hi ! i’m sammi (she/her/hers) and i’m 25. i’m a queer (amateur) writer and avid fanfic reader. my account has been up for years but i was never able to push myself to post at all. i figure now’s as good a time as any.
some of my favorite things include, books, lattes (iced or hot), doing my nails, writing, reading, and watching movies.
i hope you can find some enjoyment from the things i write, or the thoughts i have :)))
you’re more than welcome to ask me anything or if you just have anything you’d like to say. i hope you decide to stick around <3
Hello! After having recently discovered your works, I had the time of my life using your dividers🩷
If this isn't too similar of a theme to your previous dividers, may I request for dividers that have a cottage witch vibe? Moss, stained glass, potions bottles, rocks, and the like?
Cottage witchcore
This was bringing me back to my lockdown witchcraft era hahaha had me lighting candles and incense around the house haha
summary: your annoyingly charming roommate who you definitely do not, under any circumstances, have feelings for; and a midnight kiss.
cw: mentions of Eddie being a ho, cringe nicknames to jokingly patronize reader, mentions of sex but no real details, kissing (not in this part), both Eddie and reader beating around the bush and refusing to own up, date with someone other than Eddie (also not in this part), angsty-ish (?), they find their way to each other eventually.
word count: 5.6k
a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for probably around 7 or 8 months and i really want to complete it, and i think the only way for me to do that is to post it in parts.
Sunday was reset day. Like a week had 7 days and a day had 24 hours, Sunday was always reset day. Groceries from the market around the corner, a load or two of laundry while you vacuum the carpet, ending with a cleaning and wipe down of your bathroom. It was like a ritual, something to summon in a new week full of fresh starts and good energy.
At least it would if it weren't for your roommate, Eddie. If it were up to you, you wouldn't have a roommate in the first place. But between bills for the apartment and tuition, money wasn't exactly dispensable. Even after saving for nearly three years right out of high school. So the small two bedroom apartment, that had walls thinner than paper, was the best you could do for the time being. And a roommate wasn't something you could get around either. So when your friend Robin said she knew a guy who needed a place, and promised that he was employed and would pay his half of the rent on time, you agreed to have him over to assess the apartment.
Within a blink of an eye, Eddie Munson had been your roommate for nearly a year. The two of you couldn't have been more opposite; unless you lived on different poles of the earth. He was chaotic, scatter brained, and never knew when to be quiet. You, on the other hand, were organized and meticulous. Always trying to keep things on the right track in fear of it all falling apart. Hence the desperate need for a roommate. If you could stick it out for just the two years of community college, get your associates degree, and be able to save enough money to transfer to university, you'd succeed.
Eddie had decided to not go back to school. After the shitshow that was high school and the last nearly two and a half years of healing, he thought he owed it to himself to try and pursue his actual passions. Which of course involved late night gigs at any shitty bar him and his band could get a spot at. He was able to score a bussing job at a dive that was close to Hawkins Community, working his way up to bartending throughout the year. It wasn't paying him millions, but it was enough to cover his half of the rent and keep him fed for the time being. Even giving him enough to occasionally slide some over Wayne, just so the old man didn't have to worry himself into an early grave over bills. He'd promised you that living with him would be a breeze. That because of the nightly nature of his job, you'd have the place to yourself most nights, and he was basically nocturnal anyways. Which was true for the most part.
Except for when he had his days off. More times than one time he had invited all of his band mates and even his younger friends to your apartment without letting you know. Leaving for some awkward moments between you and the rest of his friends.
You were humming softly as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, running a brush through your hair while using the blow dryer on it. The small radio on the shelf blasting as loud as you could get it to, wanting it louder than the annoying whirring of the blow dryer in your ear. All of the noise is so loud, you don't even hear the bathroom door open beside you. It isn't until you hear a high pitched scream that you quickly turn off the blow dryer and turn whip your head around.
"What the hell?!?!" You shout, seeing a younger curly headed kid standing there wide eyed as he stares at you.
"I'M SO SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!" The kid practically screams the apology, immediately shielding his eyes with his hands as he stands there.
"Woah woah woah, what's going on?" You hear your roommates voice as he comes quickly down the hallway. The rest of his friends follow behind him to see why the younger boy is shouting.
"Looking a little frizzy there, sweetheart." Eddie smirks when he sees your half dried hair, the group of boys behind him snickering as they all watch.
"You know, you could've let me know you were having people over?" You snark at him, wrapping your robe tighter around yourself to save some of your dignity.
"Oh, right. Is it cool if I have the guys over to practice a few new songs? Thanks, you're a doll. Cute bra by the way." He teases you even more while his friends continue to laugh.
"Ugh, get out! GET OUT!" You grab whatever is closest to you and throw it in his direction. A spray bottle flying past Eddie's head as he barely dodges it. Before he or any of them can make anymore snide comments, you slam the bathroom door in their faces and lock it.
Regardless of the awkward interactions with his friends, Eddie could be a nuisance all on his own. Leaving his leather jacket thrown on the ground by the couch after coming in from a shift, walking around in only his towel after a shower while dripping water everywhere, and playing his music entirely too loud. A few times you'd been on the receiving end of your neighbors rants about how loud it could be, profusely apologizing for the noise you didn't even cause.
The newest and most irritating trait he had picked up was his newfound infatuation with women. Eddie had always been someone who appreciated women, he'd had a good handful of crushes growing up. There was Tiffany Kemp back in grade school, she always wore her strawberry blonde hair in pigtails and smelled like a birthday cake had thrown up on her. Vanessa Anderson in sixth grade, she would bring everyone a homemade birthday card on their birthdays, even Eddie. Because of him becoming the resident dealer in high school, there were a few girls that would bat their eyelashes and try their hand at flirting for a little something extra, but Eddie wasn't like that. He was a dealer, but that didn't automatically make him a creep.
Now that he had moved his way up to the bartender position at his job, he was slowly coming to realize that there were girls out there that actually liked whatever it was he had going on. Girls who liked the long haired, leather wearing, metalhead persona. And maybe, perhaps, may-haps, he was living out a fantasy he had only ever dared to think about in his mind. Where a beautiful girl actually wanted to spend the night with him. For years he'd spent very lonely nights with his left hand, flipping through pages of old Playboys and Vampirella comics, occasionally renting a video from behind the curtain at video stores. But every once in awhile, even back then, when the stars and planets all aligned, he'd actually get lucky. It wasn't as if he had a smorgasbord of girls crawling their way into his bed, so his options had been limited. All the scarring he had coasting along the sides of his abdomen had been enough to make him want to hide away forever. Only now, about three years after the whole almost succumbing to demon bat creatures, was he gaining the confidence he lost while being used as a chew toy.
Back in high school he was older than most of his peers, and younger girls weren't necessarily something he was willing to take a risk on. Dealing was already enough to keep him on the radar of the small town cops, he didn't need questioning from any parents about their oh so innocent daughters going around with him. So he lost his virginity to an older single mom that lived a ways down at the trailer park. He'd helped work on her car while she kept him company, and she was nice enough. It was good. As good as a completely inexperienced 19 year old could get. Which seemed like heaven at the time. But now that he was gaining more experience, he was finding it easier and easier to flirt his way into bed.
It hasn't bothered you much. You really could look past it, if it weren't for how loud it all was. Sometimes, when you have to lay in your own bed and try to force yourself to sleep, it felt like he was doing it on purpose. The loud consistent banging of his headboard against your wall, each girl and their screams of pleasure, and all of his stupid encouraging grunts and growls. Most of those nights were spent with a set of headphones over your ears and a pillow covering your head, just so you were able to drown the noise out, and sometimes not even that did it. More times than one, you had resulted in banging your hand on the wall hard enough to get him and whoever was with him to quiet down.
All in all, Eddie was a distraction. A loud, obnoxious, annoyingly handsome distraction. It's not like you were blind. It was clear to see why he was beginning to garner so much more female attention. Decently tall, a kind smile that made his gorgeous eyes sparkle, tattoos that littered his skin, and despite the deceivingly dangerous aura, he was always funny and kind.
You found that on the rare occasions where you both were home alone, the two of you seemed to gravitate more and more to each other. Eating late breakfasts together in the early afternoon, once you both managed to drag yourselves out of your respective beds. Leading to lazily lounging around the apartment together while you probably caught up on your most current book, and he jotted down new ideas for a song he was working on or notes for any upcoming campaigns. Usually the day ends in long conversations about your week, late night take out, and watching reruns of Charlie's Angels or The Golden Girls.
Eddie looked forward to those days together. He liked getting to view you in a more domestic light. You were always so conclusive and practiced, he was surprised you hadn't had any type of mental breakdown with the way you run yourself rampant. He loved to watch you unwind and finally take a breath away from all your responsibilities. Doing his best to make you laugh with any stupid joke or ridiculous story he had from the bar. Watching as the tension in your body seemed to deflate as the day went on. Eddie liked knowing he was probably one of the only people who ever got to see you this way. Relaxed and unguarded. It made something in his chest melt in a way he was always trying to avoid.
There was something about you that made him feel so warm and mushy that he had to keep reminding himself to get it together. Constantly telling himself that you were far out of his league. Far too smart for him and sometimes your own good. But he liked having a cute face to come home to, the two of you like ships passing in the night most often. Him coming in early mornings from the bar and you just getting up to go to work or get to a class. His favorite times being the ones where he gets to come home early enough to find you at your desk in your bedroom, nose buried in a barrage of textbooks while you scribble notes with one hand and flip the pages of the other. Which is exactly how he found you on this Sunday night.
"Honey, I'm home!" He announced from your bedroom doorway, after taking only less than three minutes to watch you scribble in silence.
"Hello, Edward." You jump at the sound of his voice, too lost in your work to even notice his set of amber eyes boring into the back of your skull.
"How's my favorite little scholar doing? Working hard or hardly working?" He continues with his teases as he enters your room, half sitting on the only spot of your desk that isn't covered in loose paper.
"Considering I've got a final that's worth 80 percent of my grade in two days, I'd say I'm currently draining all of my brain power." You take the moment to put the highlighter and pen down to look at him, your vision somewhat fuzzy from how long you'd been staring at text on the page.
"Then what? You're off for break?" He questions, crossing his arms over his chest while he watches you spin side to side in your chair.
"Yup, get about a month off for Christmas break before the next semester." You nod, sighing at just the idea of a break that long.
"But you'll be done in time for the party, right?"
Every year some of your overlapping friend groups decide to get together for the holiday's. This year the get together was going to be on New Years Eve. Usually it was just a gift exchange, some food, music, and really strong drinks that were sure to keep you warm. Eddie was the one who thought it would be a good idea to have it here at your shared apartment. Hoping the view from your buildings roof would be a good place to see fireworks.
"Yeah, I'll be done in time. I still have to find something to wear and get a gift for the gift exchange." You let your mind wander as you mindlessly doodle on a free space in your notes.
"Something skimpy and tight, it'll draw attention away from all this." Eddie gestures to your face as he speaks, and without missing a beat you flick a crumpled up piece of paper at his head.
"Are you in my room for a reason, or do you just like to stand there and be an idiot for fun?" You question him some, he never usually spends more than a few minutes at a time in your room, something about your respective spaces being "sacred" or whatever.
"Just wanted to give you a heads up, I'm having company over in about thirty minutes." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, meaning he'll be having a girl over in half an hour.
"Ugh, not tonight Eddie. I've got so much shit to study and I don't need to be hearing your grunting all night long." You roll your eyes at just the idea of him having a girl over tonight. You've been crouched over your desk for the last couple hours and feel like you've barely made a dent in the material you need to go over. The last thing you needed was to have to listen to him and whoever his pick of the week was.
"It'll be quick, I think…" He tries to compromise.
"Gross," His statement alone makes you cringe.
"I'll make sure we keep it down, you won't even know what we're doing." He promises.
"Extra gross." You shake your head. "And I definitely will know, considering you're standing here telling me like I'm a nurse at the clinic you frequent."
"Hey, Nurse Josie is a very nice woman, I buy her a cup of coffee once a month whenever I go in and see her." He shakes a finger in your direction.
"My point is," You cut him off. "just not tonight, okay?"
"And my point is, I'm only telling you as a heads up, not because I need to ask you for permission." He snickers, his shoulders bouncing just slightly as he looks at you almost condecendingly.
"Just-" You cut yourself off to take a breath, even having to think about arguing about his sex life was frustrating enough.
