No thoughts just people wincing in sympathy when they see pregnant!reader and konig together because he's...well....Giant.
Larger than life, the sheer size of him only more exaggerated by the fact you've always been on the short size. You hear almost everyday how difficult it will be, your supposedly giant baby. Honestly, you're worried too, though you suspect konig is the most stressed.
"I broke the record in my hospital, schatzi. Fifteen pounds. Schatzi, Do you hear me." Which. As one would predict, only served to make you more nervous.
Then the day comes and....they're...small.
Tiny, little babies. Twins, how the hell it was missed it beyond you. Your husband is well over six feet, weighs a solid three hundred and some pounds, and his two new babies can easily be held in one hand each.
As the shock of everything settles in, you both learn that your babies will absolutely scream and wail if konig attempts to hold them normally, only settling properly when curled up in his hands. He's practically crying all the time from how fragile they are compared to him.
Seeing the tiny pairs of socks he sews for them has you crying, too. He loves them so so much.
Your favorite memory is watching the little ones, now a bit older but still so small, snuggling together on konigs back while he naps, enough space they can't easily roll off.
You can't imagine it any other way. It just...feels right.
t141 + könig and their reaction to sleeping on the couch after an argument
—price
when you banish him to the couch, he could be one of two ways—mature and forces you to talk it out nicely or toxic, flat out refuses, and fucks you back to your senses.
the first way, when the words spill from your mouth, his shoulders slumped with dejection as he steps from the room. no point in arguing when you're worked up. after stewing in your anger for thirty or so minutes, he returns—armed with food—and talks it out with you.
the other way, he flat out refuses to sleep on the couch. i could see him manipulating you with the "I paid for that bed, and I'll sleep in it." you're stubborn, muttering something about you sleeping on the couch then, which is how you end up getting your brains fucked out.
—soap
I imagine soap just pushed your buttons way too much that day. you know how he is sometimes—over the top, hyper, and an all-around instigator. he was looking for a reaction, and he found it—just not the one he wanted.
immediately pouts, acting like a dejected child before he goes on to try and convince you to change your mind. real annoying about it too, doesn't give up until you're at your breaking point.
—kyle
the only one that I see actually accept his banishment with stride. he knows he made you upset, respects the boundary you placed with him and doesn't take it to heart. there's also a big possibility that, by the end of the night, you end up talking it out anyways like mature adults.
he knows you needed to get it out of your system, and you serving punishment to him did just that.
—simon
the second the words leave your mouth, he shuts down. you see the moment he deflates, doesn't try to reconcile, and just accepts it. he doesn't want to upset you further or make you more mad than you already are. simon doesn't respond well to domestic conflict.
the second his back hits the cushions? he's tossing and turning. he barely fits the couch to begin with, and you both learn you need each other to sleep—bonded like a pair of cats.
—könig
he's not fitting on the couch, and that's what makes it more satisfying. maybe he was being too persistent about his horniness, hands wandering too far until you snapped and threw your finger to the couch you know he can't fit.
he whines about it for sure, trying to whip you with puppy eyes and convince you to change your mind. he apologizes until you're sick of hearing it, allowing him back in bed just to get him to shut up.
I could totally see the first time you see Jack mad —like really mad and disappointed in you is when he finds out you haven't been taking care of yourself properly.
He's the type to eat you out and make you recite a promise to take care of yourself. To remind you to make yourself a priority.
And he's real bad about it cos he wont even tell you that hes mad. Hes the type to just handle the situation and then punish you later.
The worst of it comes when he returns from a two week long conference he'd attended for aspiring doctors off in some state in the west.
You're a tired. Absence of Jack's structure on and in your life rendering you a little lazy as you fall behind in your day to day tasks outside of work.
Already the day had been a mess. You accidently slept through your alarm, spilt your drink on yourself, almost fell flat on your face when you tripped while walking into the ED, your ponytail already giving you a headache, and to top it all off you'd forgotten your lunch at home.
It was just not going to be a fantastic day for you which you had made peace with while scrambling this morning to get ready.
To make matters worse, Jack wasn't going to be home until much later in the evening which meant you couldn't even smooth the wound over with venting to your boyfriend about it.
The day crawls by slowly and you end up back at Jack's house sometime around 6pm, surprised to find him in the house already making dinner for the both of you.
The mess of cleaned but not put away dishes has been cleaned up and the dens been cleaned along with with entryway.
A part of you feels really bad that he had to come home from a long trip just to clean up after you but you also thought youd have more time to at least try and convince him youd been taking care of yourself and his things before he got home.
"Hey there, sweet pea," jack tucks you under his arm near the stove when you make your way over to him.
"Hi." You wait a moment, "sorry 'bout the mess. I was planning to clean up, I promise. S'just hard sometimes."
Jack nods against you, presses a kiss to the top of your head and tells you, "s'okay, s'what im here for, huh?"
You eye him suspiciously but nod against him nonetheless. Turns out you had a right to be suspicious cos you end the night on your fourth orgasm and Jack's beginning to edge you again, pressing your hips down onto the sheets everytime you try and squirm away from his hold.
"Tell me again," he mumbles into your heat, "tell daddy what youre not gonna do next time he leaves."
Youre in tears. Your throats raw and your visions all blurry and your pussy's swollen and sensitive and youre not sure how much more you can take.
"M'gonna take care of myself," you blubber, thighs tensing around him when he slips two fingers back into your cunt, curling them towards him.
"And?" He probes, not even bothering to look up at you, watching the way your pussy flutters around his chubby digits.
"M'gonna tell you if need help. M'not gonna hide it from you. I promise!"
"Yeah," he nods, still watching your folds pulse around his fingers, "thats what I thought."
You dont get to cum again and youre stuck on cleaning the house for the next two weeks without cumming as punishment. You learn your lesson very quickly following that.
Summary: Your ex invites you to his wedding. Showing up alone would only prove him right all those years ago, but he deserves a kick in the brass cojones. Leon's nothing if not an enabler.
WC: 6k
CW: fake dating, established friendship as coworkers, nicknames, no use of y/n, no mention of ages, fluff, bad fish puns, mild angst/comfort, first kiss (real), happy ending
The mission is finally over. You know this because your desk is a fucking mess.
Printouts and clippings and folders lay thick enough to suffocate, and you’re still receiving tidbits and snippets that need to be sorted and distributed. You’ve lost your breakfast bar under the same newspaper, twice, in two different locations as you shuffle and juggle and group and discard.
The discard needs to be happening faster. Your waste bin is the cleanest thing in your cubicle.
Your finger traces under a line of text on page #3 of relevant dossier #7, transcribing it into your report one-handed, eyes intent on your computer screen. You’ve got earbuds in with box-fan white noise cranked to drown out the office phones and low-grade chatter from surrounding cubes. You’re already running your brain in ten different directions, working on your report while compiling documentation to share with the field agents for their reports, and they keep pinging your IM, hounding you for updates. You wish you could set your status to something more abrasive than “🔴 Do Not Disturb”.
On the one hand, you understand how the quick turnaround on mission reports means a direct tap into memory while it’s still fresh, but on the other – you’re all fucking exhausted, some of you are injured, and this feels a little bit like friendly fire. Especially when you’re the intelligence agent and your field operatives are all tugging on your metaphorical shirt hem, whining for your attention.
Something brushes your ear and you slap at it, whipping your head around. Of course you’d have a fly buzzing around your cubicle, now, too.
It’s not a fly. Leon Kennedy just took out one of your earbuds.
You clutch at your chest, the shock of finding an entire person standing behind you making your skin feel like it teleported 1cm to the left without you.
“You weren’t hearing me,” he says by way of an apology. You snatch the earbud back.
“That’s the POINT.”
“You said that info was on a thumb drive?”
“I said it will be,” you say, frazzled. “I’ve got like twenty balls in the air right now, Leon. Don’t break my concentration.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“Respect the status,” you snap, referring to the Do Not Disturb designation that he had bypassed by showing up in person.
Your tone echoes back in your ears and you shut your eyes, sighing and rubbing at a spot on your forehead. You can feel a monumental headache building, but that’s no reason to be nasty. Leon’s under the same tight deadlines.
“Sorry.”
“I get it,” he says, picking up the empty wrapper from your breakfast bar and transferring it to your trash can. There’s a deep scratch on his arm, gummy and raw, held shut with butterfly closures.
“I’ll have it ready by EOD,” you say, pronouncing the acronym like it’s a word. Ee-odd. It’s an olive branch poking up through the hellfire: an inside joke between the two of you. The corner of his mouth stretches into that half-smile.
“Roger, Earworm.”
The bastard thinks it’s a funny nickname: always the voice in my ear. And it is funny, because it was never mean-spirited. Some of the other field operatives get borderline malicious with their interpersonal nicknames.
You toss a balled-up paper at him; he twists and it bounces off his hip.
“So fuck off, Toothskin.”
When you’d first thrown that one back at him you’d won one of his genuine laughs, the kind you only got when you really surprised him. Always making it by the skin of your teeth.
A trainee had said once that your nicknames sounded mean, that they made you sound like unhygienic trolls or rotted goblins. They’d suggested something like Angel and Lucky instead, because it was sentimentally the same thing and positivity would strengthen your team dynamic.
Three guesses if they’d ever completed the program.
You’d never told Leon about that lunch room conversation. You didn’t need to watch him die laughing.
In your cubicle, his smile stretches a little wider, then he glances at his watch. Cursing under his breath, he leaves at an urgent clip. You’re already facing your computer again with your stolen earbud crammed back in.
The silent ticking of the clock remains deafening.
You love the sounds of coming home after a long day, but tonight it all sounds especially serene.
The thump of your shoes, kicked off carelessly in the foyer.
The shf of stiff fabric shed from your tired body, the blissful whisper of well-worn, downy-soft pajamas slipping over your skin.
The delicate clink of a wineglass; the full-throated cascade of a generous pour.
You take a heavy sip and lean against your kitchen island, closing your eyes and releasing a long breath. God. Trapped at your desk all day and then six hundred interceptions when you were finally allowed to leave? You felt like a fucking running back making a mad dash for the endzone. The night air had never tasted so sweet, once you'd finally made it through the doors.
Your oven makes a series of quiet clicks, coming back up to temperature. Even if dinner’s just thawed leftovers, again, you’d set yourself up for something fresh, too, because you fucking deserve it. You’re already starting to smell it. You take another sip of wine and smile.
And then you remember. It strikes you like a horrible bolt of lightning.
At the same time, your phone starts ringing on the countertop.
Incoming Call
Toothskin
“Fuck!”
You want to throw your wineglass. How the fuck did you forget?
> Answer
“Fuck, Leon, I’m so sorry, I completely fucked it–“
“Hey, whoa,” he says, but you’re still talking.
"It’s in my fucking bag, I was on my way to drop it off and I got–“
He says your name; you barely hear it.
“Fuck! I can’t believe I just fucking walked out– I’ll come drop it off, okay? I can– I’ll just … shit, the fucking oven–"
"HEY," he says, raising his voice. "I’m already in the car. What’s your location?"
When Leon knocks at your door, you swing it open and then hurry back into the house like a reverse doorbell-ditch. He blinks, hand still raised in a frozen knock.
“Just come in!” You shout over the beeping of the kitchen timer.
Leon steps inside and closes the door softly behind himself, looking around.
You hadn’t turned on any lights in the front hall; the kitchen sits as a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Leon clocks your tumbled shoes under your hanging coats, the splay of your keys on the side table where you’d tossed them. Ready to be fucking done with the day.
Despite the dark, the front hall is cozy. Your coats hold whispers of your perfume. There’s a hint of clean laundry and an undercurrent of something more complex, almost earthy; the house smells lived in. By you.
It also, overwhelmingly, smells like fresh bread.
You’re setting the steaming, crackling loaf on a cooling rack and slapping the oven gloves off of your hands when Leon wanders into the light of your kitchen.
"I didn’t know you baked,” he says, eyes on the dark golden crust, split open where you’d scored the dough.
"Not really mission-critical information," you say, and pull open your work bag that you’ve hauled onto the kitchen island. Digging around, you find the thumb drive, but it’s tumbled into the bottom next to another thumb drive that looks identical.
Neither are labeled.
"Of fucking course," you mutter, pulling out your laptop with jerky, frustrated motions. It clacks against the countertop; you stab the power button to boot it up. “What’s ten more hours, right?”
Leon doesn’t respond. He’s assessing: you, first and foremost, strung out and self-disparaging; the kitchen, dishes in the sink, scattered messes all over; the fridge door, covered in novelty magnets and a dry-erase calendar; the corkboard on the wall.
His attention snags.
Among photos and receipts and postcards (two are from him, brought back from some vibrantly unpleasant mission locations, as a joke), incongruously, there’s a large champagne-gold envelope with a broken wax seal, clearly torn open with some violence.
It’s stabbed into the corkboard with a paring knife.
You toss one of the thumb drives back into your bag and shove the correct one towards Leon across the kitchen island.
"Bingo," you say, then catch what he’s looking at. He gestures to it.
“Jury duty?”
You know he clocks your dark expression before you 180 into something that matches his jesting tone.
“Yeah the circuit court jumped on the discounted stationary when Party City closed.”
“You hate weddings that much?”
“It’s my fucking ex,” you say venomously, picking up your wine glass. “I almost have half a mind to show up just to congratulate him on the brass cojones. Maybe give him a swift kick in them.”
“Sounds like you should.”
“He’d get too much satisfaction from my missing plus-one,” you mutter. “Like aw, your job couldn’t make it tonight? Dickknuckle,” you add under your breath.
Leon’s watching you, a faint crease between his brows.
“What?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and your brow creases. “Do you want a plus-one?”
You chuff a laugh, but he doesn’t smile, so you drop yours.
“What, like you know a guy?”
“No. Like I am a guy.”
Your eyebrows lift.
“You want to attend my ex’s wedding.”
“If it means mission success in the swift-kick department, sure,” he says. You narrow your eyes.
“You don’t even know the guy.”
He glances at the stabbed envelope on the corkboard. The blade is lodged; you'd used some force.
“I trust your judgement.”
You cross your arms, searching for a teasing twinkle in his eye, a telltale twitch of his mouth, but he’s just gazing back at you levelly.
“You’re serious,” you realize.
“Always am.”
“Please,” you scoff, but you uncross your arms and reach for your bread knife, throwing him a sidelong glance. Considering. “I’ll think about it.”
He picks up the thumb drive, tosses it in the air and catches it.
“Do that,” he says. “I’ll let myself out.”
“Wait,” you call after him, and he backs up to lean through the kitchen doorway. Wordlessly, you hold out a thick, steaming slice of the fresh bread. “For the trouble.”
He takes it.
He’s halfway to the front door when you hear him groan loud, almost obscene.
“Fuck that’s good.”
The front door closes.
His voice echoes in your ears for a while. Your cheeks are only pink from the heat of the kitchen; you turn and shut the oven off.
Earworm The mission, should you choose to accept it:
A photo loads into the text thread and Leon taps it open.
It’s the wedding invite. There’s a narrow slit bisecting the date, the same width as a paring knife blade.
He skims the details.
Mid-July. Out of state. Outdoors, in a nature preserve. Strictly formal, but no black or white dress.
He eyes the font, the thick textured paper with raw, ripped edges, the embossed leaf detailing.
It’s a vegan menu, isn’t it, he texts back.
