not really, kind of! this blog will not be as organized as it used to be, and i will most likely forget about it again, but i have a new obsession with money heist.
also, im in university and working so me popping on here is not gonna happen often, mainly when my creativity is flowing.
All the fics about Eddie with his soft tummy, pretty bellybutton, light haired happy trail and beard omg. I just cannot with soft soft tummy 🥹
Eddie Munson has the most edible body you have ever encountered. He’s not built like a model, he’s not massive or cut or particularly reminiscent of the hunks plastered in those shitty magazines your mom reads.
But his narrow waist just invites you to curl your arms around it. His slim ass is practically just asking to be grabbed. His arms are stronger than one would think, and in the summer when he wears diy tanktops made of old cut up band tees, you practically salivate any time he crosses his arms. Sometimes you even go out of your way to annoy him just so he’ll fold his arms over his chest in the way that accentuates his firm biceps making you swoon.
But the part of him just begging for your attention the most is his stomach. When his shirts ride up and display the light trail of hair leading down into the waistband of his boxers? Fuck. You go lightheaded on sight.
You’re drawn like a magnet, practically throwing yourself at his body anytime he reaches up for something or pulls off a sweater - any motion that could possibly expose your favorite part of him. Your hand moves of its own accord, a moth to a flame, sliding over his hair and skin and relishing in the warmth. The softness of him. Because Eddie is lean, but there is a softness to him that makes you salivate. The slightest rounding of his edges that makes him so comfortable to fold into. So easy to melt against. So easy to bite.
“You alright there, Grabby Hands McGee?” he asks you with a laugh as your palm meets his lower stomach like clockwork when he reaches for a cereal bowl. You’d appeared at his side out of nowhere, but he takes it in stride, wrapping the hand not reaching into the cabinet around your shoulders to pull you against his body.
“Just love feeling you, Eds,” you hum happily, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder and smoothing your hand in a circle on his belly. Fingers sliding through the sparse soft hair. He hums right back and places a kiss on top of your head, lowering his arm to settle the cereal bowl on the counter.
With his two hands now free, he shifts to face you and cups your face on either side. Both of your hands have now moved to rub at his belly, obscured now by his shirt hem which has settled back into place. Eddie keeps his eyes closed for a moment while he rests his forehead against yours. Savoring the feeling of your hands on his body.
When he opens his eyes and straightens up, he peers down at you with a crinkling smirk.
“Hate to tell you, sweets, but if you keep touching me like that you’re gonna feel me inside you pretty soon,” he says with a chuckle.
hey everyone! i just wanted to say that i'm a bit busy at the moment! I just moved into a new place and im also starting a new job, so writing will be more sparse. I still take requests and complete my ongoing series, i just need time.
summary: steve misses reader a whole lot (dustin smacked some sense into him). now, how does he win her back? (angst, fluff, smut)
warnings: afab!fem!reader, language, angst, fluff, smut (18+), UNPROTECTED SEX (pls remember to practice safe sex!!), kinda soft!dom steve? but no use of sir or daddy etc, apology sex, loss of virginity, PRAISE so much praise, oral (f!recieving), fingering, p in v sex, use of pet names, size kink (for like one second), dirty talk, no use of y/n, a little bit of roughness at the end (but not degredation or anything like that!! cheerleader!reader likes to be called pretty and good while she's getting railed), discussion of insecurities, soft tummy steve rights, NOT BETA'D (seriously if anybody wants to, pls shoot me a private message!)
word count: 6,187 (wowza! was not expecting that)
notes: THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS WTF!! when i published walking on a string, i had about 30 followers so thank you so so much for keeping up with my silly little writings. i'll do a little celebration party later - i’m thinking something along the lines of blurbs from a prompt list, so send in asks! without further ado, here's the second part! seriously, thank you all for all the love you've been giving me. it really keeps me motivated to write! i hope you all enjoy this part before i start my taylor swift trilogy and ballerina!reader oneshot!
p.s. i also got a couple of asks that have perhaps inspired a part three (!!!) in the adventures of steve and his cheerleader, so thank you to the anons who sent those in! lmk if you guys would be interested in that xoxo
the things you said are hanging in the middle of my mind, tonight.
i can’t turn them off.
you hadn’t been to family video in three weeks and steve desperately missed you.
winter had arrived in hawkins, bringing with it shorter days and longer restless nights. a tangy cold ran through the air, slipping under the door of the video store and creating a stupid fucking draft. steve watched the door anxiously as the stale air burned his nose. robin snorted. “dude, she’s not coming in,” she said. he huffed out a quiet “shut it, buckley” in response, keeping his eyes trained on the door. she rolled her eyes. “it’s your funeral, dingus.”
now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen you around town either. he never saw your sweet face at the grocery store. or in the park where sometimes, he'd catch you lying on a blanket, enjoying the pre-winter breeze and blasting duran duran on your walkman's tinny headphones. hell, he even went to the library to seek you out. but it seemed that you had just plain disappeared from his life.
only his life.
steve asked anybody who came into family video if they knew where you were; they always made some offhanded comment about seeing you at a party or at your favorite boutique. the one you always got your little low cut blouses from, where trina denman had made you cry once and so he chewed her out the next time she came in to rent a movie -- pretty in pink. your movie.
"steve, you are a dipshit."
steve rolled his eyes and turned his gaze away from the door to see dustin standing in front of the family video counter.
"tell me something i don't know, henderson."
dustin rolled his eyes right back before hopping over the counter to get into steve's personal space.
"hey! man, what the hell are you-"
"apologize to her."
steve was startled at dustin's sudden seriousness. he'd only ever seen the kid get serious about upside down stuff or d&d. or, when he talked about you. he knew that you two really got along when he introduced you to all of the kids, but your bond with dustin ran deeper. you both often met at the old creek to go look at the wildlife there. you taught him about the flowers and the moss that surrounded you both, palming crisp bark and teaching him to appreciate the world around him, inadvertently worming your way into steve's heart even more as dustin regaled him of these tales.
"dustin, she doesn't want anything to do with me."
"because you haven't apologized yet. jesus christ, steve. it's like talking to a toddler. i swear." robin let out a sharp cackle from where she was eavesdropping. steve flipped her off.
dustin sighed. he just wanted to see you and steve happy. he snapped his fingers in front of steve's face to get his attention.
"i'm not a fucking dog."
"i'd argue against that." dustin chose his next words carefully: "whatever you do next has to matter more to her than anything you’ve ever done before."
i'm in a twisted web,
and i can't pull my head from it.
that first day when you came in was one of the best days of steve's life. he couldn’t believe that you, the golden girl, were speaking to him with such softness. but then, the thoughts he tried to cram away constantly invaded his mind, clouding whatever emerging feelings he felt for you. steve decided for himself that you were playing a game - making him the fool. and so he decided on revenge - playing you right back. poking out his tongue whenever he looked you up and down (which was quite a common occurrence). letting you cuddle into him whenever the two of you were seated even remotely close to one another (this was definitely not for his benefit as well). posing for pictures that you’d take with your polaroid camera that was “so annoying” to him (he’d never tell you that the picture robin took of the two of you, your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lives in his wallet - next to the first of your little notes).
steve liked to take his time with things and he knew you needed space, but three weeks was a long time, right? it was too long of a time for you to have not pranced into family video, excited to show steve your newest purchase. too long of a time for him to go without smelling your peach shampoo on his sweater after you’ve fallen asleep during one of your many viewings of pretty in pink. he missed the sting of your manicured nails on his forearm when you were so excited to tell him about a new trick that you landed, that you physically glimmered. he realized with a start that he missed your silly notes and the mirth in your eyes as you laughed at a dumb pun he made. he missed how you would light up even more than usual whenever one of the kids said hi to you outside of one of their hangouts that they'd taken to inviting you to. he missed you.
and he fucking hated himself for it. he felt stupid, used, and above all -- guilty. why would he feel guilty if he saved himself from whatever heartache you could bring him? your teary face flashed in his mind.
oh.
oh.
because you hadn't been trying to use him -- you actually liked him. a lot.
and he definitely was a little bit (a lot) in love with you.
and he only just figured it out.
robin watched her best friend as his face changed. she snapped her gum in her mouth before plunking down on the stool next to him. "i smell wood burning," she said, "what are you thinking about?"
steve turned to her.
"i fucked up."
i hang my head
and feel the oxygen drain.
agonizing hours passed as he thought about what to say to you. he almost missed the tinkle of the bell above the door, letting him know that there was a new customer in the store. from where he sat, all he could see where white sneakers. his eyes snapped to the top of the doorway, and he shrank in disappointment. walking through the door was chrissy cunningham, not you. she was holding pretty in pink, no doubt to bring it to you to cheer you up.
so, it seemed that you were just hellbent on avoiding him.
chrissy gave him a polite smile as she brought it to the counter. steve cleared his throat. she nodded at him in greeting. robin stood a little further back, entranced by everything in front of her (did she sort of want her best friend to get punched by chrissy cunningham? …yes).
steve handed chrissy her change and just as she left, he jolted to his feet.
“wait!” he said, as if the words couldn’t wait inside his mouth any longer. she hesitated, already knowing what he was going to ask.
“how is she?” he said, eyes honest as he searched chrissy for an answer.
she set her mouth in a grim line as she shook her head at him.
“steve, i’m not going to lie to you. she’s really hurt.” steve felt his mouth dry up instantly.
“would she even want to see me?”
chrissy sighed and gave him a shrug before looking at his wounded face. for however much he was hurting, she knew you were hurting way worse. she slammed her hands on the family video countertop, mustering up as much of a threatening tone as she could, pushing herself to the tips of her toes to look steve directly in the eye.
“i have never known someone as kind or genuine as her,” the tiny girl said very seriously, “so you better fucking fix this harrington, because even though you’re a dickhead for what you did, i know you care about her. and for some reason, she cares about you too. probably too much.” steve opened his mouth to reply but chrissy jammed her pointer finger into his chest. “fucking. fix. it,” she said through gritted teeth before waving to robin and swaying out the door.
you're never running out of ways
to worm your way back in.
the past few weeks have been hellish for you, to say the least. getting not only rejected but belittled by steve harrington, the boy you…love? yeah, love would be the best way to put it. you'd pined after that idiot since freshman year, your feelings only intensifying with time and your prolonged visits to family video. those same visits evolved into impromptu sleepovers due to your absent parents, nights out when the local carnival was in town, watching out for the kids on halloween.
you pretended to be fine in front of your friends, a group made up of jocks and the cheer team. you knew that lucas sinclair, one of the new basketball players, was friends with steve. so you avoided him as much as possible, but that didn’t help. everywhere you went, you felt like steve was following you. seeing the people he loved (because he obviously didn’t love you) caused the rift within you, one searing with pain and self-loathing, to deepen.
there was less of a pep in your step. your gentle attitude remained, but you were more melancholic than anyone had ever seen you. sure, you were always willing to lend a hand or a listening ear, but as soon as you were left with your own thoughts, it seemed like a shade had passed over your demeanor.
you hadn’t let anybody into your room since the pep rally, sinking into a cocoon made of your duvet and throw pillows for hours on end. your walkman was always pumped up on full volume. crumpled tissues blanketed virtually every surface - a palpable reminder of his words to you that continued to hang in your mind. you tried to block them out - to block him out - but steve had become so engrained within your daily routine without you even noticing.
his yellow sweatshirt lay on your desk chair, directly in your line of sight, which didn’t help with your attempts to wallow and just get it over with.
you didn’t even let chrissy in to talk to you - she had to resort to seeing you in public or talking over the phone. your room was your safe space: your zone away from anything (or anyone) else but you.
which made steve’s raucous entrance at 2 am all the more unwelcome.
anyone who knows what love is will understand;
you’ve always had me,
walking on a string.
you’d finally been pulled under into what could almost be described as sleep when you heard a thump and a quiet “fuck me!” you were alone in your parents’ large house (something about visiting your dad’s old boss — you couldn’t care less), which made the nighttime extra unnerving to you as a young woman, alone in the middle of fucking nowhere. that was something steve had known about, before he broke your heart.
you shot up immediately, rolling out of your bed and grabbing one of your sneakers to hold up as a makeshift weapon. your eyes were wide with fear and your voice shook as you spoke, “don’t come near me, perv!” you launched the shoe at the tall, dark figure, striking them in the shoulder. whoever it was taken aback and made a noise of pain. you were reaching for your other shoe when you heard your name. “it’s just me, sweetheart.” you lowered your arm as you took in his outline in the dark. you didn’t need light to know what he looked like; you’d spent long enough memorizing every freckle on his face. the slight gap in his left eyebrow from when he got cut in a fight and it scarred. how the right corner of his mouth used to be permanently curled in a smirk around you.
you squinted still.
“stevie? did you sneak through my fucking window?”
you couldn’t help but use his nickname. three weeks of the cold shoulder doesn’t exactly undo months (nay, years) of pining.
“you could’ve used the front door, you know. my parents aren’t home.”
he hadn’t said anything to you yet, allowing you to fill the silence with your half-awake rambling. he gave you a sheepish smile as you moved to stand in front of him, looking up at him with your arms crossed over your chest in worry.
“why are you here?”
you hated how your voice cracked.
he looked down at the floor and then back at you, meeting your eyes. you hated how you immediately got sucked back into the warm umber of his gaze. he sucked in a breath through his teeth, shaking hands in his pockets.