"Just close my door on your way out." With a defeated sigh, you turn your body away from him and pick up your pen and highlighter, deciding trying to focus on the work in front of you would be enough to drown out whatever was about to take place.
"Will do, doll. I owe you." He pats the desk as he pushes himself towards the door.
"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes as you mumble to yourself, already reaching for your headphones.
You debate on picking up the phone and calling Robin, just to complain. She was usually on the receiving end of your rants about Eddie, considering she knew him well enough too. Letting you go on and on about his somewhat patronizing nature, and the way he seems to less than value the fact that you both share this place, or the idea that it makes you uncomfortable to have to wake up to strangers in your space every few weeks. Eddie would probably say you were jealous, that your lack of dating or one night stands just makes you sound bitter. Which, in return, makes you even more angry.
It wasn't that you were inept or unable, you just had other things to worry about. Sure maybe it had been a few months since you'd been out on a date, even longer since you had been intimate with anyone, but you were fairing just fine. The vibrating electronic boyfriend in the bottom drawer of your nightstand had been seeing the light of day a lot more often than not, but something was better than nothing. School has been really kicking your ass, especially lately. And dating wasn't always the easiest with a male roommate. The few times you had brought a guy home, they were almost always immediately turned off by the fact that you lived with a male. Eddie was never any help either, making jokes about having seen your birthmark that's hidden on your upper thigh. Which was true, he had seen it, when you and your friends went swimming together. Even with the most innocent of explanations, your date for the evening wanted none of it.
It hadn't even been a full hour later when your bedroom door was being overwhelmed with consistent knocking, making you groan and pull your headphones off. Before you can make an attempt to grab the doorknob, the knocking gets more insistent and loud.
"Jesus Christ, what?!" You huff as you pull the door open, revealing a flushed and almost panicked looking Eddie in only a tight pair of boxers.
"Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?!" You quickly raise a hand to block your view of his lower body.
"Sorry for the show, but I have a really huge problem." He sounds almost out of breath, and if this were a normal circumstance you might think he looked good. His flushed appearance doubled with his toned body on display makes your mind wander a bit. But the splattering of pink lipstick on his neck and remembering there's a whole other woman just on the other side of the wall waiting for him, kills the fantasy.
"Aww, don't worry sweetie, it happens to every guy around your age." You rub his arm in faux comfort, joking about the functionality or dysfunction of his nether regions.
"What? No no no, that's not what-" He huffs in slight annoyance at your demeaning joke.
"I'm out of rubbers." He relents with a sigh.
"Oh you've got to be shitting me." The admission makes you laugh, a hand quick to come up to your mouth to stop yourself from doubling over in laughter.
"I forgot to get a new pack when I last bought cigarettes." He sounds angry with himself, making it even harder for you to stop from laughing in his face.
"And just what is it you want me to do? I'm not exactly a 24 hour pharmacy."
"Oh c'mon, if anyone has a box of unused condoms, it's you." His annoyance isn't at you, but you are its current target. The statement makes you raise an eyebrow at him and scoff, taking a step back so you can slam the door in his face.
"WAIT! wait wait wait…" He quickly pushes the door open when you try and close it.
"I'm sorry, that was rude. But you're my last hope here, doll. If you could help me out, I'll be in your debt." His voice is strained, like it's hurting him to say this.
He felt antsy and embarrassed having to stand here, nearly naked, and ask you for this. The lack of clothes wasn't the problem, you'd seen him in only a towel one too many times to count. But something about having to ask his very cute roommate for a condom he was going to use on a girl that wasn't her, that made something in his gut churn wickedly. The beat of silence on your end also wasn't helping. Was this too much? Was it crossing a boundary of roommate-ship you would be uncomfortable with?
"…. breakfast from Annie's Diner tomorrow morning…" You demand, thinking you might as well get something out of him.
"Done." He nods, perking up just a bit when you agree to help.
"And… that pasta from Enzo's we both like." You point a finger at him.
"Seriously?" He huffs and you start to push the door closed on him again.
"FINE! fine, breakfast and dinner." He gives in and you make your way back into your room while he follows. Watching as you open the bottom drawer of your nightstand to dig through it.
"Uh, what is that?" He chuckles as his eyes catch the hot pink vibrator in the drawer.
"Don't worry about it." You mumble, your face immediately feeling hot from his discovery.
"Naughty, naughty girl. And here I thought I was the only one around here getting any type of action." He nudges your shoulder as he teases you. Eddie had assumed, of course, that you were taken care of, in that sense. He could've sworn he'd heard the electronic humming through the wall on some late nights, but he never let himself get too far with those fantasies.
"Do you want the condom or not?" You roll your eyes as you shut the drawer closed and hold out the tiny metallic package to him.
"Yes, please." He nods as he plucks the small square packet from your fingertips.
"Thank you, doll! Breakfast and dinner's on me tomorrow!" He quickly pecks the top of your head before skidding out of your room and back to his own, slamming the door shut. You choose to ignore the shiver that trails down your spine when his lips come in contact with your head, closing your own door and putting your headphones back on so you can try and get some studying done.
Eddie does his best to balance all the food in his hands and the two coffee's from the diner, struggling to get the apartment door unlocked. He'd knocked a good three or four times but you never came to his aid. Normally you'd be up by now, Monday's were usually the days you got up early to take a shift at the library before your afternoon class. He didn't even hear the shower going as he set down the breakfast he'd promised you. Deciding he should at least make sure you were alive, he grabs your coffee and makes his way to your bedroom door.
"Sweets! Breakfast is here, as promised." Eddie knocks on your door, eyebrows furrowing when he doesn't get a response, or hear any movement.
"Hello? You alive in there?" He knocks again, met with another round of silence. Now he was starting to get worried, deciding it was better to go in and have you be angry, then leave your body there to rot.
The door is, luckily, unlocked as he slowly turns the knob. Making sure it doesn't squeak too much as he pushes it open. His eyes land on your bed first, the whole thing made nearly to military standard, like it was pulled straight from catalogue pages. There's no way you slept in it if it looks that pristine.
Eddie surveys the rest of the room, nearly jumping out of his skin once he finds you. Your body slumped over your desk, head resting between the open pages of one of your textbooks with a pen dangling from your fingertips. Eddie can feel his heart begin to race, his mind jumping to the worst case scenario possible. Was an overly educated induced aneurysm even possible? He gripped the doorknob a bit tighter at the fear of something actually being wrong, his heart rate slowing only when he sees the rise and fall of your back as you breathe. He lets out his own relieved sigh when he realizes you are in fact alive.
Eddie risks it, taking a few tentative steps closer to where you're clearly passed out. Watching the way a few soft snores escape your parted lips. It makes his chest flutter in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. The way your lashes drape over the tops of your cheeks, casting a soft shadow there. He'd never seen you so at peace before. It almost made him want to let you stay asleep longer, just so he could watch you. But judging by the way your head was positioned and how your whole body was slumped over, he knew you had to be more than uncomfortable.
"Uhh… sweetheart?" He whispers, gently poking your shoulder a couple times, which only makes you groan quietly in your sleep and turn your head away from him.
"C'mon sleeping beauty… you need to wake up before you break your neck." He tries again to wake you, now rubbing a hand against your back. Watching as you slowly begin to rouse yourself awake, a prominent indent on your cheek from where your face had been smushed against the textbook. He in no way, under any circumstances, thinks about pressing a kiss to the spot that's been indented.
"Eddie?" Your voice is soft and raspy from just waking up, making Eddie's body tense as he hears his name. The sound alone making his knees nearly buckle, like he was melting there at your feet. He takes you in, seeing the way your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your eyes slowly blink open, the light shining in from the window blinding you.
"Mornin' sleepyhead. Your bed would've been a much comfier spot, you know?" He chuckles softly, doing his best to sound normal, setting down the cup of coffee on a space where there aren't any loose papers or notes. Your body unfurling as you sit up straight and take in your surroundings. A hand quickly moving to your neck as wince, a soft crackle of your back as you stretch.
"Jesus, I don't even remember falling asleep." You groan once you realize that you spent the whole night hunched over your desk, the last thing you remember is having to reread the same page three, four, maybe five times as you tried to keep yourself awake. Your body was aching and your neck was so stiff you could barely turn your head in both directions.
"What time is it?"
"About to be ten. Missed your shift at the library and everything." Eddie points out. He's really trying his best not to stare, but the way you gently run your hands through the tangles in your hair, and rub your eyes awake is nearly taking the breath from his lungs.
Eddie wasn't oblivious to the idea that he was attracted to you. It wasn't so much an idea as it was a hard fact. He'd known from the moment Robin introduced the both of you, when you were desperate enough to even consider him for the position as your roommate. He'd managed to pull himself together enough to get you to agree. After a few conversations and promises of paid rent and half the security deposit. He had been able to worm his way into your life. Even if it was just on the outskirts of it, he wanted to stay there. Getting to watch you in times like this, soft and exhausted from running your brain into overdrive, it was the closest to heaven he believed he could get.
"I didn't take a shift today. I knew I'd need the extra study time." It's the turning of your textbook pages that breaks Eddie out of his momentary gawking, watching as you ready yourself to dive back into whatever word soup is between those pages.
"No no no no, you need to wash up, eat something, and then maybe you'll be able to start studying again." He's quick to slap the textbook closed on you, refusing to let you continue when you've already run yourself into exhaustion. Hands already gripping the backs of your arms as he gently pulls you up from the chair and to your feet.
"Who are you, my keeper?" You huff at him as he pushes you to your dresser, opening the top one to dig through it like he'd done it before.
"No, but considering you just worked yourself into a hole and fell asleep on your desk, you might need one." Eddie retorts as he digs out a pair of your underwear and a bra, smirking to himself as he holds up the lacy pair in front of you both.
"Now why have you been hiding these from me?" He laughs as you quickly swipe the undergarments from his hands, groaning at his attempt of a joke while he opens the next drawer to look for some clothes.
"Eddie, I don't have any time for this. I still have so much material to cover."
"Well make time. Now go shower, your breakfast is getting cold." He grabs whatever shirt and shorts he can before ushering you out of your bedroom door towards your shared bathroom. As you're walking into the bathroom, he playfully slaps you on the butt, heartily laughing when you gasp out a yelp and turn to hit him a few times.
"QUIT!!"
Even though you hated to admit it, he was right. The shower was much needed and the heat helped the remaining ache in your muscles from the crumpled sleeping position. Your head felt less swarmed as you allowed yourself to relax after nearly drowning yourself in studying. The familar scent of breakfast hits you while drying off and getting dressed, instinctively making you move a bit faster so you can make your way to the kitchen.
"There she is." Eddie grins when you walk into the room, a soft flutter of butterflies moving through you just from the notice, and how cheerful he sounds to have your presence near.
"I feel like I got hit by a bus." You groan groggily, taking a seat at the small table that's set for two.
"Yeah well, sleeping on a desk all night might do that." He chuckles, as he plates both of your breakfasts from the take out bags.
"What about you? Get any sleep last night?" You're a little more than a little curious as to how his night played out.
"Don't you worry about me, doll. I am very well rested." His he laughs, almost a bit too smug for your liking.
"So much so that I made good on my promise, as any good roommate should, and went all the way to Annie's and got you your favorite pancakes." His smile gives him away immediately, letting you know that he's more than proud of himself as he walks over and sets down the full plate of food in front of you.
"Banana chocolate chip pancakes, two over easy eggs, two slices of bacon, one hash brown, and of course, one caramel cappuccino."
"The fact that you have my order down to an exact science, tells me we need to stop eating out so much." You chuckle softly as he moves around the space to grab his own plate of food along with his cup of coffee.
You can't help but smile to yourself as you lift your coffee to your lips. Eddie had transferred your drink from the to go cup into your favorite mug and warmed the drink up again. The sweet taste along with the heat was enough to make you sigh contentedly. He watched as you sipped the drink, the corners of his lips tilting up in a soft smile as your shoulders deflated.
"Well it just so happens that nearly a year of being roommates will have you paying attention to things you never really thought to pay attention to before." Eddie mutters through a bite of his waffles, a soft blush crossing his features when he thinks about what he's said. You do your best to not think too hard about what he means by that, picking up a bite of food to distract from the warmth crawling up your neck.
"I think after last night, we officially know too much about each other." You mumble through the bite of food you're chewing. Recalling not only the way he was desperate enough to ask you for a condom, but his humiliating discovery of the hot pink vibrator in your bottom drawer.
