I'm officially ready to start posting texts auās! I'll be writing mostly for The Jacksons, Shameless (US), Stranger Things, and I might throw in some The Pitt content here and there just for fun!
A few rules/info about my page:
šø Pairings: I exclusively write fem!reader (no wlw content, sorry!).
š§ļø Genres: Strictly angst & fluff!
š« No smut: Iām not comfortable writing explicit stuff, so weāre keeping it SFW!
Hope you guys enjoy my blog! Feel free to reblog and support! (and send requests too please)āØ
English is not my first language please be tolerant.
Just thinking about all those ppl fainting at mjs concerts and ended up missing the whole thing Iād be so fucking mad at myself bro if I was there and done thatš
Look, I love the smut but maybe its just my homepage but there is such little fluff and angst, it makes me sad a little. Like mj was such a sweet and amazingly great man let me see that side of him pleaseeeee. Especially mature michael. Like I love that era. LOVE it. But half the time all the fics written for that era makes reader half his age, or acts like a child the whole time. And its just nasty ass smut (which i love obviously dont get me wrong) but I want some cute ass stuff too!!
Anyway if anyone has any good fluff or angst recommendations let me know, or any good writers out there! (ć Ā“ Ė `)
Genuinely how it feels sometimes tryna find angst or fluff ą«® ā¤ ā¤ ą¾ą½²į
synopsis. you gift michael a stuffed animal during one of his chance public appearances.
wc. 470
tags. fluff. flirtatious!michael. flustered!reader. unprompted kiss. hayvenhurst. fall season (if you squint). no y/n. bill bray mention (my father-in-law!). no specified reader complexion/features (besides nails). walt disney's bambi. late 1970s. encino, ca. use of pet name mama (once).
mims yaps. it's about time that i posted something new! sorry it took so long. i'm going through a rough patch w my writing (who am i kiddingālife in general actually š). anywho, i just recently had this idea and jumped on it immediately. surprised myself that i stuck w it! it was supposed to be a short drabble but evolved a little. it's short though. does this still count as a drabble in tumblr's eyes?
also, for some reason i wrote this with fall in mind... perhaps because i've been thinking about fall a lot today. idk. silk press season. my birthday. school back in session. yk. regardless, enjoyy! and if you would, disregard any errors. probably missed them in my impatience and eagerness to post this. also, i should note that i prefer not giving the reader a specific outfit or features, but i did with this one (just reader's jacket and nails, but still).
lastly, this is also published in my imagines book on wattpad, dreamers.
Pushing through the flock of fangirls and boys, you advance towards the front. The darkly stained, wooden buttons of your faded, dusty-raspberry-pink corduroy jacket were fastened, keeping close the heat your body exuded. In your manicured hands, a felt plush of Walt Disneyās Bambi is clutched tight, the length of your natural nails digging into the smooth, resistant material.
In front of Hayvenhurst, Michaelās stalling vehicle was surrounded by various individualsāmostly young ladiesāthe window agape beside the backseat in which he sat. A pale pink, cotton button up covered his torso and arms, tucked into a pair of denim jeans that trailed down to his dress shoesāworn, but polished nonetheless. The first few buttons of his shirt were left undone, his engraved heart locket nestled in the exposed space of smooth, chocolate skin.
As you make it to the forefront, you call out, āMichael! Can I give you something? Please?ā His gaze flicks over to you, baby-doll eyes fixed on yours before taking a quick detour up and down the expanse of your figure. āOf course, mama.ā He smiles shyly, teeth sinking into the supple flesh of his lower lip, reaching his right arm out. You hand him the Bambi merchandise, fingers brushing one anotherās. āI bought it 'cause it reminded me of you, but I wan' you t'have it.ā You explain, an instinctive smile seizing your lips.
Your pulse flutters rapidly in the side of your neck, like the wings of the butterflies inhabiting your stomach. You feel your breath shorten as his smile evolves into a grin, his entire face lit upāso much so, that in the eyes of those around him, there's no longer a need for the sun to break from its cloudy concealment. āOh, thank you! Youāre too kind. āS very cuteālike you.ā Michael chuckles, leaning towards you with the plush clutched against his abdomen. āGimme a kiss?ā He queries, though youāre already tilting in to meet him.
You anticipate a mutual kiss on the cheek, but are pleasantly and unbelievably surprised when your lips meet the plush of his in the softest, shortest exchange. You would have lingered, had the other girls not been pulling you backāsome jealous, others excited for you. āBe gentle!ā He chides them on your behalf, as a chorus of complaints and requests for his affection arise.
āSorry.ā He apologizes for subjecting you to the girlsā enthusiasm with a chortle and equally sheepish grimace, rolling up the window. āāM sorry I gotta go now, but thanks for tha deer! Disneyās my favorite!ā He expresses, quickly adding, āāN I love your hair!ā, before the glass division is fully up.
You stand speechless with an impossibly warm, fuzzy feeling, as Michaelās driver, Bill, pulls off while the singer waves goodbye. The kiss replays in your head as you ponder to yourself, āI jusā kissed Michael Jackson.ā
Summary: You are preforming the song 'Dangerous' for a school performance and you dad watches you.
Request:@michaeltrapson156
The backstage hallway of the auditorium was a blur of hairspray, glittering costumes, and nervous chatter. You took a deep breath, smoothing down the red military style jacket that mirrored your fatherās iconic look. Your school dance troupe was performing a medley of his greatest hits, in a complex, fast paced routine the group jokingly called "the dangerous dance."
"Two minutes to air, everyone!" the drama teacher called out, clapping her hands. Your stomach did a nervous flip, you peeked through the heavy velvet stage curtains, scanning the crowded rows of the auditorium. It didn't take long to spot him, sitting in the middle row, flanked by a couple of low profile security guards was your dad.
He was wearing his trademark fedora and dark aviators, to anyone who knew him, his radiant smile was unmistakable, he caught you looking and gave a enthusiastic, double handed wave, his eyes crinkling with pure pride.
"Hey," your best friend Sarah whispered, nudging your shoulder. "Your dad actually made it! That is so cool." You smiled. "He promised he wouldn't miss it," you smiled, the pre show jitters melting into pure excitement. The auditorium lights dimmed to pitch black, the crowd fell silent. You and your friends took your starting positions on stage, hearts pounding in sync. The sharp, metallic intro of "Dangerous" shattered the silence.
The stage lights slammed on in a brilliant flash of blue and white. Moving as a single unit, you and your troupe launched into the sharp, robotic choreography. Every tilt of the hat, every synchronized heel click. From the center of the formation, you led the transition into the fast paced climax of the song, the moves were rapid and sharp a whirlwind of spins, slides, and dramatic stops.
Out in the audience, Michael was barely sitting in his seat, he was tapping his loafers against the floor, his hands mimicking the rhythm against his knees. A huge, brilliant grin lit up his face as he watched you He nudged the security guard next to him, pointing proudly toward the stage. "Look at her," he whispered loudly, his voice thick with emotion. "That's my baby girl right there!"
The routine ended on a sudden, powerful final chord. You and your friends struck a sharp, iconic silhouette pose as the stage lights faded to a dramatic red.For a split second, there was stunned silence. Then, the auditorium erupted.
Cheers and whistles echoed off the walls through the flashing lights, you could see your dad standing up, clapping over his head, completely unbothered by the attention he was drawing to himself. He was throwing you a proud thumbs up.
Ten minutes later, after a flurry of hugs and congratulations from your classmates, you ran out into the main lobby. You were still wearing your stage makeup and costume, looking around eagerly."Over here, sweetheart!"
You turned to see Michael stepping out from a quieter side hallway. He opened his arms wide, and you ran straight into them. He lifted you right off your feet, spinning you around in a warm, suffocating bear hug that smelled of his familiar cologne and silver dollar mints.
"Oh my goodness, you were absolutely spectacular!" he gushed, holding you at arm's length to look at you, his eyes sparkling. "You completely blew me away, baby girl!." "Did I really do okay, Dad? I thought I missed a step during the bridge," you admitted, your cheeks flushing.
"Okay? You were incredible!" Michael laughed, reaching over to gently adjust the collar of your red jacket. "Your timing was perfect, your energy was beautiful you showed them exactly how it's done, my little superstar."
"Thanks, Dad," you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "It means everything that you came."
"I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world, love," he said softly, kissing the top of your head. "I am the proudest father on the planet right now. Come on, let's get you changed, we are going to celebrate. Anything you want tonight a giant cake, ice cream, whatever your heart desires, it's yours."
"Can we get pizza first?" you asked as you walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. "The biggest pizza they make," Michael promised, giving you a loving squeeze. "With extra cheese for the best dancer in the family."
I genuinely thought I was going crazy. Every fic is just sex sex sex like damn, where's the fluff????
I knowwwww. Like it doesnt matter who it is either. It could be michael, jaafar, Marlon, literally ANYONE. And all this community does is write smut. Like there is no fluff or angst and honestly I find it hard to find even like actual stories that aren't just smut too. There is such a lack of fluff and angst not to mention, I honestly feel like with jaafar, that side of the fandom need to CALM DOWN. Like this is a real man u are talking about who has only recently been in the public eye this much and you are making all sorts of media sexualising him to the max. Like tiktok edits where u zoom in on his groin are not sexy thats genuinely weird. Get off the Internet for the love of jesus. NOT EVEN MENTIONING mature Mike, that man was not buying u shit, he was so poor at the end of his life and in debt that he had to get LOANS to keep food on the table for his children like if u wanna write it, write reader paying for stuff for him!
Winner winner, chicken dinner || Michael x Singer! Reader ||
Synopsis: You and Michael both released albums around the same time. He released Bad, while you released Twilight. Now you're sitting side by side at the Grammys, waiting for the winners to be announced. (Please I'm not creative enough to make an album name š)
Theme: fluff
Gener: short one-shot
Pairing: Michael x Reader in a established relationship
You and Michael were sitting next to each other at the Grammy Awards. The two of you had been dating publicly for about a year and a half, and everyone knew you loved each other deeply. Paparazzi often spotted you out on many dates and at countless events. Some had even managed to capture more intimate photos of the two of you when you thought you were completely alone in your car.