Earworm Pescetarian
He snorts. Another text drops in from you.
Earworm You can plant the invite. Grows forget-me-nots
Of course it does.
Earworm Thought about wearing white but they might have me shot
There’s strength in numbers.
Earworm Enabler
Is this not Operation Rock The Boat?
Earworm Can’t rock it if we’re kicked out. Game plan is malicious compliance
… you’re putting me in a dress, aren’t you.
Earworm Hmm. Tempting.
There’s a fucking chandelier in the fitting room.
Under the sparkling, crystalline light, surrounded by three floor-to-ceiling mirrors, you take in your chosen battle dress from every angle.
“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you say out loud.
“You’re done already?” Leon’s voice is muffled, closed in another cubicle across the wide, thin carpet.
“It’s a slip dress,” you call back. “Not many fastenings to tangle with.”
It’s an avocado green slip dress, silky and alluring, with thin shoulder straps and a scoopy cowl neck. It’s definitely your shade. It highlights your freckles and your eyes; it shows off your arms, your collarbones, your neck. What it doesn’t reveal, it hints at, like a prize behind a curtain.
You turn again to admire the back. It’s a lot of cake to be bringing to someone else’s wedding, but he invited it.
You step out into the main space. There are more chandeliers overhead and a mirrored sort of apse at the end of the carpeted runway.
You can hear clothing rustling behind the door of the fitting room directly across from you.
“Sure you can manage all those buttons?”
The door opens and Leon’s there, looking down to fix the lay of his lapels.
“Not quite my kryptonite, but thank–“
He looks up and forgets what he's saying. Forgets where he's going, too. He stands frozen outside his fitting room, just staring at you.
That’s okay; you’re staring at him, too.
The last time you’d seen him in a suit, you were behind a desk watching a grainy, quarter-screen, black-and-white camera feed. That had had very little impact.
This? This has impact. It’s punched your stomach into a somersault.
This suit is camel-brown, the dress shirt a pastel green. The cut of the suit accentuates his broad shoulders, his tight waist; the pants make his legs look longer. The shirt brings out the green in his grey eyes, makes his skin – his lips – look a little pinker.
You were already well aware of how handsome he is, in a rugged, untouchable, dangerous Special Agent sort of way. But he’s standing here in the suit that you picked to compliment your dress and you can’t remember anyone looking more fucking attractive ever in your entire life.
And the way he always carries himself with that self-assuredness, like nothing could ever bowl him over?
He’s staring at you, and he’s looking a little bowled over.
The moment is gone just as quickly as it arrived. He pushes his hand through his hair and the unflappable Leon is back.
“Don’t you clean up nice.”
You shut your mouth with a click.
“Speak for yourself,” you say, heading for the mirrors at the end of the runway. He follows you, standing just behind your shoulder.
The two of you are a fucking one-two knockout. You look so good together, you can’t face it for more than a few blinding seconds before your chest starts feeling tight.
You sit down heavily on one of the velvet chairs between fitting room doors and manage not to put your head in your hands. Leon looks down at himself, smoothing a hand over the buttons of his suit.
“You don’t like it.”
"No, it’s fucking perfect," you bite out.
"What’s wrong?"
"This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous." You're short on breath. You can feel panic rising, tight bands around your lungs. You do put your head in your hands, clutching at your hair to stop the tremble in your fingers.
"Hey," he says, crouching down in front of you. "Where’s this coming from?"
"Why am I dragging you into this? I don’t care about him or what he thinks! I don’t care!"
"I volunteered," Leon reminds you.
"Why?"
He does the facial equivalent of a shrug.
"No bioweapons? Open bar? You tell me.”
You unclench your fists from your hair and sit back to look at him, your head against the wall. He meets your gaze, calm and even.
He’s so fucking beautiful. You can’t let on about the gymnastics routine your stomach’s doing.
“If his brother's there, don't rule out bioweapons,” you say.
“Mm. BO?”
You shake your head. “GI.”
“Noted. Book of matches for a quick escape.”
You close your eyes, huffing a little laugh through your nose.
“We’re not locked into anything,” he tells you quietly. “You’re calling the shots.”
“Mm,” you acknowledge, and take a deep breath. “Just another mission.”
“With free dinner.”
Something lands on your knee and you open your eyes; it’s Leon’s hand, palm-up. A question. An offering.
You give him a pained look.
“It’s pescetarian.”
“Could be a red herring.”
Your gaze goes wooden. He raises his eyebrows, innocent.
“Ugh, I hate you,” you say, but clap your hand into his waiting palm. He hauls you to your feet. And he’s not done.
"A bait-and-switch?"
"Stop," you groan, shoving him towards his fitting room.
"A shell game.”
"Ignoring you!" The door to your fitting room shuts and you start wriggling out of the dress.
You almost rip it when Leon yells FISH from across the way and you fall into helpless laughter.
Toothskin Have you checked the registry?
I’m liking the 200-year-old sourdough starter
Toothskin Old yeast… what milestone anniversary is that?
200th. Keep up
And then the day arrives.
Leon puts the Porsche in park and you both sit back, observing the battlefield.
The nature preserve vista stretches vast beyond the front bumper, all dappled sunlight and swaying greens with scatters of bright, energetic color. The sky is a vibrant blue and dotted with cotton-puff clouds, the birds are singing, and there’s enough of a breeze to prevent stagnant air without upsetting meticulous hairstyles. It’s a perfect day in a gorgeous setting.
You’re clutching the invite, unawares, and the heat and moisture from your hands has warped the textured paper. Leon glances down and gently tugs it from your grasp.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m just… trying to remember the last time I saw him.”
“On the Save the Date.”
“Heard him, then. I’m trying to remember what he said to me.”
“Do you think he remembers?”
“No.”
“Blank slate, then,” Leon says, glancing in the rearview. Guests are meandering towards the gap in the low, rustic wooden fence, trickling into the sanctuary. “What are your boundaries?”
“What?”
“As your date. We covered our story; what’s your stance on PDA?”
“Oh.” You wave it off. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”
He scoffs, incredulous. “We’re at a wedding, as a couple, and you look like that,” he says, indicating your whole look with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “You want people to think you’re dating a eunuch?”
You stare at him like you’re going to fire something back, but there’s nothing in the chamber. He’s disarmed you. Maybe fried your circuitry a little.
“Here,” he prompts, and holds his hand out over the gear shift. “Do you like holding hands with a partner?”
You can’t be this flustered. He’s just gathering intel for the undercover operation. This is tactical.
You take his hand, feigning nothing but mild agreement while your traitorous pulse picks up.
“Sure, it’s fine.”
He adjusts, lacing your fingers together, watching your face.
“Still fine?”
“Still fine.” His palm is warm and rough, callouses at the base of every finger from intensive strength training. His thumb lightly strokes your hand.
“If I touch your back?”
You tamp down a shiver, keeping your voice neutral.
“Fine, from the waist up.”
“Your hair?”
“Why my hair?”
He gently frees his hand, brushes his fingers over your ear like he’s fixing a windblown lock.
“Okay, yeah, that’s fine.”
He traces his thumb from your temple down to your jaw, delineating the side of your face.
“Is this okay to kiss?”
Despite the car still running and the AC blowing, your skin is hot and buzzing and you’re feeling that tight panic start to threaten your lungs again. It’s too close and intimate in here. You swat his hand away.
“Look, I know you’re good at reading a room, okay? So I’ll trust you. Just don’t fucking grope me in front of the bride’s grandma and I think we’ll be fine.”
“Killjoy.”
You sharpen on him. He just blinks at you owlishly, unthreatened.
You poke him in the side, where you know he’s sensitive. He clamps his arm down and jerks away.
“Alright, roger! No show for grandma!”
It pokes you back, right in the funny bone. You collapse into laughter, forehead pressed into his shoulder, and the bands around your chest loosen.
When you recover, he’s still smiling quietly, smug. You give him a shove, then double check your makeup in the visor mirror.
“Alright, let’s go, before all the worst seats are taken.”
The ceremony is gorgeous.
The altar stands under the strong, reaching branches of an ancient oak, in a serene forest clearing bordered by flickering tea lights in pristine mason jars. The bride looks Barbie-perfect in her flawless bright white dress, and the groom – your ex – is practically glowing himself. She’s probably got him on a juice detox, yoga regimen and seventeen-step skincare routine. But it’s working.
They look beautiful together, and hopelessly in love.
Your hands have knotted in your lap and your jaw is clenched tight.
You’re not jealous.
Well. You’re not jealous of her for who she’s marrying. You might be jealous of… everything else.
Something touches your wrist. It’s Leon, and just the warmth of his fingers on your skin dissolves your acidity.
Your hands unknot as Leon slips his fingers in with yours, his palm a warm and comfortable weight. You hook your free hand loose at his elbow, hugging his arm, and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You lean into it.
At the end of the ceremony, the freshly-minted husband and wife make a bottleneck that guests have to pass through on their way to the reception tent. You’re in line, wondering when ‘congratulations’ will stop sounding like a real word.
There are only seven people in line ahead of you. You’re breathing even, because you’re not anxious. You’re fine.
“Should I tell him he’s got a seed in his hair?” Leon’s speaking low right next to your ear, his eyes on the man in front of you in line. You refocus; it’s the type of seed that travels on the wind with a bit of fluff, like a dandelion. The guy’s hair is dark enough that it’s not hard to spot.
You turn your head to speak in Leon’s ear.
“No. Ten he’ll never notice.”
He smirks.
“Fifteen his wife won’t, either.”
Five people ahead of you.
“Bad bet, she’s hardly looked at him since they stood up. Twenty it’s a random stranger that tells him.”
“Bad bet, you’re a random stranger,” he says, his breath tickling your ear.
Three people ahead of you. You’re biting back a smile.
“Damn.”
Leon’s hand hasn’t left your waist.
“You came!”
Your ex lights up when he sees you next in line, and you’re even more surprised when he goes in for the hug. Leon feels you move towards it on rote and lets you go; the hug is light and short-lived. Your ex’s frame seems smaller than you remember, but maybe that’s because you’ve had Leon glued to your hip. He’s taller than your ex, maybe all in the swoop of his bronze hair, but he’s definitely… bigger.
“God, you look incredible,” your ex is saying, but there’s no depth or heat to it. It sounds just like it would if you were two former friends that hadn’t seen each other in almost a decade, and that hits you… strangely. You were lovers, for fuck’s sake, you were together for more than three years! Why did he invite you here if it wasn’t to gloat? To rub all this in your face? You hadn’t separated on good terms, but there isn’t a shred of animosity you’re getting from him right now. He truly just seems happy to see you.
And, annoyingly, that comes as a relief even while it stumbles you. It’s like you were holding the end of a wire at tension only to find it wasn’t attached to anything. You can’t help but feel a little childish about it, but in your defense, the wedding invite completely out of the blue? That was a crazy thoughtless move. How many other exes had been invited today, and how many had shown? How many other invites were still stabbed into a corkboard somewhere?
So maybe you’ve stretched your legs for nothing. His cojones aren’t brass, he’s just kinda dumb. And you know what? Good for him.
You return to Leon’s bubble and his hand is right back at your waist, casually possessive. You wind your arm around his back while you enthuse – and it is genuine – how stunning and happy the bride and groom look together. Your ex pulls his new wife close and kisses the side of her face, then gestures to Leon.
“And who’s your lucky gentleman?”
Leon lets you introduce him – you're calling the shots – shaking hands before settling in against you again, and you can feel his attention’s on you. You can see them seeing something on his face and you look up at him.
Your tummy backflips.
His eyes are so soft and fond, looking between yours. There’s a shade of something that looks like pride, too, and you wonder if he can feel that the fight’s left your body.
He kisses your forehead, then offers the bride and groom another congrats and beautiful ceremony and we’ll see you inside, opening your exit. You walk out together from the shade of the forest, into the July sun, and the light breeze greets you smelling sweet and hot and floral.
When you’re out of earshot, he speaks.
“What’s our sitrep?”
You sigh, defeated.
“You wanna go, don’t you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You signed on for violence.”
“Maybe at first.” The two of you have to break to walk apart on an uneven stretch of path, so he takes your hand instead. “We leave now, what’re the optics?”
“A shellfish allergy.”
“Weak,” he heckles. He’s right. Leaving now would look suspicious.
You tug his hand, grimly indicating the reception tent when he meets your gaze.
“That’s the hot zone. Last chance to run.”
He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, tightens the lace of your fingers together.
“I don’t give up that easy.”
“How did you two meet?”
Of course, as soon as the seat beside Leon vacates one ass, this one drops into it. You remember her from Thanksgivings and Christmases with your ex’s family, and here she is again with that ominous glint in her eye, wine glass already in hand. You grip Leon’s thigh under the table in warning.
“Hi, Auntie.”
“Hello, dear. You’re looking so well," she says, scrunching her nose condescendingly. "So how’d you dupe this one?”
Leon straightens from his casual lean, facing her better while resting his arm over the back of your chair.
“Aren’t we charming.”
Wine Aunt sets her chin in her hand, one eyebrow cocked as she looks Leon up and down, indiscreet. He’d abandoned his suit jacket a while ago, sleeves rolled up his arms, tie stuffed into his pocket so he could unbutton his collar a little. He does look fucking delicious, but you want to scoop out her slimy eyes for ogling him like that.
“Mmm. Certainly,” she purrs at him. So she’s forfeited her tongue, now, too.
You see Leon give her a subtly disgusted up-down in return before he turns his full attention to you instead.
“Met you at work,” he says to you, and you’re obsessed with the way he’s effectively answering Wine Aunt while also cutting her out of the conversation. He glances up at your hair, brushes it back from your forehead. “It was just your voice at first, lots of phone calls. And then I got to meet you.”
Your tummy’s not just fluttering, it’s kicking you. He’s too good at sounding like this, warm and fond and genuine. It’s starting to pinch behind your ribs.
It’s just a show. You’re playing in it, too.
Wine Aunt’s bringing her glass to her lips, muttering something like isn’t that sweet, expression fully soured. You can see she’s turned away, scanning the tables for her next victim, and your quiet smile at Leon grows a sharpened edge of victory. Then she leaves without another word and you have to bite back a full grin.
“Did she really just try to come on to me?”
“She’s notorious.”
“Mm. I thought about saying we met at an AA meeting, but she wouldn't know anything about that.”
Your eyes sparkle with dark delight. “Leon Kennedy. You are here for violence.”
You both jump when the speakers give a sudden feedback screech, the DJ raising his arm in apology before checking the microphone again. He announces it’s time for the speeches, and Leon exchanges a harrowed glance with you before grabbing both your empty drinks glasses.
“Same again?”
“Stronger.”
You haven’t been to a single wedding where the speeches didn’t set your teeth on edge.
Tonight might be the worst yet. You’re glad, at least, that there’s a literal spotlight somewhere else in the tent, leaving your table in heavy shadow. Both you and Leon look like you're on trial awaiting a heavy verdict rather than listening to weepy, heartfelt sentiments and weak jokes that rarely land.
Your fingers draw aimless lines up and down your drink glass, smearing through the condensation. Your eyes are on Leon’s back; he’s hunched forward, elbows on the table.
You listen to different iterations of the same gist, hear the same buzzwords, over and over.
Proud. Deserve. Love. Peace. Safety. Long life. Happiness. Together.
They all land like darts, piercing you.