“i need to tell you something,” he said with as much sincerity as he could pour into his words. you rolled your eyes, turning to get back into bed. “i think i’ve heard everything i need to hear, harrington.” he said your name pleadingly, reaching out to envelop your fingers in his.
you hated how you let steve's warm fingerpads trace the inside of your wrist.
you especially hated that it made you feel better.
“please let me say this and then i’ll be out of your life forever.”
you nodded.
“i didn’t think that you’d want anything to do with me.”
your heart ruptured.
he continued: “you’re this stunning, whip-smart, sweet girl who everyone loves. and i’m just this washed-up guy who chauffeurs for six children and works in a video store.”
steve paused to look at you, not quite understanding the emotion pressed into the creases of your face.
“i thought that your friends put you up to this - to me. i thought you were just using me to get a laugh, so i thought i would use you right back.”
tears bubbled up along your lower lashline. your lower lip wobbled as he poured out the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind to you in your moonlight bedroom. your eyes adjusted to see him
“but then i got to know you. like really know you. and i realized that you were one of my favorite people ever. and then i felt like i’d fallen into your trap. and so i lashed out and i was a fucking dumbass and ruined whatever i could’ve had with the girl i love. what i’m trying to say is - i was an idiot and i really don’t want this to end before we even had the chance to start it, sweetheart.”
you let the tears fall unknowingly, but unlike the gym, steve cradled your face gently in his hands, swiping away the beads of saline that ran down the apples of your cheeks. you sucked in a breath, but it felt like the oxygen cascaded out of you instead; you brought your face closer to his.
“you’re so fucking stupid, harrington.”
and then you were kissing him.
it felt completely natural to you both - no hesitating, no waiting. he moved his mouth over yours, pressing your scantily-clad pajama-covered body into him. you felt the softness of his stomach and the hardness of his chest against you as you tried to get yourself impossibly closer. from where his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, you saw some of his chest hair. a path of warmth made its way down to the root of your core. he pulled away and you whined, chasing his mouth with yours.
he breathed out your name like it was a poem.
your smile was just as bright as it usually was, even through all of the salty wetness sliding down your face.
“i love you, stevie."
he looked at you like he wanted to bring the stars closer, just so you could get a better look.
"say it again," he teased gently as he nosed at your throat, prompting you to lift your chin and expose your neck. he started to pepper open mouthed kisses on your neck.
"i-i love you."
he sucked harshly on one spot, making you softly cry out. you pulled back and watched his pretty face form a pout.
"but you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”
he looked down at you with a boyish smirk, before dipping down to meet your lips with his once again.
“i can think of at least one thing that might help.”
he kissed you with a ferocity, a deep-seeded wanting. you sighed into the kiss and whimpered when you felt his tongue nudge against the seam of your mouth. you opened your lips in a surprised moan and he slipped his warm tongue in, licking the roof of your mouth. you let out another whimper, and he groaned. “those sweet little noises are gonna fucking kill me, baby.” his words were strained, his voice raspy, lips slick with a mixture of yours and his spit. you felt your face warm to match the heat emanating from your sex. he dove in to kiss you again, gently leading you toward your bed.
your back hit your cornflower-dotted duvet as steve caged you within his arms. your hands had made their way into his hair, mussing it far past anything that a few puffs of farrah fawcett hair spray could ever remedy. you felt the ache between your thighs grow and in your steve-induced haze, your hips jolted up to meet his. you were surrounded by him: the feel of his warm, wet mouth on yours. his smell -- lemongrass shampoo and pine cologne and something that just made him steve. steve tasted like promises and the cherry slushee he'd gotten with robin after work. his rough fingertips soothed over the spot at your waist where your flimsy tank top had risen. you maneuvered your hips over his groin again. the tiny bit of friction that his rough, tented jeans provided against your throbbing clit made you whine out his name.
“stevie,” you pleaded.
he moved his lips down your neck, lapping at your pulse and leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. the stimulation only made you move your hips more in desperation. you were already surprisingly close — not even nights alone in your room with your hands shoved down your cotton panties, imagining this very moment, were you ever close this quickly. one of his hands came down to squeeze your hip — not harshly, but as a reminder that he was in charge. he pulled away when he felt you move your hips again. he sighed. “pretty girl, i want to take my time with you. be patient.”
you looked at him through your heavy lashes, pouting a little as you grabbed for him to come back closer to you. “but i wanna feel you!” you exclaimed, pulling him down toward you to latch on to his neck and grind up toward his bulge. he hissed as you found his sweet spot, right between where his collarbone meets his neck. he panted out your name as the hand gripping your hip got tighter; you could see the hand near your face clench into a fist and he breathed shakily. “i want to feel you too, but i have to get you ready first, sweetheart. is that okay?”
your heart swelled so much you thought it might beat its way through your chest. you nodded bashfully as his hands finally slipped under your tiny pajama tank top. steve kissed you as his fingers danced over your ribcage. you shivered at their warmth and giggled when he intentionally tickled you. you felt him smile into the kiss (which did almost make your heart explode). but all thoughts of just how much you loved him went out the window when you felt his hand rub over one of the stiff peaks of your covered breasts. you arched upwards, pushing your chest into his hand. he chuckled at your eagerness and detached himself from your wanton mouth to remove your tiny top. your breasts met the air and steve looked at you in wonder, as if you deserved to be immortalized in the louvre. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.
you suddenly felt shy, his words bringing you back into the present. here you were, topless with steve harrington giving you hickies. you grabbed his bicep gently with nerves puddling in your still lust-blown eyes.
“stevie, wait.”
he immediately gave you space, asking you oh so kindly, “is everything okay, baby?” you nodded. “more than okay. i just…” your voice faltered and you looked at your hands. he put his hands on the sides of your face, letting you sink into their warmth and weight. “it’s okay, pretty girl. you can tell me anything.” you bit your already kiss-bruised bottom lip.
“it’s just that i’ve never…this is the furthest i’ve ever been with anyone,” you rushed out. you desperately hoped that you hadn’t ruined things with him again. he sponged a kiss to the tip of your nose before saying, “i won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” your eyes widened and you placed your hands over his on your face. “no no! i just wanted to let you know before we did anything else. i want it to be you, stevie. i love you.”
he smiled at that. “i love you too, sweetheart. god, i can't stop saying it.”
it was a miracle that your heart had still remained lodged in your chest at this point.
“kiss me, please,” you cooed, and he happily obliged, removing your thin pajama shorts in the process.
he left soft, wet kisses along the column of your throat, biting down gently on the top of your left nipple when he arrived at your tits. “perfect tits” as he called them. you squeaked and he laughed, the vibrations around your puckered bud heading straight to your pussy. you half-believed that your panties would be sheer from how wet you were.
he kneaded and pinched at your right nipple as he laved his tongue all over your left, giving you little nips that made you squeal and kisses that made you melt under him. he alternated between breasts and when your tits were sufficiently marked with imprints of his teeth, he placed his hand over your searing cunt. he watched your face change, your eyes rolling back, from the lightest of touches. you were equally as whipped for him as he was for you. steve groaned as he felt your thighs trap his hand, pushing the wet part of your panties into him. his eyes rolled back at the sight before him, your tits marked with his teeth, your eyes darkened for him, your pussy rutting into his hand, all covered in white cotton panties with a little pink bow. you whimpered when he took his hand away, searching for relief as your clit pulsed.
“what did i say, pretty girl?”
“that i have to be patient,” you answered shyly. he hummed.
“good girl.”
you burned from head to toe at his words.
he peeled your panties off of you, inhaling sharply as a string of your arousal connected you to the sopping cotton, only snapping once he had your panties partway down your thighs. “all for me, sweetheart?” you nodded shyly and pressed your thighs together, but he caught you and spread them again. “i wanna see you, baby,” he said before lowering himself to face your drooling cunt.
he licked a fat stripe up your slit, making you jump a little and let out a breathy gasp. steve grinned before spreading your folds with his hands and prodding at your quivering hole with his tongue. he moaned at your taste — tart and heady and you. you moaned as he sponged wet kisses to your folds, before moving up your thigh toward your needy clit. he looked you in the eye as he devilishly licked around the bud before latching his mouth onto you. steve sucked your clit into his mouth, gently brushing his teeth across your sensitive bud. you rushed your hips to meet his face and your hands flew to his head again. he gave a little laugh at your want. he kept his mouth attached to your clit as he gathered dipped his index finger into your folds, gathering your slick before pushing into your poor little hole. he muttered a curse under his breath.
“shit, sweet girl. you’re so fucking tight.” you contracted around his fingers at his voice, about to reply before he put his mouth back on your clit, sucking harsher than he had before. you felt yourself get impossibly wetter as steve began to pump his finger in and out of your entrance. you tried to move yourself on his hand, pleading for “more, stevie, more!” his middle finger slid in to join his index and you hissed at the stretch. he stopped to let you adjust and you marveled at how full you felt just because of two thick fingers. he eased the two of them in and out of you slowly, spreading you open for him. you were so lost in the pleasure that he was doling out that you almost missed his calls of your name.
“baby, can you take another one? d’you think you can?” his face had moved to hover over yours now; you could see your juices on his chin. you nodded frantically, shifting back and forth on his already dripping fingers. “please stevie — need it. need you.” he kissed you heatedly as he inserted his ring finger, swallowing your gasp with fervid swirls of his tongue. you keened as you felt the girth of three fingers inside of you; your fingers and imagination couldn’t do steve’s hands justice. he gave an experimental thrust, keeping up with his assault on your clit, with the heel of his hand. he kept kissing you, switching between gentle presses of his mouth to yours and hot, frantic swipes of his tongue. he noticed your cunt start to pulse, steadily getting tighter as you mewled. his fingers squelched as he slid them in and out of your sopping cunt. “steve, stevie, m’gonna-” you could barely get the words out before you let another loud moan. “gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he teased, speeding up his ministrations. your voice was but a shred in the back of your throat at this point; the only response you were able to give him was a high-pitched sob. your mouth fell open and your head tilted back, renewing him access to your neck and chest. you felt yourself tighten even more as his lips brushed across the tender bruises he’d already made. the combination of his lips on yours, on your skin — his hand between your thighs — you were completely surrounded by him. he was knuckle deep by now, allowing your gummy walls to suck him in. your nails cut into his biceps as you breathed rapidly. “cum for me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth. at his permission, you let the taught string in your body snap. your walls tightened like a vice around his fingers, so tight that steve swore it could’ve cut off his circulation. your cunt fluttered around the fingers seated deep inside of you. your back arched off the bed and your gut tightened as the intensity of your orgasm washed over you in waves. your vision blurred as your body went limp, twitching with aftershocks. you said his name like a prayer through it all, finally blinking to clear your vision. you were met with his smug face as he gave you one last push with his fingers. you squeaked at the contact and he smiled at you, giving you a doting kiss on your swollen, bitten lips.
“all good, baby? you were so good for me. my good girl.”
you nodded, thoroughly exhausted, but also craving him. “stevie, i wanna feel you inside of me,” you said, giving him your best puppydog eyes. he gave you an easy smile, before searching the pockets of his jeans for a condom. “oh shit,” he said, exasperatedly. you sat up with a frown as he rooted through his belongings. “stevie, honey, what’s the matter?” he looked at you apologetically. “i don’t have a condom,” he said dejectedly. you reached out to kiss the corner of his mouth, to push the frown off of his face. you gave him a small smile and said, “s’okay! ‘m on the pill.” his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes so that only a sliver of hazel showed. “and i’m clean, because, yanno…”
“fuck,” he rasped out, “you can’t say shit like that to me, baby. i’ll cum in my pants like a fuckin’ dope.” you laughed your real laugh, his favorite laugh, and in that moment, he felt overwhelmed with love for you. so overwhelmed that as he pulled his cock out, he told you again. he called your name softly to get your attention.
“i love you so goddamn much,” he said, pouring every drop of earnestness he could into his words. now that he knew that his words actually did matter to you.
“i love you too, steve harrington,” you said as you leaned up to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. he chased your mouth with his to lay a series of quick kisses to your lips, muffling the giggles that tumbled from your throat. he rose to his knees above you and shucked off his jeans and his boxers.
now, you’d never seen a cock before in your life, but fuck, were they all as pretty as steve’s? his cock was just, so pretty: a red tip that gave way to a flesh-toned shaft, thick with a vein on the underside of his length. his head was leaking in frustration. your eyes widened as you took him in, wondering if his massive shaft would be able to fit inside of you.
he teased his ruddy tip through the wet mess between your thighs, stroking himself with your cum from earlier. he placed one of his hands on your hip, interlacing the fingers of his other hand with yours, letting your entwined hands rest by your head.
“are you ready, sweetheart?”
you gave a soft “yes” in reply and gulped down a breath. he noticed how you tensed up and squeezed your hip gently. “we don’t have to if-” “no!” you exclaimed, “i want to it’s just…what if i’m not good?” his heart almost shattered as he looked at the worry written across your sweet face. he brought his lips to the crease between your brows, pecking you there to tell you to relax your face. “you’re perfect to me already, baby,” he said, oh so honestly. and you believed him, because it was your stevie looking at you like you were the only real thing in his life. “okay, i’m ready,” you said, relaxing into your bed a little more.
steve guided his tip to your quivering entrance and kissed you as he slid the fat head of his cock in. you gasped as he breached your walls, arms winding around his neck. your jaw fell open, slack against where your chin rested on his shoulder, almost impossibly close to him. the fullness of his fingers was one thing, but this was totally different. the stretch was addictive as he slid into you inch by inch. he worked you open gently, and you wanted him to stay inside you forever. he noticed that you’d gone quiet and brought a hand up to comb through his hair in order to see you better. “everything okay?” you nodded fervently, wriggling your hips and mewling out, “stevie more, more.” at your words, he bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against your ass and you made a strangled noise into the air as he moaned into your neck. “fucking- holy shit, you feel so good.” your walls contracted around him and steve had an idea. he started slowly thrusting into you, allowing you to get adjusted to the feeling of his heavy cock inside of you. all the while, dripping praise into your waiting ears.