"And I think you might be right about that." Eddie's face feels even hotter when he thinks about his desperate plea from less than twelve hours ago.
"Thanks for breakfast, I might have to extort you for pancakes more often."
"It's no problem, I'll take any excuse to get these waffles, no extortion needed." Eddie talks through the large bite of food he just shoveled into his mouth.
"Don't talk with your mouth full." You lightly scold, tossing a napkin in his direction. Biting back a smile as he wipes the syrup from the side of his mouth and laughs.
i really do love this story and where i want it to go, i just haven’t bothered to put the time and effort into it. but i’m hoping to change that. thanks so much for reading this first part, readers feedback is always appreciated <3
summary: you finally left your house to have a girls day. shopping, food, friendship- the works. robin and nancy always had your back but eddie- he was your best friend. hes the one who knew you inside and out. but is that all you wanted him to be? maybe a fashion show will change things.
warnings/tags: best friends to lovers, shy reader, typical eddie bullshit, fluff, comfort, alternating POV, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, eddie trying not to nut in 30 seconds, squirting)
masterlist // join the taglist
You were three stores deep into the kind of afternoon that only happened when Robin got bored and Nancy decided retail therapy was a legitimate coping mechanism.
Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans just as Nancy was holding up a soft gray sweater against you, head tilted in that critical way of hers. It's not your style but you like to appease her.
Eddie:
bored.
come over.
i have leftover chinese and a new playlist that will either heal your soul or destroy it. your pick.
You smiled at the screen before you could stop yourself. Robin noticed immediately.
“That’s the Eddie face,” she said, already leaning in. “What’s he want?”
“He wants me to come over.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to say no because…?”
You typed back while Robin peered over your shoulder.
You:
can’t. already at the mall with robin and nancy. not being a hermit for once.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Eddie:
the mall.
you’re at the mall???
and no one thought to invite me?
i’m hurt. actually offended.
also tbh you’re gonna get overwhelmed and start doing that weird thing you always do
i’m coming.
You stared at the message.
You:
eddie you don’t have to come
Eddie:
already in the van.
tell robin to stop making that face. i can feel it through the phone.
Robin was, in fact, making that face.
Twenty-seven minutes later you were standing near the big fountain on the lower level, arms full of bags. You'd dragged the two of them into Hot Topic and Spencers. Nancy had somehow convinced you that you needed new jeans— so you bought some black ones. Robin had dragged you into a candle store “just to smell things.” And then, because the universe had a sense of humor, the three of you had ended up in Victoria’s Secret.
You were still a little pink about that one.
The pink-and-black bag swung from your wrist every time you shifted your grip. It felt louder than the rest of them somehow. Like it was announcing itself.
Robin was mid-rant about this hot girl who keeps coming into her job when a familiar voice cut through the mall noise.
“Well, well, well. Look at this delinquent little shopping squad.”
You turned.
Eddie Munson was walking toward you like he owned the entire second floor, black jeans with the knees blown out, a faded Dio shirt under an open sleeveless flannel, rings catching the harsh mall lights. His hair was a little messier than usual, like he’d driven with the windows down the whole way. He had that grin on—the one that said he’d already decided this was going to be fun for him and mildly embarrassing for you.
Robin lit up. “Munson! You actually showed.”
“Had to make sure no one was bullying my favorite introvert into buying things she’ll never wear.” His eyes flicked to you, soft for half a second before the performance kicked back in. “Speaking of which… Jesus Christ, look at you.”
He stopped a couple feet away, taking in the armful of bags. His gaze snagged on the Victoria’s Secret one and stayed there just long enough for heat to crawl up the back of your neck.
“Wow,” he said, voice dropping into something almost reverent. “You actually went shopping. I’m proud. Also mildly concerned.”
Nancy smirked. “She needed jeans. And then Robin got involved. And she dragged us into her own stores. And then the lingerie section happened.”
Eddie made a wounded little sound, hand over his heart. “You took her into the den of sin without me?”
You shifted the bags, trying to hide the pink one behind the others. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“It’s a little dramatic,” he said, stepping closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cigarettes and that cheap cologne he always wore even though he claimed he didn’t. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”
You opened your mouth to say you were fine.
He just raised an eyebrow.
“…I’m a little overstimulated,” you admitted, quieter.
Eddie’s whole posture softened. He reached out without asking and carefully took two of the heavier bags from your arms, including the Victoria’s Secret one. He didn’t comment on it this time. Just hooked the handles over his wrist like it was nothing.
“C’mon,” he said. “We’re doing one more lap so Nancy can finish buying a new pantsuit or whatever, then I’m extracting you. Chinese food’s getting cold and my couch misses your weight on it.”
Robin grinned. “He’s so soft for you it’s disgusting.”
Eddie didn’t deny it. He just looked at you over the top of the bags, eyes warm and knowing in that way that always made the rest of the mall feel a little farther away.
“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low enough that only you caught the full weight of it. “Somebody’s gotta make sure she doesn’t disappear into the void.”
He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours.
“Lead the way, shopping gremlin. I’m your official bag mule for the next twenty minutes. Use me wisely.”
By the time you’d made it halfway through the next stretch of stores, the worst of the overstimulation had started to loosen its grip.
It was Eddie. It was always Eddie.
He walked half a step behind you, still carrying the bulk of the bags like it was the most natural thing in the world, occasionally bumping his shoulder into yours just hard enough to make you stumble and then catch yourself with a laugh. Nancy and Robin had drifted a few feet ahead, deep in a debate about whether a particular pair of boots were too much for the upcoming summer and who wears boots in summer anyway? That left the two of you in your own little orbit, the mall noise fading into background static.
“You’re quieter when you're with them,” Eddie said, voice low enough that it stayed between you. “Not in a bad way. Just… smaller. Like you’re trying to take up less space.”
You glanced at him. “And with you I’m suddenly loud?”
“With me you’re you.” He said it simply, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “The version that likes to talk shit and snorts when she laughs. I like that version. Miss her when she’s gone.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat in it. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m correct.” He shifted the bags so he could free one hand and reach over, gently tugging the sleeve of your hoodie. “Look at you. Five minutes ago you were about to jump into the void. Now you’re about to roast me. Progress.”
“I wasn’t going to roast you.”
“Liar.” His grin was slow and crooked. “You were definitely going to say something about the way I’m carrying these bags like a peasant. Go on. I can take it.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “You look like a Victorian servant who got lost on the way to a metal show.”
Eddie gasped, hand flying to his chest hard enough that the Victoria’s Secret bag swung wildly. “How dare you. I’ll have you know this is high fashion. Wore my favorite rings just for you.”
“Your rings make you look like you stuck your hand in an antique store display and just bought whatever stuck.”
“Rude.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping into that teasing register he only ever used with you. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re mean. Otherwise I’d leave you here with all these bags and go find people who appreciate my good looks.”
You bumped him with your hip. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“You wouldn’t.”
"Try me."
"There's some mall rats over by Hot Topic. Bet they'd love you."
Eddie looked at you for a second too long, something softer flickering behind the performance. The kind of look that made your stomach do a slow, traitorous flip. He always looked at you like that when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of your smile, or the way your eyes crinkled when you were actually relaxed. Like you were the only thing in the entire building worth staring at.
You felt it. You always felt it. And you looked back at him the same way, even if neither of you ever said it out loud.
Robin’s voice cut through from up ahead. “Are you two flirting or fighting? Because from back here it sounds like both and I hope she wins.”
Eddie didn’t break eye contact with you as he called back, “We’re engaged in battle, Buckley. Mind your business.”
“Sure,” Robin said, entirely unconvinced. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Munson.”
He finally looked away, but the corner of his mouth stayed curved. He shifted the bags again and, without asking, reached over to take the last one from your hand so you were completely free.
“There,” he said, quieter. “Now you can actually exist without any extra weight in your hands. You’re welcome.”
You flexed your fingers, still warm from where the plastic handles had dug in. “You’re being weirdly nice today.”
“I’m always nice to you.” He said it like a fact, not a defense. Then, softer, almost under his breath: “Especially when you look like you’re about two seconds from disappearing into your own head again.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just walked beside him, the space between your arms brushing every few steps. Nancy and Robin had stopped in front of another window display, giving the two of you another pocket of privacy.
Eddie glanced sideways at you, rings catching the light as he adjusted his grip on the bags.
“For the record,” he said, voice low and almost careful, “I like when you let yourself be loud with me. Even when you're being a butt head. Cause I know you're only like that with me. Makes me feel special."
You looked at him. Really looked.
And for a second the rest of the mall—Robin’s laughter, the distant music, the fluorescent lights—dropped away.
“Yeah,” you said, just as quiet. “I like it too.”
Eddie’s smile this time was smaller. Softer. The kind he only ever gave you when the banter peeled back and something truer sat underneath.
He didn’t say anything else.
The drive back was easy in the way things always were with him.
Eddie had the windows cracked just enough to let the warm spring air in, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift like he was half-tempted to reach over and take yours. He didn’t. He just talked the whole way—about how Robin’s taste in shoes was a crime against humanity, about how Nancy had looked at a seventy-dollar candle like she could actually afford it. You laughed more than you had all day.
His apartment was on the second floor of a tired brick building two towns over from Hawkins. The kind of place with a sticky front door and a hallway that always smelled faintly of someone else’s cooking. He’d worked doubles and sold half his vinyl collection to make the deposit after graduation. It showed in the way he talked about it sometimes—quiet pride mixed with the usual self-deprecation.
“Home sweet dump,” he announced as he kicked the door open with his boot, still carrying most of your bags. “Couch has been waiting for you milady.”
It was exactly as lived-in as always. Band posters peeling at the corners. A thrifted couch that had seen better decades. A kitchen table covered in sheet music and empty coffee mugs. The faint smell of the dragons blood incense he always used because you once said you liked it.
He dropped the bags by the couch with a dramatic groan and flopped down, immediately stretching his legs out and patting the cushion beside him.
“Sit. Argue with me. I’ve been waiting all day to be wrong about something.”
You sat. The couch dipped under your combined weight the way it always did.
It started with Iron Man versus Batman, because of course it did.
“I’m just saying,” you said, turning to face him fully, “Tony Stark would fold Bruce Wayne like a lawn chair. The man has an entire AI, flight, repulsors—”
Eddie held up a finger, rings glinting. “Batman has prep time. Prep. Time. That’s his whole thing. He would study every single one of Stark’s weaknesses, build a suit specifically designed to counter the arc reactor, and then—”
“And then Iron Man would still vaporize him from the air before Batman even finished monologuing.”
“You’re underestimating the power of pure spite and a utility belt.”
“You’re underestimating the power of literally being able to fly and shoot lasers.”
Eddie threw his head back against the couch with a wounded sound. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone this wrong.”
You poked his knee with your socked foot. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”
“I’m mad because you’re smug about it.” But he was smiling, soft around the edges, the argument already losing steam in favor of watching the way your face lit up when you got competitive. He loved that version of you. The one that forgot to be quiet.
After another minute of half-hearted defense of Batman’s honor, Eddie finally held up both hands in surrender.
“Fine. Iron Man wins. Happy? You destroyed my entire worldview. I hope you’re proud.”
You grinned. “Extremely.”
He huffed a laugh, then his eyes drifted toward the pile of bags near the arm of the couch.
“Alright,” he said, voice shifting into something lighter, curious. “Show and tell. What’d you actually buy, shopping gremlin? Besides the jeans Nancy forced on you and whatever candles Robin convinced you to buy.”
You felt the heat climb up your neck almost immediately.
Eddie noticed. Of course he did. His expression gentled, the teasing dialing back just enough.
“Hey. No pressure. You don’t have to—”
“Can I…” You hesitated, fingers twisting in the hem of your hoodie. The shyness was back, but different this time. Softer. Safe, because it was him. “Can I give you a fashion show?”
Eddie went still for half a second.
Then the slowest, softest smile spread across his face. The kind that made his eyes crinkle and his voice drop into something almost reverent.
“Yeah?” he said, quiet. “You wanna model for me?”
You nodded, small.
He sat up a little straighter, like he was preparing for something important. “Hell yeah you can. Go on. I’ll be the most supportive, least judgmental audience you’ve ever had.”
He gestured toward the short hallway that led to his bedroom. “Use my room. Mirror’s clean for once. Take your time.”