Halfway through the father of the bride’s speech, Leon gets up, unreadable. He sets his hand on your back and leans down, his voice low and even.
“I’ll be right back.”
It’s calm, casual. Normal.
The giveaway is when his whiskey goes with him, and the direction he heads.
Not for the bathroom. Not for the bar.
The exit.
The reception tent is set up next to a huge, beautifully manicured garden courtyard, all high shrubs and fragrant bushes and bursting clusters of flowers lining stone paths that stretch and curve and cross over each other, a loose labyrinth. In the middle of it all stands a large stone fountain, its cascade a gentle burble rather than a showy spray, its wide pool full of blooming lilypads and the white and orange flicker of koi fish. Above it is a massive circular pergola, a slat-wooded ring dripping with cafe lights and vining flowers like a great wild halo.
The loudspeakers in the tent become just a shapeless thrum once you’re past the first wall of shrubs, and the summer chorus of crickets and frogs work to drown it out entirely. The sun’s almost down; fireflies are flashing and flickering in the dense foliage as you navigate the paths, heading for the sound of water.
And that’s exactly where you find him.
Leon’s sitting on the edge of the stone pool, head down, whiskey glass hanging from loose fingers. For a moment you just stand quietly and watch him breathe.
“Hey.”
He looks up; straightens and clears his throat, casually sipping at his drink.
“Hey,” he echoes.
“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, moving in closer. His eyes reflect the cafe lights like little stars as he looks up to meet your approach. There’s a subtle tightness to his expression, a shadow lurking, but if you didn’t know him like you do, you’d never recognize it. He’s too well trained.
“Do what?”
“Hide.”
He doesn’t deny it. He lowers his gaze and downs the last of his drink.
“You’re missing the speeches,” he says instead.
“Chad has the microphone."
He huffs a humorless laugh through his nose. A breeze meanders through the gardens, stirring through his hair. Not really thinking about it, you trace one finger lightly across his forehead, back over his ear, his hair falling softly back into place. He meets your eyes but your gaze is distant.
The both of you have sacrificed so much, willingly or otherwise, for your line of work. That’s why it’s not you at the sweetheart table tonight, and why it probably never will be. You’ve learned how to ignore the empty spaces, to close them off within yourselves so you can keep moving forward, because you can both see the bigger picture and your places within it.
What you do creates space for happy endings, fights to maintain that space. Tries, every day, to broaden it.
You know you’ve both long given up on the idea that the fight will ever be over. After two decades, it’s inescapable: there will always be something lurking in the shadows, growing in labs, lying in wait. The only way this will end for you is in death; as long as you’re alive, you have to keep going. That’s your lifelong commitment.
You can train yourself to endure the emptiness all you want. It’s still fucking lonely.
But if today has proven anything to you, it’s that you’re not alone. For once, you’re not by yourself behind a desk in some dark safehouse while Leon's out who-knows-where, running with Death on his heels. For the first time, he’s here, he’s right in front of you, you can touch him, comfort him the way you’ve always wished you could, hearing him breathe brokenly down the comms on particularly difficult missions.
And what missions weren’t difficult?
“Thank you for being here,” you tell him quietly, distantly. You card his hair back over his ear, still busy in your own head, just liking how it feels. His hair is soft, and his strands of silver look like threads of gold in the warm, soft lighting.
His hand, resting on his own thigh, brushes your leg through the silky fall of your skirt. You’re standing between his legs at the edge of a bubbling fountain, playing with his hair while fireflies dance in the fragrant summer air around you.
Your fingers hesitate, starting to curl like a dying vine near his temple as the awareness sets in. But before you can draw your hand away, he dips his head to brush your fingers against his hair again.
Don’t go.
His eyes close and his head sways back when you comb both of your hands into his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp. His hands are settled on your legs now, just leaning there, still rested on his own thighs. His shoulders are loose, tension drained, and his lips are parted.
It’s such a show of trust that it almost overwhelms you. Not only are you blocking sightlines but his head is in your hands, and despite the nooks and shadows of the courtyard all around you, he's got his eyes closed. This is more surrendered than you’ve ever seen him.
You know he’s lethal, body honed not just to handle weapons, but into a weapon itself. He can snap a spine with the heel of his palm. He can crush a skull with his foot, send a body absolutely sailing with the strength of his legs.
But he’s also been one of the kindest, gentlest people you know. He cracks stupid jokes when he knows you’re wound up, but only after checking in with you. He looks at you with such adoration. He touches you with respect and care.
Is all of it really just for the role?
His lashes are a thick, dark sweep over the tops of his cheeks. You run your thumb over his eyebrow, lightly down the bridge of his nose, and he opens his eyes. You can see the green in his irises as he studies you; the dark halo of blue that rings them.
“I like this better," he tells you.
"What?"
He touches his ear, miming an earpiece, then sets his hands on your hips, light. Easily moved or brushed away. You do neither.
Your heart thumps a little faster. This touch is not waist-up.
This isn’t the role.
You lean down, speaking directly against the shell of his ear.
“Don't get used to it, Kennedy.”
You’ve barely finished saying his name before he’s turned his head and caught your lips in a kiss.
You draw back a little, startled, your lips buzzing. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you, unapologetic.
“No one’s watching,” you check.
“I know.” He looks down at your lips.
Your hands skim his jaw, his stubble rasping against your skin.
“This was never about aiding in my revenge, was it.”
He shakes his head. His thumbs are stroking your hipbones through the silk of your dress.
"I just wanted this," he admits.
Suspended within the summer song of crickets and frogs, under whispering leaves and beside softly burbling water, you lean down and kiss him. His hands slide up to your waist, mouth so tender on yours, kissing you back while the fireflies wink and dance around you.
You’re not alone.
On AO3
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list when I post these fics 💚
Summary: Daryl Dixon never imagined marriage would mean anything to him after the world ended. Then he found you.
The ring sat in Daryl’s pocket for six straight days.
Six.
Every morning he told himself he was being stupid. Every night he touched the small velvet box hidden inside his jacket and thought about you anyway.
It had happened during a supply run outside Alexandria. It was just like any other day. Just another abandoned house slowly being swallowed by time and nature. Broken windows, collapsed furniture, dust coating every surface.
Daryl had only entered because Aaron wanted canned food from the kitchen cupboards.
Instead, Daryl found the ring upstairs. A tiny velvet box hidden inside a bedside table drawer.
He almost ignored it completely, but then he opened it.
And there it was.
A simple ring with a small diamond that still caught the afternoon sunlight somehow despite years of dust and ruin. Daryl stared at it for a long moment. The old world felt strange sometimes. He found ghosts everywhere.
People who once loved each other enough to promise forever. Most days Daryl thought forever was a dangerous thing to believe in.
Then he thought about you.
About your sleepy smile every morning when he returned from runs. About the way you automatically reached for him. About sitting on the porch together after dark while you rested your head on his shoulder, fingers interwined. About how Alexandria finally felt like home because you were there. And suddenly the thought appeared so naturally it nearly stole the air from him.
Marry her.
Daryl immediately shut the box again.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself.
Yet somehow the ring still ended up in his pocket. The problem was that once the idea existed in his mind, it refused to leave him alone.
By the second day, Carol noticed something was going on with him. Mostly because Daryl kept absentmindedly checking his pocket every five minutes.
“You’re acting weird,” Carol Peletier observed casually while chopping vegetables.
“Ain’t.”
“You nearly walked into a wall earlier.”
Daryl grunted and Carol narrowed her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re going to ask her to marry you.”
He looked genuinely horrified.
“Keep your damn voice down!”
Carol gasped dramatically.
“You are!”
“Shut up.”
“You found a ring, didn’t you?”
Daryl stared at her silently, Carol placed a hand over her heart.
“This is the best day of my life.”
“It ain’t even like that.”
“You have carried around that expression for three days straight, Daryl. You look like a frightened raccoon.”
“A what?” He scowled deeply.
“You heard me.”
Carol spent the next several days being completely unbearable. Every time you walked into a room she smirked at Daryl like she knew a secret.
Which she did.
Daryl considered throwing himself off Alexandria’s walls at least twice.
Meanwhile you remained blissfully unaware, mostly because Daryl still acted normal around you.
Well.
Mostly normal.
You noticed the increased staring and the fact he kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something before changing his mind. One evening while sitting together on the porch outside your house, you finally nudged his shoulder lightly.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothin’.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“Said I’m fine.”
You studied him carefully, he looked nervous, which almost never happened unless something truly mattered to him. You reached over and took his hand gently.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Daryl’s chest tightened painfully, that was exactly the problem, because he loved you so much it genuinely frightened him sometimes.
That night he barely slept, and by morning he had decided two things.
First, he was absolutely going to ask you.
Second, he might actually die from the anxiety beforehand.
The opportunity arrived unexpectedly later that afternoon, most of Alexandria gathered near the centre of the street helping repair fencing after a recent storm.
You stood nearby sorting tools while laughing at something Glenn said.
And Daryl suddenly thought, If I don’t ask now, I never will.
His heart hammered violently.
“Hey,” he muttered.
You looked over immediately, smiling the second you saw him.
There it is, Daryl thought helplessly.
That damn smile.
“You alright?”
“Yeah.”
He absolutely was not. Daryl rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms against his trousers before glancing around.
Too many people.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
“Can ya come with me a sec?”
You tilted your head curiously but followed him without question, Daryl led you behind one of the quieter houses near the edge of Alexandria where the noise from the others faded into the background.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried, you have never seen Daryl like this before. Daryl turned towards you. Then immediately forgot every single sentence he had prepared.
Brilliant.
“Daryl?”
He swallowed hard, his fingers fumbled nervously inside his jacket pocket before pulling out the small velvet box. Your eyes widened instantly.
“Oh.”
Daryl stared firmly at the ground, he was too afraid to look at you in the eyes.
“Found it on a run.”
You looked down at the ring before looking back at him, he was still staring at the ground.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
Daryl’s heart pounded so hard he genuinely thought he might throw up, finally he forced himself to continue but he still couldn’t look at you.
“Been carryin’ it around.”
“Why?”
Daryl finally looked up at you then, his blue eyes were full of something so open and vulnerable it made your chest ache.
“Cause I kept thinkin’ about you.”
Daryl rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck.
“Ain’t got some big speech planned or nothin’,” he admitted roughly. “Don’t really know how ta do this right.”
“You’re doing fine,” you whispered, he laughed a little under his breath.
“Nah. Prob’ly not.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I know I wanna wake up next ta you every day I got left.”
Tears immediately filled your eyes Daryl stepped closer.
“Know the world’s all messed up now. Maybe rings don’t mean much anymore.”
“They do,” you whispered shakily as his thumb brushed nervously against the edge of the box.
“You make this place feel good.” His voice cracked slightly. “Make me feel good.”
Your heart completely melted.
“And I…” He exhaled shakily. “Hell.”
“Take your time.” You smiled, you could only imagine how difficult this was for him. He was never a man of many words. Daryl looked at you with so much love it nearly hurt.
“Will you be my wife?”
Silence.
Daryl’s entire body tensed immediately. Then you started crying, his eyes widened in panic.
“Oh God. Was that bad?”
“No!” You laughed through your tears instantly.
“You cryin’ seemed bad!”
You grabbed his jacket quickly before he could spiral further.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes!”
Relief hit his face so hard it almost looked painful, you were sure a huge weight fell off his shoulders just then.
“Oh thank Christ.”
You burst into laughter while he shakily slid the ring onto your finger. It fit surprisingly well.
“There,” Daryl muttered softly, staring down at your hand like he could not believe it. “Mine.”
Your entire chest warmed.
“Your wife,” you corrected gently.
Daryl looked absolutely wrecked emotionally by those words.
Then he kissed you, with overwhelmingly tenderness.
One hand cradled your face while the other settled firmly against your waist like he needed to keep you close.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling helplessly. Unfortunately, neither of you realised Carol had followed him.
“Oh my God!”
You jumped, Daryl groaned. Carol stood nearby looking ready to explode with excitement.
“I knew it! I knew it!”
“You were spying on us?!” Daryl snapped.
“Yes,” Carol replied easily. “And I regret nothing, that was so cute.”
Then she spotted the ring on your hand and immediately screamed loud enough to alert half of Alexandria. Within seconds, people started appearing around the corner.
Glenn looked delighted, Maggie gasped happily, Rick blinked once before grinning.
The entire street erupted into celebration, yet through all the noise, Daryl only looked at you. Still staring at the ring on your finger like he could barely believe this was real.
“You happy?” you whispered, Daryl looked back up immediately, then he cupped your face gently.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Got everythin’ I ever wanted.”
I’d request a little single dad eddie. he’d be so cute and overwhelmed with a kid I’d fall for him instantly
Single dad eddie has my whole heart.
Warnings: kidnapping mentioned, sight bad parenting? Bad grammar for baby talk. Dad!eddie.
word count: 1.0k.
There is a little boy on the other side of the store. You know because he’s got a huge set of lungs on him. Repeatedly calling after his father.
You got curious after the third time and turned around the corner to see a little boy looking around aimlessly. Brown hair that curls like a mop on his head and he’s wearing a very dirty light blue t-shirt.
“Dadddy…?”
His voice is so small. Can hardly pronounce the word without stumbling over it.
You watch as his little legs run around clothing racks and it looks like he’s going to get a headache by how much he twists his head around and up looking.
“Hi.”
You smile down at the little boy. And before he can scream bloody murder from seeing a stranger you crouch down to his level.
“Are you looking for your daddy?”
“Uh huh.” He nods his head up and down and his curls bounce. He practically slaps himself in the face with how he pushes the hair out of his eyes.
“He….he told me, ta run that way n’hen come right back.”
“He did?”
You know there are bad people in the world. And you know some of those bad people don’t really want to be classified as bad people. So for a moment your heart aches with the thought of someone just leaving a kid in the middle of the mall for someone else to find. Or get adopted into an orphanage.
“Can I help you look for him?”
“Uhmmm.”
He looks like he’s thinking it over. Smart enough to understand stranger danger.
“It’s okay. I just want to help you find your dad.” It sounds like something a kidnapper might say, but the little boy nods, convinced.
“What’s your name?”
“Beau Wayne Munson.”
“Wow, what a pretty name Beau Wayne Munson.”
You hold out your hand. And to your surprise Beau takes it. You let him set the pace but you’re mostly wondering around Dillards trying to figure out where the most worried parent spot would be.
“How old are you?”
“M’four.”
He holds up four chubby fingers and you swoon. You wonder how anyone could just leave a cute little boy like this in the middle of a store.
“Four! No way! You look too big to be four.”
“No! No! I am…m’birth day is in the snow.”
“Woah, it snows on your birthday? That’s really cool.”
You’re heading over to the check outs. The doors open to the bigger part of the mall but you stand around near the cashier for a moment. Only wanting to go to a cop unless it absolutely necessary.
“How…how old are you?”
Beau looks up at you with these impossibly big dark hazel eyes. You’re glad he’s not screaming anymore, and his stuttering is adorable.
“Way too old. You wouldn’t be able to count that high.”
“I can…can count to ten, watch! One….two…”
You nod, but you don’t have to be put up to such torture as a tall man with his hair pulled back comes running up to you.
“Beau what happened. I told you to come right back.”
“Daddy!”
You watch as the tall man embraces the hug he gets from Beau, it’s clear they’re related, same brown hair facial structure. There’s even marker drawings on each of their hands. Something you didn’t notice before now.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Uh huh…”
Beau nods the same way he nodded with you and the tall man picks him up in his arms so naturally it seems like he might never let him go.