That being said, when you and Michael arrived at the Grammys, everyone was ecstatic. Michael had released Bad, and you had released Twilight, both of which were nominated that evening.
Sitting beside you, Michael rested a hand on your knee while the two of you talked quietly, occasionally waving to the cameras whenever they panned over to you.
Soon, the award announcements began.
The announcers, a man in a suit and a woman in a beautiful red dress, walked up to the microphone. Your name, Michael's, and two other artists appeared on the big screen.
"And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to..." the woman announced as she carefully opened the envelope.
The man took the opportunity to make a joke.
"Looks like we might have an argument at home after this," he laughed. "We'll finally find out who really wears the pants in the relationship!"
The audience erupted into laughter.
Michael looked over at you, laughing just as hard. You grinned and playfully punched his shoulder. He dramatically clutched it as if he'd been seriously injured, earning another round of laughter from the crowd.
Once the room quieted again, the woman smiled down at the card.
"Twilight!"
The audience burst into applause.
Both you and Michael stood immediately. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your cheek before taking your hand. He walked you up the stairs like a gentleman and kept a gentle hand against the small of your back.
When you reached the microphone, you adjusted your dress while Michael respectfully stepped back a few paces, giving you your moment.
"Thank you, everybody. This is truly wonderful," you began, smiling through your emotions. "I'd like to thank all of you so, so much from the bottom of my heart."
Before continuing, you glanced back at Michael.
He was already smiling at you.
"And before I go," you said softly, "I want to thank you, Michael. You are my muse... and my love. Thank you for coming into my life."
His smile only grew warmer as he visibly melted at your words. You gave the audience one final wave before turning back toward him.
Michael reached out without hesitation, intertwining your fingers with his. He stepped down from the stage first, helping you descend carefully in your heels. Once you reached the bottom, you thanked him quietly.
Instead of answering, he simply smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Just a fun little short because I havnt posted a fic in a while!
hii! welcome to tumblr!! uve already posted some great things <3 im really sorry if this is brief, but can we get a confession from jaafar? like maybe reader is crying over an ex and it slips out bc hes trying to show her how great she is (can u tell i sleep at 3am), or smth? like im craving a confession but u can ofc write it however u want!
Feelings
Warnings : None just fluff!
Thank you so much youāre so sweet š„¹ I hope you enjoy because I donāt think i did a good job.. but anyways thank you for your request and donāt hesitate to send more!
Imagine youāre Joyce Byers and your boyfriend died a few hours ago and you just got done exorcising a demon out of your son and you get back to your house that was already trashed but now thereās also an unconscious teenage asshole with a mullet and a needle sticking out of his neck in the middle of your living room and thereās food all over your kitchen floor because one of your sonās stupid friends put one of the monsters that killed your boyfriend in your fridge. And also you have to go and vote in like two days cause if you donāt your other son is gonna get really pissy about the fact you didnāt do anything to try and stop Reagan from getting re-elected
š¦¹ summary : michael greets everyone with a kissā including you. so returning his kindness, you greeted him with a kiss, too.
š¦¹ tags : fluff, one-shot(?)
š¦¹ word count : 3.3k
š¦¹ a/n : a bit delay on the best friends auā¦ so enjoy this instead ! (thought abt this at 3 am LOL ITS SO CUTE I HAD TO WRITE IT). also while writing this i imagined michael during his bad era, the pic is only for the plot and it fits. (BUT U CAN IMAGINE WHATEVER ERA YOU GUYS LIKE) most likely would write a part two ><
ā¤· masterlist.
michael jackson was an affectionate person, and everyone around him knew that. a kiss on the cheek, a hand on someone's shoulder, and a warm hug goodbye.
so when you first walked in as the newest wardrobe assistant, you nearly jumped out of your skin the first morning michael leaned down and kissed your cheek.
"good morning."
"...oh!"
you blinked at him before smiling so brightly it nearly hurt to look at.
"good morning, mr. jackson!"
michael laughed at your formality.
"no need to call me that, really. just call me michael."
"oh. okay, michael!"
you didn't blush, no awkwardness, just... genuinely happy. michael had to pause for a second.
"...you okay?"
"mhm!"
"you sure?"
"yeah! i thought it was really sweet."
"what is?"
"the kiss. my grandma greets everyone like that."
"does she?"
"mhm!"
"...that's nice."
then you gave him another smile before wandering off carrying a rack of costumes. michael stood there for another second before shaking his head.
"she's quite... adorable."
he muttered to himself.
š¦¹
after that, it became a routine. whenever you crossed paths with michaelā
"good morning."
he would always give you a kiss on the cheek.
whenever rehearsals endedā
"great job today."
another kiss.
sometimes before he left the studio, he would bump into you in the hallways before anotherā
kiss.
"take care."
and you would always accept every single kiss with the exact same sunny smile.
"thank you!"
"see you tomorrow!"
"have a nice evening, michael!"
not once did you overthink it, read into it, or even ask yourself, 'does he like me?'
because that's just michael. he greeted everyone that way. you would see him kiss some backup dancers on the cheek, sometimes it would be the hair stylists, or even female producers.
you even saw him one time, kiss his sister latoya and his mother on the cheek when they came over to the studio. you thought it was a really sweet habit of michael's.
š¦¹
the crew adored you.
mostly because you somehow made every miserable twelve-hour rehearsal feel lighter. you would compliment everyone and remember birthdays. one time, you even brought your homemade cookies to work becauseā
"i accidentally made too many."
you said with a sheepish smile, but there were clearly six dozen. but nobody questioned it.
you would even apologize to chairs after accidentally bumping into them, and michael witnessed that once and physically stopped.
you rubbed the chair apologetically.
"i'm sorry."
"did you just..."
"hm?"
you looked up at michael.
"...apologize to a piece of furniture?"
"what if i hurt it...?"
he stared at you. and you stared back.
"honey... it's a chair."
you blinked.
"i know...
"..."
"but still. it's basic manners."
michael had to physically turn around before a laugh could escape.
š¦¹
one afternoon, you wandered into the rehearsal room carrying a tray.
"i brought lemonade!"
the dancers practically cheered, handing everyone a cup. michael walked over to you and accepted a cup.
"thank you."
"you're welcome!"
he smiled before absentmindedly kissing your cheek. you smiled back at him.
"drink lots of water, too!"
"...yes, ma'am."
nobody noticed anything strange, not even the dancers at that time. because nothing was strange.
...not until a month after.
š¦¹
it had been a hectic morning. everyone was rushing through the studio, carrying equipment or stage costumes.
michael had arrived late and hurried inside, and the second you spotted him across the roomā
"there you are!" you beamed.
you smiled so brightly that the entire room seemed to brighten with you. michael's head shot up, and you walked straight over to him.
"oh, good morniā"
kiss!
you tiptoed to his height and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"good morning, michael!"
then you just... walked away.
the whole studio froze. someone dropped a clipboard, one of the dancers slowly lowered the water bottle they'd been drinking from, and the makeup artist's mouth actually fell open.
on the other hand, you were completely oblivious. you continued toward the wardrobe racks and hummed to yourself
"...okay! let's organize these jackets..."
as if nothing happened.
michael... did not move. like his brain has simply stopped.
"..."
his hand slowly lifted to his cheek.
"she..." he muttered quietly.
one dancer leaned toward another.
"...did she justā"
"i think she did."
"michael?"
michael still hadn't answered. he was staring at absolutely nothing when his ears turned pink. then red. then somehow redder.
"michael?" one of the dancers asked.
"you alright, man?"
"hm?" michael finally answered, then a laugh.
"she kissed me."
he touched his cheek again, and the room collectively tried not to laugh.
"sure did!"
"we all saw."
and michael blinked.
"oh."
then... very, very slowly. a smile spread across his face. it was small at first, then impossibly soft. the kind that reached his eyes.
"that's... sweet."
he looked down.
š¦¹
an hour later. you were helping fold costumes, humming a song quietly to yourself. michael came and quietly walked over to you.
"hey. can i ask you somethin'?"
you looked up and nodded.
"mhm. what is it?"
"this morning..."
you nodded.
"yes. what about it?"
you tilted your head, still smiling. michael had to look away to bite in a smile.
"you kissed me."
"oh! yeah."
"...why?"
he asked, and you looked genuinely confused by the question.
"because that's how you greet, isn't it?"
you said.
"i mean... you always do."
you continued, blinking while you stared at his reaction.
"i thought.... it'd make you feel welcome like you do for everyone else."
you tilted your head, and michael forgot how to breathe at that moment. there wasn't a teasing smile on your face, nor a hidden meaning or embarrassment. you truly believe you'd simply returned his kindness.
"was... was i not supposed to?"
you frowned slightly.
"ohā no, no."
michael answered immediately, he nearly startled himself.
"not at all."
"...you sure?"
"yes, absolutely."
he paused.
"it was... really sweet of you."
you beamed.
"i'm glad!"
then... you went right back to folding shirts. michael just stood there for a couple of seconds, watching you happily hum while organizing costumes. completely unaware you'd just unraveled him with one innocent little kiss.
he quietly covered the side of his face with his hand.
"good Lord..."
he muttered quietly to himself, and one of the dancers walked past with a grin.
"you good, mike?"
michael laughed under his breath, shaking his head.
"no..."
he looked over to you, who was now apologizing to a tangled clothing hanger because you'd bent it slightly.
he smiled to himself.
"...i think i'm in trouble."
š¦¹
the mistake wasn't big. you accidentally labelled a few jackets incorrectly. one costume rack had been rolled to the wrong side of the stage. it delayed rehearsal by maybe a few minutes.
still... the stage manager wasn't in the best mood today.
"please pay attention. we can't have mistakes like this from now on."
you immediately straightened and nodded at every word the stage manager said.
"i'm sorry."
"you need to be more careful."
"yes, i understand."
"and always double-check before rehearsal."
"i will."
you said, absolutely no excuses or arguing. you nodded and kept your head down.
by lunch, everyone else had already forgotten about it. but you hadn't. you stood alone backstage with a clipboard pressed against your chest.
