this post inspired something bc. yes. this is eddie. he would confess on his deathbed.
eddie munson x grumpy!reader. canon compliant / fix it (happy ending). gn!reader (long hair mentioned), no use of y/n. blog is 18+, this blurb isn't.
wc: ~ 1k
There's three things Eddie knows for sure:
1. You hate his guts.
2. He just saved your life.
3. He's going to die.
So in all likeliness, this might well be his only chance to say it.
"I-"
"Shut the fuck up," you snap immediately, trying desperately to keep pressure on way too many wounds at once while Dustin is scavenging for anything to bind them with. Your brows are drawn together in concentration, and despite the blood and demo-bat viscera splattering your face, you look damningly cute.
Spots dance across his vision, blurring you. Fucking rude. If he's going to die after all of this, you should be the last thing he sees. He should get to keep looking at you, the way he's always been.
Over his shoulder in the cafeteria, where you'd sit right at his back on the next table over, flipping your hair obnoxiously often, half in his face, just to piss him off.
Through the shelves at the record store, where you'd purposefully scrunch your nose or raise your brows whenever you shelved the new arrivals. Few things got your stamp of approval, but one of his recs once made it to the in-store record player while you were on shift. You'd denied it to hell and back, but he was thrilled you'd actually listened to him. And his music.
At the hideout, when you came to pick up your dad from the crowd of five drunks watching Corroded Coffin play, and actually stayed till they finished their set. You looked like you were both intrigued and angry about it, and Eddie couldn't help but lean right into your face off the stage, delivering lyrics straight to you. He'd never seen your cheeks this red before. He felt a little drunk off it, with the music and the lights and you sticking out your tongue at him before retreating to the bar. He'd wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt, but you'd dragged your dad out of there the second they were done playing.
Wasted time. Wasted opportunities. This is it.
He tries again: "I think I-"
"Will you STOP!" There's desperation in your tone. He only notices your hands are shaking when he covers them with his own, unsteadily, weakly.
Adorable as your efforts are, they're not gonna change a thing, and he really really needs to get this out now while he still has some focus left. "I'm-"
"You are NOT dying, Eddie Munson. Not today. Not on my watch. Absolutely fucking not. So just shut up and-"
"I love you."
That stuns you to silence. Finally. Good. Your mouth works like you're chewing on a reply, but nothing comes out. Can't exactly give a dying man the brush-off, he knows, but he's not expecting anything. He just needed to tell you. To see your face while he does. His chuckle is laced with blood.
He squeezes your hands, once, and the spots in his vision take over. Vaguely, he hears Dustin in the distance, and feels a bit sorry he won't get to say goodbye. But as last words go, a love confession is pretty epic, if he says so himself.
He wants to hear your reply. He wants to ruffle Dustin's hair and push his Hellfire kids around. He wants to play on a big stage with his band and he wants to hug his uncle again.
The future slips away in the dark. It may be a shit ending, but at least it's a heroic one.
Between the sun and the reflecting white of everything in the room, Eddie's eyes burn. There's something stuck in his arm. And in his nose. Everything itches and scratches and hurts. If this is Vecna's idea of hell, the bastard needs some pointers. The torture aspect is on point, but the aesthetic could use some work.
His throat is too dry to even cough, but as he slowly blinks, two dark shapes in the too-bright room take form. One of them, still in a chair by his side, is his uncle, and Eddie can feel his eyes tear up at the sight. The other one moves, a flash coming from the window sill, and he only recognizes your face when it's right in front of him.
You look worried and desperate and strung out and tired. "Hi," seems like the best way to approach this. His dopey smile doesn't seem to chase your tension away, though. It seems to make you furious.
"You fucking dumbass idiot asshole!" you whisper-scream, evidently trying not to wake up Wayne before you could get your tirade off your chest. "What the fuck were you thinking? Oh, what nice day to die? What a cool way to leave all of my friends fucking mourning? What a great fucking storybook-ending to say that and then-"
Well. Good to know it did have the desired effect, then.
"Sorry if I killed the vibe, b- OUCH." his voice rasps out an almost-scream when your fingers claw into his arm. Through the blur of pained tears in his eyes, he only barely realizes the tears in your own.
"Oh? Does that hurt? Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Asshole."
And then you kiss him. And he thinks, alright, if this is hell, maybe he can live with it. It's over far too soon, not much more than a peck, and you ease up your grip and pull his covers back straight and check on his IV and seem altogether very much too busy to acknowledge his even dopier smile now.
"Fuck you," you mumble, and despite the life-threatening injuries he is, after all, just a boy, so he thinks Please do. Still, he's wise enough about his condition not to say it out loud. Considering your sudden interest in his health, your wrath might not be his biggest problem, though. "Just you wait till Dustin gets here. He and Steve are gonna rip you a new one."
⋆˚꩜｡summary: eddie hates your pizza order, but he doesn't hate you<3 based on this request sent in by anon<3
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit content +18 only, minors do not interact, no y/n, she/her reader, , best friends to lovers, mutual pining for yearsss, idiots in love?, love confession, domestic fluff, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex (don't do this, you'll get pregnant and die), creampie, eddie cums too quick<3, emotional intimacy, marijuana use, alcohol mention
⋆˚꩜｡wordcount: 6k
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: dear anon, i took some creative liberties bc it wasn't flowing as well as i wanted it to, sorry it isn't as filthy as i usually make 'em </3
Final exams finished and passed – thank God – you were finally able to go home for the summer.
You had taken it upon yourself to put all your faith into the godforsaken – although very loved – hand-me-down car and make the four hour drive all the way from Springfield, Illinois, back to Hawkins, Indiana, before your parents even had the chance to think about coming your way instead.
It had absolutely nothing to do with missing a certain 5”10 metalhead who proudly called himself your best friend. Nope, absolutely nothing at all.
You hadn’t called anyone ahead of time to tell them you’d be back home for the upcoming twelve weeks – not even Eddie – simply because you didn’t have the energy to make family plans and empty promises of catching up with old classmates you didn’t like just yet.
Tilting your head to the side far enough for it to crack loudly, you flicked the turn signal when the weather-tattered Forest Hills Trailer Park sign came into view. You exhaled softly as you slowed down enough to turn right, the crunching gravel and uneven ground beneath the tires rocking the car from side to side until you finally pulled up in front of the Munson trailer.
You turned off the engine and sank further into your seat as the last four hours of driving without stopping finally caught up to you. For a moment, you simply stared at the wooden porch, already dreading the aching trembles that would settle into your legs the second you got out of the car.
Eddie’s van sat parked beside the trailer, confirming he was home and that your surprise wouldn’t be ruined by him spotting your car.
You pulled the key from the ignition and pushed the door open before flicking through the abnormal amount of keys on your keychain until you found the copy he’d given you years ago – perks of being best friends for almost two decades.
Not bothering to grab your bag from the passenger seat – you’d probably make Eddie do it later – you pushed the car door shut with your hip and headed up the steps leading to the front door.
Eddie blew out the earthy smoke of his joint as he glanced at the kitchen clock with furrowed eyebrows when he heard the muffled noise of clinking keys followed by the soft click of the lock.
Wayne had left for work less than an hour ago. There was absolutely no reason for him to be coming back already.
You lazily pushed the door open as a tired sigh escaped your lips before crossing the threshold.
The joint between Eddie’s fingers nearly slipped from his grasp when he dragged his gaze away from the clock and towards the door, finding you instead of Wayne.
For a second, he genuinely wondered if the weed was making him imagine you.
His big brown eyes widened ever so slightly while his eyebrows disappeared behind the frizzy bangs that had escaped the messy bun he’d thrown his hair into hours ago.
“Fuck off,” he mumbled after a solid thirty seconds of staring at you like he’d just witnessed some kind of miracle. “What the hell?”
The cursed welcome-home greeting – so uniquely Eddie – made the corners of your mouth curl upwards as you kicked off your shoes.
“Surprise,” you murmured tiredly as you stepped over to the kitchen table, snatched the joint from his fingers, and dropped into the chair beside him.
The trailer hadn’t changed a bit since you’d last stepped foot inside nearly five months ago. The wallpaper was still ugly and yellowed from years of cigarette smoke, and the AC still made that annoying rumble as it struggled to cool down the place.
“The fuck do you mean surprise?” he asked, blinking a few times as he tried to process the fact you were sitting in his kitchen and not a whole state away.
“The meaning of surprise hasn’t changed as far as I know, Eddie.”
He leaned back in his chair like the extra distance was necessary for it all to sink in.
Then, slowly, the disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips turned into full-blown maniacal laughter as he shoved back his chair and practically launched himself at you.
“Holy shit, you are home!” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around you so fast you nearly choked on your drag.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you replied between coughs, forcing yourself to ignore how the weight of those words spread warmth along your chest.
“I’m ordering pizza to celebrate,” he mumbled against your hair before finally loosening his grip.
He was already halfway to the kitchen when you furrowed your eyebrows and took another drag of the joint.
“Do you even have money?”
Eddie grabbed the yellowed menu from the fridge and clicked his tongue as he shot you a look.
“For your information,” he deadpanned, pointing the menu at you, “I have been saving up money to come visit you.”
Your eyebrows shot up.
“You?” you scoffed out. “Saving money?”
“I can be a responsible adult,” he replied, sounding personally offended.
“Sure you can, buddy.”
Eddie rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair and pushed the menu towards you.
“Pick what you want.”
“The fuck are you giving me this for?” you asked, immediately sliding it back across the table. “You know my order.”
Eddie looked at you for a moment longer than necessary before his gaze dropped to the joint resting in the ashtray. He picked it up, lit it, and took a long drag.
“You don’t wanna try something a little more socially acceptable?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Margherita, maybe? Like a normal person?”
A groan escaped you as you sank lower into your chair.
“I’m not even home for ten fucking minutes, and you’re already torturing me.”
“You’re the one torturing me with those taste buds.”
That pulled a tired chuckle from your lips before a yawn overtook it instead. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand.
Eddie’s grin softened at that. His gaze drifted over your face, lingering on the faint bags beneath your eyes and the slow blinks that had far more to do with four hours of non-stop driving than the joint you’d stolen from him moments earlier.
Without a word, he stood up and disappeared down the short hallway towards his room.
You’d learned a long time ago to let Eddie do whatever weird thing he was about to do instead of wasting your breath asking questions.
A minute later, he reappeared carrying a clean towel and a chance of clothes. Holding them out to you with one hand, he brough the joint back to his lips with the other.
“Knowing you,” he started before slowly exhaling a stream of smoke, “you left all your shit in the car for me to deal with.”
Your gaze dropped to his ring-covered hand before lifting back to his face as a smile tugged at your lips.
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, echoing your words from earlier. “I love you too.”
You hesitated for a beat, something about the earnestness in his voice catching you off guard. Before you could dwell on it, you blinked once, then again, and reached for the clothes and towel in his hand.
“You better not mess up my order, Edward,” you muttered as you headed towards the bathroom.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
Thankfully, Eddie had not, in fact, messed up your order.
The heart-attack-inducing pizza topped with double pepperoni, white mushrooms, extra red onions, and a generous drizzle of pesto – much to Eddie’s eternal horror, despite this having been your order for years – was absolute heaven after months of suffering through one-star college-town pizza.
The TV hummed quietly from the living room, forgotten somewhere between slices of pizza and the overwhelming exhaustion that came with four uninterrupted hours on the road. At some point, the two of you’d migrated to Eddie’s bedroom instead, trading the uncomfortable kitchen chairs for the familiar comfort of his unmade bed and cluttered floor.
Somewhere between yawns, giggles, and marijuana smoke, the simmering heat of Eddie’s body had slowly found its way towards your side of the bed while you relished in the comfort and familiarity of his old mattress.
You were in the middle of telling him about something stupid and annoying that had happened at college a few weeks ago when he reached up and gently smoothed a loose strand of hair away from your temple. His hand drifted lower until it found the ends of your hair, absentmindedly curling a strand around his finger like he always did. You shook your head as you tried to remember where you’d left off before the story abandoned you altogether.
Before you could come up with anything that remotely resembled a coherent thought, Eddie let go of your hair and allowed the strand to fall softly back against the pillow.
“You tired?” he mumbled after a while.
Propping his head up on the palm of his hand, he looked down at you.
“Kinda,” you admitted with a slow blink.
The warm glow of the nightstand lamp spilled through the room, painting amber streaks and dramatic shadows across the little things that made the space so uniquely Eddie. The guitar leaning against the wall. The cluttered dresser. The faded band posters that somehow still managed to hang on despite years of being held together by tape and stubbornness.
Its reflection danced in his eyes, though there was something else swimming beneath it – something you couldn’t quite place.
“It’s pretty late,” he said, flicking his gaze towards the red numbers of the alarm clock. “We can just sleep if you want.”
“Nah.” You shuffled closer onto your side and tucked your arm beneath the pillow. “Wanna talk. Missed this.”
For a moment, something softened in his expression.
As soon as it appeared, it was gone again.
“Of course you did,” he replied with a grin. “It’s impossible not to miss me.”
You rolled your eyes, absentmindedly fidgeting with the comforter beneath your fingers before another yawn escaped you.
“That’s it. Let’s get you some sleep,” Eddie mumbled as he pushed himself upright.
He tugged the comforter free from where it had become tangled under the two of you before giving it a quick shake and draping it back over your bodies. The bed creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he settled back against the mattress, fluffing his pillow before getting comfortable.
Then, without thinking anything of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer until you were practically sprawled across his chest.
You ignored the small sigh that slipped from your lips when your cheek settled against the inked demon head stretched across his chest.
“You comfy?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “Can you do that thing with my arm?”
A crooked grin tugged at Eddie’s lips as he looked down at you. “You’re spoiled, you know that?”
There was no bite to the words as his fingers found your forearm, lazily tracing soft spirals against your skin.
You hummed contentedly. “And whose fault is that, hm?”
Eddie knew damn well whose fault it was – his fingers always found their way into your hair whenever you were close enough, his wallet somehow opened a little easier whenever you tagged along to the arcade, and every piece of good news was shared with you before he’d even thought about telling Wayne.
Something tugged softly at his chest.
He ignored and chuckled under his breath instead.
“What if I wanna be spoiled for once?”
“Then I’ll spoil you rotten,” you replied without hesitation.
Eddie fell quiet. His gaze lingered on the wall opposite of the bed while his finger continued tracing lazy circles along your arm.
Then, ever so quietly:
“Can you scratch my head?”
Sometime in the last few minutes, your eyes had drifted shut in the quiet stillness of the room. you blinked them open slowly, trying to adjust to the warm glow of the bedside lamp.
“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. “C’mere, big boy.”
Eddie’s fingers stilled against your skin before he uncurled his arm around your frame.
You pushed yourself a little higher against the headboard and stretched out your arm for him. Eddie immediately shuffled closer and carefully rested the side of his head against your bicep.
“There he is,” you teased quietly, threading your finger through his hair.
He smelled like the cheap sandalwood and pine shampoo Wayne always bought from the dollar store, lingering traces marijuana smoke, and something else entirely – something that was uniquely Eddie. His curls were frizzy and probably held more knots than he’d ever willingly admit to, but you didn’t comment on any of it. You simply worked your hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as quiet, content sighs slipped past his lips.
“Hm,” he hummed, practically melting beneath your touch. “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna have to spoil me more often.”
A low chuckle escaped you as you brought your free hand up to his curls, carefully teasing apart a few stubborn knots before they could snag.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Blinking slowly, he tilted his head just enough to find your gaze already fixed on him.
For a moment, Eddie was certain he’d never seen you look at anyone the way you were looking at him.
“Your future boyfriend’s gonna have a hard time competing with me if you keep looking at me like that.”
The words left Eddie’s mouth before his brain had the chance to catch them. An uncomfortable buzz immediately settled beneath his skin.
Your hand stilled for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for him to notice.
Silence settled between you. The space separating your bodies was practically nonexistent, yet somehow it suddenly felt heavier than it had moments ago – not awkward, just… different.
Then, slowly, the smile that had slipped from your face returned, spreading a familiar warmth through his chest.
“There’s no competition, Eds.”
Your fingers resumed their gentle scratching, as though you hadn’t just ripped off a bandage neither of you had been brave enough to touch for years.
Eddie felt his pulse stumble. “What?”
“In fact,” you continued, completely ignoring the disbelief in his voice, “there never has been.”
He broke his gaze away from yours and furrowed his eyebrows as he swallowed.
“Stop…” he trailed off, trying to lean away before immediately giving up. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”
You opened your mouth before closing it again. For a moment, you simply stared at him, his words hitting you like a punch to the chest.
“Of course I mean it,” you whispered.
You let go of his hair and dragged a hand through your own before flicking your gaze towards the yellowed stains on the ceiling.
“I always carry extra cetirizine whenever we hang out, just in case we run into a cat,” you continued quietly. “And I know the real story behind the scar on your chin even though you’ve never told me.”
Eddie’s frown deepened while his entire body went still beside you.
“I know you skipped an entire week of school when Cliff Burton died but told everyone it was because it was the anniversary of your mom’s death,” you continued. “You say you hate broccoli, but you always eat it when I make it.”
A soft sigh escaped you before you swallowed and finally looked back down at him.
“I was prepared to stay best friends forever and be miserable about it,” you admitted quietly. “I figured that was better than losing you.”
