so I know you're okay."

It was pretty dead silent except for Eddie asking him if he was still there every 2 minutes if not sooner.

Eddie was standing outside waiting until the call disconnected, which sent panic through him until he saw Buck pulling up immediately after. He let out a sigh of relief as he walked to Buck's door.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting but it surely wasn't this.

Buck opened the car door and looked up at Eddie with teary eyes. He had a busted lip, bruises forming on his face, a black eye, and dried blood and tears on his face.

Before Eddie could even think Buck was out of the driver's seat and in his arms. Buck was gripping him like a life line, Eddie wanted to just stand there and hold him forever, try to put his broken best friend back together but he needed to know how badly he was hurt.

"Hey, hey, Buck look at me" he tried, pushing lightly at Buck's shoulders. When it didn't work he tired something else,

"Buck, what happened?" But Buck's response made Eddie's blood run cold.

"HE happened" he said through the sobs.

Eddie's jaw clenched immediately. Now it made sense why he didn't want Eddie to come to him.

Finally he was able to lightly push at Bucks shoulders, he held them as he gave Buck a once over, staring at his face for a little longer, Buck wouldn't even make eye contact.

"Where I he?" Eddie asked with his jaw still clenched.

"Eddie don't" Buck said finally calming down some and looking up from the ground and at Eddie.

"Don't what? Drive over there and beat his face into the pavement?" It came out louder then he intended and Buck flinching slightly made him even madder.

Not at Buck of course, never at Buck.

"Is he still there?" Eddie asked, calmer then before.

"No" Buck said sounding annoyed, but speaking through tears non the less "he left, that's- that's why I called."

Eddie just nodded, he'll deal with that later, for now he needs to focus on Buck, who was currently standing in front of him shaking.

"Alright, come on let's get you inside and get you cleaned up" he reached out his hand and lightly put it on Bucks lower back to guide him inside.

Once inside with the door shut, he guided him to the bathroom and to sit on the toilet seat and got to work, there wasn't much blood flowing anymore so it didn't take long. He was overly gentle and he could tell Buck appreciated that.

Buck just sat there with his eyes closed, sniffling every so often trying to keep the tears at bay, he looked so small it broke Eddie's heart.

"Alright" Eddie said lightly wiping one last time at Bucks law with his thumb and the cloth, water dripping.

"I think you're all done" he used his best doctor tone like he'd use on Chris when he scraped his knee.

Buck whispered a "thanks" as Eddie put everything away and sat back down on the tub infront of Buck.

"Buck-" Eddie started, getting Buck to look up from where he stared at his hands in his lap. He immediately broke eye contact with Eddie again before speaking.

"I dont even really know what happened" Buck said, voice strained like he was about to cry.

"I mean- we-we were just having a normal argument and the next thing I know he's hitting me" Buck sounded so genuinely hurt and embarrassed it hurt Eddie.

Eddie leaned forward and slowly put his hand on Buck's knee.

"Buck, if you need to talk about this in detail, you know I'm here to listen" Eddie said as Buck nodded in agreement.

"That being said I'm gonna need a few beers in my system first or I'm gonna go do something I regret" Eddie said, and that, that made Buck chuckle and that made it worth it.

Buck took a deep breath beforespeaking "like I said I can't really remember it anyway, I mean- I knew he was stressed from work but I never thought-" Bucks voice broke at the end of that sentence.

"I should have just left him alone" it was barely above a whisper but Eddie was close enough to hear.

"Hey, no- this is not yout fault, Buck, you know that" Eddie said.

"I know that I shouldn't have let this happen, I just- I couldn't hit him back." Buck said with tears threating to spill.

"Yeah because YOU have morals!" Eddie sighed and waited a second to speak, not wanting to sound angry.

"Buck, anything that happened before doesn't matter. There's no reason, in the world that makes this- " he gestures at Bucks face "- Okay. Ever." He squeezed where his hand was still on Bucks knee.

"I mean this isn't even a he hit you scenario, Buck, he beat the shit out of you. Someone who loves you- Someone who is a decent person- would never do that."

He wasn't trying to sound angry, just firm enough that Buck understood how serious this all was, he didn't want Buck going back to him just because Buck didn't feel like he deserved better.

"You did not deserve this, Evan" Eddie was making eye contact with Buck and watched the exact moment it all hit him, within seconds he was leaning forward sobbing into Eddie's chest and gripping his shirt like a life line again.

Eddie sat there just rubbing his back and telling how quietly it was gonna be okay, the same way they had done for each other many times. There was honestly no embarrassment in them breaking down in front of each other anymore.

He sat there until he left Buck relaxing a little too much, he knew after the adrenaline died out he'd be exhausted and he didn't need him sleeping in the bathroom.

"Hey, Buck-" he felt Buck stiffen back up.

"Come on let's get you to bed" Buck nodded and let Eddie help him stand. Bucks eye lids looked so heavy even though he was awake he looked half asleep. He walked him right pasted the couch towards his bedroom.

Buck whispered a "wha-?" Before Eddie shushed him "You're too sore to be sleeping on the couch, besides I can keep a closer eye on you this way"

Oh, OH, so they were BOTH gonna be sleeping in Eddie's bed? Buck thought.

It must have been clear what he was thinking because about the time Eddie sat Buck on the bed he said

"or you know, I could take the couch if you're more comfortable in here by yourself" Buck wanted to cry more bow with how sweet Eddie was.