"...okay."
you let out a tiny sigh before continuing.
"i made a mistake. but that's okayā everybody does." you nodded to yourself. "i'll do better tomorrow."
a pause.
"ā¦no. i'll do better this afternoon," you smiled to yourself. you looked up at the blue sky peeking through the loading dock doors.
"at least nobody got hurt! and..." you counted on your fingers. "i remembered everyone's measurements. that's good... i only cried for aboutā" you checked your imaginary watch. "five seconds."
you smiled even wider.
"it's improvement. okay! let's go have a better day."
a little clap for herself.
š¦¹
michael had only come backstage to grab a bottle of water he had left behind, but insteadā he stopped around the corner and saw you.
"..."
he was watching and listening quietly, and you were... giving yourself a pep talk. there was no audience, no performance; you were just choosing to be kind to yourself.
michael had stared at you.
'God...'
you were unbelievable. michael suddenly has the overwhelming urge to pick you up and set you somewhere safe. tell everyone else to stop being mean to you forever.
his chest actually hurt.
'she is...'
he covered his mouth.
'she's so cute.'
you turned around, and your whole face lit up when you saw michael.
"oh! hi, michael!"
you beamed, like you hadn't been scolding yourself a minute ago.
"hello. you alright?"
he smiled.
"mhm!"
"...you sure?"
"yeah. i made a mistake."
"i heard."
"but i'll fix it!"
"i know you will."
you nodded once.
"i already made a checklist, see?" you proudly held up the clipboard. "i won't forget again."
michael looked at the page, and every task had a tiny little checkbox. some even had smiley faces beside them.
"...you drew faces."
"they make checking things off more fun."
"of course they do."
he laughed quietly.
"y'know... you don't have to be so hard on yourself."
"but i wasn't." you blinked. "i was encouraging myself."
michael blinked right back.
"right."
you smiled.
"if i already feel bad... why would i make myself feel even worse?"
michael had no response because she was right. painfully right. he looked at you for a long secondā then he reached over. he gently adjusted the little headset clipped crookedly to her collar.
"there."
"hey, you fixed it!" you looked down at your collar.
"you would've forgotten."
"i would've. thanks!"
"so..."
he smiled at you.
"double-check your costume list."
"i will."
"and don't skip lunch."
"i won't."
"and drink water."
"i already had two bottles."
"good."
"i listened."
you grinned, and before michael could even think about itā
"good girl."
the words slipped out of his mouth, and you just smiled proudly.
"i know, right!"
michael looked away.
'why did i say that?'
"anyway. i should go."
you said, hugging your clipboard again.
"you should."
"bye, michael!"
you walked two steps before stopping.
"oh!"
michael looked back.
"hm?"
you walked right up to him, rose onto your toes, and placed one quick kiss on his cheek.
mwa!
"have a good day!"
then you skipped away. actually skipped. michael's brain completely shut down again. his fingers touched the exact spot you'd kissed.
"...again? she did it again."
he whispered to absolutely no one.
across the hallwayā you were happily checking boxes on your clipboard.
"done!" a smiley face.
"done!" another smiley face.
one of the seamstresses looked over.
"you seem happier, sunshine."
"i am!"
"what happened?"
you smiled before responding.
"michael reminded me not to forget lunch."
"that's sweet."
"mhm! and i got to tell him to have a good day, too."
you said, and never once considered mentioning the kiss. because to you, you had simply greeted him the way he always greeted everyone else.
a perfectly normal goodbye.
meanwhile for michael... he couldn't concentrate for the rest of the rehearsal. every few minutes, without realizing it, his fingers would drift to his cheek again. he caught himself doing it for what had to be the fifth time.
"michael?"
"hm?"
"you have been touching your face all afternoon."
one of the dancers said.
"...have i?
"yeah."
he lowered his hand immediately.
"you okay?"
they asked, and he glanced across the stage and saw you laughing with two wardrobe assistants, because you'd somehow managed to put a tiny sequined jacket on the wrong mannequin and declared it looked 'very fashionable.'
you looked very pleased with yourself. you were so bright. effortlessly yourself, and michael smiled before he could stop it.
"yeah, i'm alright."
a quiet laugh escaped him.
"i just..." he watched you for another second. "...think she's the sweetest girl i've ever met."
and across the stage, completely unaware of the effect you had on him, you looked up and caught his eye, and gave him an enthusiastic little wave.
michael waved back automatically. then sighed with a smile. he had a feeling that if you kissed his cheek again, just one more time.
his heart might genuinely forget how to behave.
š¦¹
the wardrobe department was always busy before rehearsal. there were pins everywhere, steam from pressing irons, and measuring tape loose around the room.
people were running everywhere, and you somehow managed to smile through all the chaos.
āmichael?ā
he looked up from the mirror and saw you.
āhm?ā
āi need you for fitting.ā
āright now?ā
āif you donāt mind.ā
āof course.ā
he stepped onto the little fitting platform. you circled around him with a measuring tape hanging around your neck.
āarms out, please.ā
he obeyed. his arms were out, and you took one look at him in the blue stage jacket.
āoh!ā
your face brightened, and michael blinked.
āwhat is it?ā
āyou look really handsome.ā
āā¦ā
you immediately crouched to pin the hem.
āi think this color suits you.ā
you said, and michael forgets his own name.
āi like this better than the yellow oneā¦ the shoulders look nicer.ā
you continued talking as if youād just commented on the weather today. you tugged gently at the fabric.
āand your curls look extra pretty today.ā
āā¦ā
āyou okay, michael?ā
you asked.
āiā¦ā he cleared his throat. āā¦thank you.ā
his ears had gone pink. you just smiled.
āyouāre welcome.ā
then continued pinning his pants, completely oblivious. you hummed while working.
āi think we needā¦ā you stepped back. āmaybeā¦ā you frowned as you thought.
ācould you turn around for me, please?ā
and michael did.
you hummed while you smoothed the fabric across his shoulders.
āso broadā¦ā
you said absentmindedly, purely from a tailoring perspective.
āno wonder this keeps pulling.ā
michael looks straight ahead.
āGod... help me.ā
you walked around again.
āthere.ā
you smiled proudly.
āyou wear clothes pretty well.ā
ādo i?ā
āmhm!ā you nodded enthusiastically. āthey look alive when you wear them.ā
michael had to look up at the ceiling because if he looked at youā he was absolutely going to smile like an idiot.
ādone!ā you clapped once. āit looks perfect.ā
he looked at himself in the mirror, then looked at you.
āthanks.ā
āhm? for what?ā
āā¦everything.ā
you tilted your head.
āi just fixed a jacket.ā
š¦¹
later that evening, rehearsals finally ended. everyone had rushed toward the catering. someone had ordered pizza, while some grabbed sandwichesā
and michaelā¦ didnāt.
he quietly stayed behind toward the stage. he was too tired, drained from meetings, and the pressure made him lose his appetite.
ā¦he wasnāt really hungry anyway.
āmichael?ā
he looked up and saw you standing in the doorway, holding a little tin with strawberries painted on the lid.
āhey.ā
āyou were here all along.ā
āwere you looking for me?ā
āmhm!ā
you walked over to him and sat beside him.
āi didnāt see you at dinnerā¦ did you eat?ā
ānot yet, but iām alright. i wasnāt hungry anyway.ā
you frowned.
āoh.ā
you held out the tin.
āā¦i made oatmeal cookies.ā
āfor me?ā
āi made too many.ā
he looked inside, perfectly round and still warm.
āyou made these?ā
āmhm! itās my grandmaās recipe.ā
you smiled.
āi thought you really worked hard.ā you shrugged. āsoā¦ you should eat.ā
michael looked at the cookies. then looked at you. then back again.
nobody had ever checked whether he had eaten all day. not even this week, honestly.
everyone usually had to ask something from himā rehearsals, meetings, a photo or a signature. but you just wanted him to eat dinner.
āthank you.ā
you beamed.
ādonāt forget milk.ā
āmilk?ā
ātheyāre better with milk. trust me.ā
he laughed quietly.
āiāll remember.ā
you nodded very seriously.
āand drink water.ā
āyes maāam.ā
āand sleep.ā
āiāll try.ā
āno.ā you said almost immediately and pointed a finger at him. āyou have to.ā
āā¦okay.ā
after that day, it became a habit. every few daysā
āi made banana bread.ā
āi packed extra.ā
āi tried a new muffin recipe.ā
michael had stopped asking if youād baked too much, because he realized you would always bake enough for him on purpose.
you never announce it. you never make a big deal about itā you always just place a container beside him.
āyou forgot lunch.ā
āyou worked hard today.ā
āi think today is a cookie day.ā
he never heard someone classify days by baked goods. but apparently, you did.
š¦¹
one evening, michael wasnāt himself. the rehearsal had gone badly, songs were pulled out from the album by his producers, and meetings had dragged on. someone from the label has been criticizing everything.
so he sat alone on the edge of the stage after everyone had left, wanting some peace and quiet.
you almost walked past. almost. then you noticed him sitting alone.
you quietly sat beside him, still putting some distance between michael. and for a minute, youāve said nothing. then you broke the silence.
āmy grandma saysā¦ā
michael glanced over to you, and you continued.
āā¦that some days are just determined to be difficult.ā
āreally?ā
āmhm. soā¦ā
you paused and thought very hard.
āā¦maybe todayās using up all the bad luckā¦ so tomorrow doesnāt have to.ā
he stared at you, and you gave a little sheepish shrug.
āwell i donāt know if thatās scientifically trueā but i think itās a nice thought, and i wanted to share it with you.ā
he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the smile forming on his face, while you stared at the empty chairs and continued.
āandā¦ā you nudged the cookie tin towards him and turned to look at him. ācookies canāt fix everything, but theyāre a good place to start.
michael looked away, a laugh escaped before he could stop it. it wasnāt because it was funnyā because it was ridiculously adorable.
he rubbed his forehead.
āyouāre unbelievable.ā
you blinked.
āis that a good thing?ā
he smiled to himself.