The room fell silent. Eddie stared at you. Not moving, not speaking – just staring.
His eyes darted across your face as if searching for the punchline. For the moment you’d laugh and tell him you were kidding. For the moment he’d wake up, for anything that made more sense than this.
But there wasn’t one – there was only you.
The faint bags beneath your eyes, your nervous smile, your shaking hands tangled in his curls.
The look in your eyes he’d been trying not to think about since you’d told him there was no competition.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he whispered.
Your breath caught. “Eddie–”
“I’ve been in love with you for fucking years.”
The words sounded almost pained as they left him – like he’d been holding them back for far too long.
For a second neither of you moved again. Then Eddie surged forward before he could lose his nerve.
One hand found your jaw, while the other buried itself in the comforter.
And then his lips were on yours.
They felt like silk, and his breath was warm against your skin as he let our a ragged exhale, spreading heat from your cheeks all the way down to your chest.
Your eyes drifted shut as you pulled him closer, unable to stop what he’d started.
A shiver ran down your spine as your senses became overwhelmed by everything Eddie – the shirt he’d loaned you hanging from your frame, the earthy scent of his shampoo, the familiar weight of his hand against his cheek, the nervous drumming of his fingers beneath it.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes slowly opened and found yours. They lingered on your face as though he was trying to memorize every detail while desperately attempting to get the fireworks in his chest under control.
“Fuck Springfield,” he mumbled after a few seconds, apparently incapable of surviving a vulnerable moment without cracking a joke. “I’m kidnapping you.”
A laugh escaped you. “Kidnapping isn’t very boyfriend material, Eddie.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” the words sounded almost disbelieving coming from him. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good,” you replied with a grin. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Obviously,” he scoffed. “Do you know how hard it is to kidnap a college student?”
You barked out another laugh, the ugly kind that made your stomach hurt and was reserved for him alone – and pulled him closer again, threading your fingers back through his curls. The frizzy strands felt soft against your fingers as you resumed scratching his scalp.
Eddie couldn’t seem to stop looking at you. Like he needed the constant visual confirmation that you were still there, still real. His gaze carried a quiet sort of electricity now, something warm and disbelieving all at once.
Slowly, he tilted his head forwards until his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek.
Then he leaned in and kissed you again. He pulled you into his chest and rolled the both of you until his back laid flush against the mattress.
A sound that was half groan, half disbelieving laugh escaped him against your lips. His fingers tightened slightly against your cheek as he kissed you slowly, almost teasing at first, though there was something else underneath it now; something desperate, and that had been waiting for too long.
You hooked a finger around one of his curls and gave it a gentle tug when a quiet sigh slipped from his lips. All the frustration had been building between the two of you for years slowly found its way into the kiss.
Neither one of you seemed willing to be the first to pull away. But when you finally did, both of you were breathing a little harder than before.
Eddie’s eyes looked darker beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, his lips slightly swollen from kissing you. For a moment, he simply stared like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
“Please tell me you want this,” his words came out rough and breathless, his chest rose and fell unevenly beneath you as his eyes searched your face.
A soft, disbelieving scoff escaped you while you glanced away for a second before looking back at him – back at the man you’d spent years trying not to fall in love with.
“I’ve wanted this for years,” you whispered.
Eddie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let your words settle between you while his eyes continued searching your face. The longer he looked, the more ridiculous he felt. The faint shadows beneath your eyes. Your messy hair. The unmistakable affection swimming in your gaze that, apparently, had been there all along. How the fuck had he missed it for all these years?
“Good,” he said after a moment. A mischievous grin was already spreading across his face before the word had fully left his mouth. “Because I really wanna eat you out.”
A loud, undignified snort escaped you. Your head tilted back as laughter burst from your chest.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you wheezed.
“What?”
He tried to sound defensive, as though laughing at the words that had just left his mouth was the most offensive thing you’d ever done in all the years he’d known you. But the act lasted all of three seconds when his lips pulled into a pursed smile before giving way to a chuckle at your disbelieving expression.
“Just being honest here, sweetheart,” he replied quietly. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your waist. “Since we’re confessing and all that.”
You were still trying to catch your breath from the kiss while his ridiculous words continued echoing in your ears.
You brushed a stray curl away from his eyes and made a mental note to trim his bangs the next chance you got.
Reaching for the back of his head, you gently pulled him closer. A soft sigh escaped you when your lips met once again.
Something in Eddie seemed to snap the moment you kissed him back. Slowly, he rolled the two of you over until your back met the mattress again, bracing himself with one arm while the other remained firmly around your waist. The bed creaked beneath the shift in weight as he settled between your legs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled when he finally pulled back for air.
His thumb continued brushing softly against your cheek as he shook his head in disbelief, as though he didn’t quite trust himself with the affection spilling from his mouth.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he admitted quietly, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “But you’re tired, and–”
“I want this, Eds,” you whispered, and slid your hand from the back of his head to his cheek, cradling his face gently.
Eddie’s gaze finally lifted from your lips to your eyes.
“Are you sure?” the question came out softer than before. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped you – sometimes he could be so ridiculously stubborn.
“How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?” You stole a quick kiss before he had the chance to answer. “I want this.”
Whatever had been holding him back finally snapped once and for all when he leaned in again, his lips finding yours like he needed your kiss to breathe.
His fingers twitched against your cheek before they slowly trailed down to the hem of your shirt. A warm breath escaped him when his fingers skimmed over the skin of your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The gentle grip you had on his cheek faltered for a brief moment as he started tracing soft circles beneath your shirt, like he was trying to memorize every inch he could reach.
You parted your lips when you let go of his face entirely and brought your fingers back into his curls. Eddie stilled, and his thumb pressed a little harder into your hip when he felt you give his hair a tentative tug. A shiver ran through him at the touch, and he slowed the kiss just enough to catch his breath before he finally – almost hesitantly – pulled away.
“Can I…” the words died on his tongue as he swallowed hard and opened his eyes.
His fingers drifted back to the hem of your shirt, giving the fabric a small, uncertain tug. It took your brain a split second to catch up before you gave him a shaky nod. Eddie swallowed again and nodded back – though it seemed like he was doing it more for himself than for you.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright until he was kneeling between your legs. His hand slipped beneath the fabric and gently lifted your shirt over your head.
Heat instantly rushed to his cheeks, tainting his milky skin a bright pink, as you pulled your arms free from the sleeves, but he didn’t let his gaze wander. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on yours, still searching for even the smallest hint of hesitation.
Eddie’s heart pounded wildly in his ears as he finally dared to let his eyes trace the delicate curves of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts. With shaking hands, he gently caressed your sides as he marveled at how you reacted to his touch. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his fingertips, your nipples hardening in the cool air.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured reverently, barely above a whisper.
His fingertips danced along your sternum, circling each breast with agonizing slowness. You arched into his touch, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips when he dipped his head and pressed feather-light kisses along the valley of your cleavage. Your fingers pulled at his hair, urging him closer.
Eddie cups your breast almost hesitantly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive peak. At the same time, he captured the other nipple between his lips, and flicked it teasingly with his tongue. Emboldened by the sharp gasps spilling from your mouth, your body arching off the bed and into his chest, he sucked harder and grazed the hard peaks with his teeth. He moaned against your skin, lavishing you with devoted attention as he switched between them, alternating between licks and nibbles until they glistened with his spit.
Your hips roll restlessly beneath him, seeking friction. He let go of your breasts and trailed open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel – the little shit shot you a little grin when he did so, always one for the dramatics. Lower he went, until he finally reached the waistband of the boxers hugging your hips. Slowly, almost torturously, he inched the fabric downwards, exposing more than he’d ever seen of you.
His breath hitched as something urgent and hot coiled in his core. Eddie curled his hands around your thighs, softly pushing them further apart until his gaze found your slick folds. The heady scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his cock throb almost painfully under his boxers.
“Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled almost absentmindedly, and trailed one finger through your wet slit. “Fuck, can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Eddie then locked his eyes with yours as he lowered his head, holding your gaze. His plush lips grazed your clit, pulling a sharp exhale from you both. He lapped softly at your pussy, savouring the way you tasted and ingraining it into his tongue. You pressed him closer, nails scraping sharply against his scalp and fingers tugging harshly at the curly strands, desperate for more. The silent plea you gave him was more than enough, and he sealed his mouth over your slit and thrusted his tongue inside, fucking you steadily as he all but slurped at your essence.
“I– Fuck,” you breathed out as Eddie trailed a thick lick back to your clit, and softly pushed a finger into your pussy. “Y-yes, just like that.”
A groan escaped him when you fluttered around him, drawing him in deeper. He pumped his digit lazily, curling it to stroke that secret spot like he’d done it times and times before, making stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue swirled mercilessly around your throbbing clit, lashing and flicking it with practiced precision.
He couldn’t remember when he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he found you with your head thrown back, your lips parted in a small circle as your chest heaved up and down. He added another finger, stretching you open deliciously slow as you writhed mindlessly underneath him.
Your legs trembled around his face, your feet accidentally brushing against him when your toes curled until suddenly, he withdrew completely, denying your release.
“No, no, no,” you whine out, your eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow. “Fucking hell, you’re such a fucking di–”
Eddie silenced you with a filthy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You returned the heated kiss fervently, licking into his mouth and letting your slick tongues intertwine.
Pulling away again, Eddie gazed down at you with molten brown eyes, a grin spreading across his kiss-swollen lips.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured, ignoring the curses falling from your mouth.
Like he needed to make his point, he dove back between your thighs, and latched his lips onto your clit like a man starved. He suckled forcefully, flicking the swollen nub with rapid strokes of his tongue.
“Eds–” you whine, desperate to finally get the release he’d taken away from you moments ago. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Just as the wave of ecstasy had found its way back to you, Eddie drove two fingers into your clenching slit, pumping vigorously as he kept sucking. Your juices gushed on his chin, back bowed clean off the bed as wave after wave of mind-melting bliss crashed over you until you collapsed bonelessly against the mattress.
Eddie watched raptly as you came undone, a broken groan slipping from his lips, completely transfixed by the picture in front of him – hair splayed wildly, skin gleaming with a sheen layer of sweat, mouth agape in ecstasy as a broken moan slipped from your lips. Pride surged through him knowing that he did that, that he unravelled you so thoroughly like he’d had wanted to do for so long.
He gave you a moment to come down, and placed a tender kiss on your inner thigh before crawling up your body. He settled between your limp legs, nestling his aching shaft against your slick entrance. Capturing your lips once more, he kissed you deeply, conveying without words every feeling he had ever pushed down over the years. You looped your arms around his neck, and pulled him impossibly closer as you ground up against him, frantic with need.
“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he mumbled against your lips.
He reached between you, and tugged his boxers down just enough for his cock to slip out and gave himself a desperate tug, then another, and guided himself to your dripping opening. You felt hot and tight around his swollen tip as he prodded insistently at your slit until finally sinking into your slick pussy. A breathy encouragement of his name escaped you as he sank himself deeper into you, groans spilling from his own lips at the feeling of being fully sheathed within your walls.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grunted sharply as you locked your legs behind him, and pulled him impossibly deeper until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so… I don’t think I’ll last long, sweetheart. Fuck.”
Eddie hissed sharply when he felt your nails dig into his shoulder, and pressed his clammy forehead against yours as he took a moment to let you adjust – although he probably needed the moment more than you did.
Electricity zinged up his spine at the delicious pressure engulfing his aching cock, and he set a deep, driving rhythm as he rocked into you with purpose. Each slow, yet powerful thrust punched the breath from your lungs, his heavy balls slapping at your ass as he drew broken moans from your sweet lips. Eddie’s hand roamed greedily, squeezing and kneading every supple curve of your body as you met him stroke for stroke, clinging on for dear life as the knot deep in your stomach wounded tighter and tighter.
His ears twitched with every hitch in your breath, every shiver that ran down your spine, every time your nails dug a little deeper into his milky skin, like he desperately needed to memorise every little detail of how you reacted to him.
“Where do you want me, baby?” he pushed himself off of you just enough for his gaze to find your closed eyes, furrowed brows and mouth lulling open.
“Fuck, Ed-Eddie,” you moaned out as he gave you another hard thrust. “In– mhm! Inside, p-please.”
“Jesus,” his hips faltered when your words reached him, but he picked up the pace again just as quickly. Every roll of his lips was deliberate, insistent on drawing out every breathless whimper and broken moan you had to offer. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
“P-please, Eddie,” you breathed out, and opened your eyes, blinking a few times until his face came back into focus. “I want it, please.”
Eddie gave you three last hard thrusts before his hips halted, pulsing hot seed directly into your spasming core. You followed right after, clamping down on his spurting cock as you shattered around him. He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he tried – and failed – to catch his breath. The two of you had become a tangled mess of limbs and heavy, ragged breathing.
“I don’t– Jesus,” he breathed out after a moment, the words muffled and low. “I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard.”
His breath steadied after a few more seconds, although his heart still pounded loudly in his ears as he pushed himself up just enough for his eyes to find your face. His gaze softened immediately at the sight in front of him – you licking your dry lips as you blinked lazily up at him.
But then he immediately groaned and cringed at himself.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled as he fell forwards again, nearly suffocating you.
You hummed softly in confusion as you let go of his shoulder and dove your fingers back into his messy locks. You pull a low, satisfied sigh from him as your nails scraped gently against his scalp.
“Can’t believe I came before you.”
A low chuckle escaped you before you could stop it. Shaking your head, you whispered something that sounded an awful lot like idiot under your breath.
“I couldn’t care less, Eds,” you managed to say after you’d finally gotten your laughter under control. “It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”
Eddie stilled above you, like your words had hit him square in the chest. His breath caught, and his fingers twitched against the sheets beneath you. For a moment, he kept his face hidden into the crook of your neck.
But the tension melted from his shoulders as quickly as it had appeared. He leaned back just enough for his lips to find yours again, slow and careful.
“I fucking love you too,” he mumbled against your lips.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes glimmered beneath the low amber light of the bedside lamp, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.
“Yeah?” you asked with a bashful smile before something else crept into your gaze. “Even my dubious pizza order?”
Eddie snorted. “Yeah, even your dubious pizza order.”
“Good.” A grin spread across your face. “Because I could really use another slice after all of this.”
He stared at you for a long moment, blinking in disbelief.
“We just confessed our undying love, and you’re thinking about pizza?”
“Don’t pretend like you couldn’t go for another slice too,” you chuckled.
Eddie hissed lowly as you accidentally clenched around him, and softly pulled out his softening cock out of you. He shook his head, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth ruined any attempt at looking annoyed. He pulled his boxers up his hips and, without another word, pushed himself off the bed and disappeared down the hallway.
Not even ten seconds later, you heard the fridge open and close, followed by the soft sound of footsteps making their way back towards the bedroom. Eddie appeared in the doorway with the pizza box in one hand and two cans of beer balanced in the other. He dropped both at the foot of the bed before helping you sit up, trying his best – and failing – not to stare at your chest.
“You hate eating in bed,” you pointed out as he pulled his eyes away from your naked frame, and flicked open the pizza box.
“But I don’t hate you,” he mumbled in return, passing you a slice.
For a moment, all you could do was stare at him.
A soft smile slowly spread across your face as you took the slice from his hand.
Eddie Munson who doesn’t have a filter and probably blurts out whatever he’s thinking and accidentally says something that hurts the readers feelings and he feels awful about it especially bc he doesn’t notice right away and is super sweet in his apologizing 🥺
I love this so much because it literally lines up with something I was just thinking about yesterday! Thank you for sending this ❤
Words: 2k
"Really?" Mike asks, raising his eyebrows at Gareth. "You think Sara Hawk is going to go to prom with you?"
"Why not?" Gareth responds, puffing out his chest. The entirety of the Hellfire Club lunch table snickers and Gareth glares at each person in turn. "What's so funny? I don't see any of you having dates."
“Hey, my girlfriend lives in another state,” Dustin says.
“Mine too,” Mike adds.
“You two aren’t even old enough to go,” Eddie says, reaching over and knocking Dustin’s hat off his head.
“Then where’s your date, Dungeon Master?” Jeff asks.
Eddie shrugs and lifts a handful of pretzels to his mouth.
“Don’t want one,” he says through the mouthful. “Prom is dumb.”
“And you?” Gareth asks, turning to you. Your laughter at the possibility of one of the prettiest girls in school accepting his invitation to prom didn’t escape his notice.
You open your mouth to respond but Eddie speaks before you get the chance.
“Please,” he says with a snort. “Like she’s going to prom.”
The table goes silent as your face pinches up in a frown. Eddie is oblivious to your reaction, though.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.
“Oh, come on,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine you getting a fancy dress or wearing high heels.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you let out a scoff.
“I am a girl, you know.”
“Yeah, Eddie, she -.” Dustin gets cut off by Eddie’s laugh and booming response.
“Yeah, but not like that.”
Trying to come up with a retort is a failed effort as the bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period. Dustin and Jeff give you sympathetic glances as everyone gathers their things to get to their next periods. Luckily, you wouldn’t see Eddie until the last period of the day, which would give you time to cool off.
