eli-lilies04

[eli-lilies04]

eddie, my love - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: after trying multiple ways to get eddie’s attention, you decide to ask eddie’s band mates for help in making him realize just how head-over-heels you are. while eddie starts losing faith in you two ever being together after seeing you get closer to jeff.

content warnings: NSFW (18+) MDNI; smut with plot, pining idiots, language, unprotected piv sex, oral (fem receiving), pet names, jealous!eddie (briefly), self-conscious!eddie which is met with lots of fluff

word count: 6.0k

author’s notes: oof I could have kept writing and writing for this one…anyways…this was for this request! the song is linked here if by chance you haven’t heard it before :)

“Wait, what do you mean you’re not going?” Eddie interrupts your conversation with Robin as he trips over his feet to rush to the counter. He leans forward on his elbows, dropping his head into his hands as he looks between you and Robin.

“I’m. Not. Going.” You punctuate while trying to hold back a laugh, “c’mon Eddie. I have a lot to study for with finals coming up. I’ll be at every other show I promise.”

“But-”

“Some of us care about our grades, Munson,” Robin swipes Eddie’s elbows from the counter causing him to fall forward, nearly smacking his face. “Not me, but she does.”

“You both should,” you roll your eyes ducking behind the counter to grab a movie you had on hold for Eddie. You slide the tape across the counter to him with a small smile. “I’m sorry Eds, you know I’d come if I could.”

Eddie’s frown fades as he looks back to you, “I know. It’s just- I’ll miss you tonight.”

That was the problem. You knew he would miss you, and you would miss him….but you weren’t sure just how much Eddie knew you missed him on the days you didn’t spend together. It’s been two painstakingly slow months since Robin and Nancy forced you to see your feelings for Eddie — beyond those in a friendship. Initially, it was awkward and made you uncomfortable to be around him since it seemed like every move you made gave you away. Over time it became easier to not blush at every flirty comment or touch between you two. Nancy tried to stress to you that Eddie was also falling hard, but there was no way to tell — at least from your side of things. Your crush on your best friend clouded all judgment; you would read too much into his touches, but not enough into his flirtier tone. Even the members of Hellfire and Corroded Coffin had caught on to the tension between you and Eddie, but you just couldn’t be sure. 

Keep reading

[eli-lilies04]

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✎ 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. all he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.

cw: 18+ (for safety), mechanic!eddie, reader and eddie are the same age (29/30ish), girl dad!eddie, mentions of loss/death, mentions of miscarriage/stillborn (briefly), more than your typical sass from a small child, reader is great with kids (obviously), mostly just a bunch of meet-cutes and fortunate circumstances that help push eddie toward reader, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 11k

Eddie never imagined he would in this position, not in a million fuckin’ years. While he would trade it for the world, days like these made his skin crawl, the anxiety creeped in, all the worst feelings you could feel as a person—and more specifically, a parent.

She’s the spitting image of him, curly hair and big doe eyes that she could sick on anyone to get exactly what she wanted. It was a proven fact that had worked on Eddie countless times. She’s got his habitual nose scrunch, always making a face when she’s upset or mad, arms crossed over her chest as she sits and pouts. There couldn’t have been more of a carbon copy than her and Eddie didn’t know how to handle it half the time. 

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, plopping his daughter onto the counter, “Shoes,” He taps her light up sneakers, “Check.” He scans her over once, all clothes accounted for, matching socks, a small jumper to keep her warm during class, “Hair—“ He takes a moment, examining the sloppy attempt at pigtails, “it’s gonna have to work.”

“Dad,” Her voice drags, soft and melodic as she stares up at him in annoyance, “breakfast?”

“Shit—right,” Eddie facepalms in frustration, turning to rummage through the fruit bowl on his counter, picking out a semi-ripe banana and offering it to the girl, “that’ll do.”

“Language,” She sings, using her brute strength to rip open the peel, a small grunt escaping her, “—you owe a dollar to the jar.”

It still amazes him how well-spoken she is for her age, five nearing six and still able to keep up with him in conversation and sometimes even leaving him speechless, her comments just as fiery as his own. She did a good job keeping him in check, grounded, and never taking himself too seriously.

“Ri,” He begs, “you’re cleaning me out.”

“You know the rules, dad.” She smiles, taking a ferocious bite of her banana, speaking with a full mouth, “pay up, please.”

Eddie huffs begrudgingly, swiping his wallet from his back pocket and plucking out a single collar, slipping it into the jar on the shelf near their front door, the thing was bursting at the seams almost.

“Okay so,” Eddie turns back toward her, “what did we talk about?”

“Manners—please and thank you,” She says, counting her with tiny fingers, “no mean looks to the other kids, and—“

She stops, the memory spilling her brain.

“And no F bombs from you either.” Eddie warns, poking softly at her chest. “Even if it was only once.”

“It was part of the song—“ She argues, mouth turning down at the corners in frown.

“Riley.” Eddie says more sternly, causing her to shrink slightly.

“Okay,” She answers softly, taking smaller bites of the banana until it’s nearly gone, she glances at the digital clock on the microwave and glances back at her dad, who still seems completely frazzled, “—I thought school started at eight.”

“It does.” Eddie nods, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering his things for work; lunch, tools, although surely he was still missing something.

“Look.” She tells him, finger pointing just past his head.

Eddie turned, eyes widening at the numbers appearing back to him.

7:50. 

It was the first day and he was already starting off on the wrong foot, but given his track record, he couldn’t really be surprised. 

Eddie quickly lifts Riley from the counter and places her down, letting her run for her backpack on the couch—a faded, black backpack that Eddie got from Wayne a few weeks ago; money was tight, but he always tried to make the best of their situation. He ironed a few of his old patches from his favorite bands he had stored away and even the one he’s gotten made of his old band as a joke, a true one of a kind. He wanted to save it for something special—or someone. Luckily, that was Riley.

“Alright,” He says, clapping his hands together loudly, “let’s go, go, go.” 

Riley’s feet pitter patter underneath him as he chases after her, urging her out of the trailer—the one he rented out just beside his uncle, as much as he’d hoped to get out of this town, he couldn’t think of a better place to be held up in.

Eddie’s never been a stickler for rules—and he makes it with a couple minutes to spare, but no one needed to know about him driving a smidge over the speed limit to get Riley to school on time. 

He feels immensely underdressed around the other crowd of parents—and noticing the one obvious factor, most of them were women. He realizes it shouldn’t matter much, but it was also painfully obvious that he was all over the place, clothes slightly dirtied from grease stains and general car grossness. It didn’t matter how much he washed them, the stains were coming out. 

Riley’s eager, unbuckling herself and opening her own door before Eddie can even reach her, suffocating his hand in a tight grip as she yanks him along, humming along to a tune that Eddie can only guess is from a morning cartoon. When it came to music she sang her heart out, an obvious sign that he was hers—she loved music.

“Come on, dad,” She complains, Eddie’s feet keeping up with her hurried steps, “we can’t be late.”

“For a five year old you’re incredibly bossy.” Eddie notes, her giggling trailing down the hall as they entered the school. 

She eyes the walls with rapt attention, all decked out with arts and crafts, eye-grabbing from every angle. Eddie had made a point to remember the name of his teacher, at least, if anything. So, when she trails just a little further than she needs to, Eddie’s pulling her back with a hand against her chest.

“Woah, hold your horses.” Eddie chuckles, her body knocking into his chest as he knelt down. “Do you want me to walk you in or are you okay?”

The soft scuff of soles on the tile floor pull Eddie’s attention up, eyes landing on you. You offer a friendly smile amongst the chaos—crying kids, worried parents, and all the restless energy a small child could carry this early in the morning. 

“Hi.” You greet cheerfully, addressing yourself formally, hand extended for him to shake. Eddie’s still squatting at Riley’s side but his hand extends too, enveloping yours in a gentle grip, a polite handshake.

You sense the nervousness of the young girl before you, squatting down to her level as well, “You must be Riley.” You guess accordingly, seeming as she was the last kid on your list to show up, her face beamed with a brightness that was entirely too infectious. You introduce yourself to her too, shaking her smaller hand in greeting. 

“Alright kid,” Eddie pats her back softly, standing slowly as his knees groan in protest. Eddie was nearing his thirties and not nearly as nimble as before, with a mix of aging and his job it seemed like his body was wearing away faster than he liked, “you ready?”

“Oh,” You interrupt, standing too, “you can come inside and see where’s she sitting if you’d like and if you have any quick questions I can answer them.”

Eddie blanks for a moment, but is quickly pulled out of it when Riley tugs at his hand in excitement, “Okay, just a couple minutes, Ri—I can’t be late for work.” Eddie follows along dutifully, narrowly missing the flurry of tiny people that run past him.

Riley arrives at the desk in a hurry, taking her seat and examining her area. “Look daddy,” She points out, “the desk has my name.”

“Yep, baby,” Eddie nods, smoothing out her tattered curls, still beating himself up over not taking the time to make them look better, “can you read it?”

Riley nods enthusiastically, “Riley Munson,” she sounds out, “Duh, I know my name.” 

Eddie chuckles at that and you can’t help but laugh. She was a character for sure, but most of the kids were, blossoming personalities and all.

You interrupt for a moment, leaning down to Riley’s level again, “And we even get to decorate these with cool stickers!”

Riley gasps in joy, staring up at Eddie with wide, glistening eyes.

“She loves stickers,” Eddie tells you, “Uh—I should probably already know this, but what time is pickup?”

“Oh, you’re fine.” You assure him, noting his frazzled state. It was common for parents, specifically first timers. “Three is when we actually let them out, but the line can get pretty long so it’s always better to show up early if you can.”

Eddie nods slowly, glancing around the room. He’s never been one to care what people think of him or his appearance, but in this setting it feels magnified. “Sorry, I feel a little underdressed.”

You quickly shake your head, watching as a young girl approaches Riley. You nod toward the door, silently asking Eddie to follow. He bids her a quick goodbye and a kiss in the crown of her head which she could care less about, already chattering to her newfound friend. 

“Don’t feel like an outcast,” You tell him, “it’s definitely not worth beating yourself up over.”

Eddie had been there his entire life, he wasn’t sure he could ever escape that. 

Oddly, it comforts Eddie for the moment. “Shit—wait shoot,” Eddie fumbles over his words, voice hushed as he realizes his mistake, “I’m Eddie by the way, I probably should’ve started with that.”

You laugh in amusement, nose scrunching up slightly. You’re far enough from earshot that their impressionable ears can’t hear, but it’s still charming that he tries to save himself. 

“Well Eddie,” You say with a lilt to your voice, “if we run into any issues—which I’m sure we won’t—we’ll give you a call.”

Eddie nods, “Okay uh,” He points toward Riley sparingly, “she can be a little—headstrong, so if she gives you problems—“

“I can handle her,” You assure him, leaning forward with a quiet whisper, “it’s kind of my job.”