āvery.ā
you look relieved.
āoh, okayā¦ i was worried.ā
ānoāā
he shook his head.
āādonāt worry. you makeā¦ā he searched for the right words. āā¦bad days feel smaller.ā
you smiled.
āiām glad.ā
then you stood abruptly.
āwellā i should go!ā
āyou headinā home?ā
āmhm. my bus comes in like fifteen minutes.ā
he nodded and stood up.
āget home safe.ā
āi will.ā
you took two steps before stoppingā and michael smiled, already knowing.
āoh!ā
āhm?ā
you walked back towards him, tiptoed to his height, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
mwa!
āgoodnight, michael.ā
then you picked up your bag.
ādonāt forget to eat the rest of the cookies! and sleep! ohā! and no skipping breakfast tomorrow, okay?ā
then you left, the stage doors closed behind you.
michael didnāt move. he stood there, his hand slowly touching his cheek, and the now familiar warmth lingered. but this time, it wasnāt just the kissā but because of everything.
itās the way you would notice he hadnāt eaten. the containers you quietly brought from home. your silly optimism. and the way you would never ask anything back from him.
you saw him not as a superstar he isā but as a normal human beingā¦ and thatās all heād ever wanted.
he sat back down at the edge of the stage for another minute, smiling to himself.
he let out a quiet, helpless laugh.
āi am done for.ā
no dramatic realization, no lightning strikeā just a simple truth settling gently into his heart.
he had spent months thinking you were the sweetest person heād ever met. but at some point, without noticing... you had become the person he would look for in every room.
the person whose laugh he would recognize before anyone elseās.
the person who reminds him to eat and becomes part of his day.
āand the one innocent little kiss goodbye that everyone else mightāve brushed offā¦ was suddenly a part of every evening.
because now, after you walked away, all he could think of now wasā
āi already miss herā¦ā
and that thought, more than anything, told him exactly how deeply heād fallen.
Can I request Eddie munson X female reader where she and Eddie are best friends and reader has a bf and they have a 1 year old daughter and reader , Eddie and the daughter head home after a day out and walk in on readers s bf in bed with another women .readers little daughter was grabbing onto eddies leg and stuff can U make it angsty and maybe end it with the little daughter calling Eddie "dadda " or smth up to you thank you ā¤ļø
ā Ā° ā¹ ā” š/š§: hii <3 tysm i literally love pam sm , also i think this is one of my favorites requests iāve gotten oml . . . added a little more to this request since i have a need of tying things together so they fit
āā š¤ā ā ššØš§ššš§š: lengthyish, not proofread, youngish mom reader, waitress reader, eddie and the reader are best friends, semi-grew up together, trailer park environment, readerās boyfriend is a dick, reader is stressed tf out, mentions of slight alcoholism and sex if you squint, mentions of marriage, eddie pining the entire time, eddieās extremely sweet (like tooth rotting sweet), very angsty but also fluffy!!! happy ending!!!
you and eddie had been easy since high schoolātwo kids always tangled up in each other's orbit, stupid and young and inseparable. he made you feel like you belonged somewhere, whether he was surprising you at your locker or walking you home to your trailer. you were a package deal.
until john came along.
eddie didn't like him. you told yourself it was just protectiveness, the way he'd always looked out for you. you didn't see what was really underneath it. john was trouble, but not the fun kind eddie brought. johnās was the kind that burnedāthe kind that had you yelling at him one night and falling into his arms the next.
eddie watched it all: the way john talked to you, the way he made you feel small. the way you kept going back.
you thought you were in love. and maybe you were. but you never noticed that eddie was the one who really knew you. the one who'd been there the whole time. maybe even the one who loved you most.
flash forward a couple years later, and here you were at twenty-fiveāa community college degree tucked away like a small victory, even if it didn't change much. eddie never went to college. he didn't need to. heād found his rhythm under the hoods of cars at the local garage, grease under his nails and a cigarette behind his ear, doing honest work with his hands. you waited tables at a diner on the edge of town, the tips just enough to keep the lights on and the fridge full.
then there was dahlia. a year old now, with your eyes and a stubbornness that seemed similar to eddieās. your boyfriend was gone more than he was homeāan over-the-road trucker, chasing miles and barely checking in. most nights it was just you and your daughter, the trailer quiet except for her babbling and the hum of the highway in the distance.
but eddie was always there. he showed up with takeout when you hadn't eaten. heād rock dahlia to sleep when you were too exhausted to stand. he watched her while you worked double shifts, never asking for anything in return. just a nod and a crooked grin, like it was nothing. like he hadn't been catching you every time you fell since you were seventeen.
eddie never missed a chance to poke at the bruise.
"if i were him," he'd say, wiping his hands on a greasy rag, that familiar smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, "iādāve put a ring on your finger yesterday. maybe the day before that, too. hell, iādāve proposed in high school."
youād scoff, rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurt. "heās busy, eddie. heās got a whole rig to drive cross-country. itās not like he's got time to shop for rings."
"mhm." heād tilt his head, fixing you with that lookāthe one that said he saw right through you. "sure. real busy."
"whatās that supposed to mean?"
"nothin'." heād shrug, all innocence. "just saying. you and deedee deserve better than 'busy.'"
you'd wave him off, change the subject, find something to wipe down or fold. but the words stuck. they laced themselves under your skin and stayed there, quiet and persistent.
because the truth was, you were starting to believe it too. the dream of john showing up with a ring, of him choosing youāchoosing herāfelt thinner every day, like a photograph left too long in the sun. you still held onto it with both hands, because letting go meant admitting you'd been holding nothing all along.
one day, you were extremely busy.
you were in your waitress uniformāstained coffee-colored at the cuff, apron slung half-tied around your waistāand you'd been running since you opened your eyes. groceries needed to be bought. bills needed to be sorted. a shift was waiting for you in twenty minutes.
you rushed through the kitchen, grabbing your keys, your wallet, your sanity by a thread. and there was eddie, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with dahlia propped between his knees. he had a stuffed dinosaur in one hand, waving it in front of her face while making exaggerated roaring sounds. she was gigling, drool catching on her chin, her tiny fingers reaching for him.
āedā" she babbled, the syllables stretching and stumbling. "ed-deeā¦"
he froze. his eyes went wide, that crooked grin splitting across his face like she'd just handed him the world.
āuh huh." he leaned in, voice soft and warm. "thatās my name. sweetheart, she said it!"
you wanted to smile. you really did. the corners of your mouth twitched, but the weight pressing down on your chest wouldn't let it settle. you forced a tight, distracted sound. "mhm."
eddie heard it.
of course he did. he always heard itāthat edge in your voice, the one you tried to hide. he looked up, and his dark eyes found you across the room, pinning you in place.
"everything okay?"
you exhaled, and it came out shaky. the dam broke.
"i don'tāi have to get groceries because there's nothing in the fridge, and the electric bill is overdue, and iām already late for my shift, and dahliaās diaper bag isn't packed, and i justā" you stopped, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. "i can't do all of this today. i can't."
without a word, eddie scooped dahlia up, settling her on his hip like she'd always belonged thereāand maybe she had. he crossed the room in three easy strides, stopping right in front of you. close enough that you could smell motor oil and cheap cologne.
āhey." his voice was low, steady, the way it always was when you were falling apart. "look at me."
you did.
"itās gonna be okay. iāll grab the groceries. i know your list by heart, anyway." a pause. "and i can help with the bills till you get caught up. donāt argue with me."
you couldnāt help it. āeddie, you don't have toā"
"i know i don't have to." he shifted dahlia higher on his hip, his free hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. the touch was brief, but it lingered in the air between you. "but i want to. same as always." he tilted his head, that familiar smirk softening into something gentler. "iāll watch her while you're at work. i was gonna do it anyway. you think iād miss a chance to hang out with my best girl?"
dahlia tugged at his hair, and he winced, laughing.
"see? she agrees with me."
you opened your mouth to argue again, but the words died. because he was already turning away, already heading toward the couch where her toys were scattered, already taking some of the weight off your shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world.
the relief hit you so hard it almost buckled your knees.
you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, and the tension in your shoulders finally loosened. you crossed the room in two quick steps.
āthank you so much, eddie. really." the relief in your voice was almost embarrassing. "i don't know what iād do without you."
you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. his skin was warm. you pulled back just enough to press another kiss to dahliaās forehead, and she let out a delighted squeal.
"alright, i gotta go. love you guys."
you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, already pulling out your keys. the door clicked shut behind you.
eddie sat there on the floor, dahlia still on his lap, staring at the spot where you'd been. the kiss on his cheek lingered like a phantom.
dahlia patted his face. "eddie?"
āyeah, baby," he said quietly, blinking himself back. "iām here."
he looked down at herāat the curve of her cheek, the same stubborn set of her jaw you hadāand felt something twist in his chest. every time you kissed his cheek, it rattled him. you always gave him a kiss on the cheek when he did you a favor. it was your way of saying thanks, but to him, it never grew old.
because in moments like this, with your kid in his arms and your lipgloss still warm on his skin, it felt so painfully rightālike this was the life he was supposed to be living.
like he was the dad.
and stupid john was just some guy who happened to share your trailer.
by the time your shift ended, you were exhausted.
the diner had been a nonstop chaos of coffee refills, burnt toast orders, and a table of eight who'd asked for ketchup five times before their food even arrived. your cheeks ached from the smile you'd kept plastered onāthe one the regulars loved, the one that kept your tips fat and your tongue bitten.
smile, sweetheart, youāre my favorite waitress in town.
on and on it went.
when you finally pushed open the door to the trailer, the first thing you noticed was the quiet.
the second thing you noticed was the groceries.
they sat on the table in neat, organized rowsācanned goods in the back, boxed items in the middle, fresh produce up front. eddie had grouped them like he was running his own little pantry operation. you blinked, and then your eyes drifted to the fridge.
the bill was gone.
a sticky note sat in its place, written in eddieās messy, all-caps scrawl: PAID. YOU'RE WELCOME. ā E.
you stood there a moment, letting the reality of it sink in. one less thing to carry. one less weight on your chest.
across the room, eddie moved quietly in the kitchen, his back to you as he slid cans into the cabinet. he was trying to be silentāyou could tell by the careful way he set each one down, the way he winced when a lid clinked too loud. he hadn't heard you come in.
you looked past him, into the living room.
dahlia was fast asleep in her crib, her tiny chest rising and falling in soft, even breaths. one arm was flung out, her fingers curled around the neck of her stuffed bunny. her bottle sat beside her, half-empty. the tv played care bears on low volume, the colors flickering softly across her peaceful face.
something in your chest loosened.
you slipped off your shoes and padded quietly into the kitchen, reaching around eddie to grab a bag of apples from the counter.
he startled, then relaxed when he saw you. that smile spread across his faceāeasy, warm, like he'd been waiting for it all day. it didn't matter that your hair was a mess, that your apron was stained, that you looked like you'd been put through the wringer. he looked at you like you were the best thing he'd seen all day. it was refreshing.