But when Eddie strolls into Mrs. O’Donnell’s class casually, as if he didn’t offend you in multiple ways, you feel your rage still going strong. So what if you typically wore T-shirts and jeans with sneakers? So what if makeup wasn’t usually your thing or you hung out with guys most of the time? It didn’t mean you weren’t a girl and that you didn’t want to be treated as such. Eddie was oblivious to the fact that that had hurt you enough as it was, never mind the fact that it hurt doubly because you were in love with him. The guy you had been harboring the biggest crush on for years didn’t even see you as someone who would go to prom, let alone want to go with him as his date.
The eraser of a pencil jabs you from behind and you roll your eyes. You know he’s not going to give up, but you choose to ignore him anyway.
“Pssst.”
The temptation to put your hand behind your back and flip him off is strong, but you manage to restrain yourself and take a deep breath to keep your composure. But he wouldn’t be Eddie if he wasn’t a persistent, annoying man child at times.
His shoe knocks against the bottom of your seat and you spin around to face him, eyes blazing.
“What?” you ask through gritted teeth. How this man is even now unable to tell something is wrong is beyond you.
“Did you get the answer to number four?” he asks.
“No,” you tell him before turning back around. That wasn’t true, of course. You’d finished that number a while ago and were now on question number nine. Glancing back up to number four, you decide Eddie can figure out the date of The Boston Tea Party on his own.
Eddie finally figures out that something is up when you bolt out of the classroom once the bell rings, not waiting for him to walk out with you.
“Wait!” he calls as you exit to the hallway, but you keep going, pushing your way to the school’s exit. “What the hell,” he mumbles to himself as he does his best to follow.
Eddie is still stuck in the sea of students when you finally get to the parking lot. Eddie was supposed to drive you home, but you were damned if you were going to be stuck in the van with him. Your eyes scan the people walking to their cars and your eyes fall on a familiar redhead.
“Vickie!” you call as you jog up to her.
She turns around and smiles as she sees you approach.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“Do you think you could give me a ride home today?” you ask.
Vickie frowns and she looks behind you, presumably for Eddie.
“Yeah sure,” she says. “But what about-.”
“He’s pissing me off today,” you interrupt her.
“Boys,” Vickie says with a knowing sigh and a sympathetic nod.
“Tell me about it.”
“Well,” Vickie says. “If you want to avoid him, we should go. He just came out of the building.”
Without looking behind you, you follow her over to her car and climb inside. You peek over as you’re buckling your seatbelt and lock eyes with Eddie. He looks confused and you selfishly feel a little happy about that. Let him figure out what’s wrong.
Eddie stares as he watches Vickie’s car leave the parking lot, you in the passenger’s seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t the one to drive you home.
“Hey, Eddie,” Dustin says, coming up behind him. No response, Eddie just stares ahead. “What’s going on?”
“Did I do something?” Eddie asks, rounding on the freshman.
“What do you mean?”
“I just…” Eddie trails off and turns back around to where Vickie’s car had exited the student lot. “Why is she ignoring me? I always drive her home.”
It clicks together in Dustin’s brain, and he lets out a sigh.
“Dude.”
Eddie turns back to Dustin, putting his hands on his hips. He raises his eyebrows in question.
“You basically said she’s not a girl,” Dustin says.
“What?” Eddie shakes his head. “I never said that.”
Dustin groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Yes, you did.”
“No,” Eddie reiterates. “I said she wasn’t like those girls who go to prom.”
“Seriously?” Dustin asks. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”
“Listen, Henderson,” Eddie says, leaning in towards him. “You better get to the point and start making sense.”
“Okay,” Dustin says with a sigh. “How would you feel if,” he pauses, thinking of someone he could use as an example, “Nancy. How would you feel if Nancy wanted to go out on a date but said you weren’t that kind of guy?”
Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.
“I don’t want to date Nancy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines. “Just say you did! Say, you have a crush on Nancy, yes? With me so far? Okay, so say she was looking for someone to go on a date with and you’re right there. But she says you’re not the kind of guy who dates.”
“That would suck,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’d be offended.”
“So, that’s basically what you said at lunch today.”
“No,” Eddie says, but he sounds less sure now.
“Yes,” Dustin argues.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s how it came out.”
“Well, shit,” Eddie says. He runs his hands over the top of his head and squeezes his eyes closed. “What do I do now?”
“Apologizing would be a good start,” Dustin says.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, nodding his head. “Yeah, okay.” He claps Dustin on the shoulder before digging his keys out of his pocket. He climbs in the van and pulls it out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he does so.
“Ugh, what the fuck do I do?” Eddie asks himself as he drives. “Flowers? No, she doesn’t like flowers. Shit, what do girls like?”
The brakes squeal as he pulls up to a red light and Eddie tightens his fingers against the steering wheel. He stares down at his hands and the idea hits him.
At home, you’ve changed into your most comfortable pair of sweatpants and hoodie. You’ve prepared your favorite snack and are about to settle in on the couch and watch a chick flick – which the guys would totally make fun of you for. If they thought of you as a girl at all, you think bitterly. Settling a blanket on your lap and reaching for the remote, you’re interrupted by the doorbell. You groan at the piercing ring and pull yourself up off the couch.
Yanking the door open, Eddie stands on the other side, out of breath and clutching a shopping bag.
“Um, hi,” you say, though it sounds more like a question.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You are a girl. You’re my favorite girl,” Eddie says. “I didn’t mean to hurt you before.”
You nod at him, not trusting your voice.
“I got you something,” he says, opening the bag.
“Eddie,” you sigh. “I don’t want you to buy my forgiveness.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to. This is something I’ve been meaning to get you anyway. And it felt like the right time. To show you that I think of you as the best kind of girl there is.”
He reaches out and offers you a small black box. You look at it skeptically before taking it out of his hand. Eddie watches you with careful eyes as you open the box and pull out the small silver piece of jewelry. It’s a slimmer, women’s version of the cross ring with the skulls that he wears.
“You’ve always said that you like it,” Eddie offers with a shrug. “And you know I was going to give you mine, but your hands are too small. And I guess that jewelry is kind of seen as a girly thing, but I wear a ton of it. So, fuck what people think is for guys and girls. We can have the same ring. We can like the same things. But I can still be a guy and you be a girl. Or did I make that sound really stupid?”
“No, Eddie,” you say, never taking your eyes off the ring in your hand. “It didn’t sound stupid at all.”
“Good,” he says through a relieved breath. He tentatively reaches forward and takes the ring from you. Your head snaps up to look at him in question, but you feel him gently slide the ring into place on your finger. The feeling of his hands so warm on yours and the stark contrast of the cold ring gives you goosebumps. Or maybe that was just the fact that Eddie was slipping a ring on your finger.
“Thank you,” you say. “I love it.”
“Are we okay?” Eddie asks quietly, looking at you from underneath his eyelashes.
“Yes.” As if you could ever say no to that face.
“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, reaching out and holding your ringed hand in his own.
“Yes, Eddie,” you say. “I’m sure.”
“Good.” Eddie grins, an infectious sight at any time, but even more so at this moment. “Because I want to ask you something and I don’t want you to think it’s part of the apology.”
“Eddie,” you say with a sigh, already knowing what he’s going to say. “You hate prom.”
“How would I know for real?” he asks with a shrug. “I’ve never been.”
“You hate dressing up,” you tell him.
“It’s only for a few hours,” he says. “Besides, it would be worth it to see you all dressed up.”
You duck your head shyly, hoping to avoid Eddie seeing the heat that’s come to your cheeks.
“You really think I’d look good in a fancy dress and heels?” you ask.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “You look fucking gorgeous in those sweats right now.”
Summary: Meeting Fish’s new baby changes everything. You and Ben are ready (18+)
Relationships: Reader x Ben Miller
Notes: This is something I kinda started writing a while ago and finally had the inspiration to finish it. Its close to my heart and I hope you all enjoy it ♥️
The chatter of the bar was low, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and the easy laughter of old friends. It was a relaxed evening, the perfect way to celebrate your first wedding anniversary with Ben.
His solid arm was draped over the back of your chair, and you felt completely grounded. Across the table, Frankie was carefully navigating a bottle into the mouth of his newborn daughter, Lila, while his wife, Alice, finally took a sip of her much-deserved drink. Will sat beside them, a relaxed grin on his face as he watched the chaotic rhythm of parents with a newborn.
"So, man," Benny said, leaning forward a bit and nudging Frankie’s shoulder. "How are you guys actually holding up? Sleeping in increments of twenty minutes?"
"More like ten," Frankie laughed, though his eyes were incredibly soft as he looked down at his baby. "But we’re surviving. Alice is doing all the heavy lifting, honestly."
"Don't listen to him, he's basically on Ella duty full time. That's the real work." Alice countered with a smile, leaning her head on Frankie’s shoulder for a brief second.
Will chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. "And how is Ella taking it? Has she gotten over the toddler jealousy yet, or is she still trying to return her sister to the hospital?"
"We had a rough first few weeks," Alice admitted, turning to look at you. "A lot of tantrums. But today she actually tried to share her favourite dinosaur toy with her, so I think we’re turning a corner." She paused, her gaze dropping to the snoozing bundle in Frankie's arms before she looked back up at you with a warm smile. "Do you want to hold her?"
"Yeah," you said softly, your heart doing a sudden, unexpected flip. "I'd love to."
Frankie expertly transferred the tiny bundle into your arms. As Lila settled against your chest, her tiny fingers twitched against your shirt, and something shifted inside you. The lingering fears you’d carried for years about starting a family - the anxiety about Benny’s unpredictable job and the sheer responsibility of it - just melted away.
Benny smiled, his expression softening into something deeply tender as he watched you look down at the tiny being in your arms. When you looked up, your eyes met his. A silent, heavy conversation flowed between you in that single look. I'm ready... your eyes said. Me too... his promised.
"So," Frankie piped up, entirely missing the loaded silence between you two. "Have you two thought about having a family yet? Or are you still basking in the honeymoon phase?"
Benny caught your eye again, his thumb lightly tracing a circle on your bare shoulder. "It’s definitely something we've talked about," he replied smoothly. "But we haven't been married all that long. We don't want to rush into anything, you know? Just enjoying each other."
"Yeah," you added, keeping your voice steady even as your heart raced. "But I have to admit... little Lila here is making me incredibly broody."
Benny’s grip on your shoulder tightened just a fraction, a quiet, burning promise of what was to come later.
The bedroom was already stifling by the time you made it upstairs, the tension that had been building all evening finally snapping. The air was thick with the heavy, frantic sounds of your joined breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Benny had you completely pinned beneath him, his broad, sweat-slick chest against sticking to yours as he drove into you with a relentless passion that was driving you absolutely wild.
He wasn't holding back. Every deep, powerful thrust was delivered with expert precision... He knew exactly how to tear the breath from your lungs. His length hit your sweet spot over and over, a continuous, devastating friction that had your hips arching off the mattress as you desperately chased your peak. You were utterly consumed by him as your fingers dug into the defined muscles of his back, as he continued to fuck you dumb.
He pushed you over the edge with a military-like efficiency, a loud, breathless cry ripping from your throat as your body gripped him tightly. But Benny didn't stop. He kept going, his rhythm unbroken, riding the waves of your release with a low, gravelly growl that made you clench.
Before you could even catch your breath, he leaned down and took a tight, aching nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking. The sheer sensation of it - the direct line of electricity from his mouth to between your thighs - shocked your system, instantly bringing you right back to the precipice of another world-shattering orgasm.
"Benny," you choked out, your head tossing back against the pillow. "Benny, I'm close. I'm so fucking close."
He looked up, his face flushed, and his eyes completely blown out with lust. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice a rough, commanding whisper against your skin. "Squeeze me, baby. Come right now."
You obeyed, your body tightening, squeezing him hard as a second wave of pleasure crashes over you. Yet, true to form, Benny kept going. You’ve always admired his stamina, the quiet endurance he brought back from his military days, translating into fierce and tireless devotion in bed. He continued to drive into you, his jaw clenched and his forehead slick with sweat.
Finally, the shift happened. His breath hitched, his movements becoming less controlled. He'd brought you right to the edge, and you could feel the tremor in his muscles… he was right there with you.
He paused for a fraction of a second, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his voice strained to the absolute limit. "Where, baby? Where do you want it? I'm gonna come."
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in place and looked directly into his eyes. "Inside," you breathed out.
Benny’s heart swelled. The raw vulnerability on his face was staggering. "Are you sure?" he rasped, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and intense hope. "Are you sure, sweetheart?"
You nodded rapidly, tears of sheer emotion pricking the corners of your eyes, practically begging him now. "Yes. Please, Benny. Come inside me. Put a baby in me."
That was his absolute breaking point. Benny groaned, a deep, primal sound from the back of his throat, and drove into you one last time as he came hard. The sheer force of his release, combined with the profound intimacy of the moment, dragged you right over the cliff with him. Your body shaking with a third, DNA-altering orgasm.
Minutes passed in a haze of heavy breathing and tangled limbs. The air was stifling, the silence returning softly to the room. Benny hadn't moved; he stayed collapsed against you, his head resting on your chest, tracing slow, winding circles on your hip as your heart rates slowly began to come down.
Slowly, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you. He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your damp forehead. His eyes were incredibly soft, filled with awe.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, needing to hear it in the quiet calm of the aftermath.
You looked up at him, feeling the solid, grounding weight of the man you’d loved for years, and a soft, peaceful smile spread across your face. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a tender kiss.
You’d never been more sure of anything in your life.
The first month, the test was a stark negative.
You stared at it on the bathroom counter, but you smiled, shaking your head. It's fine, you thought, tossing it into the bin. It's only our first month. These things take time.
But then the first month turned into three. Three turned into six.
A cruel, exhausting sequence of months began to blur together. Every single cycle ended the exact same way: sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at that single line and your heart breaking a little bit more each time. The optimism was entirely gone, replaced by a suffocating weight of failure. You started wondering if there was something wrong with you. Every negative test felt like a personal failure, a quiet grief you tried to hide behind a brave face so you wouldn't burden Benny.
What you didn’t know was that the exact same fear was consuming him.
Late one night, after a long, gruelling day of clients and training, Benny sat at the far end of the bar with Frankie. The drinks between them were half-empty, the silence heavy. He ran a rough hand over his face, his broad shoulders slumped in a way Frankie rarely ever saw.
"I don't know what to do, Fish," Benny muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he stared into his beer. "It’s been almost a year. We've been trying for almost a year, and... nothing. Nothing is happening."
Frankie sighed softly, setting his own drink down. "Man, it takes time. You can't beat yourself up over the timeline. Alice and I-"
"No, you don't get it," Benny interrupted, looking up, his eyes laced with a raw, uncharacteristic panic. "Every time she goes into that bathroom and comes out with that look on her face... it kills me. And I’m terrified, Frankie. I’m terrified that it's me. All the shit I did in the military, the stress, the injuries... what if I'm the reason she can't have this? What if I'm broken?"
Frankie reached out, gripping Benny's forearm tightly. "Hey. Look at me. Don't go down that rabbit hole, Ben. You don't know that. You two just need to breathe."
But breathing was getting harder. A few days later, the weight finally became too much. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, when Benny walked in. He took one look at your slumped posture and knew.
"Ben," you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears finally spilt over. "I don't think I want to do this anymore. It’s just... It's too hard. The disappointment every month, the hoping and then the soul-crushing disappointment... It’s destroying me. I can’t keep doing it."
Benny didn't hesitate. He immediately dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your shaking hands in his large ones. He pressed his forehead against your hands and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said softly, looking up at you. "Okay, sweetheart. We stop. We take a break. No tracking, no pressure, no expectations. Just you and me."
"Just you and me." You repeated.
True to his word, Benny pulled you completely out of your routine the very next weekend. He drove you into town, determined to clear the grey cloud that had been hanging over you.
He took you shopping, patiently walking into every store with you. When you caught yourself eyeing a cute playsuit you’d been itching to buy, he grabbed it off the rack himself, along with a pair of boots you'd been admiring.
"You're getting it," he stated with that quiet, commanding tone that left no room for argument. When you changed into it in the dressing room, you actually felt a surge of genuine confidence. You looked good. You felt lighter.
Afterwards, he took you to a quiet, sunlit café for lunch. For the first time in months, the ghost of infertility was no longer haunting you. You relaxed completely, leaning back as you passionately talked about the new fantasy book you were reading. Benny listened intently, a soft smile playing on his lips, before sharing updates about his own life… how his training schedule was going, a funny story about Will from earlier in the week. It was easy.
Uncomplicated…
Then, the second the front door of your house clicked shut behind you later that day, the easygoing energy shifted into pure heat.
Benny didn't give you a chance to even drop your bags. He caught you by the waist and pushed you firmly against the wall, his mouth crashing onto yours. It was a hard, possessive kiss, full of a hunger that had been caged for too long. You groaned into his mouth, your hands frantically tearing at his shirt as he ripped at your clothes. The desperation between you both was entirely different. This was just two people who needed that raw, primal connection.
Before you could fully process the loss of your clothes, Benny dropped heavily to his knees. Grabbing your leg, he threw it expertly over his broad shoulder and buried his head between your thighs.
He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue tracing your clit with a fierce intensity. The sudden, overwhelming friction after a day of building shattered your control; you came embarrassingly fast, your fingers clutching tightly at his hair as your hips rode his face.