Eddie smiles at that, a nervous laugh rumbling through his chest. He needs to excuse himself before he embarrasses himself further. 

“Okay, three. I’ll be here.” He tells you, loose curls bouncing over his shoulders as he moves. 

“And I’ll see you then.” You nod, watching as he hurriedly leaves then, bolting out faster that you can process. Considering how daunting days like this could be for parents, he was still handling it surprisingly well. 

The day is just as hectic as you’d expect. A few meltdowns later and a messy lunch with over a hundred rambunctious kids and you’re all out of energy for the day but keep it up until the very last minute of the school day, letting each child pick a sticker to put on their own name tag on their desk—it’s an easy way to give the kids an outlet to express themselves and show of their personality, plus, the kids loved the stickers.

Pickup is gradual, the children leaving in troves until there’s only a few left, lingering around the hall as they wait for their rides. You find Riley perched on a bench outside of your classroom, fiddling with the laces on her shoes, frayed from wear and tear as she attempts to re-tie them. She huffs dramatically when she can’t figure it out, shoulder slumping as she frowns

You approach with a weary caution, taking a seat next to her on the bench. She doesn’t immediately look up at you, kicking the toes of her shoes together. “Stupid,” She grumbled, “stupid shoes.”

“Do you need help?” You ask sweetly.

“I don’t know how,” She expresses dramatically, “I try and the loop doesn’t work. My daddy ties my shoes for me.”

“Well, Riley—would you like me to teach you?” You ask.

She nods enthusiastically, clumsily turning to place her feet in your lap, staring up at you expectantly. You laugh softly, making a show of taking the two strings in your hand, guiding her through the motions as she watches, cataloging every step. She helps you sing, bouncing with energy. 

“Okay, your turn.” You tell her, watching as she fiddles with laces, murmuring a ‘bunny ears, bunny ears’ under her breath as she focuses, tongue slipping out past her lips in concentration. It takes her a moment, struggling to get the lace under the loop, but eventually she gets it. You erupt in a soft cheer, shaking your fists up in celebration. Riley beams a toothy grin that lingers, her eyes squinting with how big she’s smiling. 

You take a peek at your watch, reading it to yourself. 3:15. It wasn’t unusual for late parents, as a few kids were also lingering about, but while they were antsy and anxious to leave, Riley sat quietly, attention turned up toward a spot on the ceiling as she waited. 

You wait a bit longer in silence, listening to Riley sing the lyrics to a faintly familiar rock song, much to mature for her ears—but that can only be the product of her father, which you couldn’t really fault him for. Kids were just as good at paying attention as they were being passive, it was all subjective and only when they wanted to. 

By 3:30 you’re a little more concerned, Riley being the last kid left and not a car or parent in sight.

She sighs exasperated, playing with the loose string on her jumper, “Daddy’s late isn’t he?”

“A little,” You nod, “Is this normal? Does it happen a lot?”

You weren’t trying to point fingers or scrutinize anyone, just simply prodding for more information. 

“My dad works on cars—s’why he looks dirty all the time.” She explains, her words mixing together. “Sometimes the men are mean and keep him at work late.”

“Oh dear,” You sigh slightly, “well, I guess we’ll have to do something to keep us busy.”

You didn’t leave until late into the evening anyways, closer to five—and it wasn’t the first time you’ve had to keep a kid past the normal pickup time, though it had been a while.

“Do you like to color?” You ask curiously.

Riley perks up suddenly, nodding. 

“Well, you’re in luck, Riley.” You tell her, hand held out for her to grab, leading her into the classroom and setting her at a separate table away from the desks. She waits patiently, feeling squeaking against the linoleum as she watches you move around, grabbing a box of crayons and a few spare drawing pages for her to color in. “Can you work on this for me?”

Riley nods again, furiously sifting through the colors and getting to work, scribbling a dark red crayon onto the paper.

You slip away for a moment, crossing the hall to the office and attempting to find someone—anyone that you can check in with, wondering where Eddie was. The secretary pops her head out of the lounge room suddenly, eyeing you curiously.

“Hey, the little one, Riley Munson—has anyone come to ask for her yet?” You ask, “I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bunch?”

“That’s Eddie Munson’s kid, right?” The older lady asks, a gruffness to her voice from years of smoking. “Huh.”

Huh. You make an annoyed face as she turns her back, walking toward her desk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“That kid has never had his life together,” She tells you, having known Eddie when he attended Hawkins, “I used to write tardy slips for him everyday—boy would come in smelling of weed almost every day, he’s always been trouble.”

“Weren’t we all trouble in high school?” You ask daringly.

“Not like him,” She tells you, “repeated his senior year three times and didn’t graduate until he was twenty.”

You roll your eyes subtly, the judgment oozing from her in waves. “Can you just call her emergency number and see if we can get someone to pick her up?”

The older woman responds with a noise, picking up the phone between her brittle fingers, startled rightly when someone bursts through the front entrance, keys jingling in their hand.

“God, I’m so sorry—“ Eddie looks even more stressed out than earlier, his face slightly dirty and a greased up handkerchief shoved in his backpacker, “where is she?”

The old lady watched with a pointed look as you nod toward your classroom, avoiding her gaze as you turn your back. 

“I’ve got her busy in my room,” You tell him, leading him toward your door silently, “she’s been very good considering.”

“I promise it’s not always like this,” Eddie says defensively, “today has just—it’s been a day.”

You stop him just outside the entrance, hand placed gently against his chest to still him.

“It’s okay,” You tell him honestly, “but this can’t be a regular thing. You either need to have someone available to pick her up after school on time or work something out with administration. I don’t mind staying after—but I can get in trouble if she stays too late.”

“Look, I mean it—this is the only time.” He stressed, eyes pleading in hopes that you won’t judge him too harshly.

You couldn’t. You would never. You weren’t in a place to judge anyone. 

You nod in understanding, extending your trust. “She’s coloring—go ahead.” You tell him, letting him walk in before you.

Riley can hear the footsteps before she spots you both, her chair skidding against the floor as she bolts toward the door, barreling toward Eddie. He picks her up with ease, scooping her up onto his hip, coloring pages forgotten. 

“I missed you.” He tells her, fingers squeezing gently at her side. She laughs, hugging him tight despite his dirtiness. 

“I miss’d you.” She says softly, arms squeezing around him even further. Eddie smiles, burying his face into her bundle of curls placed lopsided on top of her head.

Eddie pulls away after a moment, looking over at you. “I’m so sorry.” He apologizes again and you’re starting to sense a theme. 

“No need,” You insist, “but come Monday—“

Eddie nods, “I’ll be on time.”

And for whatever odd reason, you believed him. 

You smile at him then at Riley, features softening as she peaks at you from over Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday Riley, okay?” You speak to her.

“Yes!” She cheers, leaning over to whisper into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie leans in, laughing at whatever she was saying to him. Eddie pulls away, nodding at Riley in agreement.

“She said you can call her Ri,” Eddie explains, “which is a very prestigious honor, right?” Eddie turns to Riley, her face scrunching up in confusion.

“Prisigious?” Riley repeats in an innocent tone, “Dad, that’s not a word.”

“Oh, it is Ms. Ri,” You respond matter of factually, “prestigious,” You sound out, “it means super important and special, like you.”

Eddie watches the interaction in a happy silence, the exchange more endearing than anything he’s ever witnessed. It had always taken a while for Riley to warm up to new people, which is why he had been so nervous for her first day, but it all seemed ridiculous now after watching the two of you interact. 

“Thank you.” Eddie says suddenly, eyes connecting with yours.

It startles you for a moment, face pulling up in a confused smile.

“For?”

“Not judging, I guess.” He shrugs, “And keeping her company.”

You chuckle softly, “It’s kind of my job, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie grimaces at that, “God—am I that old? We can stick to first names, right?”

And truly, you’re only teasing. You nod in response, waving a warm goodbye to Riley as Eddie grabbed her backpack, shrugging it over his own shoulder.

“Byeeee,” She sings, hand waving over Eddie's shoulder as he triggers her along, more than eager to get her out of your hair, Eddie does mumble to Riley for a moment before she screams out again, “—my daddy said bye too!”

Riley was a character, that was for sure. But seeing her with Eddie, it all made sense.

Eddie keeps his promise, the next month of school going off without a hitch. Riley is there on time, every morning, hell or high water, and she’s just as chipper as you would expect from someone her age. Eddie doesn’t come inside often, only on the few days that Riley has a hard time rolling out of bed, so you don’t see him that often—not that you wanted to.

You totally didn’t want to. Either way, it didn’t matter. 

October is one of the few months that you can enjoy real fun with the kids—holidays always have their positives, as well as their negatives. But, the kids loved crafts and so did you. 

A week out from Halloween and you had purchased a full box of small pumpkins for your kids, one for each, and all the crafts you could imagine—paints, markers, stuff for making silly faces or glitter bombing their pumpkin. You’d made it clear about messes and the kids had followed for the most part.

But, you could only expect so much from a group of six year olds. And in hindsight, you never expected your degree to end up with you constantly hovering around a group of kids hoping they wouldn’t eat the glue sticks or shove crayons up their noses—unfortunately, that was your life. 

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

And it’s almost peaceful until the time for cleanup comes and there’s a rushed call of your name, the tiny panicked tone sending you into fight or flight, turning on your heels to spot where the voice is coming from.

When you do, it lands on her. Little Riley, covered in paint—her face, hair, clothes, and a boy at her side caught red-handed, quickly dropping the paint when your eyes flick to him. You steady yourself with a deep breath before going back into teacher mode, instructing the rest of the class to sit on the rug at the front of the class room with their legs crossed, grabbing both of the kids gently by the hand and walking them out of the classroom, luckily coming face to face with another teacher who happened to be on break from her class while they attended their specials class, practically begging her to watch the rest of the class for the time being.

“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need.” You tell her and she agrees.

When you’re finally alone with the two you kneel, taking the younger boy’s hands in yours, calming their insistent shaking.

“You’re not in trouble,” You tell him, Evan, the younger boy responsible, “but do you realize what you did wrong?”

He nods silently.

“I get big emotions too, trust me.” You tell him softly, “But, we can’t take them out on others. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“He made fun of my clothes!” Riley interrupts with a screech, eyes welling with tears. “He said I dress like a boy.”

“Is that true?” You ask him, receiving a shameful nod.

“It’s not fun being picked on,” You explain to him, “how would you feel if Riley said you dressed silly?”

“Sad.” He answers softly. 

“Exactly.” You smile slightly, “Can you apologize to Riley?”

He turns to her, unable to meet her tiny, heated gaze.

“I’m sorry, Riley.” 

You stare at Riley pointedly, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance. There’s a silent pleading that she seems to understand, chewing on her bottom lip as she relents.

“It’s okay.” She tells him, “I forgive you.”

You nod, satisfied. “Okay, Evan—head back to class, please.”

The boy walks slowly, head hung in shame and embarrassment at having been caught and doing what he did—this behavior was all too familiar and not new in any way.