"hey, stranger."
"hi." your voice came out softer than you expected. "how was she?"
"the usual." he shrugged, reaching for a box of pasta. "ate all her dinner. gave me a concert when i tried feeding her. screamed when i tried to put her in her jammies. standard stuff."
you caught the way he winced slightly as he reached up to the top shelf. "whatās wrong?"
ānothinā." he said it too fast.
"eddie."
he sighed, turning to face you with a sheepish grin. he tilted his head, and you saw itāa tiny, almost invisible gap near his temple where a few strands of hair were shorter than the rest.
"she, uh." he rubbed the back of his neck. "she got ahold of a clump during story time. little piranha has a hell of a grip."
you stared at him. at the gap in his hair. at the way he was trying to play it off like it was nothing.
the laugh that escaped you was raw and sudden, bubbling up from somewhere deep in your chest. it was the first genuine sound you'd made all dayāno performance, no plastered-on cheer. just you, laughing at the image of your tiny daughter scalping the man who'd spent his whole day taking care of her.
eddieās grin widened. he brought a hand to your mouth, eyes glittering with mischief. "shh, shut up. youāll wake her up."
your shoulders shook with muffled laughter. "iām sorry, iām sorryā"
"youāre not sorry." he tsked, pulling his hand away.
"iām not," you admitted, voice breaking on a giggle. "thatās amazing. she got you good."
ābetrayed by a baby," he said solemnly, turning back to the cabinet. ācanāt believe it.ā
the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm after thatāhim handing you items, you putting them away. the only sounds were the soft rustle of bags, the occasional creak of the floorboards, and the distant, cheerful murmur of the tv. it was easy. It was quiet. It was everything your day hadn't been.
you broke the silence first.
"eddie?ā
"hm?"
you stopped, a box of mac and cheese in your hands, and looked at him. really looked at him. at the dark circles under his eyes that probably matched yours. at the way his sleeves were rolled up, his hands dusted with flour from god knows what. at the patience etched into every line of his face.
"thank you. seriously."
he glanced at you, something soft passing through his expression. "you don't gotta keep thanking me."
"i know." you set the box down, turning to face him fully. "but i want to. without john here, i justā¦ i get pretty stressed. it gets hectic sometimes, and i need someone to help me out."
he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. his voice, when it came, was stripped of its usual teasing edge. "you don't need to explain yourself to me. i know what you're carrying. i see it."
your throat tightened. "i justāi don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you."
"hey." he stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the powder of baby wipes. "youāre not taking advantage. youāre letting me help. thereās a difference."
"still. i don't know how to repay you."
"you don't have to." he said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "iām always gonna be here. for you. for her. that's a choice iām gonna keep making."
you looked up at him, and for a moment, the exhaustion didn't feel so heavy. the weight was still there, but it was shared nowāsplit between two people in a quiet trailer, with a sleeping baby and a half-empty bottle of milk and a care bears episode playing to no one.
"always?" you asked, your voice smaller than you meant it to be.
he held your gaze, steady and sure. "always."
the word settled into the space between you like a promise.
before eddie could say a word, the front door swung open.
your heart jumped. intruderāthe thought hit before reason could catch up. your mind flew to dahlia, asleep in the next room. but when you rushed into the entryway, it wasn't a stranger.
it was john.
you hadn't seen him in monthsājust phone calls, his voice tinny through the speaker, always promising to come home soon. he stood there in the doorway, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, looking heavier than you remembered. worn.
dahlia stirred in the crib, a soft cry breaking the silence. you scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead, letting her settle against your chest before crossing to him.
ājohn." the name came out breathless. "iāi didn't expect you at all. why didn't you tell me?"
he dropped the bag and pulled you into a hug, one arm wrapping around you, the other around dahlia. you breathed in, and the familiar scent of his jacket hit you. beneath it, something else.
whiskey.
your smile faltered. your eyes softened with something you didn't want to name.
"missed you," he mumbled into your hair. then he pulled back, already turning toward the kitchen. "iām gonna grab a drink."
he stopped short when he saw eddie leaning against the counter.
"eddie." johnās voice flattened. "didnāt know you were here."
"john." eddieās jaw tightened. his eyes had gone coldāthe same look he gave him back in high school.
he just nodded once, sharp and short.
john grabbed a glass from the cabinet and didn't bother to ask where anything was. he already knew. he filled it halfway, threw it back, then refilled.
"honey, maybe you should slow down on the drinks." you kept your voice light, careful. "you just got here."
john turned, glass halfway to his mouth. his eyes had that edge to themāthe one you remembered from late-night arguments, when he got defensive over nothing.
"i had a long day. i can't have a drink?"
you held his gaze for a moment, then let it go. dahlia was stirring again, and you weren't about to start a fight with her in your arms.
"i don't want to fight, johnny." your voice softened. "you just got here. i was only suggesting."
you rocked dahlia gently, humming under your breath until her little body relaxed against yours, her breathing evening out. when she was fully asleep, you padded over to the crib and laid her down, your hand lingering on her back for a moment before you turned back to him.
"itās getting late." you kept your voice low, soft. "what do you say you and i go to bed soon?"
you meant sleep. real sleep. rest. but eddie caught the flicker in johnās eyesāsomething darker, hungrier. he set his glass down without a word and crossed to you, pressing a kiss to your lips. lingering a second too long.
eddie felt like he wanted to vomit.
ābe there in a minute," you whispered.
he just nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.
eddie was watching you, his eyes soft. that lookāthe one that said really?āwas written all over his face, his eyebrows raised, his head tilted just slightly.
you met his eyes and shrugged, soft and helpless. what can i do?
"let me see you out." you said.
you grabbed your jacket and slipped past him, holding the door open. the night air hit you both as you stepped outsideācool and quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the highway.
you walked side by side, not saying much at first. the gravel crunched under your feet. the stars were out, faint through the haze of the trailer park lights.
"deeās getting bigger," eddie said finally. "sheās got your eyes."
"sheās got your stubbornness," you shot back, but there was no heat in it.
he snorted. "sheās gotta get it from somewhere."
you walked a few more steps in silence before eddie stopped. you stopped too, turning to face him.
"i don't like him." eddieās voice was flat. honest. "i never did."
"i know."
"iām serious. he shows up after months, drunk, and you're already tip-toeing around him. thatās notā" he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "thatās not how it should be."
you looked down at your feet. "itās complicated, eddie."
"itās not." he stepped closer. "you deserve better than complicated."
you wanted to argue. you wanted to tell him he didn't understand. but you'd known eddie too long for that, and he knew you too well to buy it.
so you just said, "iāll see you tomorrow, eds."
he held your gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "yeah. tomorrow."
he turned and walked up the steps to his trailer, pausing at the door.
āget some rest, yeah?ā
you nodded. he disappeared inside, and you stood there for a moment longer, the night air cool against your skin, before heading back.
the next afternoon, eddie swung by your trailer with a bag of takeout, same as he always did. you were on the phone in the kitchen, wedged between the counter and the fridge, your mom's voice tinny through the speaker.
"āand when are you two going to make it official? youāre not getting any younger, sweetheart."
you shifted your weight, tracing the edge of the laminate countertop with your fingernail. "mom, it's not that simple. he just got backā"
"heās been back long enough. a man knows what he wants."
you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. eddie ducked through the front door, lifting the bag like a peace offering, and the relief that washed through you was probably a little too obvious.
"hey, mom, i gotta go. eddieās here with food. iāll call you later, okay?"
you hung up before she could protest.
"youāre a lifesaver," you said, taking the bag from him. the smell of greasy chinese food filled the small kitchen. you set it on the counter and started pulling out containers. "eddie, i swear, i don't know what iād do without you."
"i do," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "youād starve."
"probably." you smiled, then called over your shoulder, "johnny! foodās here. come eat."
in the living room, john was crouched in front of dahliaās play mat. a plastic block dangled from his hand. dahlia sat in the middle of the scattered toys, her little face screwed up in determined refusal.
ācome on. say it. say dadda."
she shook her head. firm.
"say daddy. daddy. dad-dy."
another shake. her bottom lip started to pucker.
"dahlia. come on."
you watched from the kitchen doorway, a takeout container in your hand. it was almost funnyāthe way he kept pushing, the way she kept digging in. eddie hovered behind you, and you could feel him trying not to laugh.
ājohn," you called gently, "just bring her over. sheās hungry."
he stood up, frustrated, and lifted dahlia out of the mess of toys. she squirmed for a second, then settled against his chest as he carried her to the highchair. he slid her in and buckled the tray, still muttering.
"why won't she say it? sheās old enough."
you set a few pieces of soft chicken on her tray. "you haven't been here in a while, honey. itās not her fault."
he scoffed, running a hand over his jaw. "oh, so it's my fault? i work really hard, you know. i expect my daughter to know who i am."
you sighed, the smile staying put out of practice. "yes, yes. i know. eat, please."
you slid a container of noodles across the counter toward him and shot eddie a lookāone that said just roll with it. eddie managed a small smile in return, but his stomach had gone cold.
you deserved better than this. dahlia deserved better than this. and john had no idea how lucky he was that you were still here, still patient, still making excuses for him.
eddie wanted to say it. wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you awake.
iād be here every day. iād teach her to say "daddy" and mean it.
instead, he cracked open a container of fried rice and said nothing at all.
you settled into the chair beside dahliaās highchair, nudging a soy sauce packet out of your way as you peeled the lid off a container of lo mein. eddie slid into the seat across from you. john took the one at the head of the table, near enough to dahlia to reach over and ruffle her hair, which she immediately swatted away.
for a few minutes the only sounds were the scrape of forks and the occasional wet smack of dahlia pounding a piece of chicken against her tray.