Benny didn't let you linger in the afterglow. He stood up, scooping you up into his massive arms, and carried you over to the couch, where he sat down heavily, and you immediately straddled his lap.
There was little to no break between him sitting down and you lowering yourself onto his length. It was incredible… the absolute best sex you’d had in months. Free from the clinical pressure of 'trying,' it was pure, unadulterated pleasure. His length hit you perfectly with every upward thrust, and you rode him with a wild abandon until another release crashed over you, your forehead dropping against his shoulder as you sobbed out his name.
Before you could slide off him, Benny gripped your hips, flipping you easily until you were on your hands and knees in front of him. He gripped your waist from behind, his knuckles digging into your skin, and drove back into you. You felt yourself barreling toward a climax within seconds. His length hitting you so deeply and perfectly that in no time at all, you came with a loud cry. Your muscles clenching so tightly around him that that was all it took to pull Benny right along with you. He groaned loudly, driving deep one last time as he released inside you.
Eventually, you both collapsed together on the couch, tangled in a messy pile of limbs and sweat-sheened skin. Basking in post-sex bliss, Benny pulled you tightly against his chest, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.
"I love you," he murmured, his voice thick and sleepy.
You curled into his warmth, a deep, true sense of peace washing over you for the first time in a year. "I love you too, Ben."
Two weeks later...
It was 5:00 AM. Benny had already slipped out of bed and gone to work early. You hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so on a random whim, you decided to do a test.
You weren't expecting anything. The break had done wonders for your mental health, and you had completely stopped symptom-spotting. You peed into a cup, dipped the stick, brought it back into the dark bedroom, and tossed it onto the nightstand. You hopped back under the covers and picked up your book, turning on the dim reading light and fully intending to read a chapter and go back to sleep.
Five minutes later, though, you decided to glance at it... Just to check before throwing it away.
Your breath caught in your throat.
There, under the dim light of the reading lamp, was a line. It was faint - so incredibly faint - but it was undeniably there.
Your heart hammered violently against your ribs. Your hands began to shake so badly that you almost dropped the small test.
No. No, it’s an evaporation line. It’s a fluke.
You hadn't kept your pot of pee, so you practically stumbled back into the bathroom, your chest heaving as you managed to squeeze out just enough to do a second test you had hidden in the back of the cupboard.
You waited, staring at it this time, your knees weak.
Positive. Another faint, beautiful line.
An hour later, you were still sitting on the bathroom floor in complete shock. The sun was just beginning to peek through the blinds. To completely eliminate the denial, you tore open a third test… an expensive digital one you’d saved for this exact eventuality.
When the little hourglass stopped blinking and the word PREGNANT appeared in stark, digital letters along with 2-3 weeks, the dam finally broke. You covered your mouth, a sob tearing from your throat, tears streaming down your face.
You were pregnant.
You were finally pregnant.
By the time Ben was due back from his early shift, you had managed to compose yourself. You sat at the kitchen table sipping some tea, a small, neatly wrapped gift box in front of you.
The front door opened, and Benny walked in, looking tired but instantly smiling when he saw you. He kicked off his boots and walked over, but stopped dead when he noticed the box and the intense, burning look in your eyes. He eyed the package suspiciously.
"What's this?" he asked, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. "It's not my birthday."
"Just open it," you practically sang, your voice cracking slightly as you peeked at him from over the rim of your mug.
Benny stepped closer, sitting in the chair opposite you. His large, calloused fingers carefully tore away the paper and lifted the lid of the box.
He froze.
The digital test lay inside, the words PREGNANT 2-3 weeks glaring up at him. For a long, terrifying second, Benny didn't breathe. Then, a massive, chest-heaving sob tore from the ex-soldier.
He didn't care about anything else. He lunged out of his chair, pulling you up by your waist and burying his face into your neck. He sobbed openly, his massive frame shaking violently as you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing right along with him. The year of silent agony, the secret fears that he was broken, the grief of watching you hurt… it all washed away in a flood of happy tears.
"Thank you," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked as he cupped your face, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your lips. "Thank you, sweetheart. God, I'm so happy. I'm so excited. I love you so much."
The kisses became frantic, fueled by a sudden, overwhelming surge of pure relief and intense joy. Things turned hot, fast. Benny’s hands moved down, aggressively pulling off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. He gripped your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, setting you down onto the edge of the kitchen counter.
There was no foreplay. You didn't need it; you were already slick, completely undone by the sheer weight of the moment.
Benny unbuckled his pants, sheathed himself deep inside you with one powerful stroke, and let out a sigh against your mouth. He began to fuck you slowly and deeply. Every thrust was a celebration, a declaration of love and the new life you had created together.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life as he hit your sweet spot with slow, agonising perfection. "Benny," you gasped, your eyes locked onto his. "I'm close... Please."
Hearing that made him grow even harder inside you. His pace quickened just a fraction, his jaw clenching as he chased your peak. You held onto him as tight as you could, your shattering with pure, unadulterated bliss. The tight, pulsing squeeze of your release dragged Benny right over the edge, and he threw his head back in a deep, roaring groan as he came hard inside you, anchoring you both to the counter.
Slowly, the frantic breathing faded. Benny leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily. You looked into each other's eyes, faces flushed, smiles slowly breaking through the exhaustion.
Both of you were so incredibly ready for this next adventure.
9 months later…
The hospital room was a blur of harsh fluorescent lights, the steady beep of the monitor, and the overwhelming weight of exhaustion. Labour had become a gruelling, hours-long test of endurance... Stretching well into the early morning.
Through the long months of waiting, you had both resisted the temptation to find out what you were having, wanting the ultimate surprise at the finish line.
Now, that moment was finally here.
You were spent, your breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as another contraction began to build. Panic tried to claw its way into your chest, but Benny was right there. He shifted closer, his massive frame an anchor beside you. His large, steady hands gripped yours, his knuckles white but his hold completely unyielding.
"Look at me, sweetheart," Benny commanded softly, his voice a low, grounding rumble right against your ear. "Right here. Focus on me."
You opened your heavy eyes, locking onto his intense, soulful gaze. The sheer, fierce devotion in his expression kept you from slipping.
"The doctor says it's time to push again, baby," he whispered, his thumb wiping a damp lock of hair away from your forehead. "You've got this. I know you're tired, but we are so close to meeting our baby. Pull from me. Take everything you need."
As the contraction hit its peak, the nurse gave the cue, and you braced yourself, curling forward to push with every single ounce of strength you had left. A breathless, pained cry tore from your throat.
"That's it, that's it, exactly like that," Benny urged, his hand supporting the back of your neck, his face right next to yours so you could feel the heat of his breath. "Keep it going, sweetheart. You're doing it."
You collapsed back against the pillows when the wave receded, sobbing as you tried to catch your breath. "I can't, Ben," you choked out, your voice entirely wrecked. "I'm too tired. I can't do it anymore."
"Yes, you can," he corrected instantly, his tone fierce with a protective, absolute certainty that left no room for doubt. He leaned down, pressing his forehead directly against yours. "Look at how far we've come to get here. Think about that morning in the kitchen. They are right there, baby. One more big push. Just give me one more."
His words poured a sudden, miraculous second wind straight into your veins. When the next contraction surged, you didn't hesitate. You gripped his hands with a desperate, crushing strength and gave everything you had left in your soul, pushing through the absolute limit of your endurance.
"The head is out! One more push!" the doctor called out.
"Go on, baby," Benny gasped, his own eyes bright with sudden tears as he watched. "Bring them home."
With one final, exhausting effort, the pressure suddenly gave way, and the entire room was instantly filled with a sharp, loud, healthy cry.
The doctor smiled, lifting the baby up. "It's a girl! You have a daughter!"
Benny went completely rigid, a look of pure, unadulterated shock washing over his face before melting into an expression of profound awe.
A daughter.
The relief was instantaneous and overwhelming as the medical team quickly placed her small, slippery, warm weight directly onto your bare chest. She was perfect. A beautiful, tiny miracle with a cap of dark hair and Benny’s intense eyes, her little fingers already twitching against your skin.
Benny completely broke down. He pressed his forehead against your damp hair and wept openly. He reached down, his large, calloused hand looking absolutely huge against her tiny body as he gently stroked back.
"You did it, sweetheart," Benny whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He kissed your temple, his tears mixing with the sweat on your skin. "A girl. We have a little girl. She's here, baby... God, she's perfect"
2 weeks later…
The ambient chatter of the bar was the same warm, low hum it had always been. The clink of glasses and the easy laughter of old friends, but tonight, the energy was entirely celebratory.
Sitting next to Benny, you felt a profound sense of peace. His solid arm was draped protectively over the back of your chair, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your bare shoulder. Beneath the shelter of a soft muslin cloth draped over your chest, your newborn daughter, Senna, was tucked securely against you, nursing quietly. You looked down at her, completely captivated by the rhythmic, tiny sounds she made, your hand gently cupping her warm head.
Across the table, Frankie and Alice sat together, while little Lila - now a bouncing toddler - was happily colouring on a napkin. Their older daughter, Ella, was currently perched contentedly on Will’s lap, giggling as he drew little cartoon dinosaurs on the edge of the coaster for her. Will sat with a proud grin on his face, balancing the little girl easily while keeping an eye on you and Ben as you cooed over your newborn.
"So, man," Frankie said, leaning forward and echoing the exact words Benny had spoken a year prior, a knowing smirk on his face. "How are you guys actually holding up? Sleeping in increments of twenty minutes?"
Benny chuckled. "More like ten," he countered, looping his arm tighter around you and kissing the crown of your head. "But I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s doing all the heavy lifting. I'm just the tactical support."
"Don't listen to him, he's a natural," you chimed in with a bright smile and a wink, looking up from Senna for a brief second. "He handles every single winding and diaper change like it's a high-stakes mission."
Will laughed, pausing his drawing to raise his beer in a toast while Ella tried to grab his coaster. "Hey, the man knows how to guard a perimeter. A blowout is just a surprise ambush."
After a few more minutes, Senna unlatched with a soft, milk-drunk sigh, her tiny eyes closed as she drifted off into a deep sleep, her lips in a puckered O shape. You quietly adjusted your clothes and threw the muslin cloth over your shoulder, shifting her up onto your shoulder to burp her.
Alice looked across the table, her eyes softening completely at the sight of the sleepy bundle. "Oh, look at her," she murmured. "Ben, do you want to give her to Frankie for a minute? Let him remember what they feel like when they actually stay still."
"Yeah," Benny said, chuckling softly, leaning over to carefully take Senna from your shoulder and expertly transferring her into Frankie’s large and eager hands.
As Frankie settled the baby against his chest, a sudden, loaded silence fell over him. He stared down at her tiny fingers curling against his plaid shirt, his expression turning incredibly soft, completely in awe of the brand-new life in his arms.
Alice watched her husband, a knowing smile breaking across her face. She nudged his elbow gently. "Oh, no. I know that look, Frankie."
Frankie swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off Senna as a sudden wave of broodiness hit him. He looked up at Alice, a hesitant, pleading grin tugging at his lips. "I mean... look at her, Al. She's perfect. It makes you think... maybe just one more? A little brother or sister for Lila and Ella?"
Alice gasped, letting out a bright laugh as she shook her head, though her eyes were filled with love. "You are unbelievable. Don't let your mother hear you say that… She’ll be doing everything she can to make it happen.”
Benny caught your eye from beside him, his hand finding yours under the wood and squeezing your fingers tightly. A silent, beautiful conversation flowed between you in that single look. A year ago, you had been the ones looking on with longing and fear. Tonight, you were basking in the complete, hard-won reality of that dream.
You leaned into Benny's side, both of you completely in love with the beautiful adventure you had created.
୨୧˚- pairing: eddie munson x best friend! reader. no use of y/n, reader is occasionally referred to by she/her pronouns.
୨୧˚- synopsis: you and eddie have been best friends for years, doing everything together. lately, though, things have started to feel different between you two. this is part one of the picture you series [1] [2] [3]
୨୧˚- warnings: slow burn best friends to lovers, no smut in this chapter but i have plans for the future hehe, mutual pining (they’re oblivious), light swearing, use of nicknames (sweetheart, babe, sunshine), maybe slight oc eddie, reader is basically female eddie, 18+ mdni.
: ̗̀➛ listening to ; picture you - chappell roan
eddie, sprawled out on his bed, stared up at the popcorn ceiling as metallica’s ride the lightning lowly filled the room. his bedroom was a chaotic mess of old comic books, empty coke cans, and dirty clothes. with a dramatic sigh, his eyes wandered to the clock on his nightstand. it was already nearing four pm, you were usually over by now.
you barge into his room moments later, not even bothering to knock. you have your eyes covered by your hand just in case, there had been a few times over the years where you’d seen something you didn’t need to, things that stuck with you despite your attempts to forget them. “you decent?”
eddie jolts slightly at the sudden intrusion but immediately relaxes when he hears your voice. he props himself up on his elbows, grinning as he watches you cautiously enter with your hand blocking your vision.
“oh come on, when have I ever been decent?" he laughs, tossing a crumpled-up sock at you. “yeah, yeah, I'm good. no horror shows today, promise. unless you count my laundry pile, that's pretty scary."
he rolls onto his side, gesturing dramatically at the mess around him before patting the space next to him on the bed. “what’s up, sunshine? you look like you’re on a mission."
you uncover your eyes, plopping down beside him on the bed like you owned the place, which at this point, you basically did. there wasn’t anything eddie wouldn’t let you do.
“i got keith from the arcade to promise me free tokens if i pretended to be his girlfriend for like, an hour for his weirdo friends. didn’t i tell you about that?”
eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head as you flop down on the bed. he can't help but find it amusing how comfortable you always were in his space, claiming it as your own and never looking back. he nods appreciatively at your scheme, knowing first hand how keith can be.
“you did tell me about that, yeah," he says, grinning widely. “and i have to say, genius move, sweetheart. getting free tokens and toying with keith’s emotions all in one go, that’s what I call multitasking."
he leans in closer, playful smirk intact. “so, how long’s this little ‘relationship’ gonna last? just till keith’s ego inflates enough, or are we talking full-on arcade royalty status?"
“dude, no. it was a one and done deal.” you scrunch your nose up in mock-disgust, keith wasn’t the worst ever, but he certainly wasn’t what you would consider a good time.
eddie clutches his chest dramatically, rolling onto his back with a loud gasp.
“sweetheart! you heartbreaker!" he throws an arm over his forehead like some swooning victorian heroine. “poor keith’s probably out there right now, sobbing into his pac-man machine, wondering where it all went wrong. did he not score enough for you? was his joystick technique lacking?"
he peeks at you from under his arm, grinning. “at least tell me you got, like, a ludicrous amount of tokens out of it, enough to bankrupt the whole arcade economy.”
“guess you’ll have to come with and find out for yourself, huh?”
eddie raises an eyebrow, instantly perking up at the invitation. he sits up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“you had me at ‘free shit,’” he exclaims. he jumps off the bed and begins rummaging through his closet. “give me ten minutes to make myself mildly presentable, and then we’re out of here.”
“gonna need more than ten minutes, babe.” you used that nickname frequently for all your friends, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in his stomach every time it was directed at him.
eddie freezes mid-shirt-grab, turning to glare at you, though the effect is ruined by the pink tinge creeping up his neck.
“excuse you," he huffs, tossing the shirt over his shoulder dramatically. “i’ll have you know my natural charm transcends hygiene, but fine, fine, twenty minutes, max… and only because i refuse to let keith think he’s competition."
he starts aggressively shrugging his leather jacket over his band tee, grumbling playfully. “‘babe,’ my ass. next thing i know, you’ll be trading me for tokens."
“i’d trade you for less than tokens.”
eddie clutches his chest, feigning hurt.
“ouch, sweetheart. that one stung. can you remind me why we’re still friends, again?” he playfully glares at you, but his eyes betray a hint of affection. he throws on his faded denim vest over his jacket and rummages through the pockets for his wallet and keys.
“hm, because you love me and you’d be nothing without my friendship? or something like that.” you respond, a cute grin plastered across your face. this teasing, the lightheartedness, it had always been so comfortable between you two.
eddie rolls his eyes affectionately, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, something like that, i guess." he finally locates his keys and wallet on the nightstand, shoving them into his jacket pockets before turning to you. you’re sprawled out casually on his bed, and for a moment, he can't help but appreciate the scene, the familiarity of your dynamic, the way you just seem to fit perfectly in his space.
“alright, alright. let’s go bankrupt this arcade, shall we?" he gestures towards the door. “after you, oh token queen."
you laugh at the voice he puts on, hopping down from the bed and leading him down the short hall to the front door. “hey, you know if buckley’s working today? might stop in for a sec to see her, if that’s cool.”
eddie shakes his head as he opens the door for you, his hand instinctively finding its way to the small of your back as you step out of the trailer.
“beats me, but i wouldn't be surprised. that girl practically lives in there."
his gaze travels to you as you make your way to his van, his tone returning to its usual teasing tone, eddie never being one to stay serious for long. “trying to snag a rental deal from your favorite video clerk, huh? i see how it is."
“believe it or not, eds, i do have other friends,” you shoot back playfully.
“say it ain't so!" he gasps, eyes wide and comically pained. “you mean to tell me i’m not the center of your universe? i’m crushed. devastated, even." he makes a show of swooning, pretending to collapse against the side of his van with his hand on his forehead.