"No, no, it's- I don't really wanna be alone- that's why I called" Buck said, sounding only slightly ashamed. "You always pick up" the last part was just a whisper but Eddie was really close to Bucks face as he looked up from helping him take his shoes off and they sat there for just a little too long.

"So um- is there- uh- is there anything else you need?" Eddie asked while he stood up

"No, no I think I'm okay. My uh- my side kinda hurts" Buck said while rubbing his rib slightly.

"Lemme see" Eddie said reaching to help lift up his shirt, sure enough there was a nice bruise forming there. As much as it made Eddie's blood boil. He stayed calm.

"It's not too bad but it's definitely there" Eddie said, assessing. "I'll go get you some ibuprofen"

He wasn't gone long before returning with ibuprofen and water and Buck gladly accepted before laying down completely.

Eddie laid beside him, they laid in silence until Buck dosed off, Eddie just laid there thinking, until a noise outside made Buck jump awake.

"What was that?" Buck asked, breathing heavy. The fear on his face broke Eddie's heart.

"I don't know" he started but quickly added

"Hey I'm sure it's nothing, but I'll go check." he said on the most gentle voice he has. He went to go check it out, It was in fact nothing, probably a neighbor doing something stupid like always.

But when he got back he found Buck sitting up in bed with his knees to his chest, definitely hyperventilating.

He rushed over and sat on the bed in front of him, one leg still touching the floor.

Looking back he probably should have asked what he needed, asked if he could touch him, I mean Buck was very triggered after all, but he knew Buck felt safe with him, and he was so greatful for that, and his dad instincts kicked in seeing Buck so fragile so he just grabbed Bucks shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

He just held him and told him everything was okay in hopes that was true. This isn't something you just get over.

It must have worked though because after about 10 minutes Bucks breathing had evened out and he was starting to relax.

"There you go" Eddie didn't even know what he was saying anymore, part if him hoped they wouldn't remember in the morning being so tired and all but Buck deserved the most gentle side of Eddie.

"Tha-thank you." Buck said after he pulled away, "I'm- I'm so sorry"

"Hey no don't aplogize, I can't imagine how scary this all must be" Eddie said as he gave Bucks arm a squeeze.

"I just keep thinking he's gonna come find me, like with-with what happened to Maddie"

He took a deep breath trying not to imagine how scared she must have felt

"I know it's not the same I just- I didn't ever see him hurting me like that and now I just see him so....differently"

Eddie gave him a small sympathetic smile before he spoke "I promise you if he's dumb enough to come here, he'll leave in a body bag" that earned a small chuckle out of Buck, but he knew it was true. Eddie would do anything to protect Buck, even that.

"And I have locks on all the doors and windows, I promise he's not getting in here, or to you ever again."

His hand had made its way from Bucks arm to his hand and he gave it a small squeeze.

"Okay?" Eddie wanted to make sure he fully understood he was safe.

"Okay" Buck smiled. It was small but a smile nonetheless.

"Alright, now I know you're exhausted, let's try to get some sleep, would you rather sleep on my side, away from the door?"

Eddie was being so sympathetic it made Buck want to cry more but for a different reason, and partly because he felt he didn't deserve it as much as he deserved the beating he got but that's a whole different problem to get into.

"No, no I'm good" he said, and actually meant it for once. He was sleeping in Eddie's bed, WITH Eddie, his adrenaline was wearing off and he was feeling so comfortable.

Eddie cut out the lights, all that there was was the glow of the moon shinning through the too thin curtains, Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes and before climbing under the cover with Buck.

They both laid on ther back, decently far apart for all of 30 seconds before the silence was too much for Buck.

"Could we maybe have the TV on- just- just in the background, until I fall asleep?" He surprised himself a little that he was comfortable asking for anything more then Eddie was already giving him, which made him start to second guess himself when Eddie didn't awnser immediately and it was too dark to read an expression.

"Uh never-nevermind, I'm sorry that's rude to even ask i-" Buck started rambling again bur was cut off by Eddie rolling on his side to face him, propping himself up on his elbow.

"No, of course we can, Buck. That's fine. It's not gonna bother me any, matter of fact I fall asleep with the tv on a lot and I'd rather you be comfortable" Eddie smiled, it was so genuine and soft.

He rolled back over just enough to grab the remote from his bedside table and turned the tv on before handing Buck the remotes, Buck just sat them aside leaving it on some cooking show, he really just wanted the light and noise.

"Thank you Eddie, not- not just for that for everything, not Even just today but in general I- I don't know how to thank you"

There was a strange silence after that, he risked rolling on his side now that Eddie was back on his back to look at him, Eddie was smiling softly staring at the ceiling?

"Just take care of yourself Buck, and don't shut me out because you feel like a burden or something- that's all I ask." Against his better judgements, he rolled over to face Buck for the last part

"That's thank you enough" he smiled.

"And if I ever see him I swear to God-" Eddie started but Buck Stopped him woth a half chuckle "I know, I know" he laughed even though he knew it was the truth still.

Their laughs faded into a peaceful silence as they both rolled over on thier backs again.

"Goodnight, Buck, I'm- I'm glad you're here"

In my home, in this world, kinda went unsaid.

"Me too" Buck couldn't help but smile. His heart was so full. Maybe what happened today was the best pain he ever had to go through if this is where it lead him.

"Goodnight, Eds"

And to his surprise he had no trouble sleeping that night, or any night after that, because he never slept alone again