“Hi.”
You announce yourself when the curly haired man starts to eye you. And suddenly you don’t feel so confident.
“I heard Beau just like— around the corner, he was looking for you and I thought the front of the store would be the first place to go.”
“Thank you.”
Is the first thing he says. He might have been sweating but now he looks relaxed as he brushes hair out of beau’s face effortlessly.
“It’s none of my business—“ you start and the man’s brown eyes dart to yours. “But Beau said you told him to run and then come back and you were gone….”
You want to make sure Beau is safe. It won’t take a lot of convincing considering you’re watching in real time how Beau leans into his father and lays his head down on his shoulder. He looks comfortable.
“Look—“ the man seems panicked for a second, and you wonder if it’s in fear of being found out or fear of being reported.
“It’s a game I swear. He was supposed to come right back, I had my eye on him. And then I was gonna do this whole thing and jump out and scare him. But he’s so slippery and he fell out of my sights and—“
He takes a deep breath and you watch his chest expand, noticing the slight stomach and band shirt he has on. “Please don’t call child protective services.”
You smile softly. You don’t know this man personally yet, but the way they have matching marker drawing on their hands and you think that’s icecream on Beaus shirt. You can tell this guy is a decent father.
“I don’t have their number.”
He laughs softly and almost looks relieved, until Beau is touching at his fathers face and has put on the most betrayed expression a toddler could put on.
“You…you were gonna s’care me?”
“What? No, I wasn’t. You must have heard wrong bud because daddy would never scare you.”
“You said—“
Before Beau could even get his sentence out fully, the man turned his face fast and let out a small “rawr.” It did in fact make Beau jump a little in his arms, but he was giggling fast after.
“Thank you again, for— not being a kidnapper.” He said, gesturing to you.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I’m not a kidnapper either.”
“I’m Eddie by the way.” He extends his hand out and you exchange your name as well.
“Beau, say thank you for not being a kidnapping.”
“Daddy, she’s….she’s older than ten!”
“No way! I would hope so, I like woman older than ten.”
He gives you a look. He’s flirting. And to your surprise. You want to flirt back.
hello angels! i hope you’re all okay. i am not after writing this, i’m legit in floods of tears. it is a sad dad/rockstar!eddie. i am legit heartbroken at this omfg. anyway, enjoy reading🩷 eddie’s part two x steve’s part two x
taglist (add yourselves 🩷) @eddieamoremio @theshireisonfire @thankingjoe @livsters @sadbitchfangirl @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @juleshadalittlelamb @hollandweather @lovurry @bibieddiesgf @plk-18 @Heyyimmissunderstood @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @hargrovesswifee @shiftingmack @chxrrysprxut @Idkjoequinn (if there’s a line through your @ i can’t tag you, lmk if you’ve changed your name🩷)
"i can't make it today, i'm really really busy" you sighed, rubbing your forehead with your free hand as you held the phone to your ear with your other. "this can't keep happening Eddie, she has been wanting to see you for weeks now" this was the third time this month Eddie had cancelled.
your sweet girl Penny had been ecstatic when Eddie spoke to her last week to say that he would be here this weekend and he wasn't. "well i'm sorry y/n but i have things to do. this band is really important to me" you weren't shocked. Eddie had always put the band before his family, that was why you and Eddie split up.
"she's your daughter, she can't fit her life around you anymore. she should be more important then that stupid band you have" you could hear Penny's footsteps upstairs meaning she was now awake. "you know what fuck you. i'm busy all the time and i've only cancelled once, get over yourself" you scoffed, not wanting to argue over the phone you asked one simple question.
"are you going to be here for her birthday next Saturday?" you just hoped for once that he would put his daughter first, she loved him but he just left her hanging all the time. "yes y/n i'll be there. what time" he sounded uninterested, like he didn't really care for the party but it was important to her that he was there.
you felt a little glimmer of hope that maybe he would change and make an effort for one day "be here by three, let me know before if you can't come because i'll have to tell her-" he cut you off "i got it bye" with that he ended the phone slamming it down harshly. you put the phone down and heard Penny quickly approaching the living room.
"mama i need to get ready for daddy" you looked at her with a sympathetic smile. her curls were all over the place but she looked so adorable, holding the small bear she had gotten for her first birthday. you opened your arms for her and she climbed into your lap allowing you to wrap your arms around her, you kissed her forehead a couple of times and sighed.
"daddy can't make it today sweetheart" you felt her shoulders drop. "but why?" her voice was quiet and filled with sadness making your heart break. you brushed her curls out of her face and stroked her cheek "i don't know baby". you saw her cuddle her teddy bear closer and felt her sigh deeply.
"it's okay mama we can do something together right?" she looked up at you as you looked down at her. her eyes were exactly like her dads, it was like looking at a mini Eddie was staring up at you. she only got a few features from you but she was beautiful, the prettiest little girl.
you smiled and nodded your hand running through her hair "of course we can, you pick" she smiled at you and thought about what she would like to do that day and you just prayed that Eddie made it to her party. it was one day, would he really miss his daughters birthday?
-
"is daddy coming today mama?" you heard Penny say as you set up the snack table in your spacious living room ready for the party which was in a few hours. you turned to look at her, she was dressed in a white dress with her curls laying perfectly in a ponytail. "i think so honey, he told me he was coming so i don't see why not"
today was the day you would see if Eddie would show up for his daughter. one day that was so special to her and you were still hoping that he would show up and surprise you all. Steve and Robin had come over to help with everything around the house and you were so grateful to have friends like them, who were willing to take the time to come to your house and help you.
"come on birthday girl, why don't we go upstairs and play with your toys" Robin said as she left you to finish up the snack table. once you heard her bedroom door close you sighed, you knew the chances were very slim that Eddie would show up and you just hoped that he would prove you wrong.
Steve was on a step ladder hanging up a huge banner when he turned to look at you, being careful he wouldn't fall off. "do you think he will turn up?" everyone who knew the situation with you and Eddie knew it was very unlikely that he would turn up.
"i don't think so but i can't say that to her today, i'm just hoping that he does. not for me but for her she deserves it" it had been three years since you and Eddie split up and he had seen Penny maybe 20 times. it went from him seeing her every time he came back here from work to him not making the effort in showing up for her.
"he is being stupid. if he doesn't show up he it's unforgivable. i'll punch him if you need me too" you laughed loudly. it was well known that Steve was not a good fighter but you appreciated the thought. "with your track record i think we should leave the fighting" you smiled at him and looked up at the clock on the wall.
three o'clock had been and gone meaning the party would start soon. "i think Wayne has taken the day off to see her though so that's nice. all her friends are coming so if he doesn't she might be distracted enough to not notice" Steve felt sad for you but especially Penny.
he knew what it was like to have parents that didn't care, didn't bother showing up and he was happy that Penny had you. you always went above and beyond for her and he always admired it. you heard the doorbell ring making you smooth out your dress "it looks perfect okay? i'll go get Penny you open the door" Steve stepped down from the ladder and took it with him as he left you.
you walked to the front door and looked through the peephole to see Wayne standing there with a small, neatly wrapped gift in his hand. "hi Wayne" you said as you opened the door with a smile on your face. Wayne smiled and opened his arms to greet you, you were lucky you always had an amazing relationship with Wayne.
he was always here when you needed him, he helped loads when you and Eddie split up and he always made time for Penny which was the most important thing. "how you doing?" you pulled away from the hug and moved to the side so he could come in.
"i'm okay, very emotional. i can't believe she's five, she's growing up" you followed him into the living room and sat down next to him on the sofa. "i know, seems like only yesterday i got the call from ed's that she'd been born" he instantly realised what he had said and stuttered out an apology which you dismissed "it's okay really, it's a happy memory" it was a touchy subject and you knew Wayne had no ill intentions saying that.
"grandpa Wayne" you heard Penny scream as she saw her grandad was here. "hi princess" he smiled as she ran to him and squealed when he picked her up and placed her on his lap so he could cuddle her. "happy birthday" he kissed her forehead and you smiled at the interaction.
even though bad things happened between you and Eddie, Wayne was always there to tell him that what he did was stupid and that he'd let go of the best thing that would ever happen to him, he was also there for you when you and for that you were forever grateful. Wayne never left.
"did you get everything you wanted" he asked as the two pulled away. you wanted to stay and watch the two of them but another knock at the door pulled you away from the small group.
the next people to arrive were Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Will and Mike. you could see a few cars pulling up outside your house so after you greeted them you kept the door open and waiting for them. you could hear Penny giggling in the living room which meant she was happy and that was all that mattered to you today.
once everyone was in the party the kids were dancing and singing whilst the adults lingered around the living room and kitchen talking to one another. you saw Penny and Lottie, one of her school friends dancing with one another making your heart swell with adoration. she looked just looked so happy.
you were standing with Dustin and Steve, watching the kids closely just incase something was to happen. "so, where's Eddie?" Dustin asked as he looked around the room you only sighed and shook your head. "i don't know, i told him to be here at three and it's now four thirty"
you knew something like this would happen just like your gut feeling was telling you it would. "maybe he's just running a little late? i mean it's his daughters birthday for gods sake he needs to be here for her" Dustin rolled his eyes and Steve felt anger filling his body. how could someone do something like this to Penny? the sweetest little girl didn't deserve this.
"i doubt it Dustin. its been almost a month since he last saw her and every weekend he tells her he's gonna be here and then that day rolls around and he isn't. she is heartbroken every time and i'm honestly so close to just cutting off visitation, it's not like he sees her anyway" Dustin nodded and scratched the back of his neck, Eddie was his friend but it was getting harder and harder to defend him.
"he's unfortunately going to find out the hard way, have you told him how this is making her feel?" you nodded and looked at Penny again who had the biggest smile on her face as she danced with more of her friends. "of course i have, every time i get hit with the 'this band is so important to me' but i just keep remembering what it was like before Corroded Coffin took off you know?"
before the band got recognition he worked as a mechanic with Wayne, he made time for you and Penny but it was like as soon as they got the fame he didn't care. his priority changed. "he used to care, he was an amazing dad and i loved him but now i'm stuck wondering how can one person change so quickly. she loves her dad and it breaks my heart seeing her excitement fade as soon as i tell her he isn't coming. it's just too much for her, it's too much for me"
you looked up at the ceiling as you felt tears fill your eyes, you could feel your lip tremble as you tried to keep them in. of course when you and Eddie broke up it broke you, you thought the two of you would be together forever and just seeing the man you love change within a few weeks hurt you badly.
"hey no no don't cry, he isn't worth your tears honey. you're doing an incredible job and he's an asshole" you felt Steve's arm wrap around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug. you took a deep breath shocked that you were managing to keep these tears at bay. "it's just one day that i wish he tried, i can manage the other times but it's her birthday and he can't even show up" both boys nodded and you felt Steve's hand stroke your arm.
"he's a dick, but i promise you have all of us and i know it's not how you envisioned your family but you make that little girl so happy and you've done it all on your own. let's try forget about him and enjoy it yeah?" you nodded and kissed Steve’s cheek.
it was now nearing the end of Penny’s party and she was sat on the small sofa which was by the window overlooking the front garden watching as each car drove by the house. she was hoping that one of them would stop and her dad would be there to surprise her but every time the car didn’t stop she felt sadness fill her body.
“sweetheart, everyone’s in the kitchen ready to do your birthday cake” you said as you walked into the living room. “daddy’s not coming is he” you could hear the upset in her voice and it just broke you. you sighed and walked to her and sat down next to her, it was just big enough to fit the two of you.
you stroked her cheek softly and nodded “i don’t think so baby, i’m so sorry” you just watched as she nodded, she wasn’t sulking but you could tell she was really upset. “do you think we could call him maybe? maybe he’s stuck in a jam” you knew what she meant, a traffic jam was a common excuse that you had used for Eddie not turning up.
“of course we can” you got up and walked to the phone which was by the tv and dialled Eddie’s number. the phone rang but of course there was no answer and you watched as she got up from the sofa a frown on her face. she walked to you and held out her hand so she could take the phone as she heard the voicemail beep meaning she could leave a message.
“daddy. are you coming to my party, i miss you” with no response she placed the phone back down on the holder and you kneeled down. she grabbed your hand tightly “it’s okay sweet girl, we will sort it i promise. come on everyone’s waiting for you” you kissed her cheek and stood up so the two of you could walk to the kitchen.
it was evident that she was sad as she listened to everyone sing happy birthday to her and when she blew out her candles, she wished that her dad would turn to her party and surprise her. but her wish unfortunately never came true.
-
it had been a week since Penny’s birthday party and you hadn’t heard from Eddie at all, he never returned the voice message Penny left and you couldn’t help but cry once Penny was in bed and everyone except Steve and Robin had left. you couldn’t get that sad look on her face out of your mind.
today Steve was round and had decided he was going to take you and Penny out to the mall for some shopping and some ice cream, he had promised Penny last week when she was sat on his lap crying into his neck that Eddie didn’t turn up.
it was four o’clock and all three of you were finally ready to go to the mall, Steve and Penny were in her room finishing up a puzzle they had started that morning. it was an easy one but Steve had acted like he didn’t understand it which made Penny explain it in what he described as the most perfect explanation he had ever heard.
you were putting on your shoes and waiting for them to finish up when a knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts. you opened the door and was shocked to see Eddie standing there with a gift in his hands. “hey y/n, where is everyone. the party started an hour ago” he tried to brush past you but your hand stopped him from coming in.
“the party you’re talking about was last week Eddie, you knew that” you were furious, he’d turned up a week late. “no it’s not it’s today” you shook your head. “it wasn’t Eddie and if you answered your phone you would know that it was last week. did you not listen to the voicemail Penny left you?”
he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair “look i thought it was this weekend, it’s only a week why does it matter. i’ve come to spend the day with her” you scoffed and shook you head again, it was almost laughable.
“you’re joking with me right? you think that you can just turn up here a week late and act like that’s not okay? it was one day where i had begged you to come and you couldn’t even make the effort to show up. she’s devastated Eddie, you promised her” you almost shouted but you didn’t want to alert Penny and Steve that Eddie was here, you wanted him to leave.
“she’s busy today, like i said she doesn’t fit around your schedule anymore” Eddie rolled his eyes “i’m her dad, you can’t just stop me from seeing her” you looked him up and down, you hadn’t even realised how terrible he looked. pale, lifeless.
“you are no father Eddie, you stopped being her dad the minute your band got fame. you have no idea what it’s like to see her get hurt over and over again when you decide to not show up. maybe it’s because you’re with one of your groupies or maybe you’re too busy that day getting high with your friends i don’t care, i asked for one day. one day where you’d prove me wrong and you couldn’t even make the effort to see her on her birthday”
you just felt sad, he was nothing like the Eddie you had fallen in love with all those years ago but now when you see him you just feel angry, hurt and disgusted. “i’m sorry okay? i’ve come here to see her and i’d like to if you’d let me. i am her dad y/n and we can’t change that”
you head heavy footsteps walking down the stairs and footsteps approaching the door. you turned your head as you heard Penny laugh loudly at something Steve had said to her making Eddies focus change from you to her. she was in Steve’s arms hugging him exactly like she used to hug him and that hurt.
it took Steve a minute but he finally noticed Eddie standing there with a small gift in his hands. “oh shit” he whispered, his smile falling as he noticed yours and his hurt expression on your faces, both for completely different reasons. “hi Penny” she looked at the voice and saw Eddie standing there.
he had a small smile on his face as he took in her features. big brown eyes, curly hair which was exactly like his and lips, it was all him except for the small button nose she had obviously gotten from you. she looked at him with no expression, still hurt from what happened last weekend.
she turned away from him and dug her face into Steve’s neck. he took that as an indication that she didn’t want to see him so he walked away to the living room. Eddies smile dropped as he watched her and Steve walk away.