“dork,” you can’t ever seem to hide your smile when he’s around. climbing into your seat in the passenger side, you immediately starts rifling through his tape collection, which is fittingly a bunch of cassettes thrown haphazardly into an old shoebox that he kept in the van.
eddie watches you with a mixture of amusement and mock annoyance as you start going through his tapes. he slides into the driver's seat, shaking his head fondly.
“you know, you could always ask before digging through a man's personal belongings. it’s called respect," he says, though there's no real sharpness to his tone.
he glances sidelong at the shoebox you’re flipping through and can't help but feel a twinge of affection. you were the only person he'd let get away with that, you both knew it.
you glance up, narrowing your eyes in his direction. “since when do you have boundaries?”
eddie snorts as he starts the van, the engine roaring to life with its usual cacophony.
“fair point," he concedes, flashing you a grin. “guess i should just be grateful you're not tossing 'em out the window this time,” he shakes his head, remembering past instances where you’d dramatically ejected tapes mid-drive because you 'couldn't handle another minute of that whiny-ass guitar solo.'
he leans over, nudging her shoulder playfully. “just don't lose my black sabbath tape again. took me three weeks to find it last time, turns out it was under your seat, you little gremlin."
“it’s your fault for feeding me after midnight,” you joke with a slight smirk, popping whatever metallica tape he had in the van’s cassette player out and replacing it with a dio one you picked from the shoebox.
eddie groans dramatically as you swap out his tape, though he can't help but feel a flicker of affection at your choice of replacement. dio was his second favorite after all, and the fact that you knew that felt oddly endearing.
“you have no respect for the classics, you know that? 'master of puppets’ was revolutionary, a masterpiece of thrash metal, and you just... tossed it aside like yesterday's garbage." he mock-pouts, his tone entirely playful.
“and we’ve heard it a million times by now. broaden your horizons, my friend.”
eddie can't argue with that, so he huffs in faux-irritation instead. “fine, fine. have it your way, musical tyrant."
he looks over at you, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “but i get to choose next, alright? can’t have you hogging all the airtime.”
he reaches over, messing up your already tousled hair playfully before turning his attention back to the road.
once eddie pulls into the arcade parking lot, you hop out of the passenger side, already making your way to the family video in the shared lot.
“i’ll meet you over there, get my tokens from keith pleaseeee,” you call out from where you now stand on the sidewalk. eddie leans out the driver’s side window, squinting after your retreating form.
“oh, so now i’m just your token-fetching lackey?" he calls, shaking his head but already stepping out of the van. he shoves his hands in his pockets, shouting after you, “fine, but if keith tries to bond with me over his ‘broken heart,’ i’m charging you emotional labor fees!"
with a dramatic sigh, he turns toward the arcade, muttering under his breath with a grin, “little menace, i swear.”
the bell above the door at family video dings when you enter, moving straight to the counter where steve harrington sits rewinding tapes, looking bored out of his mind.
“harrington, buckley in today?” you ask, leaning on your forearms on the counter.
steve glances up from the rewinding machine, flashing you his trademark ‘king steve’ smirk, though it’s lost some of its old cockiness over the years. he leans back in his chair, arms crossing.
“munson’s better half graces us with her presence," he drawls, nodding toward the horror section. “robin’s wrestling with the vhs display. again. pretty sure ‘poltergeist’ is eating her alive as we speak."
he eyes you with playful suspicion. “you here to actually rent something this time, or just to corrupt my employees with your… questionable tastes?" he gestures vaguely at your outfit, grunge-chic, complete with a homemade hellfire t-shirt.
“okay, rude, and after i’ve been nothing but nice to you.”
steve snorts, rolling his eyes affectionately.
“oh sure, you're a dream,” he counters, sarcasm dripping from his words. “you and munson, terrorizing this town since middle school. real angels, the both of you."
his smirk softens a bit as he glances over at the horror section again, seeing a flash of robin's shoe disappearing behind a shelf.
“seriously though, she's back there somewhere… probably buried in a pile of tapes by now."
“thanks, harrington! a pleasure, as always,” you scurry off to the horror section, catching a glimpse of the messy bun of wild hair pulled up on robin’s head. as you round the shelves into the horror section, you find robin with tapes scattered around her, doing her best to re-alphabetize them all.
“hey, sunshine. you look absolutely thrilled to be here.”
“oh yeah, i’m having a grand ole time over here," robin replies wryly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “just living the dream, trapped in a sea of movies. it’s the life i always wanted. why are you here?”
“stealing you, it’s arcade night. harrington gave you the go ahead to leave early.” steve’s voice carries from where he still sits behind the counter, “did not!”
robin perks up at that, the prospect of skipping the rest of her shift lifting her spirits already. you just shake your head at steve’s response, signaling for robin to ignore him. robin starts gathering her things quickly before steve can stop her, stuffing her vest under the counter and booking it towards where you wait at the door.
“i could kiss you for that,” she pauses, looking you over with a smirk. “nice shirt, by the way.”
your eyes narrow slightly at her last comment. “you’re still on this?” you didn’t have to specify what you meant, robin had been trying to tell you that eddie was obsessed with you since like, middle school, though, you never paid it any mind. you were friends, nothing more, nothing less.
you push open the door, walking ahead to the arcade as robin follows suit. “i mean, seriously, rob. you know it’s not like that.”
robin grins slyly, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. she knows exactly what button to press to get under her friend's skin.
“oh come on. you can deny it all you want, but the shirt speaks for itself." robin teases, gesturing at the obvious hellfire club logo on the shirt. “he might as well have embroidered 'property of munson' on the back."
she steps closer, nudging you playfully.
“face it, you two are practically attached at the hip."
you roll your eyes, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “oh, you mean the shirt that everyone in the club wears? super telling, you got me. and besides, we’re best friends, so what if we hang out all the time?”
robin rolls her eyes dramatically, throwing her hands up in mock surrender.
“sure, sure. whatever helps you sleep at night," she says, her smirk widening. “just know that everyone else sees it. you two are basically hawkins' most obvious slow-burn romance."
once you two enter the arcade, the lights are bright, draping the room in neon while sounds of various games fill the air. eddie's leaning against the ms. pac-man machine, waiting for you. his eyes light up as he spots you and robin approaching. he straightens up, pushing himself off the machine with a lazy grin.
“hey there, trouble,” he greets, nodding at robin before his gaze shifts to focus on you, as it always did.
you subconsciously move right to his side, tucking yourself against him easily, right in between him and the machine.
eddie tenses slightly when you slide into the space beside him, close, too close, but he doesn't move away. instead, he adjusts his arm almost instinctively, letting it drape loosely over your shoulders in a familiar, possessive gesture.
“got your tokens," he murmurs, shaking the paper cup of arcade coins in front of your face before pressing it into your hands. “keith looked devastated, by the way. you monster."
his smirk is playful, but there's something softer in the way his fingers linger against yours as he passes the cup, brief, almost unnoticeable, but robin notices it. of course she does.
“oh yeah? well, if you’re interested, i heard he’s newly single.”
eddie snorts loudly, pulling you closer against his side in a playful half-hug, though his grip lingers just a second too long to be casual.
“hard pass," he drawls, wrinkling his nose. “unless we're talking about stealing his high score on dragon's lair, then maybe i’ll consider it."
he leans down slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper just for you: “besides, i have standards, and they start and end with not smelling like stale nacho cheese."
you hum in response, a smile curling your lips, “hey, look at you with standards. i’m proud of you, never thought i’d see the day.”
eddie lets out another snort, giving you a playful nudge.
"ah, you know me," he says with a shrug.
he stops abruptly, eyes lighting up as he spots the rows of pinball machines a few feet away.
“hey, you think they fixed that one with the busted tilt yet?" he asks, already starting toward the machines. he glances back at you, raising an eyebrow when he sees you and robin already following. “bet i can beat your record on medieval madness."
“oh, please. you wish," you fire back, tossing a token at him, deliberately missing his head by inches. “remember the last time you tried? you literally flipped the machine; the attendant still glares at you."
robin snickers, falling into step beside you. “yeah, munson. maybe stick to games that don’t involve your temper."
“the disrespect in this arcade is unreal, truly,” he responds dramatically, but he’s already slotting the token in, rolling up his sleeves with exaggerated determination. “prepare to bow before the pinball king."
you lean against the pinball machine, watching eddie with an amused smirk as he jabs at the flipper buttons with unnecessary aggression.
“careful, your majesty," you tease, “wouldn't want another royal meltdown."
robin cackles from beside you as eddie's ball immediately drains between the flippers. he slaps the machine dramatically, earning a harsh look from the older woman whose job it was to ‘respect the machines’ or whatever it was that she yelled at him last time.
“rigged! this is bullshit—"
you laugh, shaking your head as you step in to take your turn. you drop in a token with practiced ease, fingers hovering over the buttons. “watch and learn, munson."
the machine lights up as you send the first ball flying, settling into a rhythm, smooth, calculated, effortlessly racking up points. eddie watches, arms crossed, but there's no hiding the proud grin tugging at his lips.
“yeah, yeah...show-off."
robin glances between you two, shaking her head. "hopeless."
eddie leans his elbows on the machine beside you, chin propped in his hands as he watches you effortlessly rack up points. his grin is equal parts exasperated and awed.
“okay, seriously, when did you get so good at this?" he huffs, nudging your shoulder with his own. “are you secretly training at, like, arcade boot camp while i sleep? is there a pinball dojo i don’t know about?"
robin, meanwhile, has already started wandering off to the concessions counter, calling over her shoulder: “give it up, munson! you’re never gonna beat her!"
eddie flips her off half-heartedly, but his attention snaps back to you as you nail a perfect combo, the machine erupting in flashing lights and fanfare, lighting up your features. he whistles low under his breath.
“alright, that’s it. i’m officially demoting myself to cheerleader." he throws an arm around your shoulders, shaking you lightly as he whoops, “go, sweetheart, go! destroy the capitalist machine!"
his laughter rings loud and bright over the arcade chaos, untamed, unguarded, utterly, stupidly happy.
"capitalist machine?" you snort, still focused on the game but leaning slightly into his side, close enough that you can feel the rumble of his laughter. “real revolutionary of you."
the ball finally drains, your score flashing high above the leaderboard. you turn your head just enough to meet his gaze, smirk sharp. “and now you wanna cheer for me? where was this energy when i was wiping the floor with you?"
eddie opens his mouth to retort, but robin suddenly reappears, tossing a handful of popcorn at them both.
“get a room," she deadpans, jerking a thumb toward the skee-ball lanes. “i’m stealing your tokens for actual competition."
eddie flips her off again, but his arm hasn’t moved from around your shoulders. "jealousy’s ugly, buckley!"
you just laugh, nudging him toward the lanes, “c’mon, cheerleader. let’s go whoop some ass in skee-ball."
you fall into an easy rhythm as you take your places at the skee-ball lanes, your banter flowing as effortlessly as your throws. your focus darts between the targets, your aim steady and precise. eddie’s right behind you, his tongue caught between his lips as he tosses balls into the higher-scoring slots, and somehow, accidentally hitting the ones near yours every single time. why he chose to team up with you instead of choosing his own lane, you’d never know.
you roll your eyes, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “you do know this isn’t team skee-ball, right? you don't have to hog my targets."
“oops," he drawls, the picture of innocence, but his smirk says otherwise. he steps closer, leaning over your shoulder as he lines up his throw. “my fault, guess my aim just tends to...drift sometimes."
his voice is low, tinged with a hint of mischief as he casually rests his chin on your shoulder, close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your ear. a strange rush of something warm and unexpected flutters in your stomach, but you ignore it, focusing on your throw and purposely hitting the lowest slot.
eddie straightens abruptly, blinking at the measly points you just scored. “the hell was that?" he demands, gesturing at the board like you’ve personally just betrayed him. “you were literally hitting the 50-point slot five seconds ago… did my presence short-circuit your motor skills or something?"
robin, mid-throw from the next lane over, cackles. “oh my god, you two are insufferable."
you just shrug, suddenly very interested in examining your chipping nail polish. “hm? must be losing my touch."
eddie squints at you suspiciously, then, like a switch flipping, grins, slinging an arm around your neck and tugging you into a noogie. “bullshit, you’re tanking to make me look better. admit it."
you yelp, shoving at him, but he doesn’t let go, just laughs, bright and unrestrained, and suddenly the arcade feels ten degrees warmer.
“i am not tanking, you paranoid lunatic—" you’re laughing as you try to push him off, but his grip is too tight, and you both devolve into a brief scuffle right there in the middle of the lanes, your breathless laughter echoing off the cheap plastic surrounding you.
you finally manage to break free, backing away before he can grab you again. “stop it, you weirdo! i’m winning this game!"
“like hell you are,” he smirks, already loading up another throw. “i see right through your tactics, sweetheart."
you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you line up your own shot, but you’re struggling not to smile, the warmth from earlier creeping back up your neck, spreading through your body. “you've seen right through me, genius. i guess it was inevitable."
you throw effortlessly, the ball landing perfectly in the 100-point slot. you turn to him, eyebrow quirked, and can't help a little triumphant grin, “what was that about my motor skills?"
eddie throws his hands up dramatically, the remaining tokens in the cup jingling as he staggers back like he's been shot.
“betrayal! sabotage! you were playing mind games this whole time!"
robin watches the show, too distracted by eddie’s dramatized loss to notice her own game ending. “you realize normal people just play skee-ball, right? without the dramatic monologues?"
eddie groans at robin’s teasing without looking at her, eyes locked on you, challenging, bright, alight with that competitive spark you know so well. “alright, hotshot. best two out of three. no holding back this time."
he steps up to the lane beside you, shoulder brushing yours deliberately as he drops his token in. the machine lights up, casting his grin in neon.
and for once, you don’t mind losing, not when it means watching him celebrate like an over-caffeinated puppy, not when his laughter drowns out the arcade chaos, not when his hand finds yours after, tugging you toward the next game like he'd forget you if he let go.
soon after, the two of you find yourselves leaning over a brightly colored claw machine, various stuffed animals scattered about inside. you watch as eddie fishes around in his cup for more tokens, you were already running low. “god, you don’t have to keep playing these scams, you know," you protest, “they rig them so you can't win."
he just grins, dropping another token into the machine with a dismissive wave. “oh, ye of little faith. i’m gonna win you something, even if it takes all night."
eddie jams the joystick with excessive force, tongue poking out in concentration as he maneuvers the claw over a particularly goofy-looking stuffed frog, “c'mon, c'mon..."
the claw drops, snags the frog, lifts—
“yes! ha!" eddie smacks the glass triumphantly as the frog tumbles into the chute. "undefeated champion of bullshit arcade games, baby!"
he bends to retrieve his prize, shoving it proudly into your hands. “for you, m'lady. a majestic frog... prince? whatever. it's ugly as hell, just like you." his smirk softens, just for a second, as his fingers brush yours. “…told you i’d get you something."
“thanks, loser,” you turn the stuffed frog over in your hands, grinning down at his silly little face. “i’m naming him ‘splat.’”
eddie raises an eyebrow, feigned outrage flashing across his face. “splat? splat?" he shakes his head vehemently, as if personally offended by the choice. “we can't name our son splat. that's a horrible name, sweetheart. we have to make it cool, something badass."
he ponders for a moment, stroking his chin dramatically, and you can't help but laugh, anticipating the ridiculousness.
“how about...gargantua? that sounds, i dunno, epic, right? and it suits his...uniqueness.”
you hold up the frog to his face, ignoring his idea for a name change, and tilt your head a bit to get a better look at them. “he has your eyes.”
eddie squints at the frog, then down at you with faux-offense. “he does not have my eyes," he insists, but his protests are half-hearted at best. he can’t keep the smile off his face.
he takes the frog from you, inspecting it with exaggerated seriousness, turning it every which way with a thoughtful hum. then, suddenly, “actually, yeah, i see it. he’s totally got my eyes.”
“that roadkill stare.”
he steps back, dramatically cradling splat against his shoulder. “don't worry, kid. i'll protect you from your cruel, vicious mother."
you roll your eyes, but you can't hide the amused smirk tugging at your lips, especially when eddie whispers to the frog, “yeah, she's mean, but we love her anyway."
you laugh, shaking your head, you’re trying to keep her expression neutral, but eddie’s antics make it impossible. you reach out to snatch splat back from him.
“yeah, yeah, keep mocking me. just remember," you wiggle the frog between you two. “he’s your legacy now."
robin, who’s been watching this whole interaction with an exasperated but fond expression, tosses her hands up. “i’m getting a soda. when you two are done with… whatever this is, meet me at dig dug."
eddie salutes her with a grin, then turns back to you, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “so, where does splat sleep? my place or yours?"
you shove him lightly, but you’re still grinning. “oh, he’s definitely your problem."
eddie clutches splat to his chest, gasping in mock horror. “you’d abandon your own child? cold. ice cold."
and as he throws an arm around your shoulders, frog squished between you, laughter bouncing off neon-lit walls—it feels, for once, like something more than just friendship. something neither of you dare to name yet.
after robin gets her soda, you all three meet back up at the dig dug machine. you get there slightly before eddie, sliding in next to robin right as she loses. she groans in annoyance at yet again not being able to beat keith’s high score, backing up to give you a try at it. you jokingly put splat over the controls, grinning over at eddie. “look, eds, baby’s first dig dug.”
eddie’s entire face lights up, his grin splitting ear-to-ear, eyes crinkling at the corners, as he watches you press splat's tiny frog hands against the dig dug joystick. his heart does something dangerously close to a backflip.