“He’s stupid.” Riley says with a bite, face smeared with paint.

“Riley,” You warn, “we don’t call people that.”

“Did you say anything to him after he made fun of your clothes?” You ask, hoping to get to the bottom of their little squabble.

“I called him stupid.” She says—it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you mask it well, gaze flitting up toward the ceiling as Riley flicks the paint off of her hand and wipes them against her ruined overalls, the shirt underneath barely unscathed. 

“Can I let you in on a secret, Ri?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She nods slowly, giving you her hands. You did it often with the kids, finding that it calmed them the quickest. “All boys are stupid.”

Riley smiles slightly, giggling quietly. 

You sigh, taking a glance at her and then her outfit.

“Your dad doesn’t pack extra clothes for you, does he?”

Riley shakes her head, pigtails swinging wildly.

You huff, “Okay—let’s brainstorm.”

“Brain…storm?” Riley asks curiously.

You nod, “Yeah, like…come up with ideas. It’s just a silly word for it.”

Riley ponders for a moment, lips pursing together in thought. 

She sighs after a moment, “My brain is empty, no storms.”

You laugh audibly, a short giggle as you stare fondly at the girl.

“Actually,” The thought hits you suddenly, “I think we have some spare clothes in the office, we could take our chances and see if there’s anything in your size. If not, I’ll have to call your dad.”

“No, no—“ She says hurriedly, “don’t call my dad, please.”

You since her concern, eyebrow raising in question.

“I broke his rule.” She frowns, “I gave Evan a mean look and I called him stupid.”

You smile tensely, trying to weigh how to explain things to her, before settling on, “I think he’ll understand, Ri. But, I’ll try my hardest so we don’t have to.” 

The best you can do is a god awful pair of pink corduroy pants in her size, which she very loudly states she dislikes.

“Ew!” She says in disgust. “Can I stay in these, please?”

“Riley,” You stress, “You have to change.”

She slumps in defeat, not putting up much of a fight. She holds her hands out begrudgingly, making small grabbing fists until you hand them over, quickly skittering off to the bathroom.

When she returns, she looks even more annoyed, but cleaner.

“My face,” She frowns, “it’s sticky.”

“Yep, kiddo.” You nod, taking her ruined overalls and stuffing them into a plastic bag before tying them off, leaving them for Eddie to pick up later. “I’ve got wipes in my classroom and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

It’s a struggle, but you do manage to get most of the paint cleaned up while the other teacher manages your class, holding their attention with a book she read out loud, letting you deal with Riley in silence. Her hair is a challenge, still sticky and hardened with paint—you manage what you can, undoing her pigtails and wiping out as much paint as possible before braiding the hair back nicely and keeping it out of her face. She feels the bumps in her hair curiously, making a face.

“Braids.” You explain. “Have you ever had them?”

“Daddy can’t do them.” She tells you. “I like piggies. But I also like the braids.”

“Well, maybe you can bribe him into learning if you like them a lot.” You tell her, helping her down from the desk she was perched on. “But, I can always do it for you if you really want them on a certain day.”

You urged her back toward the group of kids, watching as she took a seat toward the rear, hands twisted in her lap as she listened quietly—she seemed less comfortable, more outcast than normal, and while Riley had a big personality—it wasn’t showing now. 

When Eddie arrives later that day for pickup, it’s a flurry of emotions. Riley immediately bursts into tears when she sees him, still one of the last kids to be picked up—but he’s not too late.

He stares up at you with a myriad of questions and you hand the dirty clothes over wordlessly. He glances at Riley, nudging her face away from his shoulder. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Riley looks up at you desperately, frown pulling at her face.

“Ri, why don’t you go play over at the table,” You suggest, “the toys are in the bin underneath.”

She nods, letting go of Eddie in an instant.

When she’s finally busied herself, you pull Eddie aside, leaning against the edge of your desk. “There was a little incident today. A boy teased Riley for her clothes and she called him stupid,” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, “we were decorating pumpkins and there was some paint involved—the other kid spilled paint all over her.”

“And no one called me?” Eddie asks, frustration evident in his face.

You held your hands up defensively, “Riley was very insistent that I don’t—luckily we had some spare clothes in the office.”

“Why—why wouldn’t she want you to call me?”

“She said she broke your rules,” You explain to him, “whatever that means. Regardless, I tried to clean her up as best I could. She still has a bit of paint in her hair.”

Eddie glances over at his daughter, still frowning as she plays. He knew the sadness was temporary, but damn if he wasn’t playing into it. He notices the braids a half second later, glancing back at you briefly and then toward her again.

“Sorry if I overstepped—her hair was a bit of a mess.” You admit to him, “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie laughs slightly, “No—it’s fine. I’m at a complete loss when it comes to that stuff.” He scratches at his cheek, grime covered rings leaving a dark mark against his skin in the process. You smile to yourself, pulling a wipe from the packet and handing it over.

“It’s—you got something on your face.” You tell him, pointing to the spot.

“Here?”

“No,” You point again, Eddie moves a smidgen over but still isn’t in the right spot, “—just, here, give me it—“ Eddie hands over the wipe and waits for you to clean away the mark, leaning toward you slightly.

“She’s had a rough day,” You tell him quietly, wiping at his face until it’s gone, tossing the wipe into the trash, “and maybe paint with a bunch of six year olds wasn’t too smart, but I think you’ll really like what she made.”

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, watching as you call out to Riley.

“Hey Ri, did you want to show your dad what you made today?” 

She perks up slightly, skittering over to her desk in hurry as she fetches the small pumpkin before handing it over to Eddie.

“It’s you, daddy!” She beams, pointing out the dark marks that were supposed to be hair, comically wide eyes and a half smile on the front. He turned it, seeing the small group of bats she drew on the back. He smiles, rubbing tenderly at her chin.

“I wasn’t sure what the bats were all about but she insisted.” 

“Oh,” Eddie notes, pulling his sleeve up to show off his inked up arm—and really, it didn’t shock you much, “that’s why.”

“Crap, Ri—I almost forgot,” You tell her, rounding your desk to open the drawer housing the pages of stickers, “I need you to pick out a sticker for your desk.”

She gasps excitedly, yanking away from Eddie without hesitation and running to your side, fingers dragging along the page until she finds the one she wants, letting you pluck it from the paper and hand it over. 

Eddie knows he’ll still have to sit and talk with Riley when they get home to make sure she’s working through her emotions correctly instead of bottling them up—something he was much too guilty of as a teenager. He hates seeing her repeat the same habits he did, doing as much as he could to avoid it.

Eddie’s quick to thank you again and again, a strange habit he’s formed around you. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.

Grocery shopping is always an adventure with Riley. Eddie never had a list of things he needed, more or less just picking out whatever sounded good, but that also meant an unhealthy amount of snacks being piled in the cart. Eddie didn’t have it in him to tell Riley to put things back, knowing she’d pull out the big guns. Some would call him weak—he was, he could admit that. 

“Can you reach it?” Eddie asked, Riley hoisted up onto his shoulders to reach the cereal box on the top shelf. It definitely wasn’t the safest option, but it was working.

“Higher!” She instructed, grunting out as she stretched, “Ha—gotcha!”

Eddie laughs, “Are we good?”

No response, a small amount of wiggling on his shoulders. 

“Ri?”

She gasps suddenly, screaming out your name from over the aisle—Eddie rightfully panics, hoisting her off of his shoulders carefully.

“Riley, you can’t scream in public like that.” Eddie tells her, pulling the cereal box from her grip.

“But…Ms.—“ Riley defends feebly, her fingers pouting to the aisle over.

You did spot her, in fact, giving her a quick wave and a cheeky smile as you pushed your cart down the aisle, making your way through the store. When you round the corner, Eddie and her are still standing there arguing, animated enough that you stand back, not wanting to interrupt.

Eddie stares up at you after a moment, eyes already speaking an apology.

“Stop,” You tell him suddenly, a grin breaching your face, “no apologies, it’s not necessary.”

“I was going to apologize for my child’s lack of filter,” Eddie says, pulling gently at Riley’s ear, “but I guess she was just really excited to see you.”

“As I am you, miss.” You tell her softly, offering out your fist to her. She bumps it gently, giggling up at Eddie.

The silence that settles is bordering on awkward, both of you deciding to speak at the same time.

“So, you shop here—“

“You’re in the way of—“

Eddie chuckles awkwardly, “You first.”

“You’re in the way of the cereal I was going to grab.” You inform, waving toward that side of the aisle.

“Oh, shit.” He curses, quickly shoving his cart out of the way.

“Dad,” Riley sings, a telltale sign that Eddie had done something wrong, “that’s another dollar.”

“How about I buy you a chocolate bar and we call it even?” Eddie barters, staring the small child down.

She contemplates for a moment, “Deal.”

“She’s clever.” You note with a smirk, reaching around Eddie to grab the box of cereal before shoving it in your cart. 

“And a handful.” Eddie adds fondly.

“Dad,” Riley pokes at Eddie’s side, “Dad, daddyyyy.”

“What, Ri?” He asks, turning to her.

“Can we invite her over for dinner?” She asks innocently, a grin appearing on her face, hopeful optimism some would call it. 

“Riley—she’s your teacher, I can’t do that.”

“It’s not against any rules.” You shrug, mouth speaking before your brain can process. “I wouldn’t want to intrude though, that would be very nice of me.”

Eddie quickly answers, “Uh, you wouldn’t actually.”

“He’s making my favorite!” Riley interjects.

“And what’s that?” You ask with a similar enthusiasm.

“Spaghetti!” It was a mouthful for her to say, but you understand her well enough.

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie. “I don’t know, she’s selling me a pretty good dinner.”

“Would you?” Eddie asks, “Want to?”

“I don’t see why not?” You ask redundantly, “I would’ve ended up grabbing a pizza on my way home anyways—so why not some real Italian food?”

Eddie looks at you with an uneasy expression, “I don’t know about real—or Italian, but I promise it’ll be edible.”

“I’m sold.” You admit, slipping out a pen and paper from your purse, “Give me your address and the time I should be there.”

Riley is a tiny ball of excitement, yanking at the unoccupied hand Eddie left by his side as scribbled down on the notepad before handing it back to you. You note the information before slipping it back into your purse. 

“Well Ri, I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” You tell her with a smile before looking up at Eddie, “Should I bring anything?”

“No, no—it’ll be our treat, right?” He asks, looking down at his daughter.

“Yep!” She pops the word, bouncing on her heels.

Even being around her energy was enough to exhaust you, so you could only imagine how Eddie was feeling. You offer a friendly wave to both of them before disappearing down the aisle, wondering what the hell just happened. 

The moment you arrive at the trailer park, your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest—not out of fear or nervousness, but mostly out of the unknown. It was the first time you’ve interacted with parents outside of work, not that you made it a habit, but you have befriended a few. It was a natural thing that happened and nothing that ever felt forced—with Eddie, it was strangely comfortable despite how little you knew about him, or Riley, even. 