“he can’t just walk away with her, i wanted to see her. im her dad y/n, you can’t just take her away from me” he wasn’t angry, he was hurt that she’d turned away from him like that. “she doesn't see you as a dad anymore Eddie because you're never here” it hurt to tell him that but it was the truth.
his breathing stuttered as he heard that. yes he hadn’t been the perfect dad but he loved that little girl even if he didn’t show it. his eyes filled with tears, he wanted to say more, he wanted to stand there and fight but he didn’t want to cry in front of you so all he did was nod and hand the gift over to you. he bowed his head “i’m gonna uhh, try and change. i’m sorry y/n i really am” with that he walked away.
“i hope so Eddie” you whispered as you watched him walk to his car. you really did hope so.
Could we maybe get more dad Eddie. I’m thinking of baby Lucy going through a phase of licking people instead of kissing them because she thinks it’s funny.
Hi besties this is incredibly late I’m sorry I haven’t gone through my inbox in forever and I was scrolling and I wanted to write again!! Also, my hobbies and school have been taking over but I’ve been crocheting which is so fun and I just wanted to say that🧍anyways…
Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader
You don’t know when it started. Your sweet little angel overnight had gone from giving cute little kisses and shouting mwah after to this!
She’d toddled up to you while you were sat on the couch with Baby Davie. Her face is still a bit messy since she’d just gotten done with her lunch. You glanced over towards her quietly and smiled.
‘Oh, do you wanna sit with us?’, you’d asked her so nicely and she looked so innocent, ‘why don’t we go wipe your mout-‘ before you can even finish she’s leaning down and you of course assume right she’s going to press a kiss to brother’s forehead like she usually does but of course.
Your eyes blow wide in shock watching her little pink tongue swipe across her brothers head. You blink quietly at your daughter as she hops off the couch and toddles off her little curls bouncing as she walks to the toy basket near the tv.
‘Lucy? Did you lick baby Davie?’ You don’t know whether to laugh or stare in disgust because where did she even learn that…
‘I kiss baby Davie’ she tells you so proudly. You almost feel bad for baby Davie when you ask Lucy to show Eddie how she’d given him a kiss earlier.
And like that’s just how you give kisses she licks the baby. You blink quietly as you glance up to Eddie. He can’t help but laugh as he scoops her up.
‘That’s not how you give kisses you silly goose’ and of course he laughs that stupid laugh, ‘this is how you give kisses’ and peppers kisses along her cheeks as she squeals out while you focus on wiping baby Davie’s forehead clean as he coos in delight at all the attention he’s gotten today as well. At least he didn’t seem to mind.
I miss writing so bad and I’ve been seeing so much Steve fics I want to write for Steve again so bad 🫠
Anon requested :I have an idea for a smut for Eddie. Okay, so the reader is like a babysitter for Eddie, so the reader takes a video of playing with Eddie’s kid and sends it to him. When Eddie watches the video, however, Eventually, his eyes are only on the reader; he becomes attracted to the reader and gets stiff. But the reader did this on purpose for that reason, and so when Eddie gets home, his kid is asleep, and it’s just him and the reader, and they start to get intimate, and one thing leads to another …
Wc: 2.9k
Cw: smut, oral (f&m receving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull and pray
When you got the job about a year ago, you were out of school and desperate for a full-time job to pay the bills. You saw his ad for a live-in Nanny in the paper and jumped at the opportunity.
When you started this nannying business, you never thought you would fall for the handsome dad who hired you.
The family you learned was a father and daughter. Eddie was a widower. His wife had died five years previously, and he had a seven-year-old little girl.
Eddie was a dedicated manager and owner of a construction company in town. His hours were unpredictable, so he asked for your help getting his daughter, Charlotte, ready for school in the early mornings and picking her up. To accommodate your assistance, Eddie has constructed a small house in his backyard for you to stay in, providing you with your own space.
During the year you spent with Charlotte, you formed a deep bond with her, and she became your favourite person. You both shared numerous activities, such as shopping, getting your nails done, having sleepovers, and attending her dance classes.
You supported her at every recital and never missed her soccer games, even when Eddie couldn't attend. Your time with Charlotte became an irreplaceable part of your life.
Your relationship with Eddie grew as the year went on. You became more attracted to him. He was so charming, funny, and handsome. He made you feel welcomed like you were part of the family—the family you wished was real.
Eddie has been away for the last few days; he will be home this evening, but you still wanted to send him some updates about Charlotte. You sent him a video of you guys at the community pool. She loved swimming, and you couldn’t help but want to flirt. Did you wear this specific bathing suit so he would see it? Yes. You can’t help but want to get his attention, to have him look at you the way you look at him.
You were on the splash pad, and thought it would be cute to show a video of you and Charlotte running through the sprinkler. You set up your phone against the wall for balance and click record. You and her squealed as the water was cold on your bare skin. You were smiling and laughing together the whole time. You hoped Eddie found it cute…
Eddie was in the airport lounge when he received a notification on his phone. He smiled when he saw that your contact had disrupted his podcast.
He paused his show and swiped to see what you had sent him. The video began with a scene of Charlotte, soaked and jumping up and down, with her two missing front teeth visible. Eddie smirked at the sight. He loved his baby; he missed her so much. The video continues, and when you come into the shot, his eyes widen as he watches you run toward Charlotte. His eyes can't help but stare. Your ass bounced as you ran back towards his daughter; your tight bathing suit clung to your every curve. The sight of your body so exposed, your wet skin glistening in the sun, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his excitement start to grow.
You giggled and laughed as you picked her up and ran with her through the water. Your smile was so genuine, and Eddie hated that he had developed an attraction to you other than liking your personality.
When the video finished, you sent another text, but this time, it was not what Eddie had expected. When he clicked back to the chat, he almost dropped his phone because he was so shocked. Right under the wholesome video of you and Charlotte was a picture of you lying on your bed, hand draped across your naked chest.
He was looking around. To make sure nobody else saw what he was looking at, he opened the photo, and he could see more of your bare skin than he ever thought possible.
Flustered and confused, Eddie didn’t know what to make of this. Did you mean to send it by accident? Was this meant for someone else? The thought of it supposed to be for someone else sent a pang of jealousy through Eddie’s chest.
The overhead speaker saying the fight Eddie was supposed to be boarding was what snapped him out of his thoughts. The whole flight would feel extra long now that this would be all Eddie would think about. He couldn’t get home fast enough.
Eddie never replied to your video and didn’t respond to the picture you decided to take for him. You’re unsure what came over you, but you wanted a clear message. You didn’t think the video would do anything, so you got bold.
You started to regret your decision about the picture. Maybe you will lose your job. Perhaps you could play it off as an accident, pretending you didn’t know you had sent it to him.
It didn’t matter because it had been hours, and Eddie would be home any minute.
Trying to ignore the feeling of panic by distracting yourself by cooking dinner, you hear the front door click open.
“Honey, I’m home,” Eddie’s deep voice rings through the front hallway. Your stomach turns upside down at the sound of his voice.
“In here,” you try to keep your voice calm. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet.
“Daddy!” Charlotte leaps off the kitchen chair and charges her way to her father. He’s been gone three days, the longest he has ever been away.
“Hi, handsome.” You smile as Eddie makes an appearance with Charlotte in his arms.
“H-hi,” he stutters, and his cheeks are a rose pink. He totally saw the photos.
“Dinner is almost ready,” you say, turning back to the stove, trying to hide your awkwardness about what you’ve done.
Eddie cleared his throat and took a seat as though nothing had happened. However, his mind was racing. He wanted to discuss it with you but didn’t know how to approach the situation.
Dinner was okay. You both tried to ignore the elephant in the room for Charlotte’s sake. You asked him questions about the trip, and he asked what you guys got up to. You let Charlotte do most of the talking. She eventually got bored and asked to watch a movie with both of you.
The tension could be cut with a knife as you and Eddie stole glances at one another while Charlotte was obviously enthralled by the princess singing about love in the big flatscreen.
After another hour and a half of torture, Charlotte passed out on her father’s shoulder. He smirks and says he’s putting her to bed and you stand to clean up the mess that was left in the kitchen after dinner.
A few minutes after watching the dishes, Eddie returns to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to clean; you’ve been on the clock for three days straight; I can take over. You sit and have a drink, relax.” He approaches you from behind.
“I don’t mind; youve been travelling all day; it’s my job to take care of you.” You look over your shoulder to see Eddie much closer than you thought.
“No, it’s your job to take care of Charlotte.” He raises a brow.
“What if I like taking care of you?” you drop the clean fork into the right side of the sink with all the other clean dishes.
“Sweetheart, about that…”
“Yes?” You turn excitedly.
“I um-you- I saw something.” Eddie didn’t know how to approach this. He sees you looking at him with hopeful eyes as you bite your lip. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the look on your face.
“I wanted you to see it.” You boldly admit.
“You- uh? What sweetheart?.” He asked, dumbfounded.
“Did you like it?” You take a small step forward, testing the waters.
Eddie visibly tenses. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t be attracted to his kids’ nanny, but he’s also only a man—a man who has been crushing on you like he was back in high school.
“This is wrong”
“Why? It didn’t have to be?” You trail a flirtatious finger down his chest.
Eddie inhales sharply, and he can’t help his attraction to you take over.
“Because you’re you, and I’m your boss-“
“Charlotte is my boss,” you giggle and bat your eyes.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs.
“Eddie, I don’t want to keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. I can’t pretend any longer.”
“Sweetheart…”
“Please tell me it’s not just all in my head. All those late nights after we put Charlotte to bed, how we seek one another out even if Charlotte is not around, I see the way you look at me.”
Your face and Eddie’s were mere inches apart. Your lips were so close that Eddie was leaning in against his better judgment, but he wanted you so badly. You were right; there was an undeniable connection between the two of you, and Eddie didn’t want to ignore it either.
“Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” you whispered.
“You’re anything but sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back before closing the gap between you.
His soft lips formed with yours like they were made to be together.
You wrapped your hands around Eddie’s neck, pulling him in closer.
The sensation of his mouth on you went straight to your core. You needed him so badly.
Naturally, you slid your hands down his torso, up under his shirt, signalling for him to take it off; you needed to feel his skin; you kissed him like it was the last time you ever would kiss him.
You slid your hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it at a speed that wasn’t fast enough.
“Please, Eddie, I need you; let me make you feel good.”
“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like that to me.” Eddie groans.
“Please, I need this; I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t-” You both were so desperate, his pants couldn’t come off fast enough.
With a soft thwap, his jeans hit the kitchen floor, and you sink down to your knees.
“Fuck sweetheart, you look so beautiful like this.” he grips your chin before slipping his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on.
You slide your tongue along his rough, working hands, and he watches with lust burning in his eyes. You pop his thumb out of your mouth and replace it with the head of his cock. His thick shaft was heavy in your grip as you took more of him while not breaking eye contact. The weight of his cock resting in your mouth made you drool.
“Fuuuuuck, good girl.” Eddie’s breath became erratic.
Your eyes started watering as you tried taking him all the way down your throat, but Eddie was big.
Your breathing became shallow, but you were in heaven.
“You ok, sweetheart?” He’s looking down at you, a hand cupped on the back of your head, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth as he hits the back of your throat.
You bob your head back slowly as you nod yes. You were finally able to catch your breath, drool coming out of your mouth as you pumped his cock in and out of your slick mouth.
Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening; not twelve hours ago, he was in a different state, jacking off to this fantasy of you on your knees.
He pulled you back up to kiss him, your pussy was throbbing, and the pulse that went directly to your clit was screaming for attention.
Moaning your name Eddie pushed you back so your ass was against the kitchen island, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.
He helps you jump onto the white marble countertop with quick hands.
“Baby, please.” An involuntary whimper came from your mouth, and he went in for another kiss, hands roaming from your inner thigh up until it reached your pussy.
“Oh baby,” he said the second he truly felt how wet you were for him.
Kissing down your neck, leaving purple bruises in his wake, not giving a care in the world right now about visible hickeys, he crept lower and lower until he was kneeling between your legs, forcing your knees open.
He stared into your heat.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with your wet pussy.
He leaned in; he started with soft kitten licks to your clit with the tip of his tongue, gentle and delicate, before he took long deep strokes off his tongue, tasting every inch of you. Eddie moaned at your tase; he wanted to consume you, to make you feel so good you forget about every man before him.
The tickle of his beard was grounding you. This was actually happening.
“Oh!” You cry but quickly cup your hand over your mouth, remembering Char was upstairs.
With Eddie’s face pressed into your cunt your orgasm was quickly approaching. You couldn’t resist it anymore; your hips started gyrating into his face, and you needed more.
“Eddie, please,” you whimpered.
“You want more, sweetheart?” he pulls away and replaced his mouth with his index finger, slowly stroking up and down your weeping slit.
“Yes, Eddie, please.”
“That’s my good girl, asking so nicely,” he said, grinning up at you before standing.
With his hard cock in hand, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit gathering your juices so he could split into you nice and easy.
At this point, you were so turned on you couldn’t think, moaning out as he slowly stretched you open, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Inch by inch, the pleasure mixed with the burn of the stretch was so good, too good.
“That’s it, sweetheart, fuckin’ taking me so well.” He slipped inside of you until you felt the tickle of his pubes against your clit.
You hadn’t even realized he was talking to you, cock drunk off the feeling you were so close, and he hardly started.
Incoherent muffled moans filled the empty kitchen as Eddie's cock quickly started to pump in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot on each thrust.
You didn’t stand a chance, as he had your legs over your shoulders, ankles rolling. He gripped the backs of your calves to hold your legs as wide as they could go.
With each thrust, the pleasure became more and more, your back arching up into the feeling of him filling you up.
The feeling in your belly started to build until he unexpectedly pulled you off the counter, walked you over to the couch, and flipped you so you were on all fours.
Once you were spread open for him, he started thrusting harder.
“Oh god! There! Please don’t stop!” You screamed into the couch cushions.
It was so good your hands gave out, your cheek pressing into the brown leather, only making your ass stick out more for him.
He spreads your cheeks to watch how your greedy pussy swollen his cock each time.
A slap comes down hard on your ass as he pounds into you; you moan out with pleasure. Another smack on the other cheek to even things out.
He’s going at a pace that makes your head spin; his fingers gripped into your hips so rough you’re sure there will be bruising tomorrow.
The noises that are coming out of you are inhuman; you don’t even recognize yourself; he was so big, you were so full, it was too good.
“shhhhhh, sweetheart, we need to be quiet.” He wraps a hand around your face to cup your mouth to muffle the moans, but that only makes it hotter, so you cry about again. You couldn’t talk; each thrust was getting deeper and deeper at the angle he was holding you in.
Each thrust was building up the coil in your stomach. You were so close when he started rubbing your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m close,” you seethe through gritted teeth.