“oh my god," he breathes, voice thick with fake awe, “he's a natural. look at him go!"
he crouches down next to the machine, pointing at the screen like an overenthusiastic parent at a little league game. “see that, robin? that’s my boy! he’s got the vision!”
robin, mid-sip of her soda, nearly chokes. “you two are disgusting,” she wheezes, but she's grinning too.
you’re still laughing, fingers curled around splat's little arms as you ‘help’ him play, and eddie can't tear his eyes away. the arcade lights catch in your hair, your smile bright enough to outshine every pixel on the screen. his chest starts to feel weirdly tight, almost painful.
eddie leans against the dig dug machine, trying to hide his smile in his sleeve, but he can't help his shoulders shaking with the force of his suppressed laughter as the game flashes ‘game over’ on the screen.
“oh man, too bad," he drawls, a mock-sympathetic tut to his tone as he ruffles splat's froggy head. “better luck next time, kid."
you glance at him, the ghost of a grin still on your lips. “he's got potential, though, he was really feeling the rhythm for a second there."
he nods solemnly, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “the raw talent is undeniable. maybe he takes after his old man."
robin groans, tossing her now empty soda cup at them. “i’m gonna lose my mind if i have to witness this frog parenting arc any longer."
eddie catches the cup mid-air, grinning. “sorry, buckley. you’re stuck with us and our emotionally complex amphibian son."
you nudge him with your elbow, but you don’t argue, just begin adjusting splat’s lopsided limbs with exaggerated care, as if he’s a prized heirloom. eddie watches, chest warm, and thinks that this might be the best night he’s ever had.
the arcade lights flicker as the three of them fall into an easy rhythm. robin groaning at eddie’s terrible dig dug skills, you loudly coaching splat through another doomed game, eddie stealing sips of your soda when you’re not looking. the tokens dwindle, the scores climb (or don’t), and somewhere between the neon glow and the sound of quarters rattling in the change machine, eddie realizes—
“shit," he mutters, glancing at his watch. “wayne’s gonna kill me. i was supposed to help him fix the damn water heater like two hours ago."
you laugh, adjusting splat’s floppy arm around your shoulder like a proud parent. “tell him it was an emergency. parent-teacher conference for splat.”
eddie snorts, but he’s already reaching for his jacket, fishing his keys from the pocket. he hesitates, glancing at you and robin. “you guys good to get home? i can drop you—"
robin waves him off. “please, go. before your uncle grounds you or whatever."
you shift the frog toy to one arm, nudging eddie toward the door. “yeah, yeah, get out of here. splat and i will be fine."
eddie lingers for a second, just long enough to flick the frog’s ear and grin at you, something soft and unreadable in his expression. “take care of our kid," he teases, backing toward the exit. “i’ll see you tomorrow."
and then he’s gone, ducking out into the cool hawkins night, but the arcade feels warmer, somehow, even after he leaves. you look down at splat’s lopsided face and roll your eyes affectionately.
robin sighs, leaning against the machine. “you’re welcome, by the way."
you blink, “for what?"
robin just smirks, popping another token into dig dug. “for not mentioning how obvious you two are—"
“don’t.”
robin’s smirk sharpens, she knows she touched a nerve. “what? in denial?" she asks casually, focused on the game, but you know there’s nothing casual about it.
you roll your eyes, fidgeting with splat’s ears. “we’re just…friends. always have been. that’s it." but your words sound weak, even to your own ears, and robin shoots you a knowing look, one eyebrow raised, “you trying to convince me or yourself?”
you exhale sharply through your nose, refusing to dignify that with an answer. instead, you turn the frog’s dopey face toward robin like a tiny, fabric jury.
“splat agrees with me," you declare, petulant, stubborn, entirely unconvincing. “right, buddy?"
robin doesn’t even glance at the frog, just keeps playing the game, her smirk audible in her voice: “mmhmm, real convincing when you’re using a stuffed animal as your wingman."
you chuck a stray token at her, which robin easily dodges, cackling, and splat, ever the silent observer, says nothing. though, if he could talk, you doubt he’d back you up anyway, there was no denying the presence of something between you and eddie tonight, whenever it may mean. “i’m going home. come on, son, let’s get outta here.”
robin watches as you hurry past her, splat clutched to your chest. she shakes her head, exasperated by her friend’s stubbornness. “run away, just don’t expect to outrun the truth forever!”
“i’m not running!” you call back as you push your way out the glass door of the arcade. the irony in your actions isn’t lost on you, but you’d be damned if you gave robin the satisfaction.
the cool night air hits your face as you step outside, the glow of the arcade fading behind you. splat dangles limply from your grip, his stupid little frog face judging you silently.
“don’t you start," you mutter, readjusting him under your arm.
but the truth lingers in the air, heavy, undeniable, as you quickly walk home under the hawkins streetlights, heart racing faster than your footsteps.
as you near your place in forest hills, you spot the old trailer in the distance, the familiar beat-up van parked in the driveway. you stop by the curb, staring at the faint light spilling from the window.
a part of you wants to turn around, a part of you wants to keep walking, keep running, never face the truth, but a bigger part of you—the stubborn, hopeful part you thought you’d lost, somewhere along the way, stops you.
“screw it," you whisper. “let’s get this over with."
you take a deep breath and march up to eddie's trailer, splat clutched tight under your arm like a tiny, ridiculous security blanket. before you can second-guess yourself, you knock, harder than necessary, the sound sharp against the quiet night.
the door swings open almost immediately, like he was waiting. eddie leans against the frame, grease-streaked shirt and slightly mussed hair, eyes widening a bit at the sight of you showing up so late. “sweetheart? you good?"
you shove splat against his chest before he can finish. “here. you forgot your kid."
eddie blinks down at the frog, then back up at you; confusion, amusement, or something else entirely flickering in his gaze. “uh. thanks?"
you cross your arms, chin jutting stubbornly. “and robin’s being annoying."
his lips twitch, “so, a tuesday."
you glare at him, but there’s no heat in it, just exhaustion, frustration, the weight of everything unspoken between you. eddie sobers abruptly, studying your face. then, gently, knowing something was bothering you, “wanna come in?"
you hesitate. splat’s beady eyes seem to bore into your soul. finally, you exhale sharply. “yeah. yeah, i do."
eddie grins, bright, real, and steps aside. “cool. munson family reunion." and just like that, the running stops.
the trailer smells like oil and burnt popcorn, but it’s warm, warmer than the empty street outside. eddie kicks a pile of laundry off the couch with one foot, gesturing for you to sit. you collapse onto the worn cushions, splat tumbling from eddie’s grip onto the coffee table. he lands with a soft plop, staring blankly at the ceiling like a tiny, tragic martyr.
eddie snorts, flopping down beside you. “damn. kid’s seen some shit tonight."
you bite your lip. the silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but charged, like the air before a storm. eddie picks at a loose thread on his jeans, then clears his throat.
“so, robin?”
you groan, tipping your head back against the couch. “ugh. don’t—"
“what?" he grins, nudging your knee with his. “she say something weird? shock me."
you peek at him sideways. his smile’s easy, but his fingers are drumming restless against his thigh. you recognize the tell—eddie munson is nervous. it was rare for him to show it.
you swallow, “just… typical robin stuff. you know how she is."
eddie hums, studying splat like the frog holds the answers to the universe. “yeah. yeah, i do."
another pause; the clock on the wall ticks on, filling the silence.
“sweetheart,” his voice is quieter now, serious. “we’re… good, right?"
your chest tightens. you glance at him, really look at him; the way his brows pinch, the way he’s waiting for your answer like it matters, like you matter. something in you cracks.
“eds." you reach over, flicking splat’s dumb frog foot. “we have a child together. of course we’re good."
eddie’s laugh bursts out of him, sudden and bright, tension shattering like glass. he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, the press of him against you warm and familiar.
"damn straight," he murmurs, squeezing you tight. “munson family values."
you roll your eyes, but you don't pull away, just lean into him, letting him ground you to the beat-up couch, the worn carpet, the familiar clutter of the munson trailer.
as you settle against his side, you can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat. familiar, something you didn't realize you'd missed until it was there again. something warm and terrifying blooms in your chest.
for a minute, you don't talk. you just exist in the space between the clock-ticking, eddie's arm around you, splat staring at the ceiling.
"hey, sweetheart?"
you blink, “yeah?”
eddie's fingers are tracing circles on your shoulder, absently, like he doesn't even know he's doing it. “promise me something."
you lift your head to look at him, eyes searching his face. it's serious, but a tiny, teasing grin still tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“depends," you counter, trying to match his light tone, trying not to let your heart jump at how close you are, how easy it would be to lean in. “what kind of promise?"
his hand still moves gently against your shoulder, tracing a lazy path up to your collarbone. “no matter what… we stay friends, right? no matter what anyone says or what happens, you and me, we’re good."
his eyes are locked onto yours, something almost frantic in them, like you're a line he can't afford to lose.
it’s an easy answer, “of course," you whisper. “always, you and me, munson." you hold out your pinky finger like a little kid, waiting for him to hook his around it.
he stares down at your outstretched pinky for a moment, something flickering in his eyes. then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and he hooks his pinky around yours, squeezing hard.
“always," he promises, his voice quiet. “me and you."
you let the moment stretch, the room warm and soft around you, then, slowly, reluctantly, you pull away. you lean back into the couch, putting some space between you.
the distance feels too wide suddenly, the couch too big. eddie exhales, sharp, unsteady, and scrubs a hand through his hair.
“okay, cool. cool. just—" he gestures vaguely at splat, abandoned on the table. “so, uh. joint custody, then? or—“
you snort, kicking his shin lightly. “shut up." he grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
he drops his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them now, looking away, at anything but you. it's suddenly too hot in his vicinity, like all the oxygen's been sucked from the room.
you clear your throat, fingers curling against the worn cushion. “you… ever think about the future, eds?"
his head jerks up like you've hit him, wide-eyed, almost startled. he stares at you for a second, then laughs, but it sounds forced.
“what, like, college and shit?"
you shrug, picking at a loose thread on the couch, anything to avoid his gaze. “yeah, or i dunno just… what comes next?”
eddie’s quiet for a beat, when he finally speaks again, his voice has a softness he rarely used, “i think about it," he admits. “mostly when wayne starts asking if i wanna take over the garage someday." he rubs the back of his neck. “but… i dunno. feels like the future’s this big, weird thing that’s just gonna happen to me, y’know?"
you glance up, his expression is unreadable, half-shadowed by the dim trailer light, half-open in a way that makes your stomach twist. “what about you?" he asks. “got any grand plans?"
you hesitate, the truth sits heavy on your tongue. “i think… i just wanna be happy. whatever that means.”
eddie’s eyes flicker, something raw flashing through them, before he grins, nudging your knee with his. “yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan."
eventually, you push yourself off the couch, stretching. eddie watches you, eyes tracing the line of your back, the slope of your shoulders, the way your shirt pulls tight against your skin.
his fingers twitch, as if he wants to reach out. then he clears his throat, shoving them into his pockets. “you, uh, leaving?”
you hesitate at the door, splat dangling from your fingers. the quiet between you is thick with everything unsaid, the ghost of eddie's pinky curled around yours.
“yeah," you say finally, forcing a smirk. “someone’s gotta tuck splat in."
eddie leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, but his grin doesn’t reach his eyes this time. “right. parental duties."
you take a step back, the night air cool against your skin as he pushes the door open for you. “see you tomorrow?"
he nods, thumb hooking into his belt loop like he’s anchoring himself. “tomorrow."
and as you walk away, splat swinging at your side, you pretend not to hear the way eddie’s voice cracks when he calls after you,
“hey, wait—“
you turn, he’s silhouetted in the trailer light, all wild hair and restless hands. “we’re gonna be happy."
it’s not a question. it’s a vow. you smile, small, real. “yeah, eds. we are."
the walk home is quiet, just the hum of distant streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot. splat swings gently from your hand, his button eyes catching the glow of the moon. the night feels endless, like you're suspended between moments, between past and future, between friendship and whatever this other thing is, pulsing under your ribs.
description: it’s your birthday, and nancy throws a little party to celebrate you. drinks are flowing, music is loud, and eddie spends the entire night attached to your side whispering filthy things in your ear. its his mission to get you out of there and in his bed, and he knows just the right buttons to push to make that happen.
pairing: eddie x gf!reader (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, established relationship, touch-starved behavior, drunk & horny eddie, public teasing, clingy eddie, praise kink, slight voyeurism, aftercare, munch activities, eddie carrying you everywhere because walking was never an option, pretty much smut the entire time, i'd fold too ngl
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!!!! PiV, unprotected, some outside festivities, drinking
WC: 3.1k
A/N: requested by @m-art000 happy birthday queen, enjoy!!! i wanted to make sure this came out in a timely manner lolololol.
reblogs are always appreciated<33 happy reading xoxo
Music echoed through the living room, half-melted candles flickered around the kitchen island, and someone (probably Robin) has already gotten frosting smeared across one of the dining room chairs.
The entire place buzzed warm and loud with alcohol and laughter and the kind of comfort that only came from being surrounded by people who’d known each other forever.
And Eddie had been attached to you all night, not that you were complaining.
His arms were currently wrapped around your waist from behind while you stood in Nancy’s kitchen attempting to pour another drink, his chin resting lazily on your shoulder as he swayed the two of you gently to the music playing from the other room.
“You are being unbelievably clingy tonight,” you laughed.
“M’drunk and obsessed with you,” he replied immediately. “Lethal combination.”
You snorted, nearly spilling vodka into the cup. Behind you, Steve glanced over from where he stood digging through Nancy’s fridge. “Dude, I don’t think you’ve let go of her once.”
Eddie didn’t even look ashamed. “Why would I?”
Steve grimaced dramatically. “You guys make me feel single.”
“You are single,” Robin called from the living room.
“Yeah, thanks, Robin. I’m aware.”
You laughed softly, but your attention got stolen the second Eddie pressed a lingering kiss against the side of your neck.
“You smell good,” he murmured against your skin.
“You say that every day.”
“Because it’s true every day.”
His hands slid lower along your hips while you tried very hard to focus on making your drink normally and not the fact hands were near a particular spot that gives you chills.
“You know,” he continued quietly into your ear, “that skirt’s been driving me fucking insane all night.”
Your face heated instantly.
“Eddie,” you whispered through a smile.
“What?” he asked innocently, though you could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m just appreciating my girlfriend on her birthday.”
He nipped lightly at your jaw, and you nearly forgot how to breathe.
“Good lord,” you muttered.
“That’s kinda the reaction I was hoping for, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, laughing under your breath, but you leaned back against him anyway, completely melting into his warmth while he held you tighter.
Across the room, Nancy walked by carrying a bowl of chips and paused briefly. “You two physically capable of standing separately for five minutes or no?”
“No,” Eddie answered immediately.
Nancy rolled her eyes fondly. “Alright. Just keep the horny behavior out of my kitchen.”
“No promises,” Eddie called after her.
“EDDIE.”
He was absolutely shameless tonight.
By the time the night got later and everyone settled into scattered groups around the house, you’d ended up curled beside Eddie on the couch downstairs with your legs draped over his lap.
The room glowed dimly from the television nobody was really watching anymore, conversations overlapping softly around you, while Eddie absentmindedly rubbed his hand up and down your thigh. Or, not so absentmindedly.
Because every few minutes, his fingers would creep just a little higher beneath your skirt before dragging back down again, teasing.
The bastard.
You tilted your head toward him. “You’re being a menace.”
“Mhm.”
“And handsy.”
“Mhm.”
“And inappropriate.”
That finally made him grin, eyes heavy and lazy from the alcohol as he leaned in. “But you like when I get inappropriate.”
Your stomach flipped, especially when his hand squeezed your thigh afterward.
“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you accused quietly.
“Can you blame me?” he murmured. “Look at you.”
His gaze dragged slowly over your face before dipping lower. “So fucking pretty it’s distracting.”
You bit back a smile, suddenly very aware of how close his mouth was. Then he leaned in beside your ear.
“Been thinking about getting you alone since you walked through the door.”
Heat rushed straight through you. “Eddie—”
“What?” he whispered. “You’re sitting over here in this tiny little skirt looking this good? Think I deserve a medal for behaving.”
You laughed breathlessly, hiding your face against his shoulder while he chuckled softly, clearly pleased with himself. His fingers tilted your chin back toward him.
“There’s my birthday girl,” he murmured affectionately, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “All shy.”
“I am not shy.”
“You absolutely are when I flirt with you too much.”
“That’s because you say insane things.”
“And yet,” he mused, thumb brushing your bottom lip softly, “you still look at me like you wanna drag me upstairs.”
Your silence made him grin wider. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thought so.”
You finally hit your limit somewhere around Eddie whispering, “C’mon, sweetheart, quit looking at me like that before I do something embarrassing in front of all your friends.”
Your face was burning. His hand was still dangerously high on your thigh. And the smug look on his face every time he got a reaction out of you was becoming unbearable.