You pull to a stop outside the pale blue trailer, the front yard a mixture of new flowers and some wilted away, a few small statues of animals that you could guess were a product of Riley. You can hear her on the other side of the door before you even knock, belting out a song at the top of her lungs.

You knock loudly in hopes that Eddie can hear, thankfully he does, opening the door in record time—strangely fast when you take time to think about. You smile at the thought of him having been waiting at the door, then feeling ridiculous for even having that thought.

“You’re just in time,” Eddie says, slightly out of breath, “Riley’s putting on a show in the living room.”

You take in his appearance fully now, unashamed—he’s cleaner obviously, his hair looks more thought out and poised, small ringlet curls falling around his face and his bangs looking straighter, like he might’ve cut them. He’s got a pair of jeans on and a clean shirt, stain free—socks covering his feet, a pile of shoes stuffed by the door. 

You step inside, toeing off your shoes wordlessly and placing your bag and coat on the coat hanger behind the door. Eddie shuts the door for you, nodding in the direction of the noise coming from several feet away. 

“Is that Nirvana?” You ask curiously, turning your head back toward Eddie.

“She’s a character, I know,” Eddie feels the need to state, but that was already blatantly obvious, “it’s one of her favorite bands.”

You shrug, feeling indifferent.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks, noticing your stagnant expression. 

“I don’t listen to much music.” You admit, “I don’t really have the time unless it is something from Barney or one of those silly education videos we show the kids.”

Eddie looks pained to hear it, eyebrows shooting up under his bang. Riley notices you then, hopping off of the couch and running toward you, arms wrapping around your legs in a tight hug. 

“You made it,” She says, “daddy said dinner was almost done.”

“It is,” He confirms, setting the plates down on the kitchen table as he wanders around finishing things up, “you can sit, if you want.”

You opt against it, waiting until Riley busies herself with something else, joining Eddie near the kitchen stove, tapping your fingers against the kitchen counter gently.

“Smells good,” You tell him honestly, the scent invading your nose, “I can’t even remember the last time I cooked for myself.”

“She keeps me in check,” He nods behind him, “otherwise I’d be ordering carry out everyday like I was still in high school.”

You smile at that, silently agreeing—it was your current reality, but you also didn’t have the same responsibilities Eddie did.

You look around curiously, eyes falling on the jar placed on the shelf a few feet away, labeled ‘swear jar’ and by the looks of it, it was definitely time for a new one. Eddie looks up briefly to catch you staring at things, chuckling loudly behind you.

“I already know,” Eddie tells you, “It’s a terrible habit and I’ve tried to break it, we’re still working on it, clearly.”

You smile fondly, watching as Riley scattered her toys on the floor. “I try to keep it constrained around the kids, but it slips out every now and then. You just have to get creative, come up with other words—otherwise she’ll be saying fuck in public and I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing.”

Eddie gawks at your vulgar use of the words, face splitting into a subtle smile. “Too late.” He tells you. 

You couldn’t even act surprised. Eddie nods knowingly at your expression, turning off the stove.

“Could you do me a huge favor?” Eddie asks.

“Anything.” You nod.

“Let Riley know the food is done and get her to the table—she can be a little hard headed about it.”

If there was anyone to combat that, it was you. 

It only takes one try, much to Eddie’s obvious frustration as he glares Riley down—the young girl knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t fault her for it, she was clever. 

“Do you want a beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen.

You glance over at Riley who’s oblivious to the conversation, dragging her spoon along the empty plate. And as much as you would normally say yes, you can’t bring yourself to do it now.

“Uh no, I’ll be okay.” You tell him, waving your hand dismissively. Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing himself one.

Dinner is pleasant—and delicious. Riley takes up most of the talking points—her favorite animals, her favorite shows, and all the cool things she’s learned at school, not that you didn’t already know about them. But, she’s also terrible at stopping intrusive thoughts, much like any young kid is, and her questions catch you off guard every now and then.

“Are you married?” Coming from her, it sounds ridiculous—but she’s pointing at the ring on your hand with a curious look, her fingertip dragging over the gem.

“Riley.” Eddie reprimands, “Stop being nosey.”

Eddie was just as curious, but that didn’t matter. 

“No, sweetheart—I’m not.” You tell her honestly with a short laugh and a head shake. “It was a present I got when I finished school.”

Riley’s lips puff out, thinking. “School like I do?—but you’re old.”

Eddie hangs his head slightly, taking a big chug of his beer.

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, “I am.” You nod in agreement, “But no, it’s a little different. It’s school for grownups—it’s how I became a teacher.”

“Oh.” Is all she says, satisfied with your answer. 

There’s a beat of silence before she turns to her father.

“Can I have a ring when I finish school?” She asks innocently.

“Sure.” Eddie agrees, downing the last bite on his plate.

Late dinners had become a habit lately with Eddie’s job not being as convenient as it used to—long hours, angry customers, it was a monotonous cycle but that money was good. Eddie really couldn’t complain, he’d just wished there was more time for Riley.

“Hey, squirt—go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Eddie tells her. She slumps a little, frowning over at you.

Eddie gives her a look—you’ve seen it several times before from many parents. Riley sighs in defeat and slips from her chair, stomping away quietly. You glance down at the dishes, then the sink before looking at Eddie. He’s got that distracted stare on his face as he turns, finishing off his beer as he watches Riley disappear into the bathroom.

“Why don’t you help her?” You suggest, “I can clean this up and you can get her into bed?”

Eddie looks uncertain, “No—I can—“

“It’s the least I can do,” You insist, “seriously—it’s not a problem.”

Eddie knows there’s no reason to argue, placing the empty bottle down on the table and meeting up with Riley down the hall, a squeal echoing through the trailer as he bursts through the doorway. 

Eddie’s gotten Riley into a routine pretty easily, so it doesn’t take much for her to fall asleep besides a quick bedtime story while she snuggles up to Eddie before she’s out like a light and he’s sneaking out of her room, pulling the door closed slowly until it finally clicks shut. 

You’d already managed to get most of the dishes washed by then—plates, silverware, cups, save for the giant pot that Eddie had cooked in. 

“I can handle the rest if you need to leave.” Eddie says quietly, voice still low as he walks into the kitchen, flipping off the other lights as he goes. “Also—I’m sorry if you felt obligated to do this. Riley really likes you and sometimes she grows these…attachments.”

You take the clean towel he hands you, drying your hands as you turn to him, hip pressed against the counter as you lean there. “She’s not the first, trust me. I see those kids almost everyday and for the younger ones it’s a little…tricky, I guess.”

“Tricky?” Eddie asks curiously, sensing your apprehension around the word. He tossed the pot into the sink and scrubbed quietly, listening to you talk.

“Some of the kids don’t have the best home life, I try to keep things positive and cheerful—as much as I can, at least. Kids love being surrounded by love and I try to emulate that. The ones with divorced parents or just one even—you can tell they just need someone to understand them.”

Eddie tries not to think about it often—his past, his present, how Riley has to survive this world without her mom. He knows she’ll be safe and protected for the rest of her life, Eddie would make sure of it. But, for a kid to grow up without a mother—he knows the pain personally and it bothers Riley, even at this age and no matter how good she is at masking it.

Eddie huffs out a faint laugh, drying out the dish before placing it on the dish rack next to the sink, pressing his hands against the edge of the counter. 

“I don’t ever mean to press or pry,” You assure Eddie, “but if Riley ever needs anything, tell me. I extend that to all of the parents but—she’s—“

“Different.” Eddie answers for you, a smile pulling at his face. 

“She’s incredibly smart, you know.” You inform him, backing up slowly as he follows, reaching for your things to leave. “She picks up on words like nothing, she can do math in her head really well—you’ve got a tiny little genius on your hands.”

“Yeah—I’ve been helping her with her homework, she keeps telling me we need to brainstorm,” Eddie tells you, throwing his finger up to do air quotes, “when we get stuck on a problem.”

Your nose scrunches up in amusement as you find your coat over your arms, “That was definitely my fault.” You admit.

Eddie follows you out like a gentleman despite the frigid wind, hands shoved deep into his back pockets. He opens your door, the metal groaning in protest—it was an old car, reliable, trustworthy, and as your key turns in the ignition, nothing happens.

Scratch reliable—it was a piece of shit, through and through. 

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mumbling a low, “Fuck me.”

Eddie takes a step forward, leaning between your open door to poke his head inside, “I can take a look if you want.”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, looking up at him sheepishly. “I really don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Come on,” Eddie smiles, “I work on cars for a living, I think I’ll survive.”

You wave your hand toward the hood of your car in response. Eddie taps the hood of your car absentmindedly, rounding the front as you pull on the pedal near the floor to pop the hood open. He leans down, out of view, and you can’t help but follow after him, leaning into his space slightly as he examines your engine. 

You wouldn’t even know where to start or what cord goes to what point or however it all worked—fortunately for Eddie, it only takes him a few minutes to figure it out.

Eddie makes a face of concentration as he reaches further inside, pulling at a small part until he can hold it in his hand, inspecting it further. 

“Shit, yeah—“ Eddie says, confirming his suspicions, “you need new spark plugs.”

Your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion. 

“I can clean them up a bit and we can hope it starts—but you’ll need to buy new ones soon, otherwise this is gonna keep happening.” Eddie tells you, using the end of his shirt to wipe away the built up residue, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Eddie, what the—“ You quickly yank the spark plug from his hand, “that shirt is clean, what are you doing?”

Eddie’s a little startled, given your immediate reaction. He stumbles out an awkward laugh and gently pries the spark plug from your grip. “They’re just clothes.”

And you do feel bad, but it’s become your second nature to stop messes, keep kids clean, and slip into the normal habit of being a teacher and in turn, a bit motherly.

Eddie’s faze doesn’t linger from yours, watching as you deflated slightly. “Sorry—I can’t help it.”

“I get it,” Eddie grins slightly, “but don’t worry, it’s an old shirt anyways.”

Your cheeks run hot, triggered by embarrassment and something you were too afraid to admit.

And if Eddie sees it, he doesn’t say anything. 

He fiddles with the car a moment longer before finally closing the hood, “Try it now.”

It does start—with some moaning and groaning, but it works and that’s satisfying enough for you.

“Thank you.” You tell him, looking up at him from where’s squeezed between the car and the door again, dark grease stains staring you in the face—along with a lot more, but you quickly turn away. 

“No problem,” He shrugs, “—hey, why don’t you bring it to the shop when you have time?”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

It’s a recurring theme with you two, constantly afraid of offending the other or doing something out of line.

“Yeah,” He nods, “It’ll save the hassle of you being overpriced or selling something you don’t need. I can have it done in an hour.”

“Small problem,” You tell him begrudgingly, “I’m pretty sure I work the same hours you do—so that makes it nearly impossible.”

“Are you busy next Saturday?” He asks boldly, no easing into it.