"so," john said around a mouthful of noodles, "how's the shop treating you?ā
eddie's fork paused. he resumed pushing rice around his container.
"itās fine. keeps me busy. boss is decent."
"yeah? you like the work?"
like wasn't the word eddie would use. the work was honest. grease under his nails that stayed there no matter how many times he scrubbed. engines that made sense in a way people didn't.
but he wasn't about to explain any of that to john.
"itās fine," he repeated. he shrugged, a lazy roll of one shoulder. "get to get my hands dirty. better than sitting in some office pretending to care about a spreadsheet."
john laughed, oblivious. "i get that. manās work, right?"
you caught the flicker in eddieās jawāthe micro-shift of muscleāand you stabbed at your noodles before either of them could read your face.
"itās honest," eddie said flatly, and that was the end of that.
you busied yourself with dahlia. sheād grabbed a fistful of noodles and was squeezing them into paste between her fingers. you pried her hand open and wiped her palm with a napkin, keeping your eyes down.
"so," john said, and there was a shift in his voice ā a gear change you recognized but couldn't avoid. "appreciate you helping out around here. with dahlia and all."
eddie didn't answer. he just looked up.
"itās been real helpful," john went on, spearing a piece of chicken. "with me working so much. canāt always be around."
canāt always be around. you felt the words settle into the room, heavy and quiet.
"we manage," you said lightly, still focused on dahliaās hands. "itās fine, johnny. weāre fine."
"well." john chewed, swallowed, dabbed his mouth with a napkin. his gaze slid to eddie, lingered. "she needs someone around here."
the words hung in the air a beat too long. you looked up. john was watching eddie nowānot the casual glance of a man making conversation, but something slower. a measuring sort of look.
eddie held his gaze. not a challenge. just a stillness, the way you hold still when you've been caught doing something you're not supposed to.
āwell, iām not going anywhere," eddis said quietly.
and the thing wasāhe didn't say it to john.
he said it to you.
johnās fork clinked against his container. he dropped his gaze, pushed his food around, didn't say another word.
you kept feeding dahlia, the kitchen suddenly very small.
eventually, john scraped his chair back, the legs screeching against the linoleum.
"alright, iām gonna head out."
you looked up from dahliaās tray. "what?"
"got some errands to run. now that iām back, gotta get a few things sorted."
"butā" you set the spoon down. "i thought you came back to spend some more time with us. i need you to be here with her, johnnyā"
he crossed the space in two steps, cupped your face, and kissed you. quick. decisive. the kind of kiss that was meant to end a conversation, not start one.
"itās fine," he said, already pulling back, already reaching for his keys on the counter. "eddie here can take care of it. like always."
he said it like it was nothing. like eddie was a utility. a backup generator you flipped on when the power went out.
eddie didn't move from his chair. his hand rested on the table, fingers loose around a crumpled napkin. you saw his jaw tightenāthat muscle againāand you knew he heard it too. the dismissal. the way john had wrapped you both in the same sentence:
eddie here can take care of it.
as if you were a task on a list. as if eddieās presence in your life was just a convenience john could authorize.
before you could say anything, the door clicked shut.
you stared at the space where john had been. the air still smelled like himālike the city, like the road. you let out a slow breath, and turned back to dahlia.
she was watching you with those big, curious eyes, a noodle dangling from her fist.
āyeah," you murmured, brushing her hair back. "i know, baby."
you picked up the spoon again.
"here. open up."
the kitchen filled with the sound of running water. eddie had risen without a word, gathering plates, stacking them with quiet efficiency. you watched him clear the table, his movements careful and practiced.
"thanks, eds."
he didn't look up. "you done with your plate?"
you nodded, handed it to him. he took it, turned to the sink, and began to wash.
the water ran. the sponge scraped. dahlia gummed a piece of broccoli.
you watched the broad line of his back at the sink, the way his shoulders moved as he scrubbed. the kitchen felt smaller with him in it. not suffocating like beforeājust contained. like whatever was in this room stayed in this room.
"edādee." dahlia babbled.
he didn't turn.
"eddie." you drew it out, stretching the syllables.
a pause in the scrubbing. then a grin spread across his face, visible even in profile. you felt your own mouth tug up, a soft giggle escaping before you could stop it.
"uh huh. yeah, he's right there. washing dishes."
dahlia babbled something back, and you laughed againāa real one this time, light and surprised.
he finished the last plate, dried his hands on a dish towel, and crossed to the highchair. dahliaās arms shot up before he even reached her. eddie lifted her like she weighed nothing, and she melted into him immediatelyācheek pressed to his shoulder, tiny fingers curling into the collar of his shirt.
you leaned back in your chair and let yourself look at them. fatherhood by proximity. a man who showed up, washed dishes, lifted your daughter like she was the most precious thing he'd ever held.
"sheās always so happy to see you," you said softly.
eddie adjusted dahliaās weight, one hand cradling the back of her head. "canāt stay away from my two best girls."
the words landed somewhere deep in your chestāa place you hadn't realized was still bruised from the door clicking shut. john had never said anything like that. not once. not in all the years of coming and going, of promises made in doorways and forgotten by morning.
you looked at eddie, at dahlia already half-asleep against him, and for a moment you forgot about john entirely.
"stay for a bit?" you asked. "after she's down?"
eddie met your eyes. "i wasn't planning on leaving."
you smiled, and eddie caught itāa flicker of something warm in his eyes before he turned his attention to the small girl nestled against his chest.
"hey, princess," he said, his voice dropping into that silly, sing-song register he only ever used with her. "what do you say you and your mom and i go out for a bit, huh? get some fresh air? maybe go to the community pool?ā
you blinked. "what?"
eddie shrugged, that easy, lopsided grin spreading across his face as he turned to you. the afternoon light caught the silver in his rings, the curve of his smile softening the edges of the kitchen.
"figured if johnās gonna be out, so should we." he bounced dahlia gently, and she let out a happy gurgle. "we can go to a pool or something. get out of this house. the day's too nice to waste it indoors."
you opened your mouth, then closed it. the knot in your chestāthe one that had been tightening since the door clicked shutāloosened, just a little. this was his way of fixing it. of telling you it was gonna be fine. he was always just... there, offering to take you somewhere else. somewhere the air was lighter.
"okay," you said, and the word came out softer than you meant it to. "yeah. okay."
he reached over and ruffled your hairāquick, familiar, like he'd done a thousand times before. "alright. pack some things. iāll be with her until i can do the same."
he didn't wait for an answer. he just turned and carried dahlia toward the living room, already narrating the journey to her in a low, animated voiceāāand through the treacherous hallway, past the mighty laundry basket, our hero approaches the living room..."āand you heard her giggle, that small, breathless sound that always made your chest ache.
you packed quickly. two towels. a change of clothes for dahlia. you caught yourself smiling at the bathroom mirror and didn't bother to stop.
twenty minutes later, you were standing in the driveway, dahlia on your hip, a bag slung over your shoulder. eddie opened the van doorāthat familiar, rusty groan of metalāand you felt something settle in your chest.
the same van he'd had since high school.
beige, faded, duct tape holding the interior roof lining in place. a dent in the passenger door from a mailbox youād misjudged senior year when he was teaching you how to drive. it smelled like cigarette smoke that had long since faded and the faint, sweet hint of the air freshener you'd bought him three years ago.
it was ridiculous. it was falling apart.
it was home.
he scooped dahlia from your arms and settled her into the car seat heād installed months agoāsomething he luckily found while thrifting, the harness straps worn soft from use. he clicked the buckles in place with practiced ease, tugging once to check they were secure.
"alright, back there," he said, tapping her nose. "you ready for an adventure?"
dahlia kicked her feet and shrieked.
"iāll take that as a yes."
he turned to you, holding out his hand. you took it without thinking, letting him guide you up into the passenger seat. the door groaned shut behind you, and the world outside the dirty windshield suddenly felt very far away.
eddie slid into the driver's seat, cranked the engine. it coughed, sputtered, then rumbled to life.
the parking lot was asphalt-hot, shimmering in the afternoon sun, and the pool gate squealed when eddie pushed it open with his shoulder. he had dahlia tucked under one arm like a football, her little legs kicking, and she let out a delighted shriek at the sight of all that blue water.
"woah, hold on there, little monster," he said, adjusting his grip. "weāre not launching you in yet."
you followed behind, the bag cutting into your shoulder, and scanned the chaos of lounge chairs and scattered towels until you spotted a couple of empty chairs near the shallow endāclose enough to keep an eye on the water, far enough to avoid getting splashed by the kids cannonballing off the edge.
"over there," you said, nodding toward it.
he followed, lowering dahlia onto the towel you spread out.
"bathrooms are over there," you said, pointing. "iām gonna go change."
"go ahead." he settled onto the towel, cross-legged, and scooped dahlia back before she could make it to the dirt. "weāll hold down the fort. wonāt we, deedee?"
dahlia grabbed his nose.
"ouch. yeah. good grip."
you laughed and headed for the changing rooms.
the bikini was simpleāblack, high-waisted, nothing fancy. youād bought it last year on clearance and never worn it. standing in front of the warped mirror above the sink, you tugged at the straps, smoothed the fabric over your hips, and decided it was fine. good enough.
you stepped back out into the sun.
eddie was mid-sentenceāsome low, dramatic narration about the dangers of the pool draināwhen he looked up. his voice died in his throat.
you caught him staring, but you didn't catch what it meant.
he remembered the beach. senior year. a group trip after graduation, the two of you sitting on the sand while everyone else was in the water. youād worn a blue bikini then, and he'd spent the whole afternoon pretending not to look. he remembered the curve of your waist, the way he tried not to imagine how your skin mightāve tasted like salt and sunscreen. he remembered thinking you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
he was wrong.
that version of you was sharp and new and untouched. this version had a faint, faded line across her lower stomachāa silver scar, barely visible, left behind by the small person currently trying to eat his thumb. it was a map of everything you'd been through. everything you'd carried. everything you'd survived.
you looked more beautiful than before. not despite it. because of it.