You grabbed his wrist. “Enough.”
His eyebrows lifted immediately, grin slow and dangerous. “Enough?”
“Mhm.”
“You tapping out already?”
Instead of answering, you stood abruptly from the couch and tugged him up with you, which caught his attention fast.
“Whoa,” he laughed as you started pulling him toward the back door. “Where are we goin’, birthday girl?”
“You’ll see.”
Behind you, Steve barely looked up from the movie. “If you two disappear and come back engaged, I’m leaving.”
“Not engaged,” Eddie called lazily while letting you drag him through the house. “Probably sinful though.”
“EDDIE,” Nancy shouted from somewhere upstairs.
The music from inside dulled instantly behind you, replaced by distant crickets and muffled voices from the party. The grass was damp beneath your shoes as you hurried across the lawn, Eddie stumbling after you dramatically just to make you laugh harder.
“You are wasted,” he accused.
“I’m not wasted.”
“You just walked directly into that lawn chair.”
“It attacked me.”
“Mhm.”
You were still giggling when he suddenly yanked gently on your hand. The next thing you knew, you squealed as Eddie bent and threw you over his shoulder.
“EDDIE!”
“Oh, now she’s loud,” he teased, gripping your legs securely as he took off across the lawn.
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt, clutching onto the back of his jacket while he sprinted through the dark like a maniac.
“Put me DOWN—”
“Can’t hear you, sweetheart!”
You were breathless by the time he finally set you back on your feet near his front porch, both of you laughing uncontrollably while he steadied you by the waist.
His curls were a mess, your makeup was probably ruined, and he was looking at you like you invented the Earth and everything in it.
“You know,” he murmured, still slightly out of breath, “you get really cute when you’re bossy.”
You rolled your eyes, though your hands immediately slid up into his jacket anyway. “You get really annoying when you drink whiskey.”
“Ouch.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned, leaning down until his forehead rested against yours. “You dragged me home,” he pointed out softly.
“Mhm.”
“For what exactly?”
You tried to answer confidently, but instead, your eyes flicked to his mouth, which completely gave you away. Eddie made a low sound in the back of his throat.
“I see,” he murmured. “Knew you were getting all worked up.”
“Maybe you should stop whispering filthy things in my ear then.”
“Maybe you should stop looking so pretty when I do it.”
Your breath caught when his hands slid beneath your jacket, fingers spreading warm against your waist.
“You have any idea,” he said quietly, eyes dragging over your face, “how hard it’s been keeping my hands to myself tonight?”
“You’ve literally been hanging off me for hours.”
“Yeah,” he replied easily. “And it still wasn’t enough.” His forehead stayed pressed to yours, whiskey and smoke on his breath. “Been hard since you put this little skirt on, baby. Walking around looking like every dirty thought I’ve ever had.”
You shivered, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. “Then stop teasing and do something about it, Munson.”
His grin flashed wicked in the porch light. “Bossy birthday girl.”
He kissed you hard, tongue sliding against yours with zero patience left. One hand stayed on your hip, the other sliding up under your skirt to palm your ass, squeezing possessively as he rocked his hips forward so you could feel exactly how hard he was.
“Eddie—” you gasped into his mouth.
“Shh. Neighbors are asleep, sweetheart. Unless you want them to hear how loud I’m gonna make you.” He nipped your bottom lip, then started kissing down your neck, sucking lightly at the spot that always made your knees weak.
“Gonna take such good care of you tonight. Been dying to get my mouth on you.”
He dropped to his knees right there on the porch without warning, hands shoving your skirt up around your hips.
The wood was rough under your shoes, but you didn’t care; his warm breath was already ghosting over your panties, and the sight of Eddie on his knees for you made heat flood straight between your legs.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “So wet already. This all for me?”
“Yes—Eddie, please—”
He hooked your panties to the side and groaned at the sight of you. “So pretty. My perfect girl.” Then his mouth was on you, hot and eager, tongue dragging slowly through your folds before circling your clit with filthy precision.
You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that ripped out of you. Eddie hummed in approval, the vibration shooting straight through you.
He ate you like a man starved; long, messy licks followed by tight suction on your clit, two fingers sliding into you without hesitation, curling just right.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised between licks, voice muffled against you. “Ride my face. Use me.” His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open wider as he devoured you. “Taste so fucking good. Could stay right here all night.”
Your legs started shaking. You buried your fingers in his messy curls, hips rocking against his tongue as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter. He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hungry, lips shiny with you, and the sight alone nearly pushed you over.
“Eddie—I’m gonna—”
“Come on my tongue, princess. Let me hear you.” He sucked your clit hard, fingers pumping faster, and you came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head as waves of heat crashed through you.
He didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, gentler now, humming softly like he was savoring every second, until you were trembling and oversensitive.
When he finally pulled back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Good girl,” he whispered against your lips. “So fucking good for me.”
You reached for his belt, desperate, but he caught your wrists gently and pinned them above your head against the doorframe with one hand.
“Not yet,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw. “I’m not done worshipping my birthday girl. Inside. Now.”
He fumbled the door open without letting you go, walking you backward into the dark trailer, mouth never leaving your skin.
“Gonna fuck you so slow you feel every inch,” he promised, grinding against you. “Then I’m gonna make you come on my cock while I tell you how much I love you. Sound good, sweetheart?”
You nodded frantically, already pulling him closer. “Yes. Eddie, please—I need you.”
He had you pinned to the wall again in seconds, mouth crashing into yours, tongue licking deep while his hips rolled slowly and filthy against you. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, thick and insistent, and it made you whimper into his kiss.
“Fuck, listen to those pretty sounds,” he growled against your lips. “You’re gonna be so loud for me tonight, aren’t you, baby?”
You nodded, fingers tugging at his belt, and this time he let you. The clink of metal filled the hallway as you shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free him. He hissed when your hand wrapped around his cock.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice strained. “You keep touching me like that, and I’m not gonna last.”
He grabbed one wrist again, pinning it above your head, and used his free hand to hike your skirt up around your waist. Two fingers dragged through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness.
“Still dripping from my mouth,” he praised, voice low and rough. “Such a messy girl for me.”
He lined himself up and pushed in with one slow, deep thrust, stretching you open until your back arched off the wall and a broken moan tore from your throat.
“Shit—Eddie—”
“That’s it,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. “Take every inch, baby. Good girl… so fucking tight around me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust, hips twitching like it was killing him to hold still. Then he started moving; slow, deliberate rolls that dragged against that spot inside you with every stroke.
“Eyes,” he ordered softly.
You forced your eyes open. His face was inches from yours, pupils blown wide, that dangerous-soft look he only ever gave you.
“I love you,” he whispered, punctuating it with a deeper thrust that made your toes curl. “Love this pussy. Love how you fall apart for me. Been thinking about this all damn night.”
Your free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in as pleasure built fast and hot. He released your wrist so he could grab your ass with both hands, lifting you just enough to change the angle. The new depth made you cry out.
“Fuck—right there—”
“Yeah? Right there, princess?” He angled his hips and slammed in harder, watching your face like he needed to memorize every reaction.
He dropped his head to your neck, sucking a mark right below your ear while one hand slipped between you to rub tight circles over your clit. The dual sensation had your thighs shaking around his waist.
“Come on, baby. Let go. I’ve got you.”
The praise, the way he said it so reverently while fucking you against the wall like he couldn’t get deep enough, it wrecked you. Your orgasm hit hard, pulsing around him, a sharp cry spilling from your lips as your whole body clenched.
Eddie cursed, hips stuttering. “Fuck, that’s my girl. So good—squeezing me so fucking perfect.”
He fucked you through it, slower now, drawing it out until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then he pulled out, spun you around, and bent you over the back of the couch in one smooth motion.
You barely had time to brace yourself before he was sliding back in from behind, deeper than before. “Oh my god—”
“Too much?” he asked, one hand smoothing up your spine.
“No, don’t stop. Please.”
He groaned in relief and started thrusting again, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding into your hair to tug your head back gently so he could kiss the side of your neck.
“Love you like this,” he rasped. “Bent over, taking me so well.” His pace picked up, skin slapping against skin, the couch creaking beneath you. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Want my cum deep inside this pretty pussy?”
You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Yes—Eddie, please—”
He reached around to rub your clit again, lips pressed to your ear. “Come with me, baby. One more time. I wanna feel you.”
It didn’t take long. The angle, his voice, the way he kept murmuring “good girl, that’s it, I love you” against your skin—it sent you crashing over again.
Eddie followed right after with a broken groan, hips jerking as he spilled deep inside you, holding you tight against him like he never wanted to let go.
For a minute, the only sounds were your heavy breathing and the distant hum of crickets outside. He then carried you down the hall to the bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot.
He laid you on the bed gently, crawling over you and kissing you slowly and sweetly, all the dominance melting into pure affection.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, brushing damp hair from your face. “You okay?”
You smiled, boneless and glowing, fingers tracing his jaw. “More than okay.”
He grinned, that crooked, boyish smile you loved. “Good.”
“Love you,” he said softly, brushing his nose against yours. “So fucking much.”
“Love you too,” you breathed, smiling against his mouth.
He stayed there for a minute, just holding you, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. Then he sat up and scooped you into his arms like walking six feet to the bathroom was never an option.
“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The shower was warm, steam filling the tiny bathroom as Eddie held you under the spray. He’d stripped the rest of his clothes off and stepped in behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder. You leaned back into his chest with a contented sigh.
“Any soreness?” he asked quietly, kissing the side of your neck as his fingers rinsed you.
“A little,” you admitted. “Worth it.”
He hummed, turning you to face him. Water streamed down his curls, plastering them to his shoulders. “Best birthday ever?”
You nodded once, “Oh yeah, for sure.” He cupped your face and peppered kisses all over your face.
“C’mere,” he muttered, leaning forward. He washed your hair, massaging shampoo into your scalp with those talented fingers until you were practically purring. You did the same for him, giggling when he dramatically moaned at the feeling.
By the time you both stepped out, you were warm, clean, and wrapped in one of his big towels. He dried you off first, dropping kisses along your shoulders and collarbones the whole time.
Ten minutes later, you were in bed, both in nothing but underwear. He pulled you into his chest, legs tangled, one arm curled protectively around your back while the other stroked up and down your spine.
You stayed like that for a while; quiet breathing, his heartbeat steady under your ear, his fingers drawing little patterns on your hip. Every so often, he’d tilt your chin up for a slow kiss, lazy and full of love.
Easily, the best birthday you’d ever had by a landslide.
ive realized that up until this point i haven't written an aftercare scene like, ever. my bad! anyway, i hope you all enjoyed :)
Summary: If there was anything that your boyfriend loved, it was fucking you while you wore his t-shirts.
Content Warning: 18+ smut, penetration (p in v), dirty talk, suggestive language, softdom!Eddie, swearing, sexual/suggestive language
────────
It took a while for Eddie to notice that his t-shirts were going missing. He couldn’t understand why his favorite Judas Priest shirt hadn’t resurfaced after weeks of searching or where his Metallica tank top had disappeared to. It was like his personal wardrobe was dwindling down to nothing. After a month of this, he finally found the culprit- you.
“Fuck, baby. You’re so hot.” He pants as he drives his hips into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress. It had been going on like this for at least an hour- after you had opened the front door of your apartment to let your boyfriend in. When he laid his eyes on you wearing only a pair of black panties and his Iron Maiden t-shirt, he couldn’t help himself. He had you pinned against your mattress in less than five minutes flat.
“Fuck, Eddie.” You whine, your arms grasping onto his biceps as he snapped his hips into your wet core- fucking you hard enough to make it difficult for you to walk tomorrow.
“Yeah, baby?” He whispers “That feel good?”
“So good, Eds.”
“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good.” He moans, pulling away a bit to stare down at your hardened nipples poking through the fabric of his shirt. He pinches a part of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, admiring.
“Tell me again,” He breathes “Who does this belong to?”
He was asserting dominance and you loved it. You loved when your boyfriend put you in your place in the bedroom. Especially when he was so sweet to you any other time.
“Yours, Eddie.” You squeak as he hits a particular spot inside of you that had you seeing stars “It’s y-yours.”
“Damn right.” He says, grabbing your legs to hitch them over his shoulders to fuck you at a whole new angle.
“Oh shit! Holy fuck!” You scream out as Eddie smiles down at you cockily.
“You know, sweetheart, I usually don’t like to share but I’ll make an exception just for you. Because you look so damn cute. How does that sound? What’s mine is yours.” He smirks seductively.
“F-fuck!” You stammer, taking Eddie’s hard cock as he thrusts into you with fervor.
“Isn’t that right, baby? Hm? What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine? Isn’t that what they say?”
You were too cock drunk and stupid to respond with more than desperate nods.
“Good.” Eddie purrs “Guess that means this pussy is mine, right?”
It's a habit that has started in the early stages of dating him, because part of him couldn't believe you were his and he simply couldn't let you go, in case you were about to float away and out of his life. (Silly guy.)
And you like holding his hand too, so you're always up for it. But it's not just him holding your hand or kissing it mindlessly like it's instinct.
It's playing with your fingers during a campaign when he reads aloud to everyone.
Or his thumb drawing invisible doodles on you when he's driving.
Or drumming a silent beat on your knuckles when you're watching a movie.
He focuses better like that and you don't mind at all. But the kisses - that's what gets to you.
They come out of nowhere too, like a sneak attack with bonus damage.
He could pass you in the kitchen of the trailer, his hand effortlessly catching your wrist and tenderly lifting it to his lips.
Or he's saying goodbye at your table during lunch, being quick with it like you only feel the phantom of his lips of your knuckles after he's already gone.
Or in bed, when he's buried deep inside of you and you don't know anymore where you end ans he begins.
He could mutter the filthiest strings of words into your ear, a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist always follows...
summary: you and Eddie hang out on valentines day alone. unfortunately (or fortunately?) your period has other ideas.
wc: 2.3k
tw: 18+, period sex, talk about difficult periods, piv sex, eddie makes insufferable jokes but is somehow still so hot
a/n: happy valentine's day. here is my. gift to you. now, i have my period and I'm going to go to a hatchet throwing bar event and throw axes at a picture of my ex.
masterlist
It was a typical Valentine's Day for you and Eddie.
No dates, just two Hawkins weirdos watching bad slashers in his trailer, a little tipsy, a little stoned.
Honestly it was just a typical Saturday night for you in general. Except usually, it was the whole gang.
But Dustin and Mike both had a long distance phone call dates with their girlfriends. Jeff was even out with a girl he met at a show last weekend. Hell, even Gareth had to bail, thought it was just to watch his sister while his parents went to dinner.
So that left you and Eddie alone.
"This movie sucks." You say from the couch, pillow clutched to your stomach as you lay there on your side watching the TV.
"Its a Valentine's Day slasher, it's not supposed to be good." Eddie reached over to the coffee table and stuffs some popcorn in his mouth before leaning back in Wayne's usual recliner. "It's a requirement of the genre. The horror has to be as half-assed as the romance. It's the rule."
"Well, this romance and this horror are both succeeding spectacularly at sucking." You say before stuffing your face with your own handful of popcorn.
"Someone is a grumpy pants today." Eddie chuckles, swirling the beer in the bottle.
"No. I'm just saying, the killer's motive is lame. So a girl broke his heart in high school, twenty years later he's killing everyone in town? Get over it." You grumble, shoveling another handful into your mouth. "And the actress playing the main character is terrible."
"You usually love this shit, what is with you today?" His eyebrow is raised and you sigh, moving to flop on your back now. "Are you getting all mushy on me? Upset that you don't have a Valentine or something? Because if so, I'll be your Valentine."
"I'm fine, Eddie. Just tired." You lie, knowing very well what's wrong with you but being too chickenshit to say it.
You hold the pillow to your lower tummy as another wave of cramps hit. Your PMS hit this morning, signaling that the blood war would soon be upon you and the Midol was doing fuck all. You felt bloated, and gross, and uncomfortable and on top of all of it, you wanted Eddie so badly you could cry.
That was the worst part of it all. The need for him.
You'd been harboring a massive crush on him for over a year now, so the little joke about being your Valentine fell a bit flat. You just wanted him to hold you and touch you and fuck you.
But not when you felt this gross.
Maybe that's why you were so irritable. The period pains weren't helping but your desperate want for him was making you even more irritable. He was right there and you couldn't have him.
"Do you want to call it a night?" He looks over at you, and there's a twinge if dissapointment in his voice. The last thing you wanted was to ruin the night.
"No, I'll be okay in a little bit." You assure him, and then the cramps start to fade and the desire grows stronger and stronger. You can't even pay attention to the movie now because you are so hyperaware of him. The way he's scratching at the denim on his jeans, the rings on his fingers, the way he brings the beer to his lips...
Another sharp strike, from the part of your body you now decided was actually evil, has you moving back to fetal position.
Eddie notices.
"Hey, I mean, if you have like... a stomach issue you can just say it. We all get the shits it's not--"
"No, Eddie, oh my god." You groan, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "I don't have the shits."
The next cramp that hits you is enough to make a grown man cry. A whimper escapes your lips before you can even think to stop it and your eyes well with tears.
You've always had bad periods. They always hit you like a truck. A truck full of knives. A big, big, big, big truck full of knives.