“No.” You answer hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Stop by here and I’ll drive you up to the shop,” He tells you, “I’ve got a set of keys so it won’t be a problem.”

“Do you do this for all your customers?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“Only the special ones,” Eddie replies with a wide grin, bordering on flirtatious, “—Riley would have my head if she found out you needed help and I didn’t at least try.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You respond teasingly.

Eddie shrugs in response, the smugness written all over his face. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He says, slipping the door closed gently.

You’ve never sat through a longer Sunday waiting for a dreadful Monday to come.

Eddie has a rough start to his morning, which isn’t new, but he tries to make the best of it, even if Riley is having none of it. She sobs most of the time spent getting dressed, not even allowing Eddie to touch her hair, leaving it a tangled mess atop her head. He’s learned to choose his battles, managing to get her ready and to school with enough time to spare that can allow him to drive to work without the constant worry of being late. 

When you spot him you can’t help but smile, less forced and a lot more genuine than most of the ones you gave. 

“Hard morning.” He mouths over Riley’s shoulder, her face tucked into his neck and arms wound tightly around it.

You frown in response, patting Riley’s back as he moves closer, “It’s okay, I hate Mondays too.” You tell her comfortingly. 

“Hey, kid—you’ve gotta let go.” He tells her softly, nudging her away from his neck, “I have to get to work and you have school.”

She doesn’t move—Eddie’s face falls, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth. You hold up a finger to him, asking him to wait. He nods, slightly confused as you walk around him to his back, catching Riley’s gaze. She quickly hides her face, making a small noise.

“Tell you what,” You start, crossing your arms over your chest, “if you let go of your daddy now, I can probably have your hair braided before class starts.”

She peaks her head up slowly and you know you’ve got her attention.

“Daddy, I want down.” She tells him and Eddie scoffs lightly.

“How?” Eddie asks you with a look of disbelief, placing Riley on the floor. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been struggling with her all morning.”

“She probably senses your frustration.” You tell him honestly.

Eddie never took his own emotions into account, looking down at Riley, her hand still latched into his. 

“Besides, kids are complex but really simple,” You kneel down to Riley’s level, grabbing a single stray curl, “they all want, you just have to figure out what it is.”

“I tried touching her hair,” Eddie defends, “she wasn’t having it.”

“Because daddy makes my hair look ugly.” Riley complains softly, staring up at you with earnest eyes. You laugh to yourself, patting her hand and letting her curl her fingers around your palm. 

You look up at Eddie with a sad smile, sending his rapidly growing frustration, nodding at him slightly. “Go—it’s okay.”

He scratches at his forehead, feeling horrible for wanting nothing more than to leave immediately. He prides himself on being able to handle himself well under stress, anger—every god awful emotion imaginable, but he needed a break, even if that meant leaving without a proper goodbye. 

Besides, you did a perfect job at distracting Riley, playing with the ends of her hair as you asked, “One braid or two?”

“Two.” She smiles, bouncing on her heels. “Please?”

“You got it, babe.” You tell her.

You’ve experienced connections with kids before, some stronger than others, but nothing like with Riley. It was hard to comprehend, or fully imagine was capable, but you’re happy to be there for any kid, however they needed you. 

The week remains meltdown free after that and Saturday rolls around quicker than you expect. When you arrive at Eddie’s trailer Riley is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s with my uncle.” Eddie explains. “He’s more like her grandpa—but yeah, he’s keeping her for the night.”

“Oh, okay.” You nod.

“I needed a break.” He admits without prompting, feeling the need to get it off his chest. 

“Look, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You tell him politely, “I’m not in any place to judge you.”

“I know—I just, nevermind—“ He laughs awkwardly, holding his hand out, “Mind if I drive?”

“Please?" You beg, slapping the keys into his open palm.

The drive is quiet and Eddie can’t be bothered to fill it, relishing in the silence and letting it settle. His hand grips the worn out steering wheel, rings cracking against the leather. He remembers the feeling faintly, the pull in his stomach from anxiety, the fluttering butterfly feeling of the unknown. It only happened once, with Riley’s mom.

It was their first date, a girl Eddie had met by chance at one of his shows at the Hideout—he never expected her to turn his life upside down, but she did.

It feels cheap, thinking this way—that the possibility of you and him having the same experience as he did several years ago could even be possible. He barely knew you, yet he could see it. He saw it then and he saw it now. Eddie’s never believed in soulmates or one true love’s—he still doesn't. But, he’s always believed in taking chances, even if things seemed slim to none. He pushes the thought aside for now, offering a tight smile to your warm one, pulling into the entrance to the shop.

He leaves for a brief moment, unlocking the side door to raise the garage and leave enough room to fit your car inside.

You hate how it feels like you’re back in high school again, sneaking into somewhere you shouldn’t, even though you knew this wasn’t illegal and Eddie worked there. It made you feel giddy—that same naive exuberance spreading throughout your body. 

When you’re finally inside and Eddie can start his work, it’s a waiting game. You wander around aimlessly, finally interrupted by Eddie’s voice, “We have a lobby if you want to sit down.” He offers, using the wrench to point in that direction. 

You shake your head, gradually walking to his side.

“Are you sure it’s safe to wear your rings while you’re doing this?” You ask, pointing at his hand.

“Yes,” He says with a laugh, “I’ve done it for a little over seven years and I’ve never been hurt before.”

Eddie catches your gaze, eyebrows pulling together.

“Would it make you feel better if I took them off?” Eddie asks in a slight teasing tone, a playful way of making fun of you. 

“No, no—I believe you—“ You tell him, but Eddie’s already removing them, placing them on the tray behind him. 

“Better to be safe than sorry, right?” He asks with a smirk, flipping the wrench between his fingers.

Showoff, your brain screams. “Yep.” You answer meekly. 

He leans over the hood, shirt riding up his back in the process, revealing an even larger ink than the one on his arm, you tilt your head and can’t help but stare, wondering what was underneath.

“Can you hand me a rag?” Eddie asks, his hand shooting behind him blindly—you don’t hear him immediately so he turns, catching where your gaze had been.

He smiles cautiously, glancing down at his chest.

“Were you—“ He points toward his back, aiming for his ass.

“No—no god, I was—I saw the tattoo on your back.” You stutter out, “I was just wondering what it was.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, lifting his shirt up with no warning, toned muscle and pale skin on display, a large intricate design of tree spreading from the side of his chest and over his right pectoral around to his back, covering a large percentage of it, “it’s not that interesting—but it’s a special one.”

“Can I ask why?”

It’s an innocent question, only wanting to understand him better.

“Uh—it’s a little silly, so don’t laugh.” Eddie prefaces, shifting his shirt back down. “I got it a couple years after I met Riley’s mom—she never like restaurants or fancy dates so we always ended up grabbing fast food and sitting out at the park under a tree.”

“That’s beautiful,” You say truthfully, “it’s beautiful.”

“It was, uh—before she passed,” Eddie clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his ear awkwardly, “anyways, it comforts Ri when she asks about her, all she really has is pictures. She’s still young though, so I try to answer questions when she has them.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, but you can tell Eddie doesn’t need to hear it. Still, he accepts it. 

“It’s been a while, I’ve processed it.” Eddie tells you, “I guess it’s my dedication to her and that I’ll always be there for Riley.”

“You’re a good dad,” You tell him, a hand placed on his fidgeting ones as he twisted the spark plug in his grip, “—but I don’t think that needs to be said.”

“Yeah, but shoving my kid off on my uncle isn’t very fatherly of me.” He says, deprecating himself. “Some days are just…rough.”

Eddie turns to finish up the job with a somber look, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, managing to replace your spark plugs with brand new ones without a problem before testing to make sure your car starts with ease. It does, thankfully.

“I have those days too,” You assure him, arms crossed casually over your chest, “I know it’s not the same but I understand, to some degree.”

Eddie makes a soft ‘pfft’ sound, pulling up the front of his shirt to wipe away the sweat and grime from his face.

“A classroom full of kids all day and no way to escape,” Eddie’s voice is muffled behind the cloth, “I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You stare selfishly, eyeing the small patch of hair that disappears under his belt, the other littering did tattoos on his chest—it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t settle the immense need and want you felt in the moment. 

Again, Eddie catches you.

You’re better at recovering this time, ignoring his pointed gaze and subtly raised eyebrow.

“I’m usually about ninety percent of the way there every day.” You admit sheepishly. 

“I know you’re probably going to say no, but do you want a beer?” Eddie asks, “I’ve got a few stashed in the fridge in my office.”

“Yeah, actually.” You reply and Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to suppress his smile, “I will.”

“Follow me.” Eddie instructs, nodding his head in the opposite direction. You follow closely behind his quick footsteps, failing to hear the, “Oh—but watch out for the tires—“

Your feet slip out from under you and you fully prepare your face to hit the concrete, but it never does. 

“Holy shit,” You gasp, “this place is like a death trap.”

Eddie chuckles loudly at that, the arms that squeezed you tight to keep you from falling finally pulling you up. 

“That’s my fault,” Eddie admits, “I forgot to put them away yesterday.”

You sigh shakily, staring up at Eddie. “Once my heart stops pounding out my chest I’ll be okay.”

“Sorry.” Eddie offers a weary smile, shifting you in front of him rather than letting you trail behind. “It’s on your left, yep—and the light switch is on—nevermind, you got it.”

You laugh under your breath, scooting forward as Eddie slipped in behind you, fetching the two bottles from the fridge and slamming them on the edge of the desk, subsequently popping the caps off. You stare on with a dazed astonishment.

“No bottle opener.” He offers humorously, handing you one of the bottles. You take it from his hand, regardless of how dirty it may be from his hands that were still horribly messy.

You take a seat on the edge of the old desk, legs crossed at your ankles as you sipped at the beer. “So, how much do I owe you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about—“

“Eddie.”

“I’m not joking.”

You roll your eyes, pulling a small wad of cash out of your front pocket—it was around a hundred bucks, since you weren’t sure how expensive those parts actually were. 

“Take it.” You say, shoving the money at his chest.

“No.” He answers adamantly, pushing your hand away.

“At least let me pay for the parts?”

Eddie says your name once, full tone and leaving no room for argument. “I meant it, you’ve done enough to help me out, let me repay the favor.”

“It’s my job, Eddie.” You retort, a tinge of annoyance in your tone. 

“And this is mine.” He tells you. “So get over it—I’m not accepting your money.”

“You’re so infuriating.” You complain with heartfelt irritation, shoving the money back into your pocket. Eddie rolls his eyes just as enthusiastically, shifting from his spot on the wall until he’s lingering in the space between, still a comfortable few feet away.

Eddie chugs the beer like nothing while you continue to nurse yours, only taking a few measly sips. 

“The ring,” Eddie asks suddenly, “you said you got it as a gift for finishing school?”