You stood, gathering the bags with slightly shaky hands. Eddie watched you the whole way, that same look from the mall settled deep in his eyes—like he was trying not to hope too hard, and failing.
Just before you disappeared around the corner, he called after you, voice warm and a little rough around the edges.
“And for the record… whatever you got in that pink bag? I’m already a fan.”
You didn’t answer.
But the door to his bedroom clicked shut behind you with a soft, anticipatory sound, and he leaned back against the couch, his heart doing something stupid and hopeful in his chest while he waited.
Eddie barely had time to scrub a hand over his face and pretend he wasn’t already halfway gone before the bedroom door creaked open.
You stepped out in the black jeans first—ones that actually fit like they were made for you instead of the baggy shit you usually hid in—and a soft, flowy crop top that kept flashing a strip of skin every time you moved. You did a little half-turn, arms sort of awkwardly out like you weren’t sure what to do with them yet.
“Okay,” you said, voice still quiet. “First one. Jeans and… this. It’s kind of floaty. I don’t know.”
Eddie swallowed. His brain helpfully supplied approximately forty different compliments and zero of them felt safe enough to say out loud.
“Floaty’s good,” he managed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees so he had something to do with his hands. “Floaty’s very good. You look… hippie. Very Stevie Nicks. Ten out of ten. No notes. Except maybe do the turn again so I can fully appreciate the jeans.”
You huffed a tiny laugh and spun slower this time. The confidence was still shy around the edges, but it was there. He could see it.
God, he wanted to bottle that sound.
You disappeared again. He let his head drop back against the couch and stared at the ceiling like it might offer him strength. It did not. All it offered was a water stain shaped vaguely like a middle finger.
The door opened a second time.
Black mini skirt. Tight black velvet crop top, cut to look like a bat. The kind of top that looked like it had been designed specifically to ruin his entire life.
Eddie forgot how to breathe for a full three seconds.
“Shopping for summer, you know?” you said, a little stronger this time, doing a small sway that made the skirt flip against your thighs. “Figured I should own at least one thing that isn’t a hoodie.”
“Summer,” he repeated, voice coming out rougher than he meant it to. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Summer. Very… seasonal. The bat is a nice touch. Extremely on-brand for hanging out with me. I’m choosing to take that as a personal compliment.”
You smiled—actually smiled—and did a full turn this time. The skirt flared just enough. The velvet caught the low light of his shitty lamp. Something in his chest went tight and warm and stupid.
Look at you. Look at you getting braver every single time you walk out here. Like you’re remembering you’re allowed to take up space. Like maybe you trust me enough to let me see it.
“You’re staring,” you said, but there was no real accusation in it. Just a little spark of something playful.
“I’m observing,” Eddie corrected immediately. “Very different. Scientific, even. For example… observation one— the skirt makes your legs look criminal. Observation two— I’m going to have dreams about that velvet bat. Observation three— you’re getting less shy about the spins and I am thriving.”
You laughed, bright and real, and the sound did something catastrophic to his heart rate.
Third time.
You kept the mini skirt. Swapped the velvet for a ridiculous shirt from Spencer’s—a bunch of dachshunds with the phrase "Everyone loves wieners" and it's so perfectly you that Eddie felt his face do that soft, helpless thing he could never quite hide around you. You struck a little pose in the doorway this time, one hand on your hip, the other up in the air like you had no idea what to do with it. You probably didn't.
“Behold,” you declared, voice full of mock grandeur. “The intellectual peak of my shopping trip.”
Eddie clapped. Actually clapped, slow and dramatic.
“Masterpiece,” he said solemnly. “I feel smarter just looking at it. The skirt and the wiener dog shirt combination is inspired. You’re a visionary. I’m obsessed. I hope you wear this exact combination to your next outing.”
You were grinning now. Fully. The shy little glances had turned into actual eye contact, like each outfit had peeled another layer of hesitation off you and left something brighter underneath. He watched it happen in real time and felt like the luckiest bastard alive for getting front-row seats.
You walked closer this time, stopping a few feet in front of the couch, doing a slow turn without him even asking. The skirt flared up, giving him the slightest glimpse of the supple curve of your ass underneath. Eddie’s hands flexed against his knees.
You’re going to kill me. You’re going to stand there getting more confident by the second and I’m going to sit here and fall harder every time you laugh at your own joke. And you’re never going to know, because I’m a coward who would rather keep you forever as my best friend than risk saying the quiet part out loud.
You stopped spinning and looked at him, cheeks a little pink but eyes bright.
“Okay,” you said, softer again, but steady. “Are you ready for the finale?”
Eddie felt his entire soul short-circuit.
He sat up straighter, tried to play it cool, failed miserably, and ended up just staring at you with his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low and a little wrecked. “I’m ready. Show me.”
The bedroom door opened again and Eddie’s brain helpfully decided it was obsolete.
You stepped out wrapped in the fluffiest pink bathrobe he’d ever seen in his life. It looked like someone had murdered a cloud and dyed it the color of cotton candy. Your hands were buried in the pockets, shoulders a little hunched, that familiar shy tilt to your head that always made him want to gather you up and hide you from the entire world.
“Okay,” you said, voice small. “Finale. Don’t laugh.”
“I would never,” Eddie answered immediately, and he meant it. His voice came out softer than he intended. “C’mon. Show me.”
You hesitated for half a second longer, then slowly tugged the belt loose.
The robe slipped open.
Eddie’s entire nervous system short-circuited so hard he was pretty sure he blacked out for a full second.
Hot pink. Barely-there hot pink lingerie that looked like it had been designed specifically to end him. A tiny bralette that clung to the soft curve of your chest, delicate straps, and matching bottoms that sat high on your hips and left almost nothing to the imagination. The kind of set that made every inch of bare skin look deliberate. Completely fucking lethal.
You didn’t even seem to notice the way his soul left his body. You just stood there in the middle of his living room like this was normal. Like best friends did this shit all the time. Like you weren’t currently rewriting every single one of his brain cells.
Jesus Christ.
He grabbed the nearest throw pillow and shoved it into his lap so hard. His jeans were already getting tight in a way that was going to be extremely obvious if he didn’t hide it. He tried to look casual. He failed.
“Holy shit,” he managed, voice cracking just enough that he had to clear his throat. “Okay. Wow. That’s… yeah. That’s the finale alright.”
You gave a tiny, embarrassed little smile and did a slow twirl.
The bathrobe slipped further down your arms, hanging loose around your elbows like a soft pink frame. The movement made the tiny scraps of hot pink shift against your skin. And then the smell hit him—your perfume, the same floral kind you've worn since the day you met him, the one that always lingered on his hoodie for days whenever you borrowed it. It wrapped around him like a second heartbeat.
Eddie dug his fingers into the pillow hard enough that his nails pressed little crescent shapes into the fabric.
You’re actually going to kill me. You’re standing there in the middle of my shitty apartment in the tiniest fucking lingerie set I’ve ever seen and you think this is just friend stuff. You have no idea. You have no idea that I’m two seconds from dropping to my knees and begging. That I’ve wanted to put my mouth on every single inch of you for months. That the only reason I’m still sitting here like a functional human is because I refuse to ruin the best thing in my life by being a horny idiot.
You finished the turn and looked at him, cheeks pink, completely unaware that he was actively dying.
“Is it too much?” you asked, tugging self-consciously at one of the straps. “I almost didn’t get it. Robin said the color was cute though.”
Eddie let out a sound that was half laugh, half wounded animal.
“Too much?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just asked if the sun was a little bright today. “Baby— I mean. No. It’s not too much. It’s… fuck. You look unreal. Like someone drew you. The pink is doing something illegal to my brain chemistry. I’m serious. I might need medical attention.”
You laughed, soft and shy, and the sound went straight through him.
He adjusted the pillow again, very carefully, and tried to remember how to breathe like a person who wasn’t currently imagining peeling those tiny pink scraps off you with his teeth.
“C’mere,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. He patted the cushion beside him even though he was pretty sure sitting next to you right now was going to finish him off. “Let me look at you properly. Without you doing the nervous shuffle from six feet away.”
You stepped closer.
The perfume got stronger.
Eddie was so completely, utterly fucked.
The shyness came flooding back like a switch had flipped the moment you stood in front of him.
Eddie watched it happen in real time—the way your shoulders curled inward just a little, the way your fingers twisted in the loose sleeves of the bathrobe still hanging off your arms, the way you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his eyes even though you were standing close enough that he could see each mark on your body. Close enough that the heat of your skin felt like it was already touching him.
He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady.
“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “None of that. You’re allowed to stand here looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had and still get a little shy. I can handle both.” He let his eyes flick down for half a second before forcing them back up. “You look… soft. And dangerous. And like I should probably be on my knees right now saying thank you, but I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman instead of a complete disaster.”
You let out a tiny, nervous huff of laughter. The sound went straight to his dick.
Eddie kept talking, walking that razor-thin line between honest and too much. “The pink is killing me, by the way. Like actually ending my life. And the way it sits on you—fuck—it’s not fair. You’re standing in my living room looking like that and I’m supposed to just… what? Act normal? Impossible. You’re making it impossible.”
You shifted your weight. The movement was small.
The left strap of the bralette slipped.
It slid down the curve of your shoulder in slow motion, delicate and pink and devastating, and Eddie’s brain broke in half so hard a low, wrecked moan tore out of his throat before he could stop it.
The sound hung in the air between you.
You both froze.
Eddie’s eyes went wide. The pillow was still crushed in his lap. His pulse was hammering so loud he was pretty sure you could hear it. Heat flooded his face so fast it felt like a fever.
You stared at him, lips parted, the slipped strap still resting halfway down your arm.
“…Did you really just do that?” you asked, voice quiet and a little disbelieving. A tiny, dangerous spark of something flirty flickered underneath the shock.
Eddie let out a strangled laugh that was half embarrassment, half pure desperation. “Yeah. Yeah, I really just did that. In my defense, the strap moved and— Completely involuntary. I’m a victim here.”
Your mouth twitched. “A victim.”
“Exactly.” He gestured helplessly at the strap still hanging off your shoulder. “Look at it. It’s torturing me. It’s doing it on purpose. You’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you said, but your voice had gone softer, warmer. You didn’t fix the strap. You just stood there looking at him like you were suddenly seeing something new.
Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.
The careful distance he’d been clinging to for years—the jokes, the looks he thought you never noticed, the way he always stopped himself right at the edge—snapped clean in half.
He surged up off the couch, pillow tumbling to the floor, and closed the space between you. One hand came up to cradle the side of your face, rings cool against your cheek, the other settling at your waist like he’d been dying to put it there for years.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, and then he kissed you.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was years of wanting poured into one desperate, open-mouthed press of lips. He kissed you like he’d been starving. Like the taste of you might actually save him. His fingers slid back into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen it, and a low, broken sound rumbled in his chest when you made a tiny noise against his mouth.
The slipped strap was still hanging off your shoulder.
Eddie didn’t fix it.
You broke the kiss with a soft, shaky inhale, lips still brushing his as you pulled back just far enough to see his face.
Eddie’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, mouth kiss-bitten and a little shiny. His hand was still cradling your cheek like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
“How long?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “How long have you been thinking about doing that?”
His thumb stroked once along your cheekbone. He didn’t look away.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Eddie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, low and rough. “Jesus. Okay. No lying.” He swallowed. “Months. Longer than months. Since before I even had this apartment. Since you started doing that thing where you’d steal my hoodies and really all my clothes. I’ve wanted to kiss you every single fucking time you walked into a room since the moment I met you.”
Your heart did something violent behind your ribs.
You didn’t think. You just lifted your hand and gave his chest a playful little smack, right over the faded print of his shirt.
Eddie jerked back half an inch, eyes wide with pure betrayal. “What— why? What was that for?”
“Because I’ve liked you too, you absolute idiot,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. Heat flooded your face but you didn’t look away. “I’ve been sitting here in this dumb pink robe thinking this was just normal best-friend fashion-show territory while you’ve been dying over there with a pillow on your lap. We’ve both been ridiculous.”
For a second Eddie just stared at you.
Then a helpless, disbelieving grin broke across his face, soft and a little wrecked.
“We’re both idiots,” he said, voice thick with something that sounded a lot like relief. “Complete, hopeless idiots.”
And then he was kissing you again.