Eddie stands up now and walks to the couch, sitting on the cushion next to your legs.
"You okay? Seriously. What's wrong?" The genuine concern in his voice has your heart swelling. "I had my appendix out in the 8th grade, and let me tell you, you're looking a lot like I did when the surgeon told me it was about to burst." He's trying to lighten the mood but his brow is furrowed with worry.
"It's not that bad." You manage to get out, your eyes still watery. "It's... it's just girl stuff."
"Girl stuff?" He looks confused for a second, then understanding dawns on his face. "Ohhh, like... 'that' girl stuff."
"Yeah."
"Okay, what do you need? Midol? Ice cream? Chocolate? Heating pad?" He's listing things off on his fingers, so earnest and sincere, the same worry still etched on his face. You just stare at him, flabbergasted. "What? I was raised by my uncle, but my older cousin used to come stay with us in the summer. I know things."
"Why? You think I'm an idiot?" He asks, and you immediately feel guilty. "Just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I'm completely clueless."
"No! I'm sorry! That's not what I meant at all. I'm just... a little out of it." You say, and he nods, seeming to accept your apology.
"So, which one is it? Or all of the above?" He asks, and you can't help but smile.
You also can't help that him being so understanding is insanely attractive. You've never wanted him more than you do in this exact moment. It makes your head spin.
"Midol is in my purse. And a heating pad would be amazing." You say, sitting up a little.
"Alright, boss. You got it." He says, getting up to find your purse and the heating pad. "Wayne has one he uses for his back, it's clean, I swear."
"Thank you, Eddie." You say, your voice softer now, more genuine. You watch him as he bustles around, opening cabinets and digging through your purse with a focus that is so endearing it makes your chest ache.
"Found it." He says, holding up the little pink box triumphantly before grabbing you a glass of water. "And here." He plugs in the heating pad in the wall by the couch and hands it to you. "Get comfy. I'll make it extra hot." He turns the dial all the way up and the pad starts to warm your lower belly.
You sigh in relief as the heat sinks into your skin, soothing the dull ache that had been plaguing you all day.
Once you take the pills, you sit up a little against the pillow by the arm of the couch. Eddie is kind of rocking on his heels looking at you.
"Are you good?" You ask, laughing a little.
"Yeah, I'm good." He says, though he looks a little unsure. "Just, uh... is there anything else I can do? To, you know, help?"
"I think I'm good, Eddie. Really." You say, and he nods, but he still doesn't move.
"I've heard like, massages help." He says, scratching the back of his neck. "Or, uh, orgasms."
The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and electric.
You stare at him, your mouth slightly agape, and he looks like he's about to combust.
"I-I-I mean, I read it somewhere. In a magazine. At the doctor's office. Or something. It's supposed to release endorphins, which is like, a natural painkiller. So... yeah." He's rambling, his hands flailing a little, and you can't help but find it adorable.
"You're offering to give me an orgasm... for my cramps?" You ask, your voice a little shaky.
His eyes go wide. He's usually more unflappable, but you've got him on the ropes.
"I mean... uh, no." He laughs awkwardly, pointing a finger to you. "I was offering the massage part. The orgasm part was just a 'fun fact' that now feels far more awkward in hindsight." His face is a little red. He’s flustered.
"Okay." You say, a small smile playing on your lips.
"Okay?" He asks, and you nod.
"Okay." You say again.
"So... no massage?" He asks, and you shake your head.
"No, I'll take the massage." You say, and he nods, relief flooding his features.
"Okay, good. Cool. Great." He says, still a little flustered. "So, uh... where does it hurt?"
"Uh, I mean, I guess my lower back would be good. It radiates there, and the heating bad is fine, you know, here." You look down at your tummy before looking up.
The idea of his hands on you is intoxicating. You're a little scared you're going to make a complete fool of yourself.
"Alright, lay on your stomach then." He says, and you do as he asks, your heart pounding in your chest.
You're not sure if you're more nervous about the massage or the fact that you're about to have his hands on you.
"Comfy?" He asks, and you hum in response, your face buried in the pillow.
"Okay, just let me know if I'm too rough or if you want me to stop or anything." He says, and you nod again, your cheeks flushing.
You feel the couch dip as he kneels on the cushion behind you, and then his hands are on your lower back, warm and strong.
"Uh you gotta like..." He sighs like this is painful for him to say before muttering. "Spread you legs a bit. So I can get to your back easier."
You do as he says, your heart now pounding in your ears. You can't believe this is happening.
His hands start to move, rubbing slow, firm circles into your lower back, and you let out a soft sigh.
"Is that okay?" He asks, his voice a little rough. "I don't want to hurt you."
"It's good, Eddie." You say, your voice muffled by the pillow. "It's really good."
He continues to massage you, his hands working their magic, and you can feel the tension in your muscles starting to melt away. The cramps are still there, but they're a dull ache now, a background noise to the sensation of his hands on you.
The callouses on his fingertips feel delicious against your skin, a rough counterpoint to the warmth of his palms. He's surprisingly good at this, and you find yourself wondering who else he's done this for. The thought makes a pang of jealousy shoot through you, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from asking.
"You're quiet." He says, his voice breaking the silence. "Still hurting?"
"No." You say, your voice a little shaky. "It just... feels really good."
"Good." He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad."
His hands move a little lower, to the curve of your ass, and you hold your breath. He doesn't linger there, but he doesn't shy away from it either, just continues his slow, steady circles, and you have to fight the urge to press back against his hands.
The movie is long forgotten, the only sounds in the room the soft hum of the heating pad, the murmur of the TV, and your own ragged breathing.
Internally, Eddie is having a crisis. Your soft sighs and the feel of your warm skin under his hands are doing things to him. Terrible, wonderful things. He can feel himself getting hard, and he shifts slightly, trying to adjust himself without you noticing.
This was supposed to be helpful. Platonic. A friendly gesture. But all he can think about is flipping you over, kissing you stupid, and burying himself inside you and giving you that orgasm he joked about earlier.
Multiple of them if he can last that long.
He needs to get a grip.
"So... how are the cramps?" He asks, his voice a little strained.
"Better." You say, your voice still muffled. "The heating pad helps. And... this."
You're not sure if it's the Midol finally kicking in, the warmth seeping into your bones, or the magic of Eddie's hands, but the pain has all but vanished. Replaced by a low, insistent thrum of arousal.
You're wet. You can feel it, the fabric of your panties growing damp with every pass of his hands.
A worry that it wasn't just arousal runs through you. According to your tracking, bleeding shouldn't start till tomorrow, but who knows.
"Eddie... I'm gonna ask you something and don't be grossed out..." You whisper, nervous. "I'm not supposed to start till tomorrow I just felt... nevermind. Is there... blood on my sweats?" The last thing you wanted was to get blood on Wayne's couch. Or Eddie's hands.
"What? No." He says, looking, genuinely inspecting the grey sweats you were wearing. "You're good. No blood."
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"Okay. Good." You say, your face burning with embarrassment.
You feel him shift, and then one of his hands is gone. You're about to ask what he's doing when you feel it.
Eddie curses silently. He was trying to adjust himself in his jeans discreetly, to relieve some of the pressure building behind the zipper, but he'd shifted his weight wrong and ended up pushing against your core.
As he tries to form an excuse, he expects you to flinch away, to be disgusted.
But you don't. You just freeze, unsure if you really just felt what you think you just felt.
"Sorry." He says, though he's not sorry at all. "My... uh... my belt buckle." He lies, lamely.
"Eddie. That was not your belt buckle." You say, your voice barely a whisper.
He swallows hard, caught.
"No." He admits, his voice rough. "It wasn't."
You're silent for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken words and the thumping of your own heart.
"Look, it's not... it just happened. I'm not a creep, I swear." He says, trying to backtrack. "You're just... really warm and soft and I was trying to be a good friend and my stupid dick got other ideas."
You can't help but laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow. He's so earnest, so flustered, and it's the most endearing thing you've ever heard.
"Eddie?" You say, turning your head to the side so you can look at him. Your cheek is smushed against the pillow, your eyes wide and a little glassy.
"You're laughing. That's just great. Now I'm a creep and a joke." He mutters, running a hand through his hair, looking away from you.
"No." You say, reaching back with one hand, your fingers brushing against his thigh. "You're not a creep, Eddie."
He looks back at you, his eyes searching yours, and what he sees there makes his breath catch.
"Like I wasn't trying to like, make a move, okay? I was trying to help, and then your skin is so soft and you're making these little noises and—"
"Did you mean it?" You ask, cutting him off. "About the... orgasms?"
His breath hitches.
"Yeah." He says, his voice barely audible. "I did. I mean, it was in a science journal at the clinic, I wasn't making it up. But... yeah." He admits, looking you straight in the eye now.
You put your face back against the pillow. And you do something a little bold. You push back against him, just slightly, a subtle invitation.
He doesn't move for a second, just looking down at you, at the way your body is pressed against the couch, at the curve of your ass. And then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes back.
You gasp at the contact, a soft, needy sound that goes straight to his cock. He's so hard it hurts.
"Is this... okay?" He asks, his voice a low rumble.
He rocks his hips forward, pressing the hard denim line of him against you, right against the seam of your sweats.
You respond by pushing back again, a little harder this time, seeking that pressure.
"I'll take that as a yes." He breathes, leaning down over you, his chest brushing against your back.
He keeps one hand on your hip, holding you steady, while the other one travels down, sliding under the waistband of your sweats.
"Tell me to stop and I will. No questions." He says, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
You nod, your body trembling with anticipation.
His fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters, his fingers tracing the outline of your slit through the cotton. "You're already wet."
"For you." You whisper, the words torn from your throat.
His stills for a moment, and you can feel the weight of your confession settle over him. He's quiet for a beat, the only sound is the movie's tinny score and your own ragged breathing.
He doesn't answer with words. He moves his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and he's touching you, skin to skin.
His fingers are calloused, but his touch is gentle as he explores you, tracing your folds, gathering your wetness before he finds your clit.
He circles it slowly, at first, a light, teasing touch that has you squirming beneath him. He applies a little more pressure, and you let out a soft moan, your hips rocking with his movements, pushing back against his length as you do. He's hard as a rock, and you can feel the heat building even more.
He continues to work you, his fingers moving in slow, steady circles, his other hand still on your hip, rocking you against him.
"Like that?" He asks, his voice a low growl. "Does that feel good?"
"So good." You manage to get out, your face still buried in the pillow.
He picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster, the pressure more insistent, and you can feel the tension coiling in your belly, a delicious, tightening spiral.
"More." You gasp, the word muffled by the pillow.
His hips buck against you, a reflexive movement at the sound of your desperate plea. He's losing control. The careful, platonic line he drew has been crossed, erased, and burned to ash. He slides one finger inside you, then a second, curling them just so.
The noise you make is somewhere between a sob and a sigh as you grind your ass against his cock with each stroke of his fingers. He's so close, yet so far away. He's buried knuckle-deep in your cunt but you need more.
"Eddie, please." You whine, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes are glazed with lust, your lips swollen from biting them. "I need more." He can't tell if you mean more of this, or more of him. In that moment, it doesn't matter. He wants to give you everything.
He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper at the loss. But then he's hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your sweats and your panties, tugging them down your thighs in one smooth motion.
You notice a little blood on his fingers as he pulls your sweatpants down.
"Oh my god... Eddie..." You whine in embarrassment, trying to hide your face again. You were wrong, your period started. Right here. Right now.
"Hey, hey... look at me." He says, his voice gentle but firm. He grabs your chin and turns you to face him with his other hand. He looks at the small smear of blood on his fingers, and then back at you, a dark, hungry look in his eyes.
"I'm not afraid of a little blood, sweetheart." He says, his voice a low rumble. "It's okay."
He releases your face and grabs a napkin from the table, wiping his fingers off before he starts to unbuckle his belt.
The sound of his zipper coming down is obscenely loud in the small trailer. You hear the soft thud of his jeans hitting the floor.
He goes back to kneeling on the couch behind you, one hand on your hip. Your sweats and panties pulled down around your legs, plump fat of your ass, everything on display for him.
"Eddie, I'm bleeding you don't have to--"
He cuts you off with his palm on your lower back, helping your body arch for him. He stroke himself with his other hand.
"You wanted more right? I have a condom in my wallet... do you want me to--" You can hear the uncertainty in his voice again, a flicker of the boy who was just trying to help you with your cramps a few minutes ago.
"Yeah..." You breathe out. "Yeah, please."
He's quick, fumbling for a moment in the pocket of his discarded jeans before tearing the foil packet open and rolling the latex on with a practiced efficiency that makes your stomach clench. He's back over you in a second, the heat of him a welcome weight against your back.
He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of him nudging against your slick folds.
"This okay?" He asks, one last check-in, his breath hot against your ear.
Instead of answering, you push back against him, taking the very tip of him inside.
He curses under his breath, a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush. He sinks into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. He's big, bigger than you expected, and the stretch is a delicious burn.
You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in with ease, until he's fully seated inside you, his hips flush against your ass.
He stills for a moment, letting you get used to the fullness, letting your body welcome him. The angle is perfect, already hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.
"You feel... fuck, you feel so good." He groans, his voice thick with pleasure.
He starts to move then, a slow, deep rhythm that has you gasping for air. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the drag of him against your walls making your toes curl.
"Making you feel okay?" He asks, his voice strained as he picks up the pace. "Helping with those cramps?"
You would have laughed if you weren't so lost in the feeling of him. The pain is a distant memory, a faint echo replaced by a overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure.
"God, yes." You moan, pushing back to meet him thrust for thrust, your body moving with a desperate, instinctual need.
"Gripping me like you were made for it, fuck." He mutters, one of his hands sliding around to your front, finding your clit again.
He circles it with a newfound urgency, matching the pace of his hips. The dual stimulation is almost too much, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
You can feel an orgasm building, a wave of ecstasy. He can feel it too, the way you're clenching around him, the way your breath is coming in ragged gasps.
"Come on, sweetheart." He coaxes, his voice a low, encouraging growl. "It's gonna feel so good for you, I promise. Let go."
And with a final, well-placed thrust and a firm press of his fingers, you do.
The orgasm hits you like a physical force, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. You cry out his name, your body convulsing around him, milking him for all he's worth.
"Oh fuck yeah, that's it." He groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. He buries himself deep inside you, a final, hard thrust, and then he's coming too, a shuddering groan escaping his lips as he spills into the condom.
He collapses on top of you, his full weight a comforting, grounding presence. He pushes up your shirt, kissing your back, tasting your skin.
You lay there for a long moment, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the smell of sex and slight copper.
He's the first to move, pushing himself up gently. He pulls out of you slowly, and you both wince at the loss. You feel him take his shirt off and lay it on the couch beneath you.
"Here, turn around for me..." He whispers, helping you on your back. He looks down at you, his hair a mess, his face flushed with pleasure. And then he looks between your legs, at the mess of blood and arousal, both on you and on the condom.
"Don't." You say, trying to close your legs, but he stops you, his hands on your thighs. "Eddie, it's gross."
"Hey." He says, his voice soft but firm. He looks up at you, and his eyes are so full of a genuine, unadulterated adoration that it takes your breath away. "It's not gross."
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna get rid of this..." He gestures to the condom. "And then I'll clean you up."
He gets up and pads to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth.
He pulls his boxers back on and kneels on the couch again, parting your legs gently. He cleans you with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, wiping away the blood and sweat and evidence of your shared pleasure. He's so gentle, so careful, that you have to fight back tears.
When he looks up he can tell you are about to cry. His face falls.
"Hey... no... no, no, no..." He climbs on the couch, pulling you into his arms, ignoring the fact that you're half-naked and messy. He pulls your shirt down for you, covering your chest. "Did I... did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?"
"No." You shake your head, burying your face in his chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He says, kissing the top of your head.
"Why are you sorry?" You mumble into his skin.
"I don't know. I feel like I took advantage of you. You were in pain and I just..." He trails off, and you can hear the self-loathing in his voice. "And now you're crying, and I'm an asshole."
You pull back, looking up at him. Your vision is blurry with tears, but you can see the worry etched on his face.
"Eddie, you didn't take advantage of me." You say, your voice firm. "I wanted this. I've wanted this for a long time."
He blinks, processing your words. "You have?"
"Yeah." You admit, your cheeks flushing. "The grumpy pants thing was me being... uh, frustrated. Because I could stop thinking about... you. And the fact that I was on my period, and I felt gross, and it just made me more irritable."
"You're not gross." He says, without missing a beat. "And for the record, I've wanted this for a long time too."
"Really?" You ask, a small smile playing on your lips.
"I bloodied my sword for you, sweetheart." He grins, thinking he's the funniest person in the world right now, and you would smack him if he were any other guy. He looks down at his shirt he laid out under you. "And my armor. Which by the way, again, not gross. Kinda metal, honestly."
You roll your eyes, but you can't help but laugh. "You're an idiot."
"But I'm your idiot." He says, his expression softening. "And I'm your Valentine."
You lean in and kiss him, a soft, lingering kiss that tastes of beer and popcorn.
"We did that backwards." He whispers, going in for another kiss. "I should have gotten you chocolates and a card first."
"You got me an orgasm and a heating pad." You say, a teasing lilt in your voice. "I'd say you did okay."
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