"you're doing so well f'me," he said, still thrusting into you slowly -- wanting to make this about you, not him.
but something inside him snapped when you said, “stevie, fuck me.” he started pounding into you, jackhammering his hips against yours, making your eyes roll back so far in your head that all you could see was black. his chest hair brushed against your nipples, meaty thighs brushing against you with coarse hair during every thrust. you choked out a loud moan at the sensation, clapping a hand over your mouth at the volume. he noticed that your sounds had become muffled and whispered into the air between you two: “c’mon pretty girl. i wanna hear those sweet sounds you make.” his balls slapped against your ass as he rolled his hips into yours; the sounds of flesh against flesh ricocheted off the toile wallpaper in your bedroom. the wetness between your thighs kept spreading, creating a lewd slap as he plunged into you over and over again.
his spongy tip pushed against your g-spot and you clenched around him desperately. he moaned at the sensation, muttering a curse under his breath and something about how tight you were. you bit his shoulder after a particularly hard thrust, causing him to hiss and shudder. your walls started to spasm around his cock as that big vein of his pummeled into your sticky cunt. your whimpers became faster and higher as you chased your orgasm, steve right there with you. “stevie!” you yelped as he continued his brutal pace. “’m right there with you, baby. let go,” he whispered, his lips covering yours. you did just as he asked, a borderline pornographic whine slipping its way out of your throat and plastering itself across his mouth. you clenched impossibly tightly around him, stuttering out, “want it inside, please stevie,” as you were pushed over the edge. your pussy pulsed and your body shook, muscles tense as he milked your puffy cunt for all of your juices. you sobbed while you came; it was the hardest you’ve ever cum, your intense love for steve amplifying every shockwave. your legs were wrapped around him, heels digging into his back as he gave you one lasting thrust, his hips stuttering. you felt a warmth extend through your weeping cunt as he painted your sweet walls. the feeling of his hot ropes of cum filling you caused you to tighten around him once again, riding out the last waves of your orgasm.
neither of you moved for a while as steve remained inside of you, both of you at a loss for words. he raked a hand through his sweaty brunette mop and gave you a kiss, pushing all of his feeling into it as he eased out of you. you whimpered at the resulting emptiness, reaching your arms out to keep him in bed with you. he smiled, dropping a smattering of kisses to your face. you giggled and held his head in your hands to catch his lips. he pulled away with one final peck to your lips, pulling on his boxers. you sat up with a melancholy look in your eyes, but he squeezed your ankle in reassurance, telling you that he was “just gonna go ‘n get a washcloth for you, sweetheart.”
he returned moments later from your ensuite with a damp cloth, kissing up your leg as he wiped down the apex of your thighs. he wiped himself off and grabbed his shirt for you, gently telling you to raise your arms as he slipped it over your head. he lay down and opened his arms for you, as you giddily landed on his chest. you reached over him to turn on your bedside lamp and he quirked an eyebrow up at you.
“just wanna look at you s’all,” you said delicately, as you let your fingers play with the curls at the nape of his neck. his heart stumbled at your words and he squeezed you tighter.
“i’m sorry,” steve said again, “i love you so, so much.”
you yawned and snuggled into him, throwing your other arm across his body, murmuring into the air shared between you two: “you’re the only one for me ever, stevie.”
he looked at you in the buttery light of your bedside lamp, half-asleep on him, drowsily babbling about everything you loved about him (his jokes, his freckles, his loyalty), nose squished into his neck as far as possible.
and he realized, in that moment, that he’d always walk on whatever string you led him on.
Can I pretty please get a part two to the one you did where Eddie and Steve tease the reader about having a mysterious crush. Like maybe Dustin knows (because that adorable little shit knows everything) and accidentally let’s slip to them that it’s Steve and Eddie she likes and it completely blows their minds?
part I | part II | part III
"Two guys at once," Steve groans, watching you splash Robin in the face from the deep end of the pool, "How does that even happen?"
"Well," Eddie's face drops into a shit-eating grin, "One in the mouth, one in the-"
"Eddie!" Steve reaches out to whip his towel against Eddie's bare chest, leaving behind a striking red mark, "Fucking gross, dude!"
Eddie only snickers, craning his neck back to reach out for the beer Dustin hands him on his way back out to the pool.
"Thanks," Eddie nods graciously at Dustin, and the boy nods eagerly, sitting at the base of Steve's lounge chair.
"What are you guys talking about?" Dustin cocks his head to the side, water flying from his curls. Steve flinches as some hits his face, and he uses the towel he'd just attacked Eddie with to wipe it away.
"Y/N and her little crushes," Eddie nods to you from his chair, watching as Robin dunks you under the surface, "We've been teasing her for weeks and she finally told us."
Dustin's face lights up, "She did?! Oh my god, finally!" He reaches over to shake Eddie's leg as it stretches across the chair, "Congrats, guys!"
"Congrats?" Steve furrows his brows, "For what?"
"I mean, aren't you happy? You guys are dating her now, right?" Confusion clouds his eyes for a moment and Eddie sits up straight, no longer lounging against the chair.
"Us?" Eddie inquires, his hand flapping between himself and Steve, "She has crushes on us?"
Dustin's face pales, "She.. she didn't tell you who she likes?"
"Oh my god," Steve nearly drops the soda he's been holding, glancing over at Eddie who's mouth is slightly open as the gears in his brain turn, "You're kidding."
"I.. I didn't mean to tell you!" Dustin stands, backing away from them, "Please don't tell her that I ratted her out!"
"Calm down, dude." Steve scoffs at the boy's panic, "We just.. are you sure it's us?"
"Totally sure." Dustin nods vigorously, "She's, like, crazy for you."
"Fuck." Eddie curses, reaching over to smack Steve's bare chest, "We've been tormenting her for weeks!"
"Ow!" Steve flinches away from the crazed man, "You've been doing it too, dickhead! Don't blame me!"
"What do we do now?!" Eddie whispers, your attention on them now as their freakout grew in volume, "Do we tell her?"
Steve glances over at you, meets your curious eyes, and turns back to Eddie, determination shining in his own soft ones, "No. I have a plan."
Summary: Telling a guy at a party that you have a boyfriend doesn't seem to deter him. Probably because that guy is your boyfriend and you're too drunk to realize.
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Drinking, Major Fluff, Established Relationship, Cute pet names
A/N: Don't ever settle for a relationship if they wouldn't do your night routine for you.
The music was starting to give Steve a headache. Gone were the days of being the keg king and beer pong master, first to have a drink and last to stumble his way home. Now suddenly he was more worried about drunk Robin asking people far too personal questions and even drunker you deciding to play another drinking game because you liked that it had cards in it.
"Please, I'm sincerely begging you, Y/N, just sit down–" you interjected with a whine, staring up at him with heartbroken eyes.
"Steve, the game just started. I didn't even break the circle–" a loud hiccup cut off your slurred protests making Robin let out a squeaking laugh from the seat next to you.
Steve let out a tired sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before zeroing in on the two of you.
"Well, we're gonna play a new game. It's called sit here while Steve makes a phone call," he said, eyes flickering from yours, wide and disgruntled, to Robin's, half lidded from the joint he had found in her hand, not a clue where she got it from.
"It sounds awful," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking back into the couch.
"Yeah the name sucks," Robin said, picking up an unfinished drink from the side table next to the couch. Steve snatched it from her before she could press it to her lips because it wasn't her drink and she had thrown in her half smoked joint not even thirty seconds before, the rolled blunt floating around in the dark liquid.
"Rob, stop trying to drink everything you see. You're not aquatic," he hissed, harshly dropping the drink on a table out of her reach.
"Well maybe I'm dehydrated, Steve. You gonna let me die of thirst?" she quipped back, eyes blinking slowly revealing red rimmed irises.
"Then I'll get you a water, Robin," he hissed back, eyes narrowing at her. "But first let me make one single phone call, okay? You're not gonna die of thirst in three minutes."
"I might! I feel my cells disintegrating as we speak!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. You turned to look at her, mouth dropping open slight in horror.
"Disintegrating?" you repeated.
"Every moment that passes–POOF. Another mitochondria bites the dust," she confirmed, giving you a sad smile and a shrug.
"No–" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That's terrible," you expressed, lips pouting and looking to Steve with an expression of alarm. "That's so sad."
"The saddest," she nodded again as Steve muttered an incredulous "Oh my god."
"We need to do something, Steve! Her mitochondria!"
"My mitochondria, Steve!" Robin echoed you, tone mocking as she smirked at him. Steve felt his headache growing steadily.
"Fine! Fine! I'll go get you a drink! Just stay on this fucking couch. Got it?" When neither of you protested, eyes flickering back and forth between your faces he added a strict Stay like you would a disobedient dog.
He hurried to find the house phone, knowing his timeframe was limited before the two of you wandered off in opposite directions, giving him another wild good chase to corral you together. It was late and he was tired and he desperately needed to call in some back up.
Punching in the numbers, Steve cast distasteful looks at the not so innocent sounds emanating from the bathroom adjacent from the landline. The phone rang for a while, making him fear no one was going to answer until finally the receiver picked up.
"Munson residence," the chirpy voice of Eddie Munson had Steve releasing a short-lived sigh of relief.
"Eddie, it's Steve," he said, pressing close to the wall to avoid two girls swaying dangerously and stumbling past him with mirroring green faces.
"Stevie! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Eddie seemed to be eating something as his words were slightly muffled.
"I need you to come get your girlfriend." He tried not to sound like he was begging even though that's exactly what he was doing.
There was shuffling on the line before Eddie's voice rang out clear, "She okay?"
Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's fine just plastered," he thought for a moment before adding with exasperation, "and like obsessed with card games. And really bad at them so she keeps losing and drinking more."
Eddie's charmed laugh sounded over the static of the receiver. Steve wanted to pull his hair out. Of course Eddie found anything you did endearing. You could insult Black Sabbath and he would still look at you like you put the stars in the sky. You had him completely under your enchantment.
"Just make sure she's not taking any," Eddie replied, his smile drenching his tone.
"Taking any what?"
"Card decks. She likes to collect them."
Steve was quiet. Eddie was quiet. Then Eddie laughed again and Steve had to resist banging his head against the wall.
"Eddie. I'm begging you. Please, just, come pick her up," he said through clenched teeth.
It didn't take Eddie long to reach the house party. You had mentioned where you were going earlier that night, commenting that it wasn't too far from where Corroded Coffin was playing and that maybe he could stop by after. He had agreed under the impression that you would probably be home by the time he was finished because it was far later than you were usually out. So he had headed home thinking you were in bed until Steve had called.
And now he was weaving through a legion of drunk high schoolers, on his way to relieve a very stressed sounding Steve from his never-ending babysitter duties. You were sat on a couch, arms crossed as you glared at Steve and Robin endlessly bickering about something. When Steve saw him he called him over.
"I'm taking Robin home. Good luck with that one because she snuck another drink in when I wasn't looking," Steve grumbled, hooking his arm through Robin's as she whined at him.
"What if I don't want to go home," Robin shot at him, eye brows raising.
"I don't care. It's late and I'm tired so we're leaving," he stated, tugging her towards the door.
"You're not the governor of the universe, Steve."
Eddie watched their retreating forms before turning his attention back on you. Your gaze seemed far away as you looked forward, not seeming to have even noticed his presence. He took few steps towards you before sinking into the seat next to you.
"Hey, trouble," he said, reaching out a hand to brush softly against your cheek.
You pulled away like you had been burned and turned to give him a glare. He lost his breath for a moment, confused by the sudden hostility.
"Can you leave me alone?" Your voice was slurred but it didn't conceal the overt bite to your tone. He felt a bubble of hurt grow in his chest, hand dropping to his lap.
"You want me to leave you alone?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. Hours before coming here you were pouting at him for not being able to join, acting as though it would physically hurt you to be away from him for a night. And now, suddenly, you didn't want him here? Were you mad at him for abandoning you?"
"Yeah. I have a boyfriend, so, you can leave," you bit back. He blinked at you, digesting your words, before relaxing. Your glassy eyes gave no indication that you realized it was him. You weren't mad at him, you were mad at the thought of a random guy bothering you at this party. He couldn't conceal his grin.
"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" he asked, playing along as the tension eased from his body. He wanted to reach out and push your hair behind your ear but restrained himself.
"Eddie. Eddie Munson. And he'll beat you up if he finds out you're bothering me," you proclaimed, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared at him, or however many versions of him you were seeing with your blurred vision.
"He will, will he?" he felt giddy at your admission.
He had had moments in your year long relationship where he let his insecurity eat away at him. You were beautiful and kind and alluring. You unconsciously had people gravitating towards you and sometimes he worried that one day someone would turn your head and steal you away from him. But seeing you be so cold to someone even attempting to have a conversation with you, bringing him up immediately, had his heart selfishly warming.
"Yeah and he's on his way to come get me. So try your luck with someone else," you concluded, words slightly garbled as you gave him your best glare.