And maybe he’s just trying to start friendly conversation—but you’re not sure if you should lie again, or tell him the truth. You set the beer down, twisting the jewelry over your finger. You never talked about how it came about or the history behind it. It had always been a secret for you and you only. Unlike Eddie, you didn’t process death as easily. 

“That was a lie,” You tell him honestly, extending the moment of sincerity you had with him earlier, “can I trust you with something and swear you’ll never repeat it back to anyone—even me?”

Eddie makes an odd face, trying to decipher your choice of wording. But, he nods.

“I got pregnant during my final year of college,” You start, the words hitting harder than you expect, but you swallow the painful lump in your throat, “she was due in December of that year, but I had a stillborn around six months.”

Eddie’s expression quickly shifts, eyes flicking down toward the floor.

“It’s her birthstone—“ You say, holding out your hand weakly as Eddie reaches for it, looking at the stone embedded in the silver, “she probably would’ve been around the same age as your daughter.”

Eddie says your name tenderly, fingers still lingering on the underside of your palm, “I’m so sorry.”

You laugh softly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyways, everything happens for a reason, right? I guess it’s just a small way to remember her.”

Eddie hates how well he can relate to it. 

“Are you done?” He asks, reaching for your beer.

“Uh, yeah.” You respond slowly, forcing yourself to take a breath. “Thanks.”

The walk to your car is even slower, quiet, whatever happier mood that lingered earlier was nowhere in sight. You blame yourself for bringing the mood down, trying to find someone to lighten it. But, Eddie’s quicker than you, and throwing you a curveball from miles away.

“Can I take you out?” Eddie asks boldly, “On a proper date, I mean.”

“Um,” You linger on the word, standing uneasy as you lean against your car door, “—Eddie, we probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks, headstrong like his daughter unfortunately.

“Things can get…complicated.” You tell him, “I don’t want Riley getting the wrong idea.”

“Fine, not a date then.” Eddie levels.

“Then what?”

“We can hang out.”

Suddenly it’s like you’re eighteen again and you can’t help but want to go against every moral set before you. 

“Hang out,” The words feel weird on your tongue, “Eddie—you do know what that usually entails, right?”

“Hey, I’m a complete gentleman, okay?” Eddie defends, “That’s why I asked you on a date.”

Your lips pull together in a tight line, hating yourself for wanting to say yes so badly. 

Eddie pulls that salaciously sweet grin of his, hands placed on either side of the top of your car, breath quickening as he pulls a bit closer, still giving you enough room to feel comfortable. 

“Tell me no then,” Eddie challenges, “just say the word and I’ll drop it.”

Eddie can see it in your face, how badly you wanted to cave and say yes. 

“Eddie.” You warn, the name sounding too wicked on your tongue. “Please.”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for. 

“Fine,” Eddie tells you lowly, eyes connecting with yours when they try to pull away, “—but let me do this one thing and then if you want to change your mind, we can forget about this.”

“What thing?” You retort back with attitude, conflicting emotions causing you to play into his game, whatever it was.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m gonna kiss you.” He tells you openly, “After that, if you change your mind, that’s fine.”

You find yourself nodding without fully realizing and Eddie’s lips are against yours in a slow press, not hurried or rushed, a small noise pulled from your lips as he pushes further, lips smacking against yours loudly. You inhale sharply, the scent of Eddie surrounding you—it was sweat and cigarettes and everything that would normally disgust you in an instant, but with Eddie it was intoxicating. Your hands drift to his face carefully, thumbs dragging along his cheeks gently, pulling up to wrap your arms around his neck, fully giving yourself over to him, allowing yourself to cherish the moment properly. 

Eddie muffled a soft laugh against your lips, a hand cupping the side of your face out of curiosity, wanting to touch you as much as he possibly could while still trying to be respectful to you. Eddie seems to forget how dirty he is though, because when he does finally pull away, he’s laughing again. 

“Fuck, I forgot,” He says, reaching for the clean handkerchief in his back pocket, wiping the dark mark off of your face, “sorry.”

“You apologize too much.” You tell him, shoving his hand away playfully. “—I will, by the way.”

Eddie beams at the answer, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey—no gloating,” You warn him and Eddie shrinks slightly, it was a wonder what a stern voice could do, and you’d mastered that pretty well in the past few years, “we need to be careful about this—whatever this is.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, of course.”

“Riley can’t know, my job—no one.” You tell him. “If this is just a one time thing, I don’t want it ruining anything.”

And Eddie should feel slighted, but he does understand.

“It won’t.” He assures you and you hate how easily it makes you smile.

You both knew there was no possible way this was going to be a one time thing. You’d be lying to yourself. 

“Good.” You smile triumphantly, “Now—are you driving or am I?” 

Eddie snatches the keys from your hands with an eye roll and a self-righteous smirk.

There was never a way for you to realize just how much trouble you were getting yourself into, not yet. 

[eli-lilies04]

Birthday boy

1.1k words

“Happy birth-“

“Shut up!”, Eddie hissed in Dustin’s direction. The boy had just plopped down at the Hellfire table in the cafeteria when he was rudely cut off by the older metalhead.

You perked up.

“Eddie”, you said in an accusatory tone, “today is your birthday?” You couldn’t help but sound hurt as everyone’s heads turned to look at you, ostensibly holding their breaths.

Eddie and you had been basically inseparable since he was held back yet again to go through senior year for the third (and hopefully final) time. The two of you had known of each other for a while but only really met in O’Donnell’s English class when you were assigned to tutor him, your sessions turning into more elaborate hangouts when you both realized just how much you had in common.

And how absolutely smitten you were for each other. For different reasons, however, you were both convinced the feelings weren’t mutual.

How could someone as cool as Eddie want to be more than friends with a nerd like you?

And how could someone as soft as you like someone as rough around the edges as Eddie?

Oblivious about each other’s feelings, it still confused you why he wouldn’t have told you about his birthday. Everyone likes birthdays, right?

“Keep it down, will you?”, he whisper-shouted at you. “And how do you even know, Henderson?” He turned back to Dustin, but the kid only shrugged.

Eddie huffed in exasperation.

Although he usually didn’t mind being the center of attention, it was different when it came to his birthday.

With his mother’s untimely death and his father being the grade A asshole that he was, he was always made feel like he was a burden – and his birthday was no exception. The few years Eddie had spent with just his dad, he would get insanely drunk on these occasions and outright insult his son, telling him how his sheer existence was a waste of space.

And Eddie, in turn, had started believing that, his birthdays being a reminder of his broken home since.

Even though Wayne had sworn to himself he would never let Eddie feel that way ever again, he usually worked on his nephew’s birthdays, and even if he didn’t, money was tight in the Munson household, so they were never really able to afford big birthday bashes.

Therefore, Eddie had decided it to be best to ignore this day and never talk about it to anyone.

Not even you.

Although you knew you didn’t have any right or claim over what Eddie did and didn’t tell you, it hurt.

You chose to stay quiet for the rest of your lunch break, merely poking around your food. When the bell rang, you gave a small wave to the boys before hurrying off to your next class.

After school, you reluctantly got in Eddie’s van to get dropped of at your house as you would every day. The drive was just as awfully quiet as lunch, and Eddie didn’t like it one bit.

“Princess”, he began softly, “will you talk to me? Please? I know something’s wrong, and I know it’s about my stupid birthday. Just… please?”

“It’s fine, honestly”, you answered weakly. “Your choice not to tell me about it.”

“Why do you care so much about it anyway?” Eddie’s tone held a hint of frustration now.

“No reason”, you lied.

“Oh, come on”, he retorted, his voice void of humor.

His attitude made the hurt and anger you had harbored since lunch bubble up to the surface. “Because I care about you, you big idiot!”

Silence fell over the two of you.

When he pulled into your driveway, Eddie killed the engine and turned to face you. You, however, stared straight ahead, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you clutched your backpack to your chest.

“Will you please look at me, sweetheart?”, Eddie tried.

“I don’t want to”, you pouted.

He sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my birthday. It’s just… it doesn’t exactly bring back the fondest memories.”

You finally shifted in your seat to face him, only to be met with those big brown puppy dog eyes you had grown to love so much. However, right now they were clouded with sadness.

“My mom died when I was super little, and neither my dad nor Wayne were ever big on birthday celebrations”, he continued quietly, “For different reasons, Wayne is great, but still.”

“I didn’t know”, you said almost inaudibly.

Eddie only shrugged. “S’fine. I manage. Just don’t like the whole being congratulated shit and whatnot.”

“I’d’ve respected that, you know”, you assured him.

Silence fell over the two of you again as you were unsure of what to do with the information your best friend had just given you. Subconsciously, you had moved closer during your conversation, your faces now mere inches apart as you stared into each other’s eyes, both lost in thought.

“Can I give you a present?”, you said suddenly.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at your question, confusion now evident on his face.

You chuckled softly as you closed the distance almost completely, only stopping when your lips were just about to touch to look up at him for consent; but his eyes were already closed as he pressed his lips to yours in a delicate kiss.

He kept his eyes closed as you pulled away slightly.

“Will I have to wait for my next birthday to get another one of those?”, he breathed, eyes still closed.

You giggled as you pulled him back into another, much deeper kiss. When you broke off this time, you were both a little out of breath.

“I really wasn’t lying when I said I cared about you”, you panted, still drunk on his proximity as you leant your forehead against his.

“So, this isn’t some pity party for the freak with the broken childhood?”

You noticed how he was trying (and failing) to maintain the lightness in his tone, but he couldn’t quite keep away the sadness lacing it.

“Edward Munson”, you said, grabbing his face firmly, “I promise this is no pity party. I have been crushing on you for a ridiculous amount of time. And if you never ever want to celebrate or even talk about your birthday, then that’s what we’ll do. And”, you added cautiously, “if you want to go back to just being friends, that’s fine, too.”

He gave you the sweetest, most adoring smile. “You’ve been crushing on me?”

“That’s your takeaway?” Your disbelieving laugh gets stuck in your throat as he pulls you back into him yet again to kiss you.

“Well,”, he mumbled against your lips, ignoring your snide remark, “I’ve been crushing on you, too.”

“Yeah?”, you breathed.

“Yeah”, he responded with another peck to your lips.

“Best birthday ever.”

-

Tag list:

@eddiethesexy

@lacrymosa-24

@youcantseem3

@bakugouswh0r3

@potatos-library

@angivypoi

@dragon-swagon

@tayhar811

@bimbobaggins69

@neewtmas

[eli-lilies04]

Bejeweled - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your loving boyfriend, Eddie Munson, reveals the story behind the ring on his fourth finger and opens up to you about his mom.

A/N: I really love to read people's different interpretations about Eddie's mom and wanted to contribute my ideas! Hope you enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1,251

Warnings: death, grief, crying, angst, kissing

● - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ●

You and Eddie were wrapped up in his bed, school clothes strewn across the messy floor of his room. The skin-on-skin contact was a warm welcome after the long, overstimulating day at Hawkins High. The air was filled with a comfortable silence as the two of you listened to the patter of rain on the metal roof. The rain worked as a soft lullaby, a soundtrack to the steady breaths and beating hearts the two of you emitted. 