This time there was no hesitation. One of his hands slid down to your waist, the other still tangled in your hair, and he pulled you with him as he dropped back onto the couch. You went willingly, knees bracketing his hips, the fluffy robe slipping further down your arms as he settled you fully into his lap. The tiny scraps of hot pink lace were the only things between you now, and Eddie made a low, punched-out sound against your mouth the second your weight settled over him.
His hands found your bare thighs, rings cool against overheated skin, and he kissed you like he’d never get the chance again—deep and open and a little desperate, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real and in his lap and kissing him back just as hard.
You sank down harder into his lap and the kiss turned messy, open, wet. Eddie’s hands slid higher up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath the edge of the hot-pink lace. Every time you shifted, the thin material of the bottoms dragged against him, and the second it slipped to the side you both felt it—heat against denim, almost nothing left between you.
Eddie broke the kiss with a ragged sound, forehead dropping against yours.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you. So pretty. Always so god damn pretty.” His voice was low, reverent, already half-ruined. “I’ve wanted to worship you for so long it makes me feel stupid. Wanted to get my mouth on every soft inch of you and take my time. Make you feel how gone I am. Hope you're okay with that or I'm about to look like the biggest jackass in the world.”
You rolled your hips once, slow, and watched his eyes flutter.
The unspoken rule sat between you both like a ghost. You never talked about anyone else. Neither did he. No stories, no casual mentions, nothing. You’d always told yourself it was just boundaries. Now, with his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear, you understood. It had never been about boundaries. It had been about not having to picture each other with anyone else. About protecting something neither of you had been brave enough to name.
Eddie seemed to realize it at the same time. His expression went soft and a little pained.
“We never talked about it,” he murmured, thumb stroking along the waistband of the lace. “Not once. I used to think it was because you didn’t… you know. Because you never brought it up. I thought maybe you hadn’t… done much. And I didn’t want to push.” His laugh was quiet, self-deprecating. “Turns out we were both just trying not to break our own hearts.”
"Think you're right about that."
"I'm always right sweetheart."
You ground down again, deliberately this time— partially to shut him up and also because it felt so damn good. The lace shifted fully out of the way. The friction dragged a broken noise out of both of you. Eddie’s head tipped back against the couch, throat working.
“Jesus Christ—”
His hands slid up your back, fingers finding the clasp of the bralette with surprising care. He unhooked it slowly, like he was unwrapping something sacred, and the hot-pink scrap loosened. You shrugged it off the rest of the way. The second it hit the floor Eddie went completely still.
He stared.
No jokes. No dramatic commentary. Just pure, speechless hunger as his eyes dragged over you—bare chest, flushed skin, the way the remaining lace sat low on your hips and did nothing to hide how wet you already were.
“Holy shit,” he finally whispered, voice cracking. “You’re… fuck. You’re perfect. Look at these.” One hand came up to cup the soft weight of your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple like he was testing whether you were real. “Soft and pretty and already so fucking responsive for me. I’ve been dying to see you like this. Dying to get my hands and mouth all over you and make you fall apart.”
He leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of your chest, then lower, dragging his lips over the curve of one breast while his other hand squeezed gently at your hip, encouraging you to keep moving against him.
“Keep grinding on me like that,” he murmured against your skin, filthy and soft at the same time. “Use me. Wanna feel how wet you are through these tiny little things. Wanna make a mess of both of us before I even get my mouth between your legs.”
"What if I want you now Munson? What then?"
Your voice was wrecked. And the way he looked up at you—like you were something holy and filthy all at once—made it very clear that Eddie Munson planned to take his time worshipping every single inch of you.
Eddie moved like a man possessed.
He broke away from your chest just long enough to yank his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind the couch. His jeans were next—belt undone with clumsy, impatient fingers, zipper dragged down, fabric shoved past his hips until he could kick them off. He left the black boxers on— the hard line of his cock already tenting the front obscenely.
You reached between you without thinking, palm sliding down the plane of his stomach until your fingers wrapped around him. The second you pulled him free of the last bit of fabric, your breath caught.
He was thick. Heavy in your hand. Bigger than you’d let yourself imagine in all those late-night thoughts you never admitted to.
Eddie watched your face and let out a low, breathless laugh that was pure nerves and ego all at once.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I get that look a lot. Don’t worry, sweetheart—I’ll go slow. I’m not trying to ruin my favorite person on the first night I finally get to touch her.”
You stroked him once, just to feel the weight of him, and his hips jerked up into your fist with a punched-out little sound.
But he didn’t let you keep control for long.
Eddie gently caught your wrist and guided your hand away, eyes dark and focused. “My turn first. Been dying to get my mouth on you. Need to get you nice and open for me before I even think about putting that in you.”
He moved with surprising care for how wrecked he looked—hands on your waist, guiding you down until your back hit the couch cushions. One of your legs was carefully lifted and draped over the back of the couch; the other he guided down so your foot rested on the floor. The position left you completely spread for him, the tiny scrap of hot-pink lace still clinging to the side of your cunt.
Eddie knelt between your thighs on the floor and just stared for a long second, hands resting on the insides of your knees like he needed the anchor.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re really here. In my apartment. In that tiny pink shit. Legs open for me like this. I can’t— Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Then he leaned in.
The first drag of his tongue over your clit was slow and filthy, broad and wet. He moaned against you like the taste alone was enough to ruin him. One hand stayed splayed on your lower stomach to keep you still while the other stroked up the inside of your thigh, fingers teasing along the soaked edge of the lace.
“So wet already,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick. “All for me. Gonna take my time opening you up, okay? Want you dripping before I even try to fit.”
He licked another slow stripe through your folds, then sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked gently while one long finger pressed inside. The stretch was easy—you were already so ready—but he still worked it carefully, curling and stroking until your hips twitched. A second finger joined the first sooner than you expected, scissoring gently, stretching you while his tongue kept up that steady, filthy rhythm on your clit.
“That’s it,” he breathed, glancing up the length of your body. “Look at you taking two already. So fucking pretty like this. Can you give me one more? Want you nice and ready for me.”
The third finger pressed in slow, the burn sweet and deep. Eddie groaned like he was the one being stretched, forehead dropping against your hip for a second as he felt you clench around him.
“Fuck— there you go. Three. God, you’re perfect. So tight and hot around my fingers. Keep breathing for me, baby. Gonna keep working you open just like this 'til you’re shaking.”
He curled all three fingers and rubbed firmly against that spot inside you while his tongue flicked faster over your clit, wet sounds filling the quiet apartment. His free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, holding you spread wide open while he worshipped you with his mouth and hand like he’d been starving for it.
You were already shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his head, when the need finally spilled out of you in broken little pieces.
“Eddie— please— I need— fuck, I need you, I can’t— please just—”
He lifted his head immediately, mouth shiny, three fingers still buried deep inside you. His eyes were almost black.
“Yeah?” His voice was wrecked. “You need me right now, baby? Need my cock instead of my fingers?”
You nodded frantically, hips twitching down against his hand. “Please. Now. I need you inside me—”
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.
He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then surged up over you. One hand shoved his boxers the rest of the way down while the other stayed braced on the inside of your thigh, keeping you spread exactly the way he wanted.
He knew you had an IUD—he’d driven you to the appointment months ago, sat in the waiting room with his knee bouncing, bought you a milkshake afterward like it was the most normal thing in the world. So no condom. Nothing between you.
He wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds once, twice, coating himself in how wet you’d gotten for him. Then he lined up, the blunt pressure of him settling right against your entrance while your legs stayed open—one hooked over the back of the couch, the other dangling toward the floor.
“Breathe for me,” he whispered, voice low and shaking with restraint. “Gonna go slow. You’re so fucking tight and I’m not exactly small. Tell me if it’s too much.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was immediate, deep, almost overwhelming. Eddie’s mouth fell open on a broken sound as the head of him sank inside you, and he kept going—inch by thick inch—while a steady stream of praise spilled out of him like he couldn’t stop it.
“Holy shit— look at that. Look at you taking me. So fucking pretty stretched around my cock already. That’s it, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good. S' good for me.”
His hands gripped your thighs harder, rings pressing into soft skin as he sank deeper. Another inch. Another. His stomach was trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Fuck, you’re s' warm inside. Sucking me in so perfect. Knew you’d feel like this. Dreamed about it. God, you’re taking every inch like you were made for me— almost there, almost— there. That’s all of me. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
He bottomed out with a punched-out groan, hips flush against yours, and stayed completely still so you could adjust. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath hot and ragged against your neck.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice cracking with pure awe. “You’re perfect. So tight and wet and mine. Just stay right here and let me feel you for a second. Let me feel how you grip me when you’re full.”
He kissed the side of your throat, soft and reverent even while his cock throbbed deep inside you, and kept murmuring filthy, worshipful praise against your skin like he never planned to stop.
Your cunt clenched around him—tight, wet, perfect—and Eddie’s brain short-circuited all over again.
“Move,” you whispered, voice wrecked and needy. “Please, Eddie, move.”
He lifted his head, eyes searching your face even as his hips twitched with the desperate urge to thrust. “How do you want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. One hand stroked up your side, grounding both of you. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“Soft,” you breathed. “Start soft. Then… rough when I’m close. When I’m about to come.”
Eddie nodded like you’d just handed him sacred instructions.
“Soft first. Got it. I can do soft.”
He pulled out slow—dragged every thick inch of himself almost all the way free until just the head stayed tucked inside you—then pushed back in just as carefully. The wet heat of you swallowed him again and a broken sound punched out of his chest. He did it again. And again. Deep, rolling strokes that kept him buried to the hilt for a long second each time, letting you feel every ridge and pulse of him.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you between words. “I could die happy here. So fucking soft and warm inside. Look at you. Perfect. You’re fuckin' perfect.”
He kissed you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in the same lazy rhythm as his hips. One hand stayed braced on the back of the couch near your knee, keeping that leg hooked high; the other cupped your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple in time with every slow thrust.
Internally, Eddie was losing his entire mind.
Holy shit. Holy shit, this is real. You’re under me on my shitty couch in that tiny pink lingerie, stretched around my cock, telling me exactly how you want it. I’ve jerked off to this exact fantasy so many times it’s embarrassing and now you’re actually here, actually clenching around me, actually letting me have this. Don’t you dare fuck this up, Munson. Go slow. Make it good. Make it so good she never wants anyone else. God, the way she feels— dripping down my balls already. I’m not gonna survive this. I’m going to come embarrassingly fast if I keep thinking about how long I’ve wanted to be right here.
He kept the pace steady and deep, every thrust deliberate, every kiss lingering.
“You feel unreal,” he whispered against your lips, voice shaking with restraint. “So tight every time I push back in. Think your body’s trying to keep me. Fuck— I love that. Love how wet you are for me. I'll give you anything you ever need baby.”
He rolled his hips again, grinding against you at the end of the stroke so the base of his cock rubbed your clit, and another filthy, worshipful groan spilled out of him.
Don’t rush. Don’t you dare rush. She’s trusting you. She’s asking for soft first. Give it to her. Worship her. Make her come so hard she forgets anyone else ever touched her. God, I still can’t believe she’s mine right now. Even if it’s just for tonight. Even if—
He kissed you harder to shut his own spiraling thoughts up, and kept moving—slow, deep, devoted—exactly the way you’d asked.
Eddie's hand under the thigh that was still draped over the back of the couch lifted you up and pushed it higher, folding you open even more. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper on the next slow thrust, and he groaned into the side of your neck.
He leaned in fully, chest pressed to yours, and put his mouth on your throat.
Soft kisses first—open and wet along the column of your neck—then the careful scrape of teeth. He found a spot just under your jaw and sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then another lower, closer to your pulse, worrying the skin between his lips until he knew it would bloom purple later. Every time he bottomed out he did it again, marking you like he needed proof this was real.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “Gonna leave these all over you. Want everyone to know I had you like this. Want you to look in the mirror tomorrow and remember how deep I was.”
Your hand slipped between your bodies.
Eddie felt the moment your fingers found your clit—felt the way your cunt fluttered hard around him in response—and his hips stuttered.
“That’s it,” he breathed, lifting his head just enough to watch. “Take what you need angel. Let me feel it. Wanna feel every bit of you.”
She’s getting close. Fuck, she’s getting close and I’m still inside her and she’s touching herself and I can feel every single clench. Don’t come. Do not come yet, you absolute fucking idiot. She asked for soft until she’s about to finish. Give her that. Hold it together. Think about literally anything else— guitar tabs, the broken latch on the van, the way Robin would mock you forever if you finished in thirty seconds flat— anything except how perfect and hot and wet she is around you.