"How many drinks have you had, trouble?" he asked, laughing incredulously. Your steely glare hardened. You unfolded your arms to poke him harshly in the shoulder.
"You don't get to call me that. Only my boyfriend can call me that," you stated, poking him again for good measure. It didn't hurt him but he feigned pain anyway, hand flying to his shoulder as he sunk back like he was shot.
He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly you were clambering your way off the couch, form swaying as the alcohol in your system made your vision spin. Eddie was up next to you in an instant, gripping your elbows to steady you.
"Easy, sugar. Don't want you face planting," he murmured, trying to bit back his laugh. You halfheartedly swatted him away, making him remove his hands from you only to hover them behind you in case you started swaying again.
"I just told you not to touch me. I'll beat you up myself if I have to," you said, giving his shoulder a light shove that had you stumbling instead of it's intended affect. Eddie ghosted his hands behind your back as you righted yourself, eyes dancing over your flushed face and glazed eyes.
You marched away from him, dead set on avoiding him and finding something to do until your actual boyfriend showed up. Eddie followed behind you like a shadow, eyes alight in amusement as he waited for you to finally realize it was him. You were nearly oblivious to your surroundings, bumping into people, stumbling over loose cans littering the floor. He followed behind, one hand floating to press your back lightly when you wobbled and the other pressing bodies away so you could move easier through the crowd.
When you found the front door and burst out into the cool air of the autumn night, you whirled around to give your stalker a piece of your mind only to freeze when you noticed his wiry curls and amused smirk.
"Eddie!" you breathed, voice airy and light as you tumbled towards him, arms flying to wrap around his neck. He let out a boisterous laugh, arms snaking around your midsection as he squeezed you tight, lifting you slightly from the ground.
"Hi, pretty," he breathed, face nuzzling into your neck to leave a few searing kisses. You molded into him, body relaxing and contented sigh seeping through your smiling lips.
"Eddie, what took you so long! There was this annoying creep who wouldn't leave me alone," you whined, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. His chuckle vibrated into your neck making chills run up your spine. You pressed in tighter, addicted to his touch.
"Did you tell him to fuck off?" he asked, playing along, smirk widening as he pulled back, finally allowing himself to brush wild pieces of hair behind your ears.
"Told him I'd fight him," you replied and he gave you a bright grin.
"Good girl," he said, pinching your cheek lightly, before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You preened at the praise, stepping on tip toes to deepen the kiss that was making your head fuzzy. He smoothed both his hands on the sides of your face, thumbs resting on the apples of your cheeks, pecking your lips a few more times for good measure before he was reluctantly pulling back.
"Let's get you home, yeah, trouble?" You nodded, eager to go anywhere with him. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before tugging you in the direction of his truck.
The drive to your house was filled with you animatedly recounting the party to Eddie, who listened with a soft smile on his face. There were moments where your slightly slurred speech and foggy memory made your stories hard to follow but anytime you laughed he did too, your glee contagious and endearing. He had to scold himself to pay attention to the road a few times when he felt his gaze being reeled in like sailor to a siren.
When you arrived at your home, you handed him your bag claiming your keys were somewhere in its depth. He turned the ignition off, the both of you sitting in the car as the heat slowly seeped into the chill of the night. He opened your bag and let out an incredulous laugh. At least three decks of cards were shoved into your small purse, stolen from a fair few disgruntled partygoers who probably wouldn't have suspected you as the thief in the slightest.
"You're a menace, you know that?" he commented, pushing the decks to the side so he could reach for the set of keys glinting at the bottom of the bag. You pouted at him, no clue what he was referring to. He chuckled, leaning over the inner consul to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "A cute one, but a menace."
"C'mon. Let get you inside," he said, unlocking the doors. You were nearly putting all of your weight on him as you headed to the front door of your house, body slung around him like a backpack. He had one arm wrapped around your back, pressing kisses to the top of your head every few steps, your bag looped over his shoulder.
As he fumbled with the lock, keys rattling against the metal of the doorknob, you mumbled something about your family being away when he winced at the noise he was making. And once you were inside, door shut behind you, he flicked on a few switches, lighting up the empty house. He dropped your bag and keys on the small table by the door before turning towards you.
With both arms wrapping around you, he bent slightly, his hands moving to cradle the backs of your thighs.
"Up," he commanded. You jumped, letting him hoist you into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck, legs hooking his waist.
"'M, tired," you mumbled into his shoulder. His chest vibrated as he chuckled, taking cautious steps up towards the second floor.
"I bet. It's nearly two," he replied and you humphed in response. When he made it to your room, he slowly released his hold on you, letting you slide down until your feet touched the ground. You whined against him, not liking the idea of not being completely wrapped up in him.
"Need to get you ready for bed, sugar," he said, reaching around behind his neck to pry your arms away. You whined again but had little strength to resist him. He nudged you forward until the backs of your legs met your bed, causing you to reluctantly sit down, the mattress dipping slightly.
He crouched down so he could rest his weight on his knees, the carpet of your floor cushioning them. You were blinking slowly down at him like you were fighting against sleep. Hand wrapping around your ankle, he undid the laces and slipped off your sneaker, dropping it to the side. He repeated the action with your other shoe.
"I'm gonna get you something to change into, okay?" he said, pushing up from the floor. He kicked off his own shoes next to yours, pulling off his vest and then his jacket, draping them over your desk chair.
Your room was yards cleaner than his own and starkly different. Remnants of your childhood were woven together with band and movie posters, shelves of books, and colorful post-its and polaroids taped to your mirror. He spotted his face in many of them, heart warming each time he noticed yet another one of him you managed to find room for.
He headed for your dresser, pulling drawers open at random trying to find something for you to sleep in. His cheeks warmed at the drawer of underwear he yanked open, the pretty pastels and swirling lace making him swallow harshly. He wasn't here to be creepy he was here to be a doting boyfriend. He opened a few more until he found one of his shirts he thought he had misplaced. Menace, he thought.
When he turned around you had already begun slipping off your pants, kicking around until they flew off your ankles. He walked over to you as you were pulling your shirt over your head. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes trailed down the straps of your bra to the curves of your chest, heat rising on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he chided himself. Now was not the time for that. He heard you undo your bra and kept his gaze on your sleepy eyes as he handed you the black T-shirt. You slipped it on without protest.
"Alright, now to the bathroom," he said, patting the side of your bare thigh.
"But I'm tired," you groaned, wrinkling your nose at the idea of exerting more energy.
"I know, trouble, but you still have your makeup on," he said, leaning over to take your hand in his. He held his other one out and you reluctantly grabbed it, letting him pull you up. He maneuvered the both of you into the bathroom. You wobbled against him, eyes squinting shut at the harshness of the overhead light. He let go of your hands to slide them to the sides of your ribcage. Then he lifted you so you were sat on the counter besides the sink.
“Okay, sleepyhead, I need you to direct me through your night routine,” he said, rubbing his hand on the side of your neck. You looked at him through bleary eyes before looking down at the counter. An assortment of bottles and serums and tubs of cream littered the expanse of the white laminate. You blinked heavily before pointing at one.
“That’s makeup remover,” you said as a yawn over took you. He picked it up, unscrewing the top and then staring blankly at you.
“Do I . . . use my hand?” he asked innocently. You giggled softly, leaning back to rest against the wall.
“No, silly. A cotton pad,” you replied, waving your hand in the direction of the cabinet. He found them, dropping a few as he struggled with the zip lock, before pulling one out. He tipped the clear liquid from the bottle, soaking the cotton pad before turning back to you.
“Eyes shut,” he ordered, stepping closer so your legs parted for his thighs. You followed his instructions, eyes fluttering shut as he brought the pad to your face.
Eddie was nothing if not gently when it came to you. The damp cotton brushed softly over your eyelids, over your eyebrows, down your temples, trailing your jaw, over your lips, and in circles on your cheeks. He could tell you were dozing, needing to move his other hand to frame your jaw so your head wouldn’t lull to the side.
Dropping the dirtied cotton pad in the trash, he grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap. It was warm when he brought it to your face, the stitched loops of the towel swirling around as he wet the skin. Dropping it down, he scanned the array of bottles until he found one clearly labelled face wash. He squeezed probably too much onto his palms before moving to massage it around your face. The gel foaming as he circulated his fingers, tender movements nearly putting you to sleep. Your eyes blinked open, finding his focused on his movements, tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. A balloon of affection blossomed in your chest.
“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like cat. His movements slowed as heat rushed to his cheeks at your words.
“Well you’re my favorite person in the whole universe,” he said back, moving to rinse the face wash from his hands. He re-wet the small towel and moved to wipe your face down. You pouted at him.
“That’s not fair. I can’t go any bigger than the universe,” you grumbled, unhappy that he outdid you so quickly. He let out an endeared laugh, hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he wiped the foam from your face.
“I don’t play fair, baby. Not when it comes to professing my undying love to you,” he said making you wrinkle your nose. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips.
“I missed you tonight,” you confessed as he finished cleaning your face. He rinsed the towel in the sink before turning to look at you. Your head was resting against the wall, eyes half lidded in fatigue but glinting prettily under your lashes. He felt his chest tighten at the sight, his breath stalling for a moment at your effortless beauty.
“I always miss you when you’re not around,” you added. He moved to face you, chest coiling in unbridled affection, hands moving to cage your face in. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, the soft skin glittering from the water.
“Wish I could be with you 24/7 but I don’t want you to get sick of me,” you continued, eyes fluttering up at him. He thought you might really kill him.
“Not even in an alternate dimension could I get sick of you. Not even in a hypothetical scenario. Not even if my life depended on it,” he replied, moving closer until your noses were almost touching. Your hands snaked around his torso, tugging him closer, bunching up the back of his shirt.
“If you’ll have me I’ll probably be up your ass until the end of time,” he added, making a peel of giggles erupt from you. His eyes squinted as he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to yours, your giggles dissolving into his affection.
“Now, no more being cute until we’re done with this,” he said after pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Your swollen lips chased his to steel another, then another before he was squeezing your sides, making you squirm and laugh as he pulled away.
You leaned back against the wall, eyes drooping as he continued, grabbing your moisturizer and spinning open the cap. He repeated his gentle motions over your face, swiping softly around your eyes and smoothing any tension from your face.
“Brush,” you blinked your eyes open noticing him holding out your toothbrush, toothpaste already sitting on the bristles. Your movements were sluggish but you managed, leaning over to spit in the sink before he was handing you a cup of water to rinse.
You were both quiet for a moment. He watched as you leaned your head back, eyes shut. His hands trailed the sides of your thighs, brushing the skin, squeezing slightly, warming them and making goosebumps appear. His eyes danced around your face, taking in your peaceful features. You were breathtaking even when on the edge of sleep. He was completely enamored with you. He never thought someone could have him so enchanted that he would be taking their makeup off before bed and making sure they brushed their teeth but you had sent him one dazzling smile and he was lost in a sea of desire to take care of you for as long as he lived.
“Alright, ready for bed?” he asked, affectionately brushing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs. You nodded, slumping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He tugged you forward, hands slinking under your thighs to pull you up into his arms.
He laid you gently on your bed, pulling the covers down so you could slip your legs in until he was moving the duvet up over you. He wandered back over to your dresser, digging back into the bottom drawer where he knew a treasure trove of his clothes was hidden, never to be seen in his closet again. He slipped off his pants and then shirt, pulling on an old Van Halen T-shirt, the ratty edges brushing against the waistline of his boxers.
"You're staying, right?" your sleepy voice rang out from the bed. He kicked his pile of clothes to the side, knowing you were going to chide him for it tomorrow.
"Wouldn't dream of leaving," he answered, pulling off his rings, the silver clanking as he dropped them on your desk.
He hurried to shut the lights off before he was crawling in beside you, finding your sleepy body in the dark and pulling you into him. You let out a contented sigh, warm breath tickling his neck, making him pull you in even tighter.
He wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. Nothing seemed to compare to finally being in your arms, breathing in the smell of your perfume and feeling the smoothness of your skin. His lips traced your hairline, leaving soft honeyed kisses around your forehead and down over your eyelids. You smiled into the darkness, tilting your face up in a silent beg for more. He kissed your nose, his eyelashes dusting the tops of your cheeks.
"Love you," you whispered, melting against him and his warm lips. You felt him smile against your cheek.
"Love you more," he whispered back, a kiss following his admiration.
“Love you times a million,” you added, hoping finally to win a battle of affection.
“Love you times infinity,” he replied. You let out a whine at him one-upping you yet again but he just chuckled in fondness, teeth nipping at the plumpness of your cheek until he was seeking out your lips again, to press a dozen more kisses until you inevitably fell under the spell of sleep, dreaming about him and his big brown eyes and warm kisses and how very very lucky you were.
pairing: tasm!peter x single mom!reader (both are twenty-two)
word count: 4.1k
genre: fluff
summary: raising a child on your own hadn't been easy, especially when going to school and working constantly. You had never thought pf putting your own feelings ahead of your son, but maybe this time, accepting a new boy into your life would be good.
notes: i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post the part two! i've been in the middle of moving house so i've been a bit busy. hope you enjoy!!
@ameliabs-world
part one | part two
The air outside was filled with moisture, the orange leaves that littered the ground were soaked, and the sky was an angry grey. There was a heavy fog enveloping the city, hugging it close and tight. It wasn’t unusual for autumn mornings to consist of mist and fog, and to some degree, you welcomed it. It was such a nice change from the disgustingly humid summer that had hit months prior.