Eddie lay between your legs, large hands finding purchase on the expanse of your back as he wrapped his arms loosely around your frame. Your bare chest cushioned the sleepy boy’s head, allowing him to nuzzle into your sweet aroma. His soft breath against your skin would often be interrupted by the gentle press of his lips. 

Meanwhile, your hands worked to thread the knots in his black curls from the course of the school day, ever so slightly grazing your nails over his scalp. You break the stillness of the atmosphere by humming the song that had been stuck in your head all day. 

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Eddie is able to feel the soft vibrations you emit from your throat at the level of your chest. He imagines the sound rattling around furiously in the cages of your lungs. 

“My mom used to love that song.”

You instantly still. You almost missed the words as you brought your humming to a stop. Despite being together for a couple of months, Eddie had never really brought up his mom. It seemed to still be a very sore spot in that tender heart of his. 

Wanting to proceed cautiously, you try to think of what to say. 

“It’s been stuck in my head all day.” As you say this, you resume your tending to his mane. 

He hums in acknowledgment, letting out a sigh. 

He then breaks his calm embrace, lifting his head and moving his right hand up to ghost over your face. His knuckles brush the apples of your cheek as his eyes dance across the features of your face before settling on your eyes. 

“I love you.” Those three words had terrified him before he met you but here he was opening the wounds he tried so desperately to tie off and conceal. 

“I love you, Eds. so much.” You then brought your hand to hover over his. 

Eddie then breaks the intense eye contact to press a gentle but firm kiss to yours. It acts as a seal of his deep love for you, a love he felt deep in his bones, sometimes, he felt them physically ache as he watched you laugh or throw him a smile. 

You’re the first to break away as your lungs run out of air. Bringing your foreheads together, you rest to fully breathe in the moment. Your fingers then delicately feel the ring that almost never seemed to leave his fourth finger on his hand. He gently pulls his head back to meet the movement of your fiddling with his ring.

He watches, almost transfixed, by the way you run your fingertips over the jewel placed in the middle of the band. His eyes glaze over slightly as he reminisces about the scarce memories he has of his mother. 

He parts his swollen lips to speak.

“It used to be hers.” His lip slightly wobbles as his voice goes weak. 

“She - uh - it was a family heirloom … reminded her of home … before she ran off with my dad.” You listen intently as he recalls his past. 

“Wayne gave it to me … after the funeral. He said that she w-would’ve-uh-” A tear slips out of his eye but you’re quick to catch it, “she would’ve wanted me to have it.” 

You can’t help but begin to feel your throat constrict as you watch your 20 year old boyfriend turn into the little boy that was left on the doorstep of Wayne's trailer.  

“It’s a beautiful ring, baby.” 

He lets out a wet laugh. “Yeah, it is.” 

“That song, she uh- used to play it all the time on our record player, she played it until it jumped, and even then she wouldn't stop playing it.” His eyes shine as he recalls the way his mother would laugh and sing and smile at her beautiful baby boy while Elvis’s voice played. 

You smile at him, absorbing every detail you could about the wonderful person that brought your Eddie to this world. 

His face turns serious again. 

“I think that’s … that’s what I miss most about her. Her love for music.”

This revelation slightly surprised you as you had always assumed he got his affinity for musicality from Wayne teaching him guitar when he was younger as a way to bond when he first moved in with him. But this was new, better almost. 

“She seemed like a romantic. Like someone else I know.” You poke slight fun at the boy, earning you a smile that showed off his adorable dimples.  

You had always suspected that Eddie got his romanticism from a lack of love in his past as a form of trauma. But now, you had realized that it stemmed from his mother. She was the one who had instilled the heart of gold in her son. 

Gone too soon, with so much love left to give. Eddie was now able to carry her love on. The thought brings tears to drop down your starry eyes. You feel lucky that you are able to experience the love her son had offered you, now knowing the root of where it came from. 

“She would’ve loved you, sweetheart.” This makes your heart drop in the best way possible. It was only so tragic that she wouldn’t be able to tell you herself, but her son’s words would do. 

“Oh, Eddie.” Your heart gushes, overwhelmed with how vulnerable he’s being with you and at the sadness of it all. 

“Yeah … she definitely would’ve loved you.” You feel your eyes begin to let out more tears before he chuckles lightly, interrupting your flow. 

“Ok, ok, enough being sad now,” he said with a lighter air to his tone as he let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, curls bouncing a little, “can you keep playing with my hair and singing?” He asked you with those puppy dog eyes that made you crumble every time, only this time his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

“Of course, Eds. Lay back down.”

He got situated back into your arms and laid his head atop your breasts again.

“Thank you for telling me about your mom.” 

The swell of his heart began to grow again as he said, “I’m glad I can tell you about her.”

You let the silence drift over the both of you for a moment before resuming your previous activities. 

And at that moment, he knew you were the one. Simultaneously, you silently vowed to protect the boy you held so lovingly in your arms. You would fight a million demobats or Jason Carver types before they could touch him. Call it maternal instinct or teenage hormones, but one thing you knew for sure is that you loved Eddie Munson with every inch of your soul and no one could take his precious soul away from you. 

Thank you for reading, Angel! <3

[eli-lilies04]

The Show

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: You really love putting on a good show for Eddie.

Warnings: Language, Eddie with a slight breeding and daddy kink, NSFW, and masturbation.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A/N: I just came up with this on a whim and I’ve been working on it for a few days. It’s not my best, but I hope some of y’all like it, at least? I have more stuff coming soon! Love y’all, and enjoy!? ;)

~*~

Everything he does has you on the edge of a jagged precipice, body taking hits from all sides, completely engulfed. Today is another normal Indiana day in your supernatural town, but it’s a quiet one. Well, for others anyways… Your brain is loud, screaming on behalf of your body to be satiated. You and your boyfriend Eddie Munson are usually attached at the hip, sans individual activities (whether it be for yourselves or with friends), and today he happens to have band practice.

It doesn’t matter to you, as he’s been prone to having surprise sessions with his gang. After he gave you his half for a shared dinner celebration for getting through another week (thank fuck for pizza), you’d agreed to go straight to his place and chill. Wayne was already gone for the night and you liked to go through Eddie’s things and have fun, so it was a no brainer. With a quick trip to the grocery to grab some beer and sodas, followed by a pizza pick up—you trekked your way to the Munson household with a pep in your step. Eddie had told you to go ahead and eat, but you settled on putting the box into the fridge for later, sliding in a few sodas for you and two beers for your guy.

~*~

The journey down the trailer’s hallway is a short one, amusement lacing your tone as you push open Eddie’s door and are immediately greeted with the wafting scent of this morning’s joint, his old spice, and the musty baseboard heater packing its rickety punch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you purr, stepping towards that delicious guitar hanging from his cluttered mirror. “It’s not your daddy, but I’m here.”

Closing the door behind you, you toss your tattered bag on the bean bag chair you’d bought for the room a few weeks ago, already making a beeline for Eddie’s skull littered bandana on his nightstand. Lifting the object, you tie it around your forehead and sidestep to the full length he’d also recently hung on the wall (per your request). You spin around a few times and purse your lips, blowing the cheesiest kiss in history. “Ah, yes.” You giggle and head to the stereo and mess of tapes shrouding its entirety. You know what’s been putting Eddie in a good mood lately, and what you feed off of as well.

It’s another no-brainer that you select Metallica’s newest release, enjoying it as it floods your eardrums and settles. You remove your coat and shoes, sliding over Eddie’s sheets and onto your tummy, rolling over on your back and sighing in relaxation once your weight feels lighter. You hum along with each guitar riff, thinking back to Eddie’s attempts at each song, how his fingers mimic the movements late at night in his bedroom to get a feel, before he tries to play a chord— it weighs heavily in the recesses of your memory. And it’s just you there with him, watching from your side of the bed, sheets curled around your waist, Eddie in his checkered boxers and tattoos prominent in the low lamp light, snatching the pick from his neck to strum gently over the body of his beloved. Your toes curl in your socks, the visual an embodiment of the purest sin known to mankind.

With Eddie’s smell surrounding you into a familiar housing, an array of dizzying memories pausing your presence, you’re already aware of the throb that tickles your tummy and tags your cunt in a downward spiral. Another easy decision comes in you quickly shedding your bra and jeans, leaving you clad in your t-shirt, socks, and panties. You relax into the bed, fingers reaching to adjust the bandana on your head, eyelids fluttering closed, hands splayed across your stomach, fingers toying with the elastic of your panties. You need to, but you won’t. Not yet…

~*~

10:22 PM stares back at you in bold red letters, shining from the alarm clock stationed on the scuffed nightstand. Indiana winds are rough, scattering Autumn’s first real storm against the entirety of the trailer. You wonder if it’ll still be raining when he comes in, because Eddie’s band soirées can go on until one or two in the morning, so upon hearing the front door creak open (surprisingly) and slam shut seconds later, locks sliding into place and Eddie’s less than graceful footfalls approaching—you set your plan in motion. Flipping onto your side with your back facing his eyeline, you cling to his pillow and stuff the other between your thighs, feigning slumber, a delicious thrumming starting to gallop in your pulse point. His bedroom door rattles on rusted hinges and you hear his breathing hitch, a quiet clicking of his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

You smile to yourself, that high causing your pride to soar at how you can affect him like this. You’re not speaking, residing in your placing, his bandana secured on your head, something you know he’s seen by now. It takes a few more bated breaths and the sounds of his boots and leather jacket hitting the floor, keys being tossed over onto the dresser, and you feel the bed dip beneath his weight. His rings, made cool from outside temperatures, stain against your skin as he stumbles a light brushing touch over your tailbone, fingertips hovering atop the elastic of your panties. His voice is wind bitten, a throaty rasp on the rise. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

You can’t take his cologne or the perspiration of his practice lingering—any longer, flipping onto your back, pillow between your thighs forgotten, nuzzling into his hold. He rests a palm on your belly, smirking, knowing you’ve been awake this whole time. His elbow props above your head, fingers dangling to stroke across your forehead, tapping his bandana, noticing his favorite tape playing. “You goin’ through my shit again?” There’s not a trace of malice or irritation, but a fond amusement.

You shrug and let your hand drift to his jugular, knuckles scrubbing over the stubble you find there. When you drink in his face it takes the breath right out of your lungs, sucker socking your guts. He’s gorgeous. His chocolate irises are a thin ring against the contrast of inky pupils, his lips red from the cold, chapped from his last cigarette. Those shaggy locks are windswept, yet soft, and all that remains on his body is the long sleeved ivory sweater, a few holes here and there, and his white wash jeans—your favorite pair he owns, in addition to the black denim.

“Your hands are cold. You’re cold.” Is your response, ignoring his accusation that is always true.