Eddie pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, still rocking into you in those same controlled, deep thrusts even as his thighs started to shake.
“You’re tightening up on me,” he whispered, almost in awe. “I can feel it. You’re getting close, aren’t you? Keep rubbing that pretty clit. Wanna feel you come on my cock. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. Just let it build.”
He kissed you again, messy and open, and kept moving exactly the way you’d asked—holding that leg high, marking your neck, fighting every instinct that screamed at him to snap his hips and chase his own release—while your cunt kept clenching tighter and tighter around him.
“Harder,” you breathed against his mouth, fingers still working between your bodies. “Eddie— harder, please—”
The magic words.
Eddie pulled almost all the way out and then snapped his hips forward, the slow, worshipful pace shattering as he gave you exactly what you wanted. He kept the build gradual at first—each thrust a little faster, a little deeper—until he was driving into you with real force, the hard wet slap of skin on skin filling the apartment. The new rhythm forced him against your cervix on every stroke; he felt the firm resistance and the faint, unmistakable nudge of your IUD against the head of his cock and he did not give a single shit.
Not when you were taking him like this.
“Fuck— there it is,” he groaned, voice wrecked as he held your leg higher and leaned into every thrust. “Feel that? That’s as deep as I can get. Taking every fucking inch like you were built for it. God, you’re perfect— so perfect—”
Your cunt clenched down around him so hard it punched the air from his lungs.
Then you gushed.
Hot, sudden wetness flooded around his cock, squirting in pulsing waves that soaked his stomach, his thighs, the couch cushion beneath you. The sound was filthy and unmistakable. Eddie’s eyes went wide, a broken, awed noise tearing out of his throat as he watched and felt you come apart under him.
“Oh my god— you’re— fuck, you’re squirting on me—”
That was all it took.
The tight, rhythmic pulse of your cunt milking him while you kept spurting around his cock ripped his orgasm out of him with zero warning. Eddie buried himself to the hilt and came hard, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you in thick, pulsing waves. He kept thrusting through it—short, messy strokes that forced his cum deeper while you were still gushing around him—mouth open against your neck, one hand locked under your thigh, the other braced on the couch like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“Shit— shit, baby, I- fuck— feel that? Feel me filling you up while you’re still making a mess of me? Fuck, you’re incredible— so wet and tight and perfect—”
He stayed inside you through the aftershocks, cock twitching as the last of your squirting eased into trembling little pulses. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath coming in ragged, disbelieving gasps, every muscle in his body still shaking from how hard he’d finished.
The couch was ruined.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Eddie stayed exactly where he was—chest to chest, cock softening in the wet heat he’d just filled. His breath was still coming a little uneven against the side of your neck. One hand stayed hooked under your thigh like he wasn’t ready to let you close your legs yet.
He lifted his head after a long moment, eyes dark and a little dazed, and looked down at you.
“…Did you know you could do that?”
His voice was rough, still wrecked around the edges, but there was pure curiosity underneath it. And a little bit of awe he wasn’t even trying to hide.
You blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
Eddie stared.
“Yeah?” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh that made his softening cock twitch inside you. “You’ve been walking around knowing you can do that and you just… never mentioned it? Not once? We’ve talked about every stupid thing under the sun and you never thought to bring up the fact that you can soak a couch?”
You shrugged as much as you could with him still on top of you. “I didn’t know it was gonna happen with you.”
Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Then dropped his forehead back to your shoulder with a dramatic groan.
“Oh my god. You’re serious. You actually didn’t know.” He sounded personally offended and deeply smug at the same time. “So what you’re telling me is that I did that. Me. Eddie Munson. Made you squirt. On my couch. And how often does that happen?”
"By myself? A lot. With other people? Not as much."
"So you're saying I'm a sex god?"
"I'm not not saying that."
He lifted his head again, grinning now—soft and a little filthy, hair a mess, lips still kiss-bitten.
“I’m never recovering from this. You’re never living this down. I’m going to be so insufferable about it. Just warning you now.”
He shifted his hips the tiniest bit, still half-hard and sliding through the mess of both of you, and made a low, content sound at the feeling.
“Also,” he added, voice dropping into something warmer, “for the record? That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You just— just… gushing all over me while I was coming? Jesus Christ. I thought I was going to black out. You ruined me. Completely.”
He kissed the corner of your mouth, lazy and fond, and didn’t pull out.
“We’re gonna need to burn this cushion,” he murmured against your lips, clearly not sorry at all. “And probably the whole couch. Worth it. So fucking worth it.”
Eddie cleaned you up with a care that made your chest ache.
He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute and came back with a warm washcloth, still bare and soft-eyed, and wiped between your legs with slow, gentle strokes like you were something precious. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee when he was done, then another to your hip, and helped you stand on slightly unsteady legs.
“C’mon,” he murmured, voice still rough. “Bed. Couch is a crime scene and I’m not making you sit in it.”
His bedroom was dim and lived-in—unmade sheets, a pile of band tees on the chair, the faint smell of his cologne and laundry detergent. He dug through a drawer and tossed you a soft black shirt that was definitely his and a pair of boxers that hung low on your hips. You pulled both on while he watched, something warm and possessive flickering across his face when the shirt settled over you and the boxers disappeared under the hem.
Then he tugged you down into the bed with him.
You ended up half on top of him, head on his chest, one of his arms wrapped solidly around your back while the other worked the remote. Some random late-night show played at low volume, the light from the screen flickering across the ceiling. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine under the shirt. Every so often he pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head like he couldn’t help it.
The quiet stretched long enough to feel safe.
You traced a fingertip over one of the tattoos on his chest and finally asked, voice soft, “What are we now?”
Eddie let out a short, incredulous laugh that rumbled under your ear.
“Are you serious?” He shifted just enough to look down at you, dark eyes soft and completely certain. “You’re asking me that while you’re in my clothes, in my bed, still smelling like me and sex? Baby. I’m not letting go of you now. Not after that. Not after years of wanting you and finally getting to have you.” His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking behind your ear. “You’re my girl. That’s what we are. Official. Permanent. Whatever word makes it sink in. You’re mine.”
He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your mouth—slow and sweet.
When he pulled back there was a familiar crooked grin tugging at his lips.
“Also,” he added, “I’m keeping those ruined little pink panties. They’re mine now. Evidence. Trophy. Whatever. I’ll buy you a new set. Hell, I’ll buy you ten new sets if it means I get to ruin them the same way. Fair trade.”
He settled back against the pillows, tugging you more firmly against his chest, and turned the volume on the TV up just a little.
“Now quit overthinking and watch the show with me,” he murmured into your hair, already sounding half-asleep and completely content. “My girl needs rest. I’ve got you.”
₊ ° ⊹ ♡ 𝐚/𝐧: this was an anonymous request but i accidentally deleted it while reading it </3 but i really liked the idea so i remembered !! i didn’t know whether to make eddie and the reader best friends or dating but i ended up with them being a couple (and ofc i have to add more to the storyline) . . . creds to @pixopix for the music note divider <3
⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 90s college au in nyc , everyone’s in their early 20s , girls night out with robin and nancy , reader gets a bit too drunk (like stumbling and dancing on tables drunk) , robin has to call eddie to come pick her up , giggly and flirty reader , established relationship , gentleman eddie , fluff <3
nancy and robin had been ganging up on you all week. every time you saw them—between classes or hunched over a table in the library—one of them would bring it up. friday night. the bar.
"you’re coming! no excuses!"
and every time, you found a way out.
the excuses piled up, and you knew they saw right through them. but what were you supposed to say?
"oh sorry, i can't. i’ve been spending every friday night smuggling my boyfriend through my dorm window after curfew, praying the institution doesn't catch us tangled up in my sheets by morning!"
that wasn't exactly conversation material.
still, you could feel eddie watching you across the cafeteria table when nancy brought it up again—her arms crossed, robin chiming in with that sharp, persuasive grin. you gave them the usual shrug. they exchanged a look and dropped it, but eddie didn't.
later, in your dorm room, he cornered you about it.
his voice was quieter than you expected. careful. he said he'd noticed. said he knew you were skipping things you might actually want to do, and that if it was because of him—because of your friday nights together—he didn't want to be the reason you were missing out.
"i’m not going anywhere," he told you, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knee. "you can go out with your friends. i’ll still be here when you get back."
you waved him off. told him bars were loud and sticky and full of people you didn't care to talk to. shrugged like it was nothing, ‘cause to you it was.
he just rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"you’re so stubborn." he muttered, but there was no bite in it. just fond exasperation, like he'd long since accepted that you were the most stubborn person he'd ever met—and somehow, annoyingly, he loved you anyway.
the library was your last stand.
you were buried in a stack of notes when nancy slid into the seat across from you. robin followed, dropping her bag on the floor with a theatrical sigh.
"you’re coming tonight," nancy said. no question. no room to wiggle.
you opened your mouth for once of your famous excuses, but robin cut you off before you could even get the words out.
"don’t even think about it. i saw your syllabus. you don't have anything due until next wednesday."
nancy leaned forward, her voice softening. "we miss you. and i know you and eddie have your thing on fridays, but... you can have both, you know. friends and a boyfriend."
you looked between them—nancy’s earnest, steady gaze, robin’s raised eyebrow waiting for another excuse that wouldn't work.
"fine," you breathed out. "fine. i’ll go."
robin pumped her fist. nancy smiled, small and relieved.
"finally!"
when you pushed open the door to your dorm room, eddie was sprawled across your bed. one arm was tucked behind his head, the other holding a battered paperback he wasn't really reading. his eyes found you the second you walked in.
"what’s that look for?" he asked, closing the book and setting it aside.
"i’m going out tonight," you said, crossing to your closet. "with nancy and robin."
he blinked. then a slow grin spread across his face. "no shit. they finally wore you down?"
"don’t look so pleased."
"i’m very pleased." he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as you rifled through hangers. "you deserve to have fun, sweetheart. go get drunk. do a bad shot. dance like a dork."
you shot him a look over your shoulder. "i don't dance."
"you will after three cheap beers."
you pulled out a black dress—something you rarely wore, a little lower-cut than your usual rotation. eddie went quiet as you changed, not bothering to hide the fact that he was watching. you could feel his eyes on you as you sat down at your tiny desk mirror, digging through a makeup bag that had seen better days.
he didn't say anything while you did your eyeliner. didn’t say anything while you brushed a little color onto your cheeks. but when you stood up and reached for a pair of silver hoops, sliding the first one through your ear, you heard him shift on the bed.
a low, appreciative whistle cut through the quiet.
"jesus, sweetheart." his voice was rough, almost reverent. "come here. i gotta tell you somethin'."
he crooked his fingers, beckoning you closer with that lazy, wolfish grin that always made your stomach flip.
you felt heat creep up your neck, but you held your ground, fumbling with the second earring as you giggled. "no! you're gonna make me late."
"i know i’m gonna make you late." he sat up fully now, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "that’s kind of the point."
you finally got the second hoop in and turned to face him, hands on your hips. "eddie."
he held his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling low in his throat. "i know, i know. i’m just playing with you." his eyes slowly traveled over you once more, like he was memorizing the sight. when they met yours again, the teasing had softened into something warmer. something sincere.
"but really." his voice dropped. "you look beautiful."
you felt your cheeks go pink. "yeah?"
"yeah." he stood up, crossed the room in two steps, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear—gentle, careful, like you were something precious. "they’re lucky to have you tonight. but i’m luckier, 'cause i get you back when it's over."
you bit your lip, fighting a smile. "you gonna be okay when you get back to your apartment alone?"
"please." he snorted, stepping back toward the bed and flopping onto it dramatically. "i’ve got my guitar, i’ve got my cigarettes, and i’ve got a six-pack in the mini-fridge. i’ll be living the dream."
he winked at you. "go have fun. call me if the drinks are shit."
you grabbed your purse, paused at the door, and looked back at him—all messy hair and warm eyes, stretched out on your bed.
"i will," you said softly.
and for once, you were actually looking forward to the night.
the three of you slipped out of the dorm like thieves, giggling while you slipped into the cool night air. bu the time you reached the bar—a dim, sticky-floored place called the rusty nail that robin swore had "character"—you'd already nearly tripped over a curb and laughed so hard your ribs ached.
robin shook her head as she took in the sight of you in your dress, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the door. "eddie is so lucky. so, so lucky. i hope he knows it."