Your home on the other hand, specifically your kitchen, was lit up in a yellow glow due to the lights. It smelled of half-burnt coffee and pumpkin spice candles, specifically the one you had just blown out when Cooper tried to play with the melted wax.
The candle was now on top of the fridge.
You set down a glass of milk and a cheese croissant on the breakfast nook where he had managed to climb up, eagerly waiting for his breakfast. Morning’s like these were routine. You rushed around the house to get everything ready due to Jen and Katie already being at work, and Cooper patiently waited while eating. He was a good boy.
Just as you had started to pack his bag for school, shuffling around his books and toys to fit in his lunch, the doorbell rang loudly.
You sighed heavily, running your hands through your hair in frustration before placing your hands on your scrub clad hips, “Coop, can you wait here for mommy?” You asked and looked over at your child, stuffing almost half of his croissant in his mouth while milk dribbled down his chin, “Hey, don’t choke. Haven’t touched the CPR classes yet.”
Your joke made Cooper giggle through fluffy pastry, despite not entirely knowing what you meant. He would give you laughs whenever something seemed slightly funny.
A smile graced your very tired face and you turned around, your tennis shoes shuffling across the hardwood as you made your way to the front door. When you opened it, there was no one there, causing you to furrow your brows and look around.
A thwip suddenly sounded and a blue and red blur quickly descended in front of you, causing your heart to nearly jump out of your chest, “I brought donuts.”
You laid a hand across your chest and took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, “Fudge, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You spoke to the superhero in front of you as he landed on his feet, holding out a teal box to you.
Spider-Man stared in silence at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side, “Fudge?” He asked and then looked down at the box, “But, I thought you said donuts? I swear if you said fudge then I would have gotten fudge but I could have sworn you said donuts-”
“I said donuts.” You reassured and smiled softly, opening your door more for the male to come in, “I was censoring myself. In case you forgot, I have a five year old.” You mentioned, as though that was something he would forget.
The man hummed and nodded, “Speaking of, where is the man of the hour?” He asked and you closed the door, nodding for him to follow you into the kitchen. Cooper’s eyes immediately landed on his new hero and eyes widened, “Hey buddy!”
You smiled and moved back over to the counter where you were packing Cooper’s lunch, “He can have half of a donut, no more. He already had a croissant and I don’t want to send him off to Ms. Denny with a sugar high,” You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with the spandex clad superhero as he was attempting to sneak Cooper a whole donut, “Hey, what did I say?”
Both boys mumbled an apology while the older boy slipped off his gloves, breaking the donut in half. He handed one half to Cooper, earning an excited giggle.
You zipped up Cooper’s backpack and set it on the ground before walking over, “I need you to do our routine, ready?” You asked the small boy who sat up straight, nodding quickly, “Okay. What are you?” You leaned your elbows on the counter separating you and your son.
“‘M handsome, and smart, and kind.” Cooper responded with a wide smile, his eyes bright and happy. He knew this routine like the back of his hand.
“And what will you do?” You questioned, feeling the eyes of the male at the end of the counter staring into the side of your head.
Cooper took a sip of his milk before responding, “I will be polite, and helpful.”
“Mhm,” You hummed happily, always impressed at the way Cooper remembered, “And who is the most amazing boy in the word?”
“Me!”
You leaned forward and trailed a few kisses all around Cooper’s face, “Exactly! Now, go wash your hands and brush your teeth, we’ve gotta go soon. What do you say to your friend?”
Cooper climbed out of the tall chair and rounded the counter to stare up at Spider-Man, “Thank you Mr. Spider-Man for the donut. Was yummy in my tummy!” He laughed before running down the hall, gently closing the door to the bathroom once he was inside.
You just shook your head with a fond smile and picked up his dishes, walking to the sink so you could deposit them there. You rinsed them quickly and wiped your hands on a dish towel.
“Do you do that every morning? The positivity and stuff?” The male in your kitchen asked, causing you to smile and nod, leaning back against the counter, “Wow…You keep surprising me, Y/N.”
You waved a dismissive hand, “I think it helps him with his confidence. I don’t want him to feel like he isn’t good enough or that he needs to fake who he is. Plus, it helps with his manners.” You explained and then raised a brow, “You, New York’s neighbourhood Spider-Man, is surprised by me?”
He let out a small laugh and nodded, “Yeah,” He mentioned before pushing up the bottom of his mask, exposing his pink lips so he could take a bite out of the half of a donut he was holding, “You’re just a really good person.”
Your heart swelled, feeling as though it grew in size, similarly to the Grinch, “I feel like you don’t usually buy donuts for the people you save.” You suggested and nodded to the teal box on your marble counter.
Spider-Man laughed and shrugged, “Only the ones I like.” He joked and smiled fondly, the way his lips quirked up now being exposed to you. From what you saw, he was attractive, really goddamn attractive.
“You’ll buy me donuts but you won’t take off that little mask?” You challenged, hoping that you could possibly tease it out of him.
You weren’t sure if asking him to take the mask off was a good idea, maybe it would scare him away and he would decide he could never come back, but maybe it was also worth a try. This man, whoever he was, had paid not only you, but your son so much attention. He acted like he had been there from the beginning, showing the utmost care and affection to the young boy.
The male shifted to his other leg, causing you to believe that you had just ruined it all, that you had screwed it all up. But when he spoke, your worries dissipated like a crowd of grey clouds, “Oh, I have this policy where if I see you a third time, then you get to see my face. It’s just like this little rule so I know my fans are super dedicated.” The joke rolled off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly. You blushed at the way it made you giggle.
“Fan? You think I’m a fan?” You folded your arms across your chest, shaking your head, “I’d say you’re the fan with how many times you’ve shown up. Unprompted, might I add.”
The man’s lips parted slightly and then pursed together, “Um, actually, I saved you and your son from a falling tree and then you invited me over for donuts, so it was very prompted.” He argued and you could feel the playful glare he was shooting your way.
“Eat your donut you menace, I have a boy to get to school.” You laughed and walked past him, coming up to the bathroom door, “Coop, gotta hurry bud!”
“He’s playing with the rubber ducks you have in there.” You heard from behind you, “Super hearing.”
You just groaned and knocked on the door, “Put the ducks down!”
After a few silent moments, the door swung open, revealing an utterly confused five year old, “How you know that?” He questioned and narrowed his eyes slightly, “Was you spyin’ on me?”
You shook your head and ruffled his hair, turning off the light before escorting him to the kitchen, “Mom’s just know everything.” You replied, letting the generational tale course through his brain like it had your own.
The boy grumbled before moving over to pick up his bag, dragging it across the floor, “Can I wear the ‘range jacket today? Wanna match the outside.”
You suppressed a smile, the cuteness threatening to make you turn into a puddle. You just nodded and grabbed his rain boots and orange jacket from the closet before returning, “Spidey, can you help him with this? I have to grab my bag.”
Spider-Man immediately fixed his mask and nodded, “Of course, at your service.” He said and took the things from you, crouching down in front of Cooper, “Cool jacket.”
Cooper giggled and lowered his voice as you walked to the living room, “I jus’ wear it ‘cause mommy says I look pretty as the outside. I hate ‘range.” He whispered while slipping his arms into the sleeves.
The grown man could have sworn that he physically felt his heart swell at that, “Well, that’s very nice of you.” He complimented, zipping up the jacket.
You walked back into the kitchen after picking up your bag for school, full of textbooks and studying supplies. You quickly pulled on your jacket before slinging the bag over your shoulder.
“Mom?” Cooper spoke up, causing you to look at him with a smile, “Are you walkin’ me to school today? Or do I has to take the bus?”
You frowned a bit and crouched down, sighing, “You have to take the bus buddy, I’m sorry. But Mrs. Garcia is gonna join you okay? She’s gonna be with you all the way to your stop and she’s going to make sure you’re okay.” You explained and pushed the boys hair out of his face.
“Jus’ scary sometimes…” Cooper admitted and looked down at his hands.
“I can take him.” Spider-Man spoke up from next to you, prompting both you and your son to look up at him, “I don’t mind, it’s on my way anyway. He might get a little bit of cred too.”
You rolled your eyes at the comment but smiled nonetheless, “You don’t have to do that, I already asked Mrs. Garcia and she said yes. I’m paying her anyway and I already gave her half the money.”
As you stood up, a strong hand was gently placed on your forearm, thumb rubbing soft circles, “Hey, I’ll take him, okay? I’ll find Mrs. Garcia on our way and let her know. Don’t worry about the money.” At your concerned expression at the mention of the money, he spoke up again, “I meant that I will get your money back.”
You just shook your head but you were interrupted by Cooper, “Mom, ‘M gonna miss my bus.” He stated simply, staring up at the both of you, “Say thank you to Mr. Spider-Man.”
Your jaw dropped slightly at your son using your own words against you, but the male’s voice from beside you warmed your body, “Yeah, say thank you to Mr. Spider-Man.” He said lowly. It wasn’t in a threatening way, no, it was flirtatious.
You just shook your head and pushed both boys towards the front door, “I don’t like you two together.” You stated and grabbed your keys off of the hall table, “You take him to school, no jumping, no crawling, and definitely no swinging. Understand me?”
“Yes ma’am.” Spider-Man spoke before walking out the door, letting Cooper hold his significantly larger hand, “Take him to school the boring way.”
“Exactly.”
-
The sky was orange when you finally walked out of the campus building. It had rained almost all day, pelting the earth with fresh water, creating muddy puddles and earthy smells. It was just what you had expected, especially when the grey clouds became darker on your arrival to school. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sighed softly when you saw a text from Jen, stating how she picked Cooper up from school and he was having a delicious mac n cheese dinner.
You hated being away from him for so long during the day, and you hated not being able to drop him off or pick him up from school. It almost felt like you were failing sometimes. But, when you saw that lazy boy's smile or the way he perked up when you came home, it was all worth it.
You quickly texted back that you were on your way home and shoved your phone back into your pocket.
“Hey.” You heard the familiar voice speak behind you, lined with a smile.
You turned, only to see a brunette male with a camera hanging around his neck and a skateboard under his arm. You furrowed your brows for a moment, looking around for the source of the voice, your eyes eventually landing back on the unfamiliar boy, “Um, hi. Did you need help or anything? Sorry I’m just heading home to my son, I can’t leave him for long.”
The man smiled softly and chewed on the inside of his cheek, “You never did thank me earlier.” He responded, shoving a hand into the pocket of his pants.
You looked around in confusion for a moment, an awkward and downright weary smile playing on your lips, “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person…” You said and then took a step back, wanting out of this situation as fast as possible, “I really have to go.”
Just as you turned and started to depart, the boy called out to you, “Mrs. Garcia didn’t mind! She thought it was pretty cool that I was taking Coop to school, even said she wants to get me to come babysit her grandsons. Babysitter by day, Spider-Man by night has a pretty good ring to it, huh?” His rambling continued on in an attempt to convince you that you hadn’t been hearing things.
You slowly turned on your heel, eyes wide and lips parted, “Wow.”
A blush began to creep on the boy's cheeks, “Not quite the reaction I was expecting.” He whispered softly into the cold air, taking his bag off of his back so he could attach his skateboard to it.
You shook your head and took a few steps towards him, holding up a hand, “No, no! It’s a good wow! An appreciative wow. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so young or…or so-”
“Awkward?”
“Pretty.”
The boy's brown eyes widened and he quickly held out his hand, “I’m Peter. Please call me Peter.” He begged, shaking his head, “Not any more of this ‘Spider-Man’ shit.”
You slipped your soft hand into his more calloused one, shaking it gently and calmly, “It’s nice to finally know you, Peter.” You said and smiled through the corner of your mouth, “You gonna walk me home even out of your suit?”
Peter nodded and brought his hand to the small of your back, leading you down the sidewalk, “Definitely, yes.” He said and then laughed a bit, “You didn’t freak out.”
You shrugged, looking up at the side of his face, examining his every feature, “Oh, I still have time to expose you to the Daily Bugle.” You playfully threatened, throwing the taller male a wink.
He fake winced and shook his head, “Ah, won’t work, I sell Jameson photos. My word over yours.”
You hummed and flicked your tongue along your bottom lip, “Mm, that’s okay. I’ll respect the three meeting policy.” You teased, nudging his side with your shoulder gently.
Peter laughed, a genuine and whole laugh, “I made that policy up just for you.” He revealed, glancing down at you before his gaze focused back on the road in front of you both, “Dunno, thought it was worth it.”
“You barely know me, and you trusted me with your identity?” You asked, furrowing your brows together in confusion, “You’re not good at this whole double life thing, Peter.”
You both walked in comfortable silence, Peter’s hand lingering on your back. The streetlights illuminated the road, shining along the wet pavement with a yellow hue. There were cars speeding past you, distant honking and sirens sounding from across the city. The small stores that lined the street had a soft glow to them, radiating warmth in the cold night.
Peter spoke after a few minutes, his voice soft and unwavering, “So, now that you know me and not you know, Spider-Man, I was hoping that maybe I could take you on a date?” He asked, hopeful as he gestured with his hand, “I know you have Cooper, but if you need help finding someone to look after him then I’m sure my Aunt May wouldn’t mind. I wanna take you out, really spend time with you.”
You bit the inside of your cheek as a smile struck your face, a warm feeling bubbling inside of you, the feeling of Peter’s hand on your back now feeling as though it was burning through your clothes, “His Aunt Katie will watch him, if anything she’ll beg to.” You informed him and shyly intertwined your arms, resting your palm on Peter’s bicep, “I’d love to go out with you.”