“Come, sweetheart, come on my cock.” You were already seeing stars before he finished talking; your body shook, clenching down so tight on his cock while your orgasm filled your body.
“Oh god, yes, baby, milk this cock so good” Your pussy gripped down so hard on his cock that he almost wasn’t able to pull out in time.
You feel his warm seed on your back as his orgasm shoots through him.
Dazed and all fucked out, you roll over to see Eddie beaming down at you after he cleaned you up a little bit.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Eyes glazed over, you manage a
“Hi,” you giggle.
You curled into his neck, leaving soft kisses and kitten licks; you couldn’t help yourself; your boyfriend was just so hot.
“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” he throws you over his shoulder. “Eddie, put me down,” you giggle, getting a full view of his bare ass in front of your face. He runs you to his bedroom; you know it is going to be a long night.
cw: smut, non established relationship, best friend!eddie as well, idiots in love
wc: 3.8k
Closing the door as gently as he could, Eddie tip toed down the hall of the trailer and rounded into the kitchen to get himself a beer. He’d played hard enough with Autumn that she could barely keep her eyes open through her bath, but that also meant he wore himself out in the process. So after cracking open a can, he plops his ass down and turns on the TV, ready to chill until he passes out on the couch.
Well, that was the plan. Just as he got comfortable, there was a small knock on the trailer door. With a frustrated sigh, Eddie jumps back up, mumbling something about people coming to his house so late at night.
“Listen, I’ve told you all I don’t fucking deal anymore—Woah!”
Instead of some annoying kids looking for weed, Eddie was met with your sniffling nose and tear stained cheeks. He immediately went into best friend mode, wrapping you in a big hug and letting you get those emotions out.
After some crying and a soaked shoulder later, you finally peel yourself away from Eddie and attempted to talk, but only babbling came out.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie says, thumbs rubbing the tops of your shoulders. “Just calm down and tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”
You shook your head, doing your best to compose yourself.
“He-he-he g-got mar-married,” you hiccup out.
Eddie blinks at you. He knows exactly what you were talking about. Dustin told him back when that Harrington met a girl about 6 months ago and apparently they hit it off right away. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about her considering your long time pining for him Especially considering he’s the reason Harrington would never ask you out. But you ended up finding out on your own, and devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.
It seemed soon in Eddie’s opinion, granted he would marry you tomorrow if you would say yes. When Dustin told him that he was going to be the best man that the wedding, Eddie had mixed feelings. He knew that it would kill you when you found out. That you’d react exactly as you were now.
Actually, you’re doing a little better than he anticipated.
“He came into the store and,” you blew your nose into the toilet paper he grabbed for you, “and I saw the ring on his finger when he was getting his money out of his wallet.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.
“They haven’t even known each other that long! He’s such an idiot…”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Eddie jokes, rolling his eyes.
“Oh god, what if--do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”
Eddie’s pretty sure Dustin would have told him if that was the reason why, but it’s not an unreasonable guess.
“I don’t know, could be? Or maybe Steve Harrington is just an idiot like you said. And maybe they’ll be divorced by this time next year. Who knows, right?”
You sighed, leaning into Eddie and resting your head against him. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was never going to ask me out anyway. No one wants a young single mom. Steve has his whole life to do what he wants, why would he be with someone who has so much baggage?”
“Hey, don’t say that about Audy,” Eddie scolds.
“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” you correct, “I was talking about myself. I’d never be with someone who didn’t accept Autumn. Even Steve Harrington. I just…I’m damaged goods, Eddie.”
Eddie could feel himself getting upset but didn’t want to make things worse right now, so he took a few breathes to steady himself. He said your name sternly, pulling your full attention to him.
“I don’t like it when you say things like that. It makes me feel like it’s my fault--”
“Eddie,” you stop him before he can get another word out, “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve told you before that if I was going to get pregnant right out of high school with anyone that I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you.”
Eddie knows this, and he feels the same. But it’s not what he wants.
Even though it was all a total accident, he hoped that night the two of you spent together was going to be the next step for both of you. And even though he was scared after you told him with tears in your eyes then that he had gotten you pregnant, he wished with all his might that it would bring the two of you closer together.
Which it did in a way. Obviously the two of you would be bound together for the rest of your lives, but it wasn’t in the way he wanted. You still were head over heels for Steve, and there was no way Eddie could even compare to the king.
“Yeah…I know.” He says somberly. Your brows pinch, making him worried he should have said something else.
Then your expression changed. You looked at him intensely for a moment, before your eyes became lidded and…were you leaning in?
Eddie thought fast, making a quick decision to put his hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes go wide as dinner plates, tears perching on your waterline as what hot embarrassment washes over you.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, suddenly regretting everything. This could have been his chance and he was an idiot.
You pull his hand from his mouth, sitting in silence for a moment before you begin to laugh. It catches Eddie off guard and he freezes.
“Eddie, I should be the one apologizing,” you say with giggles. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to try and kiss her best friend for a second time. We both know what happened the first time and the last thing we need is history to repeat itself.”
Eddie still felt conflicted. Your tone wasn’t sitting right with him, like there was some level of self depreciation in your words.
After a moment you stop laughing. Your face warps into worry as you stand from the couch.
“I-I need to go—“
“No, wait!” Eddie stands to grab your wrist before you could run away. He pulls you into him and hugs you tightly to him. You stand still before slowly wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.
“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot emotionally right now, but…I’m here for whatever you need. Even if…” He trails off for a moment, knowing that he’s just going to hurt himself if he lets you use him. But he can’t turn you away when you need him. He’d rather you take advantage of his feelings than run off to someone else who would hook up with you without second thought.
“Even if it means crossing a boundary that we’ve already crossed before.”
Eddie feels you press into him harder, face buried in his chest. And when you look up at him, Eddie thinks he could melt into a puddle and let you mold him to however you’d like.
“I don’t think I should make any rash decisions right now,” you say with a sniffle. “I think I just need to clear my head. Let myself rot in my own misery instead of dumping it all on you.”
“Or,” Eddie says with a smile, “you could rot with me. I rented some movies and some beers in the fridge that have your name on them. I think we have some leftover pizza still, too.”
Your smile was so bright it was comparable to the sun rising. There was nothing in the world that could keep him down as long as you were happy. Eddie probably would have dropped out of school after his second failure if you hadn’t simply smiled at him and told him that he would graduate next year, for sure. He probably only did because you smiled at him every time he got a good grade.
The way you hugged him for a long time after a report card with no F’s on it kept Eddie’s head in the zone that last school year. And, well, the way your body felt under his when he finally graduated…
Eddie shook his head, wracking his brain for anything to keep his mind from thinking about that night right now. There’s no way him getting a boner while you were still holding on to him so tight would be good.
“I think that sounds like a good idea,” you finally say after staring up at him for several beats. But Eddie caught the somber look in your eyes. It was going to take a lot of distracting to get you in a good head space.
“You know, I think we might still have some popcorn, too.”
After a few drinks, some weed, and a movie and a half later, Eddie finds himself waking up on his couch at some point after falling asleep. The bright, staticy screen causes him to squint his eyes, turning his head enough to bump his chin against the top of your head.
Eddie looks down at where you’re leaning into his side. He vaguely remembers wrapping an arm around you before the two of you had succumbed to sleep. It pains him to possibly wake you but the urge to pee is what startled him awake in the first place, so he does his best to untangle himself from you and sneaks to the bathroom.
On the way back to the couch, Eddie decided to stop in his room and grab a blanket for the two of you. But when he returns, he finds you sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“Hey,” you croak out, looking at him with squinted eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers back. “I brought us a blanket.”
You stretch before standing up from the couch. “I should probably head home, Eddie.”
“Sweetheart its,” he leans to check the time on the microwave, “3 in the morning.”
Your eyes go wide, hands running over your face. “It is? Fuuuuck.”
“Just stay,” Eddie says, walking over to you and wrapping you up in the blanket. You groan, feeling conflicted on if you should stay and sleep on Eddie’s couch or if you should brave the drive home.
“Hey, if you stay, you don’t have to drive all the way over here to get Fae in the morning.”
“Ugh, okay you got me,” you say, giving in. You sit back down on the couch and start to make yourself comfortable.
“Wait, you can sleep in my bed. Promise I don’t bite.”
That took less convincing as you pop back up, dragging the blankets behind you as you wobble to Eddie’s room. Eddie laughs as you plop into his bed, stealing one of his pillows to make yourself comfortable.
“Hey save some room for me,” he says, walking around to the other side to climb in. He lays next to you, adjusting in an obnoxious manner that has you giggling. You turn to face him and he does the same.
“I love you,” you say at the tail end of a giggle. It’s something said frequently between the two of you. Genuine as it’s spoken after years of friendship.
“Love you, too,” Eddie says with a sigh. Sleep soon takes you both over again. The only sounds that can be heard is the sound of the a/c doing its best to cool down the trailer.
Eddie felt himself waking once again, this time much more comfortably in his own bed. He yawned, shaking a bit as the feeling of waking overcame his body.
The sun peaking through the cracks of his curtains gave the room just enough light that he could see the room with a slight glow. Turning his head, he chanced to see if you were still laying with him. He had a dream that you’d left with Autumn and ran away with Steve that left a sick feeling in his stomach.
Much to his delight you were indeed still occupying the bed with him. Smiling wide as you looked at him, already awake where you lay.
“Mornin’,” he says in his morning voice, and your eyes flicker.
“Morning,” you squeak back. As Eddie turns to face you, your hand finds its way out from under the covers and reaches out towards him. Your fingers gently glide across his cheek, rubbing against the stubble as you push his hair out of his face.
The way you’re looking at him has Eddie’s tummy feeling funny, but in a different way from his dream. You’re looking at him the same way he looks at you.
Suddenly, you push yourself up on your arm, hand still on his cheek as you start to lean in once again. Eddie’s heart beats hard against his chest as you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.
It lasts a few moments, and Eddie melts into it. It was a kiss like none he’s ever had before. Not even compared to the last time the two of you kissed before Autumn was born. This kiss felt like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, the warmth spreading to every part of his body as he drank you in.
When you pulled away, Eddie chased after you, not wanting it to end so soon unknowing if it would ever happen again. When you don’t kiss him again, his eyes finally open to meet yours. They’re bouncing everywhere, scanning his face as if looking for an answer written on his skin.
“Eddie…”
But Eddie doesn’t let you ponder much longer, hand snaking around your head to pull you into him once more. This time more feverishly, the heat palpable between the two of you.
You shift so that you can bury your hands in his hair, and Eddie takes advantage of this to move himself above you. Eddie kisses you into the pillow beneath you, long kisses turning into passionate smacking, poking the fire that was burning between you.
“Tell me to stop,” Eddie says as his lips begin to move down your cheek and to your neck. He says your name breathily, “Tell me now, because I won't be able to stop once this starts.”
“I-I can’t. I won’t,” you stutter, hands grabbing at his waist as he kisses and nips at your neck. Eddie breathes against you, body alight knowing that you wanted this as much as him.
“But,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. You give him a coy smile, nodding towards the door. “You better make it quick. You know she’ll wake up at any moment.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Better get to work then.”
Eddie suddenly lifts the blanket above the both of you and disappears underneath it. Soft kisses leave a trail from your knees to the apex between them. Eddie slips his fingers in the hem of the sleep pants he let you borrow, pulling them down with your panties in one quick motion. There was barely any light to see, so he decided to just dive in tongue first.
He ate you out like a man starved. Your thighs try hard to wrap around him as he works you up on his tongue, but his strong arms hold you open for him. Eddie groans at the way your fingers grip his hair, tugging just enough to burn so good against his scalp.
Once he added fingers, you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. It was like Eddie knew exactly what you liked, because not long after you were coming undone, riding his face as you did.
Eddie crawls up your body, head resting between your breasts as he pokes out from under the covers.
“Jesus, Eddie,” you pant, looking at him in awe.
“And that’s not even the best part,” he teases, making you roll your eyes at him. You grab his face and bring him closer to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him again.
Eddie rolls his hips subconsciously, and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds against you. You want to say you also forgot how big he was, but it’s something you didn’t want to admit you thought about often.
Your hand travels between you, fingers trailing against his skin as you reach the hem of his boxers. Slipping under it, you feel your way to his hard cock, taking it in your hand to pump him. He whines against your lips, hips moving faster in your grip. You watch with awe struck eyes as his beautiful face contorts in pleasure above you.
“Please,” he pants out as he fucks your hand, “Wanna be inside you. Can I?”
You nod silently, unbelievably turned on by your best friend for the second time now.
He works fast pulling his boxers off quickly, a loud thwaping coming from his cock smacking against his stomach after getting caught on the waistband. Your eyes go wide as you take in his size.
After almost 2 years you’re still shocked at what Eddie Munson is packing. Those dumb ass cheerleaders that picked the bone head jocks over him have no idea what they missed out on.
Eddie settled himself between your legs, spitting on his own cock to get it good and wet before rubbing it in your soaked folds. You had a moment of clarity, realizing that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words got caught up in a moan as Eddie pushed his way inside of you.
The stretch took your breath away. Eddie seesawed his way into your tight cunt, opening you up on his cock until he was balls deep inside of you. He placed his hands on either hip and started moving, holding you tight as he worked up his pace.
Every thrust felt like too much and not enough at the same time. The constant knocking against your sweet spot had you seeing stars quickly, still worked up from him eating you out. The pretty sounds that Eddie was making wasn’t helping either, but you still had enough mind to shush him so that he wouldn’t wake your daughter.
Eddie’s pace quickens, and he makes the fatal mistake of adding his thumb to the mix. It only throttles you to the edge for a second time this morning. It’s not much longer before your vision goes white, toes curling as your orgasm takes over. It's probably the hardest you’ve cum in a long time.
“Oh, fuck.”
You barely registered Eddie’s words, but you definitely felt the reason behind his curses. Eddie was cumming deep inside you, balls emptying into your pussy as you were still riding out your own orgasm.
In the moment it felt amazing, but the post orgasm bliss left you crashing as you realized the very real situation you were both in.
Eddie felt himself being pushed by you, taking him out of his own high as he stumbled back on his ass. As you open your mouth to speak, Eddie is hit with a wave of deja vu with every word.
“Did you fucking cum in me?” The words came out in slow motion and Eddie’s body broke out in cold sweat.
“I-I’m sorry. I was going to pull out, I just—“
“What? You forgot? Are you kidding me Eddie? Do you not remember what happened the last time?”
Right on cue, your daughter's whines could be heard from across the hall. You sigh, kicking the covers completely away from you and grabbing the pajama pants you had back on.
“Listen, I really am sorry,” Eddie says, looking at you with big, sad eyes. You groan, unable to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that.
“What are we going to do then, Eddie?” You ask him, walking out of his bedroom to get your daughter.
Eddie sits on the bed for a moment and thinks. He knows that you getting pregnant again while Autumn’s only and a half isn't ideal. Not that you being pregnant is ideal anyway, but honestly Eddie wouldn’t be mad about it.
He was so head over heels for both you and Autumn that he doesn’t hate the idea of another person to love is the worst thing. But he’s also not the one doing all the hard work. And if it wasn’t obvious the first time that having a kid wouldn’t fix any problems, then having a second would probably not make much of a difference in your feelings towards him.
The door opens again and Eddie watches as you enter with a squealing toddler on your hip, clearly happy to see both mommy and daddy.