"he knows it," you said, and the thought made you smile a little wider.
inside, the bar was everything a college dive should be—dim lighting, sticky tables, the smell of stale beer and cheap perfume. a jukebox warbled in the corner, and a handful of people were scattered across the bar stools and booths. the three of you claimed a high-top near the back, close enough to the little stage area where a microphone stand sat waiting, flanked by a pair of speakers that had definitely seen better days.
nancy ordered the first round—three shots of something amber and a pitcher of beer—and by the time the second round came around, you were all loose and loud and happy in the way only a friday night with your people could make you.
"so," nancy said, swirling the last of her drink, "i’m taking a break. a real one. no dating, no 'talking,' none of it. i’m done."
robin nodded. "for how long?"
"at least until midterms." nancy shrugged. "i keep getting distracted. and i'm tired of feeling like my brain is split in half—half for school, half for whatever guy is currently being an idiot."
"hell yeah," you said, raising your glass. "to being your own priority."
nancy clinked her glass against yours.
robin groaned, dropping her head onto the table. "well, i went on a date with this girl from my psych class. she seemed great. funny, smart, nice smile. we went to that coffee shop on fourth street."
"and?"
"and she spent forty-five minutes talking about her cat." robin lifted her head, looking traumatized. "forty-five. minutes. i know everything about that cat. i know its favorite brand of wet food. i know its sleep schedule. i know that it once got its head stuck in a pringles can."
you burst out laughing, nearly choking on your drink. "that’s not that bad—"
"no, i mean—i like cats. i do! but i went on a date with her, not her goddamn cat."
"did you tell her that?"
robin gave you a flat look. "i told her i had to go home and do some laundry."
nancy wiped a tear from her eye. "that’s such bullshit.”
"it worked, though."
the three of you dissolved into laughter, the kind that made your stomach hurt and your face ache. the pitcher ran dry, and nancy signaled for another round.
as the night stretched on, the little stage at the front of the bar came alive. a guy with a guitar climbed up and played a few covers—nothing special, but the small crowd that had gathered cheered anyway. you knew eddie would’ve played better. still, a couple of girls followed, doing a slightly off-key duet.
robin nudged you, a glint in her eye. "you know... there's a microphone up there."
you scoffed, shaking your head even as a smile tugged at your lips. "no way. absolutely not. i’m not getting up there."
"chicken," nancy sing-songed.
"drunk," you shot back, pointing at her. "you’re drunk, and you're both trying to corrupt me."
"we’re all drunk," nancy said, raising her fresh beer. "that’s the point."
you laughed, leaning back in your chair, watching the next person step up to the mic—a middle-aged man in a flannel who launched into a surprisingly soulful rendition of an old country song.
the jukebox felt louder, the laughter easier, and your limbs felt like they belonged to someone else—someone lighter, braver, a little unsteady on her feet.
robin was mid-story about her psych professor when you pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the floor.
"—and i swear to god, when he turned his head like a little animal—where are you going?"
you didn't answer. you were already moving, weaving between tables with the careful precision of someone who was absolutely not in control but refused to admit it. the floor tilted gently beneath you, and you let it carry you toward the table in the corner where a group of seniors had left their drinks unattended while they argued over a pool game.
you put your hands on the edge of the table. hoistes yourself up. found your footing in a pair of heels that had no business supporting anyone at this angle.
and then you danced.
it was sort of raunchy. messy, joyful, running your hands through your hair kind dancing. it was the kind that came from some deep place that didn't care about looking cool, but you did anyway. your hips swayed, your head tipped back, and a laugh escaped you.
the bar noticed.
a guy in a trucker hat let out a sharp whistle. someone else whooped. a few people clapped, pounding their hands on the sticky tabletops. you grinned down at them, drunk on the attention and the beer and the sheer electric thrill of being alive on a friday night.
robin cupped her hands around her mouth. "that’s my friend!"
nancy was laughing so hard she'd buried her face in her arms.
the song on the jukebox ended, and the stage lights—two flickering bulbs in rusted cages—caught your eye. the microphone stand sat empty, waiting. the guitar player from earlier was packing up his case.
you didn't think. you just jumped off the table, stumbled, caught yourself on a chair, and made your way to the stage.
the bartender—a grizzled man named frank who'd seen weirder things than a drunk girl in a little black dress commandeering his stage—just shook his head and waved a rag in your general direction. "don’t break the mic."
you grabbed the microphone, the metal cool and familiar in your hand. the speakers hummed. a few heads turned.
and then you opened your mouth, and the first words of i love rock 'n' roll came out raw and raspy and a little off-key, but loud.
a few people in the crowd started to clap along. the bartender sighed, but he was smiling. someone turned up the sound system, and an instrumental track kicked in from the jukebox, syncing up just enough to make it work.
you swayed on your feet, gripping the mic stand like it was the only thing keeping you upright—because it was. your voice climbed, roughened by the alcohol and the joy of it, and by the time you hit the chorus, half the bar was singing along with you.
you stumbled sideways, nearly toppling off the stage, and caught yourself with a giggle that bled into the next line.
robin watched from the high-top, her expression a mix of pure delight and dawning concern. she turned to nancy. "okay. she’s really drunk."
"i know. i’m glad she’s having fun, but i feel like she’s gonna hurt herself."
as if to prove their point, you nearly pitched forward off the stage again, saving yourself at the last second by grabbing the speaker. the crowd cheered anyway.
robin slid off her stool. "i’ll go call eddie."
nancy raised her glass. "tell him she's putting on a show."
the payphone was mounted to the wall near the bathrooms, its cord curled like a question mark. robin fumbled a quarter out of her pocket, fed it into the slot, and dialed the number she'd memorized from the sticky note on your fridge.
it rang twice. three times.
a click. eddie’s voice came through, a little distracted, like he'd been in the middle of something. "hello?"
"hey. it’s robin."
a pause. the sound of a guitar being set down. "robin? everything okay?"
"yeah, yeah, everyone's fine. just—" she glanced over her shoulder at the stage, where you were currently belting out the bridge with your eyes closed and one arm thrown dramatically to the ceiling. "your girl had a little too much over here. she’s... she's having a good time, but i think she needs a ride home before she tries to crowd-surf or something."
there was a beat of silence. and then, unmistakably, the tinny echo of joan jett bleeding through the phone line.
eddie’s voice came back, warm with amusement. "is that her singing in the background?"
"uh huh."
a low chuckle escaped him, rough and fond. "wow, she's actually not bad."
"she’s something," robin said, watching you nearly trip over a cable. "look, can you come pick her up? i’d drive her, but i’ve had three beers and nancy’s had four, and i don't trust either of us."
"yeah, yeah, i’ll get there in a bit." a rustling sound, like he was grabbing his keys. "rusty nail, right?"
"yup."
"keep her from breaking an ankle. i’m on my way."
the line went dead.
robin hung up the phone and turned back to the chaos, just in time to see you take a bow—wobbly, triumphant, arms spread wide—as the song crashed to its end and the bar erupted in applause.
she shook her head, grinning despite herself. "your boyfriend's coming to get you," she called out.
you didn't hear her. you were already launching into the opening riff of bad reputation.
the bass still thrummed through the floorboards when eddie pushed through the back door of the bar. his eyes swept the room, past the pool tables, past the knot of people by the dartboard, until they landed on the small stage.
and there you were.
the song had just ended, the last note bleeding into scattered applause, and eddie felt a small pang of disappointment. he’d been hoping to catch you singing. but he'd missed it by seconds.
still, the sight of you stopped him where he stood.
you were leaning down to accept a drink from some guy at the edge of the stage, your hair falling forward as you wrapped your fingers around the glass. coke. a couple of cherries floating among the ice cubes, stems poking up like little flags.
"oh, thanks!" you said, your voice carrying that warm, syrupy sweetness that always did something to his chest. you smiled at the guy—bright, genuine, the kind of smile you gave everyone—and eddie’s lips twitched. even through the pleasant haze of whatever you'd been drinking, it clearly hadn't occurred to you that the guy might have been hitting on you. you just saw a nice person handing you a soda. endearing didn't even begin to cover it.
then your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.
your whole face lit up.
"eddie!" you called out, your voice cutting through the ambient noise like a beacon. you raised your free hand, waving at him with the kind of unguarded enthusiasm that made a few heads turn. "that’s my boyfriend! hi!"
a ripple moved through the crowd. some of the guys near the bar shot eddie looks that ranged from jealous scowls to grudging nods of approval—the kind of damn, good for him acknowledgment that he'd gotten used to since he started showing up places with you on his arm. he felt a grin tug at his mouth, equal parts pride and amusement, as he made his way toward the stage.
"uh huh, hi," he said, his voice warm and a little rough as he stopped in front of you. he looked up, taking in the flush on your cheeks, the slight glassiness in your eyes. "you ready to get down now?"
your face crumpled into a pout. "what? no! i’m having fun, eds."
he knew that pout. had seen it a hundred times—when he tried to take the last slice of pizza, when he suggested turning off a movie you were invested in, when bedtime rolled around and you weren't done with your night yet.
"i know you are," he said gently, stepping closer until his boots were almost against the stage lip. "but it's getting late. why don't i take you home, yeah?"
you held his gaze for a long moment, considering. then, almost lazily, you plucked one of the cherries from your drink by its stem, brought it to your lips, and slid it into your mouth. you sucked on it slowly, thoughtfully, your eyes still on his, completely oblivious to the effect it was having on him.
eddie’s jaw tightened. he kept his hands at his sides and told himself to behave.
be a gentleman, she's drunk and you're taking her home like a good boyfriend.
finally, you sighed as you took the cherry out. "fine."
"alright." he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he gently took the glass from your hand. "give me this." he set it down on a nearby table—still half-full, the remaining cherries bobbing forlornly in the melting ice—and let you keep the one you were working on. you didn't protest, just held the stem between your fingers.
you reached for him, and he caught your hand, steadying you as you stepped down from the stage. but instead of letting you walk, he hooked an arm under your knees and another around your back, lifting you off your feet in one smooth motion. you let out a surprised laugh, your free hand curling around his shoulder as he cradled you against his chest.
a few people whistled. someone catcalled. eddie just shook his head, a lopsided grin on his face, and carried you toward the door.
on the way out, he spotted robin and nancy at a corner booth, nursing what looked like matching cocktails. he paused, shifting your weight slightly. "you two gonna be alright getting home?"
nancy nodded, her smile knowing and a little amused. "we usually grab a taxi. go. take care of her."
"always do," eddie said, and meant it.
the night air hit you as he pushed through the exit, cool and clean after the stuffy bar. the parking lot was mostly empty, the streetlights casting pools of orange light across the asphalt. his van sat near the back—a 1990 dodge ram, boxy and red, with a few dings in the paint and a bumper sticker from a show three summers ago. it was a far cry from the rattling old van he'd driven in high school. this one had actual working seatbelts. air conditioning, even, that worked all the time instead of when it felt like cooperating. it was practical—room for the band's gear, room for amps and drum cases and tangled cables after late-night gigs.
but eddie had made a habit of pointing out, with a wink and a shit-eating grin, that the space had other uses too.
he carried you around to the passenger side, careful not to bump your head on the door frame as he set you down on the bench seat. you were still holding that cherry, he noticed. still working on it with focused determination.
he shut the door gently, rounded the hood, and slid into the driver's seat. the engine turned over with a low rumble, and he glanced over at you—your head tipped back against the headrest, your eyes half-closed, that cherry stem still dangling from your fingers.
"comfortable?" he asked, his voice softer than he'd intended.
you hummed in response, a sound that could have meant anything, and eddie felt something warm and quiet settle in his ribs. he put the van in gear and pulled out of the lot, the bar's neon glow shrinking in the rearview mirror as he drove you both home.
eddie guided you through the door of his apartment with a steady hand on the small of your back, your feet stumbling just slightly over the threshold. the familiar scent of him—leather and cigarette smoke—wrapped around you as he kicked the door shut behind you both.