Peter looked at you, taking in every feature on your face. He watched how the streetlamps reflected in your eyes and the way you always seemed to have a small smile on your face, “Yeah?” He questioned, needing clarification in order to be excited.
You weren’t one to go on many dates, not ever since you had Cooper. You may go on one every so often but they never lead to anything, no one stuck around long enough for you to care either. You usually had better things to worry about.
“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding before clearing your throat, “But, I mean, it might sound silly but I don’t want Cooper to meet you yet. He knows you, but he knows you as Spider-Man, he doesn’t know you. And, I don’t want him to get attached or hopeful and this ends up fizzling out. I just don’t want to hurt his feelings. I can’t have him feeling like people just always leave him.” You were ranting at this point, attempting to get your point across while refusing to hurt Peter’s feelings.
The brunette stopped and turned to you, lifting a hand to the side of your face, simply holding you with his other hand on your waist, “We take this at your pace, okay? You’re Cooper’s mom, I’m not trying to come in and take that relationship away or change it.” He admitted and smiled, his thumb gently running along your cheekbone, “He’s really cool though, can’t wait to meet him.”
“You can’t come over as Spider-Man anymore either.” You laughed and gazed into his eyes, searching them for any ounce of regret, “No more drop bys or donuts.”
Peter took your hand, intertwining your fingers as he started to walk towards your apartment again, “Deal.” He agreed, easily accepting your terms and conditions.
He was making this so easy. You didn’t know how to react to him accepting your rules without any push back. You set the boundaries and he respected them without any questions. It made you hopeful.
“So, you wanna give me your number? That way I can let you know when I’ve secured a day for Cooper?” You questioned, holding Peter’s hand happily in your own.
“Oh yeah, that’s why you want my number, not any other reason.” Peter teased, a smirk cracking at his serious facade.
You gave him a playful look before rolling your eyes, aiming your gaze in front of you, “You’re insufferable.” You stated simply, your tone holding that of calmness and familiarity instead of the hostility that may usually come with words like those.
Peter just shook his head, that insufferable smile playing on his lips, gracing his face with such delicacy, “And you love it.” He retaliated proudly, confidently.
Usually you would be opposed to the confidence, maybe even disgusted by it. You spent your time surrounding yourself with quiet and selfless people, and you already knew that Peter was selfless. Maybe the confidence just added to his appeal. He wasn’t cocky, or rude, he just wore his friendliness on his sleeve.
As you turned the corner, coming up to your block, you grabbed Peter’s arm with your free hand and stopped him, closing your eyes softly, “Smell.” You told him, letting the calm breeze blow through your hair, picking up the curls effortlessly.
“Smell? Are you trying to get me to smell the piss from the alleyway?” Peter questioned. You could feel his eyes on you, examining the profile of your face as though it was a crime report. His eyes scanned the curve of your nose and the plump of your lips. The way your chin softly peaked and connected to your neck.
You laughed softly, and opened your eyes to look at the brunette next to you, “No, just close your eyes and smell.” You prompted, giving his arm a quick shake before returning to your previous state. Eyes closed, breath steady.
Peter did as you told him, closing his eyes and standing there on the corner of the street, your hands on his one arm while he attempted to figure out what you were smelling. The air was cool and damp, most likely from the rain that had been falling earlier. It had an earthy scent due to the wet dirt and the fallen leaves. All of this spread through the humid air, cleansing your nose of the bleach and cleaner you had been forced to smell during class.
“It smells like rain.” You whispered, opening your eyes again, feeling so free in this moment. Your smile widened, “It smells like fall! The rain, and the dirt. God, it’s all so refreshing.” You pulled Peter again to continue walking.
Maybe you were biased due to your love for fall, considering your son had been born during October, his birthday having just passed. But, even as a kid you always relished in the auburn tones, finding comfort in the way the leaves would fall slowly from the trees, coating the path you walked on in a blanket of orange. Fall meant Halloween, and Halloween meant getting to be creative. You loved all of the fall traditions, even if they were silly.
Peter just stayed quiet next to you, letting your excitement and happiness warm his body. He stayed that way for a few moments until you were doors away from your home, “I like how happy this all makes you.” He admitted.
You turned your head to gaze at Peter, watching the sincere expression float on his face, “Me too. It’s nice to have something that kind of, calms me down.” You said and nodded to yourself, taking a few more steps towards your door.
“You deserve it. You do so much.” Petter complimented, gesturing as he spoke with his free hand, “I mean, working and going to school, all while taking care of a kid by yourself? You deserve some time to yourself to regroup.”
You smiled and walked up the stairs to your door, standing in front of it, “You’re right.” You started, looking at the brown eyed boy with sincerity, “That’s why I’ll be going out with you. Now, number time.”
Peter hummed and took his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to you, “Do your worst.” He spoke, watching as you immediately went to his contacts and added in your number, typing in your name with a little smile next to it.
You held the phone back out to him once you were finished and winked at him, “Enjoy.” You said softly.
a/n: i planned to upload this earlier but i really wanted to enjoy my off day😭 i hope you guys enjoy this! credit to the gif owner <3
Eddie never had a problem with saying what was on his mind. If he was happy, he wouldn't be afraid to let everyone know. When he was sad he'd sulk all day until it was time to play d&d, and if he was pissed he had no problem shouting it from the rooftops. Eddie wore his heart on his sleeve and that's something he'd never change, and it's something you wouldn't want him to change.
"How come you haven't said it yet?” you asked.
His face scrunched into confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been dating for six months, Eddie.”
Eddie smiles, not looking up from his d&d journal.
“And it's been the best six months ever.”
“Why haven't you said you love me yet?”
Eddie feels his whole body tense and he sneaks a glance at you, his heart breaking when he sees you on the other side of the couch.
“I say it…”
“No, you don't. I say it first and it's always followed with a kiss or you just mumble out me too.”
Eddie shifted in his seat. He does love you, he loves you more than anything on this earth, but for some reason, he can never say the words. You let out a sigh and brought your knees close to you.
“I know you have your way of showing me that you love me, but sometimes I need to hear it.”
Eddie kept his eyes on the papers in front of him, too scared to look at you. “Okay,” he muttered while writing something down.
You swallowed the lump that was in your throat and nodded your head. “I’m gonna go home now.”
His head finally shot up, eyes finally landing on you while he felt around his pockets for his keys. “Let me find my keys real quick-”
“I'll just walk. Bye Eds,” you said quickly while walking out of the door. Eddie’s shoulders slump. You always give him a kiss goodbye, and he always takes you home. He shakes his head trying not to think about it too much and goes back to whatever he was working on. He's sure you guys are fine, you always are, but there's a little voice in his head that's screaming at him to go after you. He's just choosing to ignore it.
-
the next couple of days are filled with you being less affectionate towards Eddie. he doesn't drive you to school or take you home anymore, you catch rides with Steve and Robin. You no longer stay after school to sit and watch him play d&d, and you stop by his trailer for a quick minute before going to hang out with Max. Eddie is sitting at lunch munching on his pretzels, his eyes are focused on you as he watches you laugh at something Robin said while you throw a grape at her.
“So Eddie, what time are we meeting up tonight?”
Eddie’s eyes left your laughing figure and focused on Mike. “What?”
“dude, d&d. What time are we meeting?”
“Oh. Uh,” his eyes drifted towards you once more and he shrugged his shoulders. “Usual time I guess.”
“Are you okay?” Dustin asked him. Eddie saw you waving goodbye to Robin and shot up from his seat ignoring Dustin’s question. He tried catching up to bumping into students here and there. When the hell did you walk so fast?! He grabs onto your hand with a sigh of relief.
“Woah there speedy, where you going to?” he asked in a teasing tone. You give him a sad smile.
“Just wanna get to class before the halls get packed.”
Eddie looked all around him seeing that the hallway was already packed. “Babe, it's high school, halls are always gonna be packed.”
You let out a chuckle and he tilted his head before dragging you into an empty classroom.
“Hey, what's up with you?”
You shook your head refusing to say.
Eddie frowned and placed his hand under your chin making you look at him.
“Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Tears began to form, curse your fragile heart. “Do you love me, Eddie?”
“Of course I do-”
”Then why won't you say it?”
Eddie froze and realized he was put on the spot. His hands began to feel clammy and he rubbed them on the rough material of his jeans.
“Do we have to do this now?” he asked in a hushed tone, looking around the room as if dozens of eyes were in him.
“If not now, then when Eddie? The next six months of our relationship? I can't wait that long.”
His eyes met yours. “What are you saying?”
“I need you to say it, Eddie, please I just need to hear it.” you whimpered out.
The words were on the tip of Eddie's tongue. He wanted to say it, he wanted to scream it even, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it.
You let out a chuckle. “This was stupid.”
“Wait, y/n, please.”
You shook your head, wiping away the years that were streaking down your face. “I gotta head to class. I'm gonna be late, bye Eds.”
-
A week passed and you avoided Eddie like he had the plague. You'd hear his van coming down the street and sneak out of the window of your bedroom. You took different routes to your classes just so you wouldn't have to run into him, and you started going to robin’s to save Steve some gas money for taking you to school.
You walked into family video with your head hung low, hands running along the spines of the VHS cases.
“Jesus, are you okay?” you heard Steve ask. You look up at him in surprise.
“I thought Robin worked today?”
Steve pushed himself off the wall and leaned against the counter. “Nah, I'm covering for her since she saved my ass from Keith last week.”
You let out a soft oh before you hopped onto the counter to have a seat.
“So, what's wrong?” Steve asked.
“Boy problems,” you mumbled while swinging your feet back and forth.
Steve raised his eyebrows and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.
“Munson? Did he do something? Cause if he did I can-”
“Steve, you know I love you, but you don't have the best track record in fighting.”
He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, resting his hands on his hips.
“I'm trying to be a good friend here.”
You giggle at him and mumble out an apology.
“Lay it on me,” he says, resting his back on the counter and looking at you.
“I don't think Eddie loves me.”
Steve let out a snort. “You're joking, right?”
You stay quiet.
“Holy shit, you aren't. What makes you think that?”
You shrugged your shoulders.
“No, no. None of that, talk it out.”
You groan and throw your head back. “We've been dating for six months and he hasn't said it.”
“Do you say it?”
You nodded your head and put your hands on your lap twiddling your fingers.
“I say it all the time! He'll either just smile or say me too.”
Steve nodded his head listening to what you were saying.
“I just, I don't think he loves me.”
Steve cleared his throat, thinking of what to say next. Be sweet Steve. He thought to himself. Your friend is going through something serious.
“You're so stupid.” oops.
You let out a gasp and smack him in the chest. He lets out a laugh and puts his hands in the air surrendering.
“I'm sorry! It's true though.”
“How do you know?”
“I've never seen anybody look at someone the way Eddie Munson looks at you.”
You tilt your head in confusion.
“You really didn't know? Y/n, that man looks at you like you created life itself. I swear if you asked him to give you the sun he'd magically find some way to give it to you.”
You let out a giggle. “Why won't he say it then?”
“Y/n, you gotta remember he's been bullied like, forever. He can probably show regular emotions with no problem but being vulnerable is way different.”
You let the words Steve says sink in as you put your face in your hands. “I'm an idiot.”
Steve chuckles and removes your hands from your face.
“Yes but you're a pretty one, now go get ‘em, tiger.”
You hop off the counter but not before hugging Steve and telling him thank you. Steve waves goodbye as you run out the door and in the direction of Eddie's trailer.
“3…2…1…”
“Hey, can you drive me?”
-
You thank Steve once again before running out of the car towards the trailer. You smack on the door with both hands frantically. You hear a muffled Jesus okay! Give me a fucking second! Before the door swings open and you're greeted with Eddie's irritated face. Irritation leaves him once he realizes it's you. He stands straight and clears his throat.
“Hey.”
“Can I come in?”
He steps to the side letting you in the trailer. He gently shuts the door and means against it, his hands behind his back, his fingers gently tapping on the door.
“I'm sorry.” you rushed out. He widened his eyes a bit and watched as you began to pace the room.
“I know you love me, you're the best boyfriend I've ever had and you treat me like a fucking princess. I didn't even think of how hard it could be for you to be vulnerable. That was so selfish of me because you show me you love me by wanting to spend every day with me, and by sneaking into my room when you know that my parents could kill you.”
Eddie opens his mouth trying to say something but you're too busy lost in your own world.
“I'm so sorry for avoiding you Eddie, I was just lost in my own head and I thought things would be easier if I just avoided you.” tears were streaming down your face, and your pacing stopped. “I had to get help from Steve, but he was surprisingly helpful. Don't tell him I said that I don't need him getting cocky-”
“I love you.”
Silence fell over the both of you as you tried to register what he said.
“I'm sorry, what?”
Time seemed to slow down for both of you. Eddie was taking steps toward you, both of your hearts were beating out of your chest. He grabs your face and his thumbs rub your cheeks gently.
“I love you.”
You stood in silence from shock, but also guilt. Does he really mean this or have you manipulated him into saying it because he thinks you're breaking up? You don't want him to feel forced to say it, you wanted him to say it on his own, but you also begged him to hear the words. Now here you are, hearing the words but you're frozen with tears in your eyes.
“Say something, sweetheart I'm kinda putting my heart on the line here,” Eddie says with a nervous chuckle.
“Do you mean it? You're not just saying it cause you think we're breaking up?”
“We are never breaking up,” he says in a serious tone causing you to giggle. “and of course I mean it.”
“You don't feel forced?”