“Morning, sweet girl,” Eddie cooes, scooping his baby up and smothering her with kisses, sending Autumn into a fit of giggles.
“I went ahead and changed her. If you want to dress her I’ll make breakfast.”
Eddie gave you a quick salute as you went to the kitchen, leaving him and your mini me to get ready for the day. It took a lot of wrestling but he was able to get the little one dressed, including hair done, and looking presentable for the day.
Fixing her up in her highchair, Eddie sat at the small kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. You shook your head at his theatrics, setting breakfast down for the both of them.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said, spooning some applesauce into Autumn’s mouth. “After we eat, why don’t I follow you to the pharmacy and we can pick you up a Plan B?”
You quirk an eyebrow in amusement. “You have Plan B money this time?”
“Ha ha,” Eddie laughs dryly at your reference to the last time you had sex, the both of you freaking out over having no money. Thankfully Eddie was able to get a good job at Hawkins Auto Body when you got pregnant. He makes pretty good money now considering he was able to get his own trailer. Money is still tight, but he can manage.
“Fine, better eat up then, or else you’re gonna have two mouths to feed instead of one.”
Eddie looks at your daughter, spitting image of him, besides your nose, and smiles. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but…maybe one day.
Eddie looks up. He’s sitting on the floor in the living room, wooden slats beneath him, one leg tucked under his thigh and the other spread to make room for his thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. It’s an artist’s rendition of the main group of characters from the Lord of the Rings, with Elvish characters in a border on the outside. His pajamas are white with blue stripes on the bottoms, covered in little red croissants and pancakes and Snoopy the beagle. The t-shirt is grey, and Snoopy winks from his breastbone.
His hair is unbound and a little damp, a wet patch growing on his shoulders. When he tilts his head, the orange lamplight kisses his brown eyes, and he’s beautiful.
“Thanks,” he says, taking your ankle into his hand. You walk into him and let him rest his face in your thigh, a handful of pieces plinking from his palm as he brings the other behind you, resting on your waist.
“Tea?” you ask, gesturing with the mug in your hands. He ignores it at first, rubbing the tip of his nose against your leg, but then he pulls away and takes his drink eagerly.
“Thank you,” he says over the rim.
“Yeah, you’re welcome. Anything, forever.” You stroke a curl from his face, feel the curl jump between your fingers. “I love you so much.”
He takes another sip of tea, swallows, and puts the mug down by his jigsaw. Then he turns and pulls you back and inch to kiss your leg over the fabric of your own pajamas, too many times, his fingers digging into the ticklish bend of your knee. “I love you, my queen.”
You snort loudly. It hurts your throat. “Ew, stop.”
“Goddess divine.”
“You know I don’t like when you do this.”
“If I could worship you. If I could only build you an altar, my girl, my woman, I would.”
“You could build me an altar.”
“Well, I could, but there’s a bit of my puzzle left to do. Raincheck?”
You shake him by the shoulders.
Your laughing draws the attention of a breakfasting Roan. She stumbles in from the kitchen in her little blue-white stripe Snoopy jammies to match her dad’s, already smiling, desperate to be in on the joke.
“What’s so funny?” she asks. She spies the puzzle. “Woah, can I help?”
Eddie beckons for her to come to him. She slides into his arms, crashes into his lap, sending the closest puzzle pieces careening in multiple directions.
“Oh, sorry.”
“That’s okay!” Eddie kisses her pale cheek. “Did you finish your breakfast, sweetheart? The puzzle can wait.”
“Finished! Thank you.”
“Thank your mom, she made it.”
Roan tips back in Eddie’s arms, grinning. “Thank you for my bacon and eggs and toast and fried tomatoes. They were awesome. I only didn’t eated the crispy egg. Thank you. Do the puzzle with us?”
You sit down with your knees under you and reach for Eddie’s tea to steal a mouthful, ignoring his fake grumble and setting it down far away from Roan’s kicking feet. They’re little, but they can do some real damage.
Eddie begins piecing his puzzle together again. Roan helps, though she has more fun when you begin to find the same pieces of a tall blonde man and ferry them to her for her to click together. She crawls out of Eddie’s lap and into your own, her foot digging into your calf every time she leans forward. She and Eddie get the same concentrated look on their face, just that tiniest slip of tongue sticking out, as gormless as it is adorable.
He pulls his tongue in and knots his brow. He’s handsome when he’s frustrated.
“Too many pieces,” he mutters, shuffling through handfuls for a specific one.
You take his spare hand and thread your fingers together. He keeps looking for the puzzle piece, but his glare ebbs, leaving his pale forehead unmarked for a time.
Summary: Eddie's a good husband and a good father, he just wishes you'd stop calling him 'daddy.'
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: 18+ mdni!!! smut, PiV unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, daddy kink (but in the ‘I’m actually the sexy father of your child’ way), kinda mommy kink (same way), snotty crying child, baby making sex, cream pie, mocking, Eddie’s the best husband literally ever, frustrated parents (in both sense of the word), Steve catching a stray lmao, Eddie has blue balls, dirty talk
A/N: Only one person asked for this, and that was enough. Sorry for this. @maedesculpaeusoubi this is for you. Very quickly written, sorry if it’s wonky. Also, my dad wouldn’t stop yapping to me while I was trying to proofread, so that wasn’t helpful either.
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It was hard having a clingy three-year-old. You loved Oz so much, but you and Eddie could not get a moment alone for the life of you. Anytime Eddie tried to get a little frisky in the mornings—rolling on top of you, pressing his hard on into your thigh—the moment was dashed by the angelic voice of your dear son accompanied by uncoordinated knocking, “Mommy, Daddy, I come in now?”
That was why Robin was holding your teary-eyed son, desperately bopping him on her hip as he squirmed in her hold, leaning forward with sticky grabby hands, reaching for you. Eddie is putting together the overnight bag, counting to make sure Robin and Vickie will have enough pull-ups for Oz in case the worst occurs.
“I know, honey, I know,” you attempt to soothe from afar, lord knows if you hold that child—he’s getting a good grip and not letting go until judgement day. “But you’re gonna have so much fun with Auntie Robin and Auntie Vickie,” you try, but it only makes the little boy cry harder, violently throwing a fit.
You give Robin an apologetic look, “He’ll calm down once he knows we’re not near him, I swear.”
“Ah, it’s okay. This is basically Steve during a code blue,” she quips, trying her hardest not to drop your fretful child.
“Code blue?”
“Yeah, when he hasn’t been with a girl in a while,” she smirks, always glad to get a punch in at Steve—especially when he’s not there to defend himself.
Nodding your head in understanding, you’re about to speak when Eddie sidles up next to you, shoving the bag into Robin’s scrambling hands.
“Funny, I think I’m goin’ through the same thing right now,” he deadpans, a monotonous tone overtaking his usually bright personality.
Hitting his shoulder, you pluck a Kleenex off the side table and start wiping Oz’s snot, instructing the boy to “blow.” The distraction calms him down for the first time in an hour, ever the mama’s boy—relishing in your attention, even if it’s just to blow his nose.
“Mommy and daddy need to catch up on a few chores, okay? Then we’ll be over first thing tomorrow to pick you up!” You’re putting your best foot forward as you try to convince your son he’ll be fine for the night, resorting to a tone resembling fake customer service enthusiasm.
“Yeah, buddy, you get mommy time, all the time. Daddy wants some mommy time, too.” Eddie tries reasoning with the hyperventilating three-year-old, but the mention of daddy and mommy time minus Oz has the boy wailing again.
You’re so tired and overstimulated that you’re frustrated at Eddie’s attempt to calm the boy down. Why did he think that would work? Turning away from your son, glaring at your husband, you bite out an order, “Okay, you need to go take a lap.”
Eddie’s a good enough husband to know when to pick his battles. He thinks Robin should just take Oz without you consoling the boy—that’s only bound to make him cry more. But he doesn’t tell you how he thinks you should parent, only nodding with his lips pressed together firmly, heading to the kitchen to put away some dishes.
Eventually, you give up and let Robin take the screaming child. Once the house is quiet, you sit down on the couch with your head in your hands, just breathing through the frustration. Eddie can hear the deep breaths you take all the way from the kitchen. Instead of going to you, he continues cleaning the area up, wiping down counters and organizing the fridge.
Once he’s done with the space, he walks into the living room to find you asleep on the couch. He admires the way his old band tee hangs off your shoulder, the way your lounge shorts are scrunched up to the top of your thighs. The view has him sighing wistfully. He wants you so badly, but he wants you to sleep more. So he heads to your shared bedroom, readying to do the laundry.
You wake up when the sun has gone down, disoriented and disheveled. Looking around for any indication of what time it is, you’re distracted by how clean the house looks. Yawning as you get up, you head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Stopping in your tracks, your jaw drops at the cleanliness of the space—it hasn’t been this spotless since you two moved in.
Heading to the bedroom, passing the now empty laundry basket, you find Eddie setting up a bath in the master bathroom, the lights off and lit candles surrounding the tub.
“What did you do?” You never meant to take a nap and skip out on chores, your brows are furrowed in adoring awe at all his hard work.
“Just cleaned some stuff up,” he shrugs, sitting on the edge of the tub, feeling the water’s temperature. “I was actually about to come wake you up, this bath is for you. I went out while you were asleep and got more of the lavender scented bubbles you like,” he gestures to the piles of bubbles floating in the bath.
Your heart swoons so hard, all you can do is let out a strangled coo from your throat. Lips pouty at the dedication of your equally tired husband. “Will you come in with me?”
“No can do’s-ville, babydoll,” he sasses, “if I’m in the bath, who’s gonna feed you chocolate covered strawberries?”
Jaw dropping, you shake your head at him, “Okay, did I forget an anniversary or something? What is all of this for?”
He stands up, taking the liberty of undressing you. You laugh at his bold move, lifting your arms for him to take the shirt off, followed by your bottoms. “The ‘anniversary’ is me celebrating my beautiful wife, it’s an everyday thing,” he shrugs, smug at the effect his charm has on you.
He helps you into the tub before running to grab the chilled dessert, sitting on the edge, again, feeding you. “I gotta say, I do have a thing for moms, so I think I’m a little biased when I say you’re the most gorgeous woman to ever exist. It’s also a plus that you’re the best mommy to Ozzy,” he finishes, shrugging like it’s an afterthought. You’re his lovely wife, first, and the best mother of his child, second.
Snorting at his heavy flirting, you shake your head as you swipe some juice from the corner of your mouth, sucking the sweetness off your finger, eyeing him fondly. “Well, you’re also the best daddy ever,” you compliment, a teasing smile lighting up the room.
He doesn’t break the eye contact you grant him, only staring at you with his head tilted, perfectly still as he breathes in slowly, chest puffing with depth. Suddenly he straightens up, looking down at the bubbles covering your naked body as he breathes out through his nose.
Having watched his whole reaction, you’re baffled. You can’t help but laugh at whatever that was. “What?” You feel like you’re missing something, left out of the gag.
He shakes his head dismissively, voice up an octave as he implores, “Take your bath.”
Scoffing at his order, you laugh at the weird behavior he’s struggling to cover up. “What,” you’re starting to sound whiny, like a secret is being dangled in front of you and no one will let you in on it. “What is it?”
“Take your bath,” orders again, head bobbing on each word for emphasis. “Enjoy it.” You laugh at the way it sounds like a threat, rolling your eyes at his confusing antics.
You finish your bath, making lazy conversation with Eddie about his work at the garage. Once you’re out, he leaves you to get dressed as he rifles through the menus of different take out places in the kitchen. The landline on your bedside table starts ringing as you’re applying the cherry blossom scented lotion you love. Knowing it’s Robin with Oz, you head over to pick it up, ready to say goodnight.
After chatting with Robin and listening to Oz babble about toys he’s played with at their house, you try to wrap the conversation up. “Daddy’s not here, hold on, lemme call him in,” you pull the receiver away, covering it as you call out to Eddie.
“Daddy, come say goodnight to Ozzy!”
Eddie’s refilling one of the containers that holds Oz’s cereal as he hears your voice, the take out menu on the counter waiting for your approval. The endearment makes him huff out a breath, he’s quickly reaching his limit with you and that name.
He takes multiple deep breaths as he walks to the bedroom. All the breathing exercises go down the drain when he spots you in a babydoll nightgown. He’s eyeing the way your breasts sit—complemented by the lace trim holding them—as he takes the phone from you.
“Hey, buddy! Oh yeah? That’s cool, dude! I’m gonna say goodnight now, okay?” He studies your hands as you continue spreading lotion underneath the flimsy fabric covering your chest. “Mommy and I will see you tomorrow, okay? Alr–Alright, goodnight, bud. Love you!”
He hangs up, letting out a deep breath through his nose, just like he did in the bathroom. He turns around to watch as you finish rubbing any excess lotion into your hands. He feels like he’s hunting you, observing your every move.
“So what did you want to–”
Your question is cut off by the slam of his lips against yours, a shocked noise leaving your throat. His hands hold your face as he slips his tongue into your mouth, relishing the taste of sweet chocolate and juicy strawberries.
Pulling away, panting, holding you close, he mutters, ‘You’re so pretty, baby. Why do you have to keep calling me that?”
You have no idea what he’s talking about, shocked at what’s gotten into him, you ask, “Calling you what? What are you talking about?” Your brain feels foggy from the kiss, you haven’t felt his uninterrupted touch in so long, it has you feeling like a virgin all over again.
He chuckles at you, shaking his head as he traps his lip between his teeth, “You’re so naughty, mommy. Pretending like you can’t see what it does to me…”
Gasping at the feel of his erection pressing against you, you struggle to breathe out a response. “Eddie, I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about–”
Pulling you in for another quick, mind-numbing kiss, he mocks your voice. “You’re the best, daddy. Daddy, c’mere. You wan’ another baby, mama? ‘Cos that’s what you’re gonna get if you keep calling me that,” he threatens.
“Eddie–”
“Unh unh,” he warns, “Don’t try and be good now, I know what you want.” His large hands trail down your neck, groping your tits as he travels down to lift the hem of your dress. “You got all pretty for me an’ everything,” he admires, looking at your body like he’s barely containing his hunger. “I’m gonna give you another baby, honey, would you like that?”
Chest moving with desperate breaths, you nod vigorously, “Yes, daddy. I wan’ another baby, please!”
He hums as he pulls the nightgown fully off, wrapping an arm around your waist and yanking you to him, he trails his free hand back up your body to grab ahold of your jaw, drawing another needy kiss from your lips. “Well then, we better get to work.”
In a flash, he’s ripping off his clothes, throwing you on the bed, crawling over your body. His eyes rove over your soft figure, groaning at the scent of you. “Mmm, fuck, honey. You smell so damn good,” he grits.
“Daddy, please–I need you,” you moan, grabby hands trying to pull him closer, desperate to feel the weight of his thick cock inside you. You’re so wet you might as well be dripping at this point.
“Yeah?” It’s so condescending the way he questions you, every time he mocks you, your pussy clenches around nothing.
Whimpering pitifully, you nod, “Yeah, daddy, pleaseee!”
He grabs his hard cock, guiding the leaking head through your wet folds, spreading your arousal. Biting his lip in need at the desperate sounds you make, he notches the tip into your entrance. Drawing his eyes from your greedy, rolling hips, to your fucked out face, “You wan’ me to make you a mommy again? Wan’ me to fuck a baby into you, sweetheart? Watch you get all big and whiny, full of daddy’s cum?”