"dorm’s out," he said, his voice low and careful, like he was explaining something to a spooked animal. "people would've caught me sneaking you in, no question. you're staying here tonight. i’ll drop you off in the morning before anyone's awake, unless you just want to stay here. it’s the weekend anyway."
you murmured something in agreement, not really tracking the logistics, just letting the warmth of his hand guide you. he led you to his bed, and you sank onto the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning under your weight. a guitar leaned against the wall nearby, and a thin layer of ash dusted the nightstand.
you sighed and let yourself fall backward, the cheap ceiling tiles swimming lazily above you as eddie disappeared into the kitchen. you heard the fridge open, the clink of a glass, the rush of tap water.
when he came back, he was holding a glass of water. he set it down on the nightstand beside you, the little ceramic coaster you'd bought him from a gas station months ago catching the condensation.
"eds," you said, your voice carrying that particular sweetness you knew he couldn't ignore. you rolled onto your side, looking up at him through your lashes. "can you help with the zipper?"
innocence dripped from the question like honey, but the glint in your eyes told a different story entirely.
eddie’s jaw went tight. you saw the muscle jump beneath his skin, the way his throat worked as he swallowed. his eyes traced the line of your back where the dress pulled taut, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. his fingers twitched at his sides.
but he caught himself. he always did.
"yeah," he said, the word coming out rougher than he meant. he cleared his throat and tried again. "yeah, mhm. but nothing funny, alright?"
he sat down on the edge of the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. his fingers found the tiny metal tab at the nape of your neck, and he pulled—slow, deliberate, the zipper teeth parting one by one like a held breath releasing. the fabric loosened around your shoulders, and he forced himself to look away from the skin being revealed inch by inch.
when he was done, he pulled his hands back like he'd been burned.
you twisted to face him, the dress slipping dangerously at your collarbone. "but why? you don't want to play with me?"
the sound that escaped him was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. he dragged a hand over his face, mussing his hair further. "you know i do. god, you know i do." he leaned in, and you felt the ghost of his lips against your forehead—featherlight, reverent.
"but you're drunk. when you're sober—when you're you and not a couple of drinks in—i’ll play with you all you want. i promise."
he pulled back, and there was something soft in his brown eyes, something tender that cut through the haze of alcohol better than any glass of water could.
"gonna grab you something to wear," he said, his voice steadier now. "drink that water. every drop."
you huffed dramatically, but you reached for the glass anyway, the cool rim pressing against your lips as you took a sip. the water was cold and clean, and it grounded you just a little.
across the room, eddie was rummaging through his dresser, muttering under his breath as he pushed aside band tees and balled-up socks. the drawer stuck halfway, and he had to yank it, swearing softly when a cascade of loose guitar picks spilled onto the floor. he ignored them, finally pulling out a faded black shirt—the one with the faded slayer logo, the one you always stole—and a pair of shorts.
he turned back, and there you were: sprawled across his bed, bare-shouldered, water glass in hand, watching him like he was the only thing in the room worth looking at.
eddie’s heart stuttered.
he crossed back to the bed, the borrowed clothes folded over his arm. he stopped at the edge of the mattress, looking down at you—sprawled out, bare-shouldered, holding that glass of water like a prop you'd forgotten you were holding.
"alright, you," he said, his voice soft but carrying that familiar edge of teasing. he tapped the bottom of the glass. "set it down. doctor’s orders."
you gave him a mock salute, the motion sloppy and exaggerated, and placed the glass on the nightstand with a clumsy clink. "yes, sir."
he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. the mattress dipped as he climbed up beside you, his knees bracketing your hip. his hands found your shoulders first as he pulled the rest of the dress down.
"arms up," he murmured.
you lifted them, and he guided the fabric over your head, the dress slipping away like water. he folded it once, twice, and set it aside without looking at it. his eyes stayed on you—on your face, specifically, pointedly avoiding anywhere else.
you sat there in your bra and underwear, the room’s dim light painting soft shadows across your skin, and eddie’s jaw tightened. but his hands stayed steady. gentle.
he grabbed the shirt and worked it over your head. your face emerged through the collar, hair mussed, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. he smoothed the fabric down your sides, his knuckles brushing your ribs with the lightest touch.
"now the shorts," he said, reaching for the shorts. "lift up for me."
you did, a little uncoordinated, and he guided the waistband up your legs, over your hips, adjusting the lace so it sat right. his fingers lingered for just a second at your hip, a quiet reassurance, before he pulled his hands away.
"there. decent." he said it like a joke, but his voice was warm. "almost a shame to cover up, but—" he caught himself, clearing his throat. "anyway. are you good? comfortable?"
you nodded, already sinking into the pillows, the fabric of his shirt bunched around your neck. he’d crawled up beside you, propping himself on one elbow, and looked down at you with an expression so soft it made your chest ache.
he leaned in and kissed you. just a brush of lips—slow, tender, tasting faintly of the beer from earlier. but he didn’t care.
you tilted your chin up, chasing more, and he felt the shift in pressure, the way your mouth parted against his. he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.
"behave," he murmured against your lips.
you giggled, the sound light and buzzy, and nodded. but your hand found the collar of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, holding him there before he could pull back even an inch.
he looked down at your grip, then back up at your face, his gaze tender. "what are you holding onto me for?" he murmured.
you shrugged, the motion small and sleepy. "nothin’. just wanted to cuddle with you before i knock out." your voice dipped softer. "maybe watch some tv or something."
his heart clenched. something hot and tender swelled behind his ribs, and he had to look away for a second to collect himself. when he looked back, his eyes were softer.
"yeah?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "that all you want?"
"for now." your smile was sleepy, sweet, a little bit teasing even through the haze.
he kissed you again—slower this time, like he was savoring the shape of your mouth.
"alright," he said, the word a quiet surrender.
he shifted, letting you settle against his chest, your cheek finding the worn fabric of his shirt. his arm wrapped around you, hand finding your hair, fingers threading through the strands with an absent, practiced tenderness. with his free hand, he fumbled for the remote on the nightstand, clicking the tv on to some late-night rerun—static and color bleeding across the screen.
not even fifteen minutes later, your breathing had gone slow and even, your fingers slack against his shirt. the tv flickered unwatched, some commercial jingle playing to an empty room.
eddie didn't move. he just kept running his fingers through your hair, watching the rise and fall of your back, thinking that this—right here—was better than anything he could’ve done on a late friday night.
he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, so light you didn't stir.
Summary: Eddie got too drunk after his gig at the Hideout, and reader has to come save the day.
Content Warnings: Eddie is DRUNK (embarrassingly so), the reader is AFAB with female body parts, Eddie is handsy when he's drunk (in a good way), Eddie and reader live together
This is super short and has been sitting in my drafts for months but yolo
divider by me
You hadn't even slipped your jacket off when you got home before the phone rang on the wall. You had been out with Robin and Nancy, having dinner and seeing a movie, while Eddie had his gig at The Hideout. Usually, you'd be with him, but this girl's night had been planned for weeks, and the opening at The Hideout was only given to Corroded Coffin a few days ago. Eddie had told you it was fine, that you could miss one show to hang out with your friends.
You move towards the ringing phone, leaning against the wall it's perched on as you hold it to your ear. "Hello? Munson Household."
You hear a relieved sigh over the phone, muffled by loud music and people chattering. It's Jeff, and he's immediately rambling into the phone.
"You need to get here. Eddie's gone off the rails and he drank way too much. He keeps talking about you in ways we never wanted to hear—just, please, come get him." Jeff is barely done rambling when you hear the phone being shuffled.
"Baby?" Despite it, you smile at the sound of Eddie's voice. "I's loves you—" He sighs into the dreamily, and you can't help but stifle a laugh.
"Eddie, I'm coming to get you, okay?" You hear him whine over the phone, saying something about 'having fun.' You smile anyway, before continuing. "I'll see you soon, okay? Give the phone back to Jeff." He grumbles, but you hear the phone being passed back.
"Thank you. You are a saint." Jeff speaks before the two of you end the call. You head back to the door, slipping the shoes you had just taken off back on.
When you park outside The Hideout, the place is buzzing. There are a few groups of people lingering outside, but you push past them to get inside. You are bombarded by whichever band is playing up there now, loud drums echoing and you can feel the rhythm in your chest.
Your eyes roam the dive bar, searching for a familiar pair of eyes or that curly mop on his head. You see Jeff first and he immediately waves you over. In front of him is Eddie, gesturing wildly, no doubt telling some ridiculous tale.
Eddie doesn’t hear or see you as you approach him. You wrap your arms around him, voice soft as you interrupt his story. “Guess who?”
He turns immediately at the feeling of your touch, no doubt that he hadn’t registered your words because he looked half tempted to curse you out. His expression softens exponentially, his grin widening.
“Baby!” He slurs slightly, his arms tightening around you as he stumbles closer. “Missed you. When dids yous get here?”
You try not to laugh, your smile widening as you steady your boyfriend. Pushing him slightly to get a good look at him. Eddie preens under your gaze, already trying to lean back in to your hold.
“I just got here. We’re going home, okay?” You tell him softly, watching as he begins to frown, shaking his head in a way that resembles a stubborn child.
“But the fun is just starting—“ Eddie tries to argue, turning to reach for his beer when Gareth swipes it out from his hand, giving him a stern look.
“Honey, you look like you’ve been having fun for the better part of the whole evening.” You say softly, hands sliding up his back in what is supposed to be a comforting move. Eddie turns back to you, brown eyes wide with affection.
“But now you’re here. It’ll be even more fun.” It’s obvious Eddie is doing his best to convince you, and an amused grin falls on your lips as you shake your head.
“We should go home, Eddie.” You say softly, tilting your head in a way you know he can’t resist. You feel his large hands slide down your back and squeeze your hips, a surprised laugh leaving your lips. But before you can say anything Eddie leans down to your ear, voice deep.
“Oh, it’s like that?” He drags his nose down the line of your neck, the whiskey on his breath infiltrating your senses. Despite his obvious suggestiveness, you use this as a tactic to get home, quickly nodding your head.
“You should say goodbye. I left the car running.”
Eddie turns at your words, barely giving the boys a passing glance, just nodding at them before turning on his heels to drag you out of the bar. You laugh under your breath, doing your best to keep up with him. However, his eagerness is only his downfall as he nearly falls off the curb, causing you to laugh louder.
When he turns to pout at you, you playfully roll your eyes, wrapping your arm around his back, his on your shoulder, to steady him.
“Let’s get you to the car, ‘kay?” He follows your lead, stumbling only slightly until you get him situated in the passenger seat of your beat up red truck. When you lean inside the car to buckle him, you aren’t even shocked to feel his hand cup your ass. Your eyes shoot up to him, smacking his hand away with a laugh. “No funny business—“
Eddie whines. Like a child. With a full pout on his face.
“I’m serious, Eddie.”
“Me too!”
You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips before you shut his door, walking around to the driver’s side and getting in. “Are you ready to go home now?” You glance up as you speak, only to find Eddie somehow fast asleep. A fond look overtakes your features and you twist the key in the ignition, heading home.
okay wait I actually need more of mermaid!reader and Johnny, like they’d be so smitten with each other ugh I can’t
More Johnny Storm x mermaid!reader? 🤍
Hear me out: Johnny is an explorer. He loooves learning new things. Once he gets set on learning mermaid!you? Ughhh. Say no more.
He wants to know everything. How the tail works. How do you know his language. How he can make you laugh because you don’t understand his jokes. Why you sound so angelic when you sing that it makes him want to join you in the water and never come out.
He notices you don’t get too close to him when he’s flamed on. Maybe the extreme heat makes the scales feel weird and now Johnny Storm has to learn how to turn part of himself off just so he can see you from up close.
He wants to know what happened to the other mermaids, and wonders if you feel lonely. Johnny starts disappearing from the tower to “patrol” when he’s actually looking for other interesting human things to bring you. GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY.
You want to know everything about him too. He’s a little weird, but his smile is very kind. The concept of him being caught in a cosmic storm in space is absolutely mind blowing. He explains it as many times as you ask him to. You see the stars from the sea but he’s been next to them and that’s fascinating.
You show him your collection of human things you’ve gathered (F4 merch included) and ask if every human has toys made out of them. He has to explain what his family does for a living. What he does. In your eyes, he’s the absolute opposite of what you’ve always been told vile humans were.
He even teaches you about another wild concept: sunscreen. That’s what gets a tiny laugh out of you. “But the sun can’t hurt you, Johnny of the Storm. You’re made of starlight.”
That one keeps him up that night. You’re adorable. He’s just a man.
Sigh. He’s in deep trouble.
(His family is done with him falling for non conventional creatures, but can you really blame him?)