Eddie shakes his head and wraps you in his arms for a hug. Tears are streaming down your face and you're not even trying to hide them anymore, if Eddie can be vulnerable then so can you.
“I don't want you to feel forced Eddie, I want you to say it when you're ready, I'm so sorry for rushing you-”
Eddie cuts you off by kissing you. His lips are soft against yours and the way he's holding you lets you know that you're never allowed to avoid him like that again.
“You talk too much,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. You gently smack his chest causing him to let out a soft chuckle. “You didn't force me into saying it or rush me for that matter.”
He pulls away slightly to look at you, eyes soft and full of love.
“I know that you know that I love you, like you said I show you that everyday.” he took a deep breath and gave you a sad smile. “but this whole week I felt so miserable not hearing you say those three words.”
You sniffled. “It could've been because I was avoiding you.”
Eddie shook his head. “I was giving you your space, trust me sweetheart you're never going to get rid of me.”
You let out a sad giggle as he gently wipes your tears away. The nerves found their way back to your body as you looked at Eddie.
“Do you really mean it?”
“What, you want me to shout it from the rooftops? Cause I will find a way to climb to the top of this trailer right now. Hell, I'll climb onto the roof of the town hall and scream it.”
You wrap your arms around him, bringing him for a tight hug. You don't know how you let your brain convince you that Eddie didn't love you. Your heart swelled at the words he was telling you, and you think back to what Steve was telling you.
“What if I wanted the sun?”
Eddie pulls away, placing a kiss on your forehead, then both of your cheeks.
Request: i’d die for eddie cuddling reader when they can’t sleep (i have the worst insomnia lol)
A/N: Thank you for requesting! (It takes me ages to fall asleep as well lol so I know the feeling.) I actually really enjoyed writing this, it was really cute. It did end up being shorter than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy! If you do, keep in mind that my requests are open!
Warnings: none
Word Count: 436
»»————- ♡ ————-««
With a sigh, you turned over for what felt like the hundredth time since you’d laid down a few hours prior. As an insomniac, the experience wasn’t exactly uncommon - just incredibly unwelcome. You turned your head, checking the clock which read 3:26 in big bright red letters. Huffing out another exasperated breath, you turned again, this time facing the other figure in the bed, who, unlike yourself, had fallen asleep hours ago.
For as long as you’d been staying over at his trailer, Eddie had never had any trouble falling asleep quickly. He knew about your sleeping problems, sure, and he always vowed to stay up and try to help you fall asleep to no avail. But sometimes, like tonight, you’d see him stir in his sleep from one too many movements on your behalf. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple times before noticing your soft e/c eyes watching him.
“Can’t sleep?” He murmured softly, sleep still lacing his voice as he tried desperately to wake himself up a bit more for your sake. You nodded, knowing you didn’t have to explain yourself. He just understood.
Without a word, he lifted his arm towards you, gesturing for you to come closer. You flipped yourself around and shifted closer, your back pressed against his chest, letting him be the big spoon tonight. He let his arm drop once you were situated, resting it across your waist and letting his other arm snake around your chest, pulling you closely against him. You felt him bury his face in your hair, his light breaths tickling the back of your neck and making you giggle, which in turn, made a lazy smile grace his lips.
You were so grateful for Eddie. You both knew the only way you could get to sleep at this point was if you were in his arms, and him being the fidgety person he was, he never stayed in one position very long whilst sleeping. However, for you, he was willing to lay in the same way for hours just to let you get a little bit of sleep.
You heard him yawn from behind you, and you knew he was barely keeping his eyes open, but he was trying for you. As your eyes finally began to droop, you felt him place a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a barely audible “I love you.”
“Mmm, love you too,” you whispered back, nestling your body back into his and finally allowing yourself to drift off into a peaceful slumber with the love of your life beside you.
pairing: tasm!peter x single mom!reader (both are twenty-two)
word count: 2.7k
genre: angst (not really), fluff
summary: Raising a child on your own hadn't been easy, especially when going to school and working constantly. You had never thought of putting your own feelings ahead of your son, but maybe this time, accepting a new boy into your life would be good.
warnings: mentions of bad relationship, depiction of possible injury/death, "improper" speaking (its a child), pining, domestic peter
notes: this chapter is completely edited and re-edited but there definitely could be some mistakes so just dont mind it. i hope you enjoy!
part one | part two
New York was a beautiful city, despite the constant honking, sirens ripping up and down the busy roads, street corners that smelt like rancid piss and the clothed mascots that pretty much harassed you for money. Despite all of this, New York was home.
The city was especially beautiful in the Autumn, when streets turned into seas of orange and yellow, the food stands that brought out cheap hot chocolate, and the nights that let you sleep peacefully. It was your favourite time of the year, not just because of the beauty that surrounded you, but because of the things you got to experience; carving pumpkins, dressing up for halloween, trick or treating. Of course, you were in your early twenties, so you weren’t experiencing this all for your own sake, but for your son, Cooper.
You had gotten pregnant in your junior year of high school by your boyfriend, someone you had been with since freshman year. Because of that, it was a complete surprise when he broke up with you immediately, ranting and raving on how he didn’t want to be with you anymore, refusing that it was his child. Even though it most definitely, definitely, was. So, you grew up, took it into your own hands and made a life for yourself. You gave birth to your son during the beginning of senior year, leading you to continue school online. With the help of your family and friends, you raised your son while also managing to go to college for nursing.
Your son was now five years old and you were in your fourth year of med school. You were living with two of your friends, wanting that bit of freedom from your parents while also having stability. You worked at a bakery down the road from your apartment, making it easy to go back and forth in case Cooper needed you while being babysat.
Luckily, you had the day off today and didn’t have any classes, which meant that you could take Cooper around the city as you did every time you had a day off. It was a happily accepted routine between the two of you. His tiny hand was holding onto your index finger as you both walked through Central Park, dressed in long coats and wool hats. You looked like an adorable pair.
“You liking school so far?” You asked, glancing down at the small boy whose head just lined up with your hip. You smiled every time you looked at your boy, the warmth and love you felt for him was indescribable. He was the one person you could never live without.
It was his first year in school, and it had rocked you to your core to watch your little boy strut through those doors with an excited smile on his face. It wasn’t that you wanted him to miss you, but you thought he might at least shed a tear.
The doe eyed boy looked up at you with a smile, the gaps between his teeth present due to losing a few over the summer, “Yeah! Ms. Denny is real nice.” He said in a hushed tone, as though the compliment should be kept a secret, “Can we get her a present for Christmas? I think she would like that.”
You crouched down, coming face to face with the boy. You placed your free hand on the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Of course buddy, we’ll get her some chocolate, okay?” You reasoned, earning a bright smile and eager nod, “Good idea.”
You had done your best to raise your son to be a kind and caring human. You wanted him to be confident while also taking other people into consideration. It had worked fairly well.
Cooper’s eyes immediately shifted to something behind you, “Mom.” He spoke with a shaky breath, pointing over your shoulder.
You whipped your head over your shoulder and immediately recognized what he was looking at. One of the many trees in Central Park was falling, and it was tumbling faster by the second. Without having a moment to think, you wrapped your arms around Cooper’s tiny frame, pulling him to your chest and cradling him while curling into a ball, hovered over your son.
Your eyes were closed tightly, hoping that you could wish away the moment. You didn’t know what else to do besides block Cooper from the tree with your own body, so that’s what you did.
What felt like an hour passed, more like a few seconds, and when you didn’t hear or feel the tree crash around you, a voice gained your attention from behind you, “Ma’am, you alright?” You looked over your shoulder to see the one and only spandex clad superhero, red and blue spread along his figure, “Ma’am?”
Spider-Man was standing there, holding up the large tree above you casually. His eyes squinted a bit, as if examining whether or not you were okay
The situation at hand quickly became evident and you looked back to Cooper, pulling back enough to see him clearly, your hands smoothing over his cheeks, “Coop, you okay baby?” You questioned quickly, watching as the boy opened his eyes and looked up at you, “Oh god, you’re not hurt or anything?”
Cooper wrapped his arms around your neck, hugging you tightly, “So scary.” His sniffled, his little hands gripping at the strands of hair that stuck out of your hat.
You took a deep breath, maybe feeling a bit too relieved that your boy was hugging you tighter than he ever had, but you simply stood up with his legs latched around your waist. You turned, watching as Spider-Man used his webs to hold the tree to its trunk, “Thank you.” You called out to him.
The man looked over to you, taking a few goofy steps over to you once he noticed the boy in your arms, “Hey little man! You alright?” He questioned, causing Cooper to sit up in your arms, looking at the superhero with wide eyes, “I’m Spider-Man.”
Cooper gasped and looked at you for a moment before his gaze settled on the disguised man in front of you both, “Spider-Man! You saved my mom!” He exclaimed, prompting your heart to ache at his words.
You could see Spider-Man smile wide under his mask, placing his hands on his hips as he came closer to the boy, “No, you did that all on your own,” He began, earning a confused look from your son, “You held her so tight that I was able to catch that tree, right? You protected your mom. You’re on your way to being a hero.”
Cooper giggled a bit and shyly nuzzled your cheek, his warm breath brushing past your skin, “What do you say to Mr. Spider-Man, Cooper?” You asked, nodding to the red and blue blur in front of you both.
“Thank you Mr. Spider-Man.” Cooper responded, holding out his hand for a high five.
Spider-Man accepted, giving the boy a gentle high five, “Mind if I walk you and your mom home? Just to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble.” He suggested, looking at you while he said this.
You could feel his gaze on you but you kept your eyes on Cooper, watching how his expression brightened at every word, his obsession with Spider-Man surely beginning in this moment.
Cooper nodded and laughed happily, his voice raising a few octaves, “Yeah! Can I ask you ‘bout your web thingies?” He questioned, reaching out for the superhero's hand.
Laughs slipped past both yours and Spider-Man’s lips, your gazes catching on each other, “Sure! I can give you a piggyback too if you want? I’m really awesome at piggy backs.” His voice was so soft and gentle.
You had never had anyone act like this with Cooper, at least not anyone who was a stranger. You knew it would be good for him, to see that people could be good.
“Yes please! Mom, can I?” Cooper questioned, immediately looking to you for approval, “Please? It’s Spider-Man!”
You kissed your son's cheek and smiled, “Okay, just hold on tight, I don’t need you falling.” You responded and set Cooper down on the orange ground, watching as Spider-Man crouched down and Cooper climbed on, “Oh Coop wait, your hat.”
You walked over, coming face to face with Spider-Man as he stood. You smiled politely before reaching up, fixing the hat that was slowly sliding up Cooper’s head, pulling it back down, “Thanks mommy.”
You nodded and stepped back, slowly beginning in the direction of your home. You slipped comfortably into staying silent while listening to Cooper chat Spider-Man's ear off. Questions like ‘but where do they comes from?’, ‘have you ever gotten stuck in thems?’, ‘can you shoot thems out of your butt?’ taking home in the columns of your ears. It was nice to hear Cooper become so interested in something, and it was weird to know that it was Spider-Man answering every question the bright boy asked.
About a block away from your apartment, where the sky had darkened a bit into the evening, the male next to you spoke up, “I think he’s asleep,” You whipped your head around and smiled at the sight. The side of Cooper’s face was smushed against the top of Spider-Man’s head, his shoulders slumped and his eyes closed tightly, “is he?”
Cooper had managed to convince the superhero to put him on his shoulders halfway through your walk, wanting to see the road ahead.
You laughed softly and nodded, lifting a hand from the pocket of your jacket to carefully stroke your son’s cheek while you continued to walk, “Yeah, he’s gone.” You informed the man next to you, “Thank you for walking us home, I appreciate it.”
He nodded, “Well, I knew I had to get you back to your husband in one piece.” He assumed, his eyes moving back in front of you.
The orange glow from the sky and the streetlamps considerably changed the colour of Spider-Man’s spandex, warming up the blue so it looked almost brown.
Your eyes furrowed and you pulled your left hand out of your pocket now, holding it up, “No husband. His dad left before he was born, I just live with my friends. Auntie Jen and Auntie Kate,” You mimicked Cooper’s voice, “Just us two, for now. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I could have just stopped at ‘no husband’ but my mouth likes to move faster than my brain sometimes…”
Spider-Man turned his head and watched as you gazed down at the concrete under your feet, “I’m sorry he left. He’s missing out on a great kid.” He offered, a small smile taking over underneath his mask, “You did a really good job. You’re doing a really good job.”
You couldn’t help but feel your eyes water a bit at that. You had heard the words said by your family countless times over the years, and you relished in the pride they exhibited for you, but it was always different when those words came from a stranger. They had never seen the challenges you went through to keep Cooper happy and healthy, to make sure he had everything he needed, to show him he was loved. All they saw was the bare minimum, at least in your eyes.
You cleared your throat and pushed the tears away, looking to your side at the red and blue clad man, “Thank you. It means a lot.”
He nodded, “The kid clearly loves you, admires you.” He noted, his hands squeezing around the young boy's knees slightly, “Trust me, he will always appreciate the things you’ve done for him.”
“I know.” You spoke quietly and slowed your steps as you neared your apartment, “We’re right here.” You pointed to the red door with the golden number ‘15’.
Spider-Man nodded, “Want me to bring him in?” He questioned, gesturing to the steep steps that led to your door.
You let out a sigh of relief and nodded, “God, please? He hasn’t been sleeping well the past few nights, I really don’t want to wake him up.” You explained and pulled your keys out of your pocket, walking up the stairs and inserting the keys into the lock.