He’s driving you insane, it’s been so long you feel so close to cumming just from his words alone. “Yes! Please, daddy! Wanna have your baby again,” you whine, still trying to catch his cock and inch it in with needy hips.
After your final plea, he thrusts into the hilt, listening to your pleasured scream, viciously grinning. “Okay, honey, I’ll give you another baby.”
Setting a bruising pace, he continuously knocks the air from your lungs as his girthy cock fucks in and out of you. You’re babbling incoherently, so close to the edge, so sensitive.
Eddie’s not much better, the feel of your tight walls choking his cock have him fighting to prolong the intimacy, but he’s quickly losing the battle. “Fuck, sweetheart, y’gotta stop squeezin’ me so hard, I’m gonna fuckin’ bust.”
At the mention of being filled with his cum, you go rabid, nails sinking into his shoulders, head thrown back with unashamed moans echoing around the room. “Please! Please, wan’ your cum, gimme your cum, hmm.”
His hips stutter at the absurd levels of desperation you’re displaying, “Oh fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that.”
Undeterred by his half-hearted reprimand, you continue pleading, “Please, daddy, I’ll be good! Wan’ another baby so fuckin’ bad, want you to knock me up. Wanna carry your baby again!”
“Shit, shit–fuck,” Eddie groans, your words tossing him over the edge. He fucks the ropes of cum into your greedy hole, reaching for your clit, circling it until you’re screaming and pulsing around him. “Yeah, take it, baby. Hold my cum for me, mommy, make a nice little home for it,” he babbles, trying to work you through your orgasm.
Rolling over with you on top of him, he catches his breath as you melt into a puddle on his chest, relishing in the fullness you still feel. “Gotta keep you plugged up if we wan’ it to take.”
Practically purring at his words,your walls flutter around his throbbing cock.
“You really are a good mommy, sweetheart.” He rubs your back as he bathes in your cherry scent.
“And you’re a good daddy,” you mumble tiredly into his tattooed chest, the endearment still causing him to groan, warning you to pick another name.
That was the best sleep you two have had in months, never feeling closer to the man you married, the best father to your son.
A/N: like, comment, and reblog to give me a smooch. Comments make me wanna write more so if for some reason you want that, you should comment.
Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n
WC: 7.5k
Chapter 1/?
Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
Divider credit to @saradika
Late August, 1996.
July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana.
The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior.
“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool.
“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it.
“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”
The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking.
You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”
She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”
You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.
“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”
Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.
“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.
“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”
“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too.
“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”
“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in.
“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”
Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”
“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”
“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”
An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended.
“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”
“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated.
“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.
“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do.
“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.”
The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”
“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.”
Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.
“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said.
A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.
“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.
“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.
Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.
The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.
“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.
It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”
Oh.
Oh.
“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol.
“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”
“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically.
Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”
Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself.
Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink.
“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”
The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth.
Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band.
You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”
She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”
You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis.
“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt.
Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name.
Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat.
“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.
“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”
“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.
But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”
“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”
He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”
“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.
“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”
“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.
“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”
You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.
“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence.
“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.
Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.
Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.
“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”
“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.
“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”
He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”
“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.
“Turned thirty last month.”
“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.”
He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.
You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.”
End of conversation.
“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs.
“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”
Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.
“You still want to?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”
Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home.
You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.
A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.
“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.
“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.
The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.
Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.
“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.
“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…
Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.
“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”
You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building.
The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.”
You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”
Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.
Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.
“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin.
“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.
“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it.
Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”
Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”
You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.
“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.
Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”
“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers.
Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.
Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.
You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth.
“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”
He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him.
“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend.
“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.
“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.
“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.
“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”
“Huh? What?”
“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.
“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”
Stay for a bit, baby.
It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.
“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.
RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!
You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock.
RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!
Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”
He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you.
You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.
You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.
You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.
“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”
That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What?”
“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”
Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”
Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.
You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.
“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.
“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night?
“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”
“Yeah…is Jess there?”
He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”
“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.
But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.
Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”
“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”
Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.”
His…son?
Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”
“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”
“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”
“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.
“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”
You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?
The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.
Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.
Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.
“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.
“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.
“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”
“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.
A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”
Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”
Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.
You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best.
The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.
“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”
“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.
Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…
And a Harris Munson.
“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”
The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.
You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes.
“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”
“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead.
“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie.
“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”
You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now.
“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly.
“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”
“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”
The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks.
Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”
“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys.
“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks.
“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek.
You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”
Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”
“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded.
After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.
“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”
He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”
“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”
Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.
Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.”
Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.
“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.
You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris.
Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”
You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”
Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts.
“Excuse me?”
“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face.
You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”
Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”
He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”
“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”
You shot out of bed to the sound of your phone ringing, rushing to answer. The clock read 2:15 AM. Who could possibly be calling you this late? You pick up the phone, “Hello?”
“Oh, thank god you answered! I didn’t think you would,” Eddie’s panicked voice crackled through the phone. He started to talk fast and began rambling. You could only catch bits and pieces, hearing the words Beatrice (his one-year-old daughter), sick, crying.
“Eddie you’re talking way too fast, I can hardly understand you. Give me 20 minutes and I’ll be over there,” you hung up the phone and rushed to change your clothes before you grabbed your keys and drove off toward Eddie’s trailer.
AN: Eddie Munson is a sensitive guy, an amazing dad, and also a scheming lil genius. In other words, Eddie cons his goobers into giving him some extra special affections one Sunday morning. Thank you so, so much to @sw34terw34ther for helping me name Eddie's youngest and for beta-reading this for me! <3
Word Count: 1.9k
CW: Brief mentions of the reader being pregnant in the past (though their gender identity is never stated). Also, the reader is mentioned but isn't actually present in the fic. It's not really implied/stated that Eddie is a rockstar in this fic, but it is part of my dad!rockstar! Eddie AU.
Eddie’s a sensitive person, and not just in the emotional sense. When he was younger, he was hypersensitive to just about everything; sensory overload was frequent for Eddie as a kid. However, he mostly grew out of that, no longer being quite as picky about tastes, scents, sounds, or visuals, though he is still slightly more particular than the average person. Nevertheless, one acuity he’s never truly outgrown is his tactile sensitivity. For as long as he can remember, Eddie’s always been picky about certain textures and when and how people touch him. Of course, now that he’s older, he’s a bit less finicky about those things. Even so, Eddie still loathes the feeling of crushed velvet and has to stifle a gag every time he removes the little cotton ball from a brand-new bottle of medicine. Likewise, Eddie has also maintained his sensitivity to other people’s touch.
In 1987, when you two first met at one of his gigs, you had cradled his forearm in your hands so that you could write the digits of your phone number on his alabaster, freckled skin. Though your touch was so light that it was barely there, it’d caused every little nerve under his skin to shoot off like fireworks, making a warm, fuzzy feeling spread all over his body. As romantic as that sounds, that sort of sensation wasn’t necessarily exclusive to your touch.
One time, Mr. Rothering, his former algebra teacher and the bane of his existence during his sophomore year, accidentally brushed up against a fifteen-year-old Eddie Munson as he waded through the aisles of desks to hand back their most recent tests and, even though Eddie was in no way attracted to that sneering son of a bitch, his nerves had gone into a frenzy in much the same way they had when you’d first made contact with him several years later. Although, in that case, the feeling was much less intense than it had been with you; Eddie reasons that Mr. Rothering’s vile aura most likely dulled it.
As a father, Eddie is still subjected to this sensation, even when the touch that triggers it comes from the hands of his sweet babies, Marley, Jude, and Rowan. Granted, his familiarity with them has conditioned him to the resulting sensation, but it still occurs all the same. However, in the case of his little tadpoles (something he’s called his kids ever since the twins were mere embryos growing in your womb), his pure adoration for them gives that odd, fuzzy feeling a warm, wholesome, serene edge to it, so much so that it calms his mind and his body. Eddie luxuriates in the affections — or, as they’re often referred to in the Munson household, ‘sugars’ — that his little goobers give him. Eddie loves it all, from their clumsy hugs to their warm snuggles, even their slobbery kisses and ornery play-wrestling.
Nevertheless, Eddie’s love for his precious little loves and their magical sugars isn’t enough to fill the void of your touch and the divine sensations it brings, something he’s been without for a grueling twenty-four hours since you left yesterday morning for a work trip. Eddie’s been yearning for your affection from the moment he dropped you off at the airport. Today, he’s specifically craving one of your life-altering, all-powerful back rubs, which Eddie swears can cure even the sourest of moods in mere minutes. He misses the gentle caress of your fingertips and the incomparably blissful sensations they leave in their wake. This constant yearning for a relaxing back rub, combined with the knowledge that the twins have recently been learning to draw shapes at daycare, gives Eddie a brilliant idea on this wonderfully lazy Sunday morning.
Eddie lounges on the couch watching cartoons, shirtless and sporting the Star Wars-themed pajama pants Wayne gifted him last Christmas. The twins are snuggled up on either side of him while little Ro is reclining in his lap, all three still in their jammies, sporting coordinating, but not perfectly matching, sets of nautical-themed jammies you’d gotten from Gymboree. Suddenly, Eddie heaves a dramatic yawn, snuggles his kids closer, and gently traces his calloused fingertips up and down one of each of the twins’ short, chubby arms, buttering them up with some sugars of his own. Jude, his snugglebug, almost immediately responds to these sugars with a pleasant little coo, conveying his happiness. However, Marley and Rowan are too far gone; the elder sister is too enthralled in Tom and Jerry’s reruns to notice her dad doting on her while the younger sister is happily snoozing away in Eddie’s lap. Armed with the knowledge that he has at least one of his kids’ attention, Eddie decides to strike while the iron is hot.
“Daddy’s tired,” Eddie remarks lazily. It’s the same warning he always offers his little ones just before dozing off for a nap.
Upon noticing Jude’s subtle pout, he nearly loses his composure and abandons his covert mission entirely. Eddie powers through, though, not wanting to give up on the brilliant plan he’s concocted. He decides to focus on Jude, knowing that if he succeeds in roping his baby boy into his not-so-devious scheme, his little ladies will surely follow.
“Tell you what, Joodlebug, how about I lay down on my tummy and you, my sweet boy,” Eddie pauses to boop his son’s little nose quickly, simply because he can’t resist, before continuing, “practice drawing your shapes on my back? Huh? How’s that sound?”
Jude’s brow furrows adorably before he looks up at his dad with bright doe eyes. “Markers?” The tiny tot inquires, getting tripped up on the r’s as he does so.
“No, bear,” Eddie gently grabs one of Jude’s little hands and taps the tip of his tiny index finger with his own, “use these. Just pretend like you’re actually drawing on me, ’kay? Sorta like those finger paintings you do at daycare, but without the paint,” he explains, chuckling softly when Jude responds with a rough nod. His son’s a very passionate little boy; Judah Bear Munson gives his all to every single thing he does, even if it’s just a simple nod of his head.
“We got a deal, Bubba?” Eddie asks.
Jude offers his confirmation in the form of another adorably curt nod paired with his beautiful, toothy grin.
“Atta boy,” Eddie praises his son before gently removing the littlest of his tadpoles from his lap, carefully placing his tiny Rowboat on the couch next to her brother so as not to rouse her from sleep. He then theatrically slides off the couch and onto the floor, causing his little prince to erupt into a fit of giggles.
Jude’s high-pitched giggles catch his baby sister’s attention, rousing the little 18-month-old girl from sleep. Rowan then calls out in a concerned, whiny tone, “Dada?”
So much for not rousing Ro, Eddie thinks.
“Just laying down, Ro-Bird,” he reassures his baby girl, “wanna be the bestest helper ever and toss me a pillow?”
Rowan wordlessly responds by grabbing a throw pillow from next to her on the couch and harshly, though not maliciously, chucking it at her dad; she’s still at that funny little age where she doesn’t quite realize her own strength. Eddie miraculously catches it just before it hits him in the face and gruffs out a sarcastic, “Thanks, babe.”
Seeing a pillow suddenly flying by her in her peripherals is enough to finally draw Marley’s focus away from the cartoon cat and mouse on the TV screen. The little three-year-old watches as her dad gets situated on the floor, rolling over to lay on his belly as he rests his head atop his crossed arms on the small pillow. Eddie then turns and looks up at his baby boy, the spitting image of himself, offering him a beaming grin.
“Ready, Jude?” Eddie asks, prompting the little boy to nod before gracelessly flopping down onto the shag carpet beside his dad. A relaxed sigh leaves Eddie as his son begins to delicately trace shapes on his back. It’s soon accompanied by a victorious, smug grin when Marley finally pipes up and asks, “Ca’i help, daddy?” What’s meant to be ‘can I’ comes out sounding more like ‘kai,’ and that makes Eddie’s heart melt into a puddle of sticky, saccharine syrup.
“Yeah, Mars, show me watcha got,” Eddie responds. Soon two tiny pointer fingers are drawing on his back, one from each twin. While Marley sticks to abstractly filling the expanse of his back with invisible shapes, Jude, his little artist, takes to connecting the various moles and freckles on Eddie’s back with invisible lines, forming secret constellations on his alabaster skin.
“You guys are doing really good,” Eddie murmurs encouragingly as his eyes drowsily flutter shut.
“Dada?” His littlest love calls out to him from the couch.
Eddie struggles to open his eyes but somehow manages before turning his head to look up at his youngest daughter, who looks identical to you, making her your little mini-me. “Yeah, birdie?” He asks softly.
“Snuggles?” She asks, her tone sleepy and needy. Rowan may look exactly like you, but she’s a daddy’s girl through and through.
“Of course, babe. C’mere,” Eddie beckons her to his side with a wave of his arm, “Come snuggle with daddy, Rowboat.”
Rowan giggles adorably at her dad’s silly nickname for her as she climbs off the couch all by herself — a big feat for someone with such short little legs — and waddles over to her dad. Eddie lifts one arm for her, and she plops down beside him, lying down and nuzzling up against his side. He wraps that same arm around his little nestling, cradling Rowan’s warm little body close to his own as she lays on her side with her back pressed against the side of his torso so that she can watch the TV as she cuddles with her dad.
Right now, Eddie’s on Cloud 9, loving being so close to his little tadpoles, with Tad 1 and Tad 2 (his nicknames for the twins while they were in the womb) giving him a makeshift version of a back rub with their tiny little, chubby fingers, while Tad 3 snuggles up close to him. Fuck what his past teachers always said because, in this moment, Eddie thinks he’s a goddamn genius. Eddie lets out a quiet, blissful sigh as the serene, comforting sensation floods his body, settling underneath his skin and warming him from head to toe. Perks of being a dad, he thinks.
For the rest of the morning, or at least for as long as he can hold his little tads’ attention, Eddie luxuriates in his toddler massage and all the sensation it brings. At the same time, he snuggles with his littlest baby, his little Rosie Ro, who has swiftly fallen asleep in his arms. All the while, he listens to his two little chatterboxes discuss anything and everything that comes to their brilliant little minds; the sounds of Rowan’s snores and the cartoons on the TV act as soothing background noise to the twins’ vivid conversation. To Eddie, moments like these are heaven on earth. Eddie wouldn’t trade these wholesome moments for anything, not even an opportunity for Corroded Coffin to headline their own show at Madison Square Garden. Even his biggest rockstar dreams can’t compete with the love that fatherhood has brought him. Yeah, Eddie thinks, nothing compares to this.
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