"you okay?" you asked, tilting your head.
he blinked. "yeah. yeah, iām good."
you eased dahlia out of his arms, settling her on your hip. she immediately reached for your hair.
"your turn," you said.
he waved a hand. "ah, iām not really gonna get in."
your jaw dropped. "excuse me?"
"just gonna sit here. keep the towels company."
"no. absolutely not." you pointed at him. "you dragged us here. you are getting in that water."
"i could supervise."
"you could swim."
he groaned, a long, theatrical sound that made dahlia giggle. "fine. fine. but iām holding you responsible if i drown."
"you won't drown. the water's three feet deep."
"iāll find a way."
he stood, dusted off his shorts, and trudged toward the bathrooms with the air of a man walking to his execution.
when he came back, you understood.
the trunks were black, simple, hanging low on his hips. his long hair clung to his shoulders, and his armsāyou'd seen his arms a thousand times, but they looked different now. filled out. broad shoulders, thick forearms, the kind of muscle that came from years of wrestling with engines and transmissions. his tattoos stood out sharp against his skin, ink bleeding into the afternoon light.
you forgot how to breathe for a second.
he caught you looking. a slow grin spread across his face.
āsee something you like?"
you felt heat crawl up your neck. you looked away, busied yourself with adjusting dahliaās strap.
"we accidentally matched," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near flustered.
he looked down at his trunks, then at you. "huh. black bikini, black trunks. real coordinated."
ādidn't plan it."
āuh huh.ā
you shot him a look. he held up his hands, still grinning.
dahlia, oblivious, was wearing a red one-piece covered in tiny black spots. a ladybug. it had little antennae on the hood.
"look at that," eddie said. "sheās got black too. weāre a whole theme."
"a very accidental theme."
he stepped past you and lowered himself into the shallow end, the water rising to his chest. he hissed at the temperatureāāchrist, that's cold"āthen turned and held out his arms.
"alright, princess. your turn."
you handed dahlia to him. she went willingly, splashing into his arms with a shriek of pure joy. the water darkened the red of her swimsuit, and she kicked her feet, sending droplets across his face.
he didn't even flinch. he just grinned, wiped the water from his eyes, and looked up at you.
"you coming in or what?"
the water was cold against your ankles, then your knees, then your waist. you waded over to them, the sun warm on your shoulders, and dahlia reached for you, wanting to be held by both of you at once.
edie shifted her into your arms, and for a moment, the three of you stood thereāwater lapping, sun burning, the noise of the pool fading into something distant and unimportant.
the three of you floated in the cool water, laughing as eddie kept dahlia giggling. his gaze kept drifting to you, lingering a beat too long. he couldn't help itāyou were beautiful.
heās thought so since high school. a quiet ache settled in his chest: the old longing to have you, to be yours.
you caught his look and offered a soft smile. your chest warmed when your eyes met. youād known him since you were seventeen. heād always been there. for a moment, you let yourself imagine eddie as dahliaās dad instead, the three of you a real family.
eventually, you all headed home, wrapped in towels despite being thoroughly soaked. on the drive back, eddie and you traded easy laughs, slipping into comfortable small talk. he parked in front of your place, and you noticed johnny's old truck.
"thatās weird." a slight smile tugged at your lips, still recovering from laughing. "i thought he'd be out the whole day."
eddieās gaze hardened as he shut off the engine. of course. of course this is how the night ends. you, him, dahliaāa perfect day. and now, back to reality. johnās home.
he unbuckled dahlia and lifted her out. you grabbed the bag, and the three of you head up the steps. inside, eddie sets dahlia down, letting her toddle around to burn off the last of her energy.
you glanced around. "johnny?"
you headed toward the shared bedroom.
"mama!" dahlia pattered after you.
"hey, no, come here." eddie tried scooping her up, a quick joke about her escaping already forming on his lips. then he stopped once he reached the doorway.
johnny was in bed. with another woman.
dahlia tugged at eddieās leg, confused. "ed-dee?"
your eyes were already welling. eddie saw itāthe crack spreading across your face. he picked up dahlia, ready to say something, anything.
"can you take her?" your voice was quiet. broken. "to your trailer?"
he nodded. he knew what you needed.
he was halfway out the door when the yelling started behind him.
"how could you do this?!" your voice cracked and sharpened all at once. "are you fucking serious? iāve been trying so hard, johnny! trying to take care of dahlia, picking up shifts at the diner, keeping everything together while you're gone. youāre here for one dayāone goddamn dayāand this is what you do?!ā
the woman in the bed scrambled, half-asleep, fumbling for her clothes. johnny sat up, sheets pooling around his waist, face twisting.
"donāt you yell at me," he snapped. "you think it's easy? youāre always busy, always tired, i neededā"
"donāt." you shook your head, voice dropping. "donāt even go there.ā
"it was nothing, alright? justā"
"i want you out." the words came out steady even as your hands shook. "itās over. iāll take care of dahlia myself. iāve been doing it anyway."
his voice softened, slick and familiar. "come on, baby. it was just a mistake. one mistake. you know i love you."
but you're already somewhere else. the short phone calls. the way he never seemed in a rush to come home. the way he talked around marrying you, always soon, soon, never now.
"no." you met his eyes. "youāve been doing this the whole time, haven't you? thatās why you never wanted to stay."
he opened his mouth. but you were already walking away.
the door clicked shut behind you when you walked into eddieās trailer, and the silence that followed was somehow louder than the screaming. louder than the woman scrambling for her dignity. louder than johnnyās excuses still echoing in your skull.
you stood there. dripping. empty.
eddie didnāt say anything at first. he was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you. dahlia was passed out on the couch, curled into a tiny ball, a fortress of couch cushions walling her in. he must've built it while you were in there. while your world was ending a trailer away.
you opened your mouth. nothing came out.
that lump in your throatāhard, sharp, impossible to swallow aroundāpressed up until your eyes start to burn.
eddieās face changed. the guarded tension in his jaw dropped away, and something raw and soft took its place. he didnāt ask. he didnāt say what happened or are you okay or any of the bullshit questions people asked when they already knew the answer.
he just opened his arms.
you stepped into him immediately, and the second your forehead hit his chest, you broke. the sob ripped out of you like it had been waiting for permission. your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, and you shook against him, ugly and loud and completely undone.
his arms closed around you, solid and sure. one hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your wet hair.
"i got you," he murmured, voice low and rough. "i got you. let it out."
you cried harder.
he rocked you, just a little, swaying in the dim light of the kitchen. his thumb traceed slow, soothing arcs against your scalp.
"iām so sorry, sweetheart." even his voice cracked at the edges. "iām so goddamn sorry."
you felt him press his cheek against the top of your head. felt the steady rise and fall of his chest. felt his arms tighten, like he was trying to hold every broken piece of you together with his bare hands.
"you don't have to say anything," he whispered. "you don't have to do anything. iām right here. iām not going anywhere."
and you didnāt have to look up to know his eyes were red too.
your voice was wrecked, barely making it past the tears.
"i can't believe he would do that." a hiccup. then another. "heāhe was here for one day. one day, eddie. and he justā¦ he brought that girl to our home. our home. in our fucking bed.ā
eddie didnāt stop stroking your hair. his hand was steady, patient, grounding. he let you spill it all out.
you kept going, words tumbling over each other, half-sobbed, half-spat. how your mom was already on your back about not locking johnny down fast enough, about how you're twenty-five and still not married in her standards, how you're going to be alone forever if you don'tāand now this. now he showed up after months gone with some girl on his arm like you're nothing.
"i don't know what to do." your voice cracked, raw and young. "i don't want dahlia growing up in this. watching her mom fall apart over some guy who doesn'tāwho neverā"
you choked. then the panic shifted, practical and desperate.
"the bills, eddie. i can'tāthe diner shifts barely cover groceries. johnny sends money sometimes, but if he stops, if he's done, i don't know how iām gonnaā"
"hey." his voice cut through, soft but firm. his hand stilled on your hair, then cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up just enough that you have to look at him.
"hey. look at me."
you do, through blurry eyes.
he held your gaze, his thumb brushing a tear off your cheek.
"johnny is an asshole," he says, quiet and certain. "he never deserved you. not one day of it."
you shook your head, trying to argue, but he doesn't let you.
"iām gonna show up." the words landed like a promise. "iāll take care of the bills. more. as much as you need. iāll be here for dahliaāyou know i will. and if it helps you sleep at night, iāll pick up more hours at the shop. i don't care. iāll work until my hands fall off if it means you don't have to carry this alone."
"but you can'tā" you started, voice breaking.
"i can." he brushed a strand of hair from your wet cheek, tucking it behind your ear. his hand was warm, calloused, impossibly gentle. then he cupped your face, both palms framing your jaw, and tilted your head up to meet his eyes again.
"let me," he said, barely above a whisper. "please. let me take care of you. you don't have to figure this out alone. you never did. iāve been here the whole time, and iām not going anywhere." his voice dropped, softer than you've ever heard it. "you and dahlia are my family. you know that, right?"
the words hung in the air between you, heavy and warm.
you swallowed. you nodded as a fresh tear slipped down your cheek. he caught it with his thumb.
"iāve got you."
the weight on your chest shiftedājust a littleālike maybe it didnāt have to be yours alone.
you couldnāt help but thump your fist against his chest, weak and trembling, frustration and gratitude tangled up so tight you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
"god, y-youāre soā" another sniffle. another hit, softer this time. "annoying."
the word came out shaky, watery, stripped of any real bite.
eddieās lips twitched. a glint flickered in his eyes, warm and soft, like candlelight cutting through the dark. he caught your fist before you could hit him again, holding it against his chest. his heart pounded steadily under your knuckles.