Once the door clicked, you opened in and let the masked man in, quietly shutting the door and leading him up the stairs. You opened the door to yours and Cooper’s room.
It was clearly the master bedroom, large and with a connecting bathroom. New York apartments were expensive, which meant it was cheaper for you and Cooper to share a bedroom. Your double bed was pushed up against the left wall while Cooper’s small bed was pushed up against the right, a large dresser separating you both.
“Sorry for the mess.” You apologized as if you were welcoming a date into your home, picking up a few scattered articles of clothing and throwing them to the hamper in the corner of your room, “Here, just put him on his bed.”
Spider-Man walked towards the race car bed and smiled fondly while carefully setting the boy on the bed. He plucked the wool hat off and unzipped his jacket before immediately pulling his hands back, “Sorry, is that weird?”
You looked at him puzzled for a moment before shaking your head, “No, no, I need all the help I can get. Just leave his pyjamas to me.” You suggested before shrugging off your jacket, throwing it onto your bed and removing your hat, “I have to get him water.”
“Do you want me to?” The male asked from where he was crouched next to the small bed, dark blue jacket in his hands, folding it slightly.
You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth before nodding, “Yes, yeah. He needs an ice cube in it though because if it’s not cold when he wakes up in the middle of the night then he’ll try to get some himself so he doesn’t have to wake me up and then he’ll make a mess and get super upset so just…make sure there’s an ice cube.” Your rambling caused you to gently chew on your thumbnail, watching while Spider-Man got up and held up two thumbs.
“One ice cube, I got it.” He confirmed before leaving the room, quietly making his way downstairs.
You picked some dinosaur themed pyjamas out of the dresser before walking over to Cooper. You changed him out of his jeans and sweater before slipping the cotton material on. You smiled, brushing his hair out of his face, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” You softly sung the familiar lullaby that had become commonplace in your life while tucking Cooper in.
“Got the water.” The male spoke while walking over to you, setting the cup down on the dresser, “It’s super cold water, with an ice cube, in a power rangers cup because I saw it and definitely thought he deserved to use that one tonight.”
You looked over from where you sat on the carpeted floor, one hand on Cooper’s stomach while Spider-Man took a seat next to you, “You would be a really good dad.” You mentioned, nodding your head, “I really think you would be.”
The compliment earned a nod from the hero, “Well, you are a really good mom.” He quipped, nudging your shoulder gently with his own, “I should probably go though.”
You breathed deep and attempted to hide your frown, “Okay.” You said and stood up with him, walking behind him to your window, “Stay safe yeah? I think Cooper would be devastated to see his new hero get hurt.”
“Oh Cooper would? Mhm, I’ll make sure to stay safe for Cooper.” Spider-Man teased before opening your window, straddling the window sill while looking up at you, “I’ll keep an eye out for you two, just letting you know in case you see me around.”
You smiled and shrugged, “Don’t be afraid to pop by, I’ll be sure to have some donuts with me next time.”
The eyes of his mask widened, “Oh, you treat me too well, Cooper's mom.” He laughed and started to crawl out of the window, sticking to the side of the brick building.
You stuck your head out, watching him descend, “Y/N!” You began and then giggled, “My name's Y/N!”
Spider-Man laughed and let out a hum, “I think ‘Cooper’s Mom’ has a better ring to it though, don’t you?” He teased, crawling down the side of the building, “I’ll be over for donuts!”
gonna be posting the first part to the tasm!peter x single mom!reader tomorrow. the second part will not st all take long to come out, at most it’ll be a day or two
summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]
warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes.
"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart."
"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.
"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.
He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying.
"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves?
He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up.
"Mommy.” Her breath quivers.
"Don't cry," he says very gently.
It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely.
"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?"
"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry.
Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap.
He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers.
Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting.
Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.
She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.
She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned.
He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close.
The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws.
"What's your name?" he asks.
She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased.
"I'm Eddie."
"Dee," she says.
"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is.
She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair.
He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open.
"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"
You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly.
Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks.
You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling.
You're really fucking pretty.
Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps."
You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up.
She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.
"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest.
The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features.
"I'm only three down," he says.
"Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.
Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile.
Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat.
"She did? She said that?"
"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.
Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet.
He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression.
"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…"
"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination."
"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."
"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker."
You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound.
"I can see where she gets it."
As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out.
Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general."
The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?"
"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels.
"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."
"Junie," he repeats, surprised.
You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?"
He follows you up the steps and through the back door.
"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder.
He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks.
You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly.
"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.
You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?"
Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again.
You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…"
"I'm an oatmeal fiend."
You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar."
He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me."
Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?"
She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble."
"She likes you."
"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.
You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop.
"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation."
"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water.
Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."
Junie looks like she agrees.
"For sure, but.. not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively.
He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel."
He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall.
Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant.
Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it.
"You got a job?"
"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"
"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl."
"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles.
"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it."
Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.
"She really likes you," you say, closer now.
You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off.
You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you."
"Why thank you," he drawls.
He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls.
"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.
He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie.
He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?"
"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries."
He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips.
"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate.
You blink. "What?"
"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip.
"Salt. Sometimes raisins."
You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?"
You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"
"Blue," Junie says.
You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants.
Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?"
He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.
"What's after?"
"Music."
Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?"
"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist."
"And you're in a band?"
"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to."
"At the Hideout?"
"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie.
He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is.
He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room.
Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good.
You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.
You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her."
"Smart Junie."
The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.
Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly.
Junie takes the bottle and shakes it.
It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale.
"Thanks, junebug."
"Tanks," Junie says.
"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie."
Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice.
Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his.
"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident.
He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it."
"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?"
You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette.
"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.
"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it.
He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different.
Baby's want love. Care and affection.
And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently.
Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness.
"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her.
In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming.
"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks.
"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils."
Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment.
You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.
"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic."
You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily.
"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks.
Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.
"I don't really like bananas," you say.
Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.
"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold."
Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home.
You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else.
Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows.
Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out."
You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth."
"I'm sure."
He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger
More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.
You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.
It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt.
It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress.
"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door.
"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels.
The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.
"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.
Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry.
He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour.
Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.
He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it.
"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.
"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that."
"And have the precious little lady starve?"
"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone.
"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers.
She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more.
You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.
"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes.
"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?"
"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness."
He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender.
She pouts.
"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again."
You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning.
"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work."
Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.
"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."
You blink. "That's okay."
"It was sick to meet you," he says.
You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.
He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt."
"You could?"
"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes."
"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you."
He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?"
It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?"
"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain.
You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie."
"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.
"Bye!" Junie calls back.
You both grin.
-
You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted.
You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back.
"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.
You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist.
Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath.
Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow?
Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel.
"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.
Somebody knocks the door.
You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours.
"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?"
You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos.
"Hi," you say.
"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?"
"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell.
He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.
It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer.
"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction.
Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic.
You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately.
"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names.
Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"
The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms.
You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat.
Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes.
Eddie visibly softens.
It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.
He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hi," Junie says.
She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls..
Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face.
"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe.
He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy."
You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week."
He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing."
"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better.
"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically.
You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate.
"You okay?" Eddie asks.
You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me."
"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?"
It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door.
"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning.
He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out."
You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.
You're in dire need of one of those.
"What was wrong with the little lady?"
You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm.
Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think."
"A little." You smile ruefully.
He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says.
It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him.
“Woah,” you say.
Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits.
"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"What do they all do?" you ask.
"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk."
Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons.
"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all.
"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school."
You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work.
"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day.
"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?"
He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?"
"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly.
"Got a pencil?"
You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in.
Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.
"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper."
She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed.
"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas."
"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks.
A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to."
Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it.
"Please don't ruin the door."
A wolfish smile. "No promises."
You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.
You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams.
You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.
She's excited.
"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?"
Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill.
Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big."
Junie reaches up for the drill again.
"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands."
Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent.
Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!"
Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans.
"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?"
He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?"
"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness.
Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know."
You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it.
Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.
When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh.
"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed."
You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet.
You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight.
"I like your tattoos," you say.
Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?"
"I- I like your tattoos."
He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room.
"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you.
"They're cool. Have you had them long?"
Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door.
Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud.
He pulls open the door. Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free.
It’s solid.
He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces.
"Sorry," he whispers.
You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you."
If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated.
"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-
"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me."
You beam.
Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease.
"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say.
He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll."
You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist.
"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning."
"Sh, you'll wake the baby."
You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese."
"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity.
You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself.
With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty.
You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines.
Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage.
Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.
"Hi?" you whisper.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can."
You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric.
You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table.
You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl. "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero."
"Thanks, sweetheart."
The fatigue ebbs a little.
Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.
-
It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite.
"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?"
Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together.
"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it.
"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer.
"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded.
"Peroni."
"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand.
"Pepper."
"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it."
Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?
"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening.
You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited.
"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar.
"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?"
She babbles.
"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours.
You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.
You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good."
"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?"
You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up."
"Uh-huh. How's work?"
"What?"
"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods.
"You're asking me about work?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Nobody ever asks about work," you say.
You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers.
"Sorry," you mutter.
Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking."
He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.
"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic.
"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly."
"She's like a magic item."
"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."
"Are they all terrible?"
"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this."
"I asked. And I get it."
"I don't want him to feel sorry for me."
"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?"
"No, I know, I just-"
Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips."
Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly.
"I know."
Junie puts her hand on your cheek.
You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur.
"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned.
"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.
"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff."
"I couldn't-"
"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck.
Junie starts clapping her hands together.
"I think she's decided," you say.
-
You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.
You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles.
"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear."
"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm.
"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says.
You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing.
"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly.
"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile.
"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles."
"Stickles," she says.
"She couldn't when I got them," you amend.
He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says.
He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently.
"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it."
His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing.
"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?"
You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist.
She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck.
"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back.
"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.
"Eddie, that's too much for her."
"She's a growing girl."
"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one."
"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap.
You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”
She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms.
“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.
She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible.
Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks.
You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish.
He stands up.
You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands.
“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to.
“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”
“What?”
“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily.
He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess.
You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn.
He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well.
You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it.
The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?
It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating.
-
Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly.
You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself.
Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair.
Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve.
Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water.
"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat."
"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water.
Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles.
You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun.
She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly.
"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness.
She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face.
"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-"
He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?"
She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch.
You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"
Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?"
"Have you always had long hair?"
He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.
You smile encouragingly.
He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet."
"I love your hair," you say.
Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?"
Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble.
You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on.
You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this."
"But?"
You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?"
"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed.
You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully.
"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask.
"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"
You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to."
He goes quiet.
"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-"
"Would you do it now?"
You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?"
"I'm in dire need."
He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to.
You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall."
"I could go home, come back?" he suggests.
"I can do it over the sink?"
-
Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury.
And it does feel luxurious.
It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam.
But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that."
You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to."
That was that.
Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.
Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs.
"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long."
"Can’t do it?" he teases.
"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse."
It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away.
It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands.
You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning."
He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite.
"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you."
"My hero."
You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom.
Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.
One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too.
"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him.
"Nothing," he says quickly.
You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while."
He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours."
"I guess we do sound the same."
You do, but it's not really what he'd meant.
The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen.
Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end.
"I'm gonna do that much, okay?"
You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing.
You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.
You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close.
You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.
"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly.
"If you please."
You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath.
You draw closer, as close as you can be.
"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask.
"Zits, mostly."
He can feel your laugh under his hand.
"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick."
"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly.
"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know."
He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?"
"Mostly."
"What was the worst part?"
"Being scared all the time."
He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?"
"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie."
He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise.
"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?"
"Did it work out perfect?"
You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part.
He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?"
"Yeah, by myself."
"I'm sorry."
You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up."
You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?"
"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about."
"How old were you?" he asks.
"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"
"I wanna know about you."
You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her."
He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."
You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under.
"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke.
"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television."
"Yeah?"
Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out.
A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.
"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?"
You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs.
"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands.
Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him.
As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room.
You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have."
"And you had me?"
"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to.
Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh.
He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself.
His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you."
Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist.
He tickles her until she's screaming.
You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it."
"No, you're okay."
Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap.
"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?"
"I don't think that," you say.
"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues, "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?"
"Sleep," you say.
"Well, I can't help you there."
"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday."
"Food coma," he says knowledgeably.
"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably."
He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.
"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me."
You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"
"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself."
"It's my house."
"If you don't let me-"
"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner."
"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping.
"No you're not."
"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza."
"I'm not gonna let you use the phone."
"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here."
"Eddie-"
"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks.
"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest.
Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you.
He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised.
Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt.
Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in.
He holds the bottle in front of her face.
She finally looks up with a pout.
"For you," he says, offering the water.
She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there.
You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home."
You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion.
"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter.
"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper.
He didn't know. "Really? I love that."
You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."
"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well."
"Yeah?"
Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you.
"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave."
"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest."
"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly.
"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask.
"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer."
"What about me?"
"What, would you be a hero?"
You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you.
"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival."
"I don't know what that means," you say.
He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist.
"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines."
"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.
Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own.
"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze.
Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down."
He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse.
"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell.
"Goodnight, Eddie," you say.
He waves. You're both too tired to wave back.
He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.
"Hey."
"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff.
"Junie's mom did it for me."
"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.
Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door.
Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls.
"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back.
"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush.
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