"yeah," he said, voice low and amused. "i know."
he pulled you back into his arms, and you go without resistanceāboneless, exhausted, grateful. his chin rested on the top of your head. one hand spread across your back, the other craded the nape of your neck, anchoring you.
"let it out," he murmured into your hair. "you know iām not going anywhere."
and you do. you cried until your chest ached and your throat burned and there's nothing left. through it all, he held you. rubbed your back. pressed the occasional kiss to the crown of your head. didnāt rush you. didnāt shush you.
when the last sob finally shuddered out of you, quiet settled around you both like a blanket.
"better?" he asked softly.
you nodded against his chest, too wrung out for words. your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he might disappear if you let go.
he gave you one last squeeze, then tipped your chin up with his thumb and index finger. his eyes searched yours, earnest and unbearably gentle.
"i meant every word," he said. "every single one."
and he did.
over the next few months, eddie showed up more exactly like he promised. a fresh pot of coffee would already be brewed when you stumbled out of your room at six a.m. a bag of groceries would be sitting on the counter with the things you'd mentioned offhandedly three days ago. the rent would be paid before you could even stress about it.
johnās things disappeared piece by piece. you boxed them up yourself one rainy tuesday, and eddie didn't say a wordājust handed you tape and sat on the floor beside you, sorting through the wreckage of a decade with quiet, patient hands. when you started to cry over an old photo, he didn't tell you to stop. he just set his hand on your knee and stayed.
slowlu, his things started appearing in their place.
a worn leather jacket hanging by the door. a second toothbrush in the cup. his favorite mugāchipped, with a faded band logoāclaiming permanent space in your cabinet. a spare set of keys on the counter. a pillow that smelled like him on your couch.
he didn't move in. not officially. he still had his own trailer at the end of the lot. but somewhere along the way, yours became yours-and-his without anyone saying a word about it.
healing came slowly. in fits and starts. some days you'd be fineālaughing at something dumb he said, watching him teach dahlia how to change a tire on a tricycle she couldnāt even ride yet, feeling almost normal. other days, johnnyās ghost would settle heavy in your chest, and you'd go quiet, and eddie would just... know. heād put on your favorite movie without asking. heād make you coffee. heād sit beside you and say nothing at all, letting you find your way back to the surface on your own.
it was hard. johnny was your high school sweetheart. he was woven into the fabric of who you were, and untangling yourself from him felt like pulling thread from a sweaterāslow, delicate, sometimes ruining everything in the process.
but eddie made it bearable.
he made you laugh until your stomach hurt, doubling over in the kitchen while he attempted to make dinner and somehow set off the smoke alarm. eddie kept you company on sleepless nights, staying on the phone with you even when he had to be at the shop at six. eddie held dahlia when she had nightmares, rocking her back to sleep with a patience that made your heart ache.
he did everything he promised. and more.
and somewhere between the laughter and the quiet nights and the way he looked at you like you were something worth staying for, you started to realizeā
you were falling for him.
it hit you one evening, soft and sudden. you were sitting on the porch, dahlia asleep inside, and eddie was beside you, acoustic guitar in his lap, playing something slow and nameless. the sunset caught the edges of his profile, and he glanced over at you with that half-smile, and your chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with grief.
oh.
you looked away quickly, heart hammering.
but you felt his eyes on you, warm and patient, and when he kept playing without saying a word, you let yourself sit in the feeling. let it settle into your bones.
terrifying.
hopeful.
the door creaked open and a familiar voice rung through the trailer, warm and theatrical.
"honey, iām home!"
you looked up from the broom in your hands, mid-sweep in the kitchen, and the sight of himāleather jacket slung over his shoulder, his grin already crooked and knowingāmakes something in your chest bloom.
a smile broke across your face before you could stop it.
"hey, you," you said. "how was work?"
he hung his jacket on the hook by the door, taking his time, savouring the routine of it. "greasy. frankās nephew stripped a bolt on a '92 civic and i had to drill the damn thing out. took me an hour." he ran a hand through his hair, leaving a faint smudge of oil on his temple. "other than that? same old. some guyās truck finally gave out. told him it was the transmission three months ago. three months. but what do i know, right?"
you shook your head, biting back a smile. "you know everything, obviously."
"obviously." he winked, then glanced around. "whereās my girl?"
"daycare. sheās got a little friend group now. apparently they color-coordinate their snack times."
eddie gasped, clutching his heart like he'd been mortally wounded. "what, she got tired of me already? iām replaced by a toddler named brayden and a juice box?"
you laughedābright and easy, the kind of sound that lives in your chest now instead of getting stuck on the way out. you shook your head, leaning against the counter while still holding the broom.
"no, never. she loves you too much."
his expression softened. the teasing fades into something quieter, something realer. his voice dropped a little when he said, "yeah, i love her too."
a pause. his eyes held yours.
"especially her mom."
the words landed somewhere deep in your ribcage. you stilled, fingers curling against the broom.
"yeah?" you asked, your voice coming out smaller than you meant it to.
eddie took a step closer. then another. the worn linoleum floor creaked under his boots.
he stopped in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint traces of motor oil and faded cologne. his eyes traveled over your face like he's memorizing it. like he's been memorizing it for years and still hasn't gotten enough.
"get rid of that," he said, nodding at the broom still in your hands.
you immediately set the broom asideāclumsily, nearly knocking over the trash can in the processāand when you turned back, eddieās hands are already reaching for you.
he pulled you in by the waist, slow and careful, like he's afraid you might spook. his thumbs pressed into the soft fabric of your shirt, just above your hips. he looked at you for a long momentāreally lookedāand you see the question in his eyes. the hesitation. the offer of an out, if you wanted one.
you can still step back. we can pretend this didn't happen. iāll wait forever if i have to.
but you don't step back.
you don't even blink.
and whatever he saw in your faceāwhatever certainty flickered across itāwas enough.
he leaned in slowly. giving you every chance to change your mind.
you don't.
when his lips met yours, it's soft. gentle. nothing like the rushed, careless kisses johnny used to steal. this one tastes like patience. like years of waiting finally paying off. like a promise heād been keeping since before you even knew to ask for it.
his hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head, deepening the kiss just a fraction. just enough to let you know he meant it.
when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed, breath warm against your lips.
"iāve been wanting to do that for a long time," he admitted.
you opened your eyes and looked at himāreally looked at him. the man who showed up. who kept showing up. who never once made you feel like a burden for needing him.
before you knew it, the two of you got a little carried away in the kitchen. one moment you were kissing, and the next his hands were on your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, his mouth finding yours in that gentle, unhurried way that made the rest of the world fall away.
his hands slid up your thighs, thumbs tracing circles through the thin fabric of your jeans, and you sighed into his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair. the clock on the microwave ticked over. six minutes. then twelve.
"eddie," you breathed against his lips, but you didn't pull away.
āhm?"
you pulled back, breathless, giggling against his lips. "i have to go. deeā"
he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. "five more minutes."
"sheās gonna be the last kid there."
"so let me get her." he said it like it's obvious.
you opened your mouth to protestāyou don't have to, i can do it, it's not your jobāthe same thing you always say. but he cut you off, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and deliberate.
"be right back."
he grinned, and then he's out the door.
fifteen minutes later, he's back with dahlia perched on his hip, her little sneakers swinging. sheās babbling a mile a minute, pointing at something in the parking lot, and eddie nods along like he understands every word.
the three of you ended up sprawled on the couch, dahlia wedged between you. fraggle rock flickers on the screen. sheās more affectionate than usualāgrabbing at eddieās shirt, patting his cheek, curling her tiny fingers around his. you watched them, and something warm settled in your chest. she missed him. all day at daycare, she was waiting for him to walk through the door.
eddieās heart tightened. he looked down at her, her little hand wrapped around his index finger, and he wiggled it, making her shriek with laughter.
"tell me about your day, baby girl. did you paint? build a fort? plot world domination?"
she babbled nonsense, and he nodded seriously. "good. world domination's a solid plan."
she looked up at him, quiet for a second. then, clear as day:
"dadda."
eddieās eyes snapped to yours. your own go wide, a smile breaking across your face before you could stop it. he looked back down at her, a grin spreading slow and crooked.
"uh huh. dadda. thatās me." his voice is softer now, rougher. "can you say daddy?"
she stared at him. then she grinned. "dadda."
he laughed, the sound full and warm. "stubborn. i like it."
"da-ddy," you tried, leaning in. "daddy."
"dadda."
eddie shook his head, still smiling. "next time, sweetheart."
he leaned over dahlia, hand finding the back of your neck, and kissed youāslow, deep, like he's got nowhere else to be. you giggled against his mouth, and he smiled into it, and when you pulled back, dahlia is trying to copy you, puckering her lips and making a wet mwah sound.
eddie laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "love you, kid.ā
you turned back to the tv, settling deeper into the couch cushions, dahliaās weight warm and solid against your chest. but eddieās gaze lingered on you. he watched the way your fingers traced lazy patterns through dahliaās hair, the way your smile softened in the glow of the screen.
he felt at peace. like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
you weren't stressed anymore. you laughed more. you smiled more. the dark circles under your eyes had faded, replaced by a warmth that made him want to cup your face in his hands every time he saw it. heād watched you heal, piece by piece, and somewhere along the way he'd realized he was healing too.
heād stepped into a role john never deserved. a role john never even tried to fill.
and now, curled up on this worn-out couch with a fraggle rock theme song playing and a little girl who just called him dadda, eddie knew one thing for certain: he was going to give you everything you deserved. everything you'd never had.
his hand drifted to his pocket. the velvet box was still there, tucked away, waiting.
a week ago, he'd bought it. when he figured he had a chance. when he figured you felt the same way.
he looked at you now, the way you turned your head and caught his eye, your smile soft and curious.
"what?" you asked.
eddie just shook his head, a slow, secret smile spreading across his face.
ānothinā." he reached over and laced his fingers through yours.
Stuck In The Upside Down @soleilmisttt - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