“Guess I need someone to warm me up then, don’t I?” He doesn’t fight off your touches, knees knocking with your own, socked feet poking at your own, using his toes to tickle yours. You giggle like an idiot and kiss the side of his neck, inhaling without shame.

He groans his appreciation, leaning in to kiss you softly, one that conveys his missing you, despite the short hours of separation. You reciprocate, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, releasing. He’s starting to rock into your side, that bulge quickly becoming visible in his tight jeans. On the spit-slit break away, he thumbs your jawline with a fresh calloused thumb from his practice tonight, nose nudging yours. You’re shaking, already prepared to agree with him. “Does my little princess need something?”

“Eddie…” You spread your legs, fucked out enough as it is, forget vocal communication. Taking his wrist, you slide it between your legs, arching, rubbing the sopping wet fabric of your underwear over his palm. “M’ fucking wet, baby.”

Eddie turns onto his side and squeezes over your cunt, licking his way into your mouth for another sloppy kiss. As you part, he tugs on your underwear and you lift your hips. “Let’s take these off, sweetheart?”

Always a question, but never an assumption. Your gentleman. Once your panties hit the foot of the bed and Eddie can really see your soaked pussy, that primal shift slides into place, locking his insides. He stares at you as you watch him. “Yeah? You gonna play with yourself? Touch that pretty little pussy in front of me?”

Your metal head will never pass up the chance to see you pleasuring yourself, letting you set the pace, using him for whatever you have to have at the moment. He kisses your cheek and lingers. “What do you need me to do, baby?”

“Just… watch?” Your pupils have doused your irises of their remaining color, and you’re fading away in the haze of something only Eddie Munson can provide.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart.” Eddie’s sweater goes next and he unbuckles his belt to help alleviate a little pressure, taking you into his arms and curling his ankle over one of yours, helping you keep your legs spread wide open.

He slides his smokes and lighter from his front pocket and lights a stick, a cloud swirling above your head as you lean back and watch it dissipate, fingers greedily taking some of your slick and rubbing it around your swollen clit. You jolt into the friction, whining. Eddie moans in unison. “How does that feel, my princess? Shit, you’re so unbelievably fuckin’ wet. It’s takin’ everything in me not to pull my dick out and pound you into this bed.”

Your fingers immediately slide down and press into your awaiting cunt, that squelch causing an embarrassing sound to pass your lips. Eddie mouths your neck in appreciation, inspiring a continuation. “That’s a good girl. Take those fingers in my cunt.”

His cunt? The hair on your arms stands at attention, goosebumps splattering your flesh. Eddie nods into your skin. “S’ right, little girl. It’s where I cum, where I’m gonna put my baby in you—“ He breaks briefly, lips by the shell of your ear. “And that means it’s mine.”

He leans over momentarily and stubs the cigarette out.

He stops himself after, wanting for you to engage in your solo performance, both of you high off his cue cards. You start fucking yourself faster, thighs tensing, toes curling, your back arching, one hand finding your breast over your t-shirt. Eddie raises you into a slight lift, yanking at the collar until it’s sliding off. “You wanna show daddy how you touch your tits, hmm? What you did to yourself before I touched them?”

The second that your fingers touch your nipple, you bury your face into the curvature of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, crying out. Your fingers curl inside you, nudging that spot that Eddie can find with better ease, but it’s enough to stimulate your oncoming orgasm. You’re drenched in your own arousal, every press in squishing a fresh wave of the translucent cream back out, captivating Eddie. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and pulls hard enough that he tastes copper, resisting his urges to fuck his hand. This is about you right at this moment—hell, for being witness to this private show, it’s about him too.

You cup your breast and roll the globe, twisting, pinching your nipple and scraping your nails over your areola. Eddie lays kisses to your temple and forehead, finally finding it in himself to speak. He knows what you need to get there, that extra push. And he’s more than happy to oblige. “Princess?”

You remove your sweat slick face from your Eddie scented cocoon, barely conscious. “What, Eds?”

He’s smiling proudly, kissing above your top lip. “Can I offer you some service? Perhaps a thumb?”

When you’re frowning, he holds the digit up and you whine so loudly he could cum in his pants from the sound alone. He presses his thumbpad against your clit and circles the swollen flesh with gained expertise, his mouth finding solace by your earlobe. “Atta girl. You gonna cum for me?”

“Jesus, Eddie. Want to.”

“Oh yeah? Come on then, show me how you cum. Remind me.” He presses down harder, bracelet jostled on his arm as the tendons in his wrist flex with his movements. That has you clenching around your fingers, shivering into a climax that has your eyes rolling back in your head and a scream tearing its way free of your diaphragm, battering your lungs on the way up and out.

Eddie’s cock twitches, an ache dragging him by his throat and not relinquishing its powered grip. There’s a wet spot pooling over his crotch and he’s about to burst. He noses you into a devilish kiss full of a sinful nights’ promise, and you’re flooded with an orgasm that leaves you feeling featherlight, soaking into your every pore and blocking off every sense. You can’t speak, unable to even say your boyfriend’s name. It’s a sight to behold, one that Eddie kisses you right through, his palm bumping your wrist bone as you thrust your fingers into your heat, riding out the last part of your steep ride.

Only when you start panting for breath and trembling, fingers sliding out, a mess, does Eddie calm you with his honey-hot tone. “Good girl. You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking and curling close to him, hot breath on his neck. He pets down the expanse of your back, his other hand lifting your fingers to his mouth to admire the webbed shine, his tongue licking the digits clean, moaning around them with an, “Mhm.”

You laugh softly, coming back to yourself, doe eyed and simping for your guy. He grins that familiar grin, placing your hand to rest on his navel, where you scratch at that fluffy happy trail.

“An eternal goddess that uses the sun and moon to do her bidding. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing her cum.”

“You’re cheesy as fuck, baby.” You murmur, hand lifting to take off the bandana.

Eddie halts you. “Leave it? I wanna fuck you while you wear it.”

~*~

[eli-lilies04]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 3

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Pairings/Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC characters Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson.

Chapter Summary: Eddie panics when he wakes up and Emma isn't there, not knowing that you took her while he was sleeping. You two fight again, as usual. Eddie slips up and reveals more to Wayne than he means to about his feelings for you.

Warnings: Eddie injures himself accidentally, Eddie is upset, I don't think there's anything else.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Part 1

Part 2

Eddie stirs in his sleep, rolling over to check the clock. It's almost noon and Emma hasn't started fussing yet. Usually she'd be wide awake by now, screeching for a bottle and cuddles. Something must be wrong.

Eddie slings the covers off and hurries over to her crib. Other than her blanket and a stuffed doll, it's empty.

He panics. Has she figured out how to climb out?

"Emma? Emma! Where are you, sissy?" He calls out, searching the room trying to keep the fear from his voice so he doesn't scare her. "Are you hiding from your big brother?"

He sprints down the hallway, checking the bathroom. Oh God, what if she got into some cleaning chemicals or something?!

He trips over a pile of clothes as he charges into the kitchen. "Emma? Emma?!"

What if Wendy took off with her? What if she got outside?

She's not in the house anywhere. He flings open the front door. "Emma! Emma, come here, baby!" He calls frantically, jogging through the trailer park. He's barefoot and the gravel cuts into his feet, but he doesn't register the pain.

One of his nosy neighbors, Mrs. Birch comes down from her porch. "Edward Munson, why are you screeching like a crow and disturbing the whole park? Have you no respect for your neighbors?"

"Have you seen Emma? Have you seen my sister?"

Her mouth drops open. "You've lost your sister? Oh, good gracious. That's what happens when you make a teenager play parent. Do I need to call the police?"

Eddie ignores her, sprinting back to the trailer. She has to be hiding here somewhere, she has to be!

He checks under his bed, in the bathtub, flings open all the cabinets.

She's gone. She's gone.

He chokes back a panicked sob and snatches the phone off the receiver. He's halfway through dialing the sheriff's office when you come through the front door, holding Emma on your hip.

"And then we'll wake your Bubba up and get some lunch-"

You stop in your tracks when you see Eddie standing by the kitchen counter, shirtless and sobbing.

He snatches Emma from your arms and buries his face into her hair, hugging her so tightly she squeals in protest and tugs on his curls.

"What happened? What's wrong?" You ask, bewildered.

He glares at you over her head. The rage on his face is unmistakable.

Oh shit. You take a step backwards and he cocks his head, looking even angrier.

You wait nervously while he settles Emma on a blanket in the floor with her cartoons and a sippy cup of juice. He grips your elbow forcefully and tugs you down the hall into his room.

"Eddie, that hurts a little." You protest, trying to snatch your arm from his grasp.

He yanks you closer to him, his eyes dark as he glares down at you.

"You bitch. I should have you arrested. You think you can just take off with my sister whenever you want? It's fucking kidnapping!"

You push at his chest but he doesn't release your arm.

"I told Wayne I was going to take her to the park today! When I got here she was starting to fuss and you were sleeping so I didn't want to wake you! I left a note on the counter, did you not see it?"

"You should have woken me up before taking my sister anywhere! A fucking note, seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Under the anger and fury, you can see the panic. The fear. There's tears in his eyes and he's sweating.

Fuck. He was so scared.

Your own temper immediately dissipates. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Eddie. I shouldn't have taken her without making sure you knew first."

He blinks. Normally you'd be screaming at him by now, telling him to stop being such an ass.

You lay your hand over his hand that's still clenched around your elbow. "She's fine, Eddie. She's safe. I would never let anything happen to her."

His bottom lip trembles. "I thought she'd gotten out of the house and got hurt. Or Wendy had snatched her again. I thought-”

He takes a deep breath to choke off a sob.

Fuck, I am so insensitive. I'm so stupid. It was nothing for you to take off with your nieces and nephews when you wanted to, nobody batted an eye. But Eddie and Emma didn't come from the same background as you. Of course Eddie panicked and assumed the worst.

"I swear, I will never take her anywhere without making sure you know first, okay?"

You wait for him to tell you that you aren't taking her anywhere anymore. You hold your breath, knowing at any second he's gonna tell you to get out and stay gone.

To your surprise, Eddie sighs and nods, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling.

Your gaze drifts down to his neck and you become all too aware that you're practically smashed into his bare chest from where he had jerked you against him. Eddie didn't like being touched, but when he was angry with you he always pulled you against him so he could glare down at you, to be more intimidating, most likely.

You step back and he releases his grip on your arm. He's still staring upward, his hands coming up to rest on top of his head.

"Eddie, she's fine." You say softly. "She's safe."

He looks down at you then, his expression unreadable. You have to fight the urge to smooth his hair out of his face, to cup his cheek and reassure him.

Instead you glance down and gasp when you see the state of his feet.

"Eddie, you're bleeding!"

"Huh? What- oh." His eyes follow your gaze. "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt."

"What did you do?"

"I was looking for Emma outside without my shoes. I said it's fine."

"Oh Eddie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"You never do." He replies dryly, but there's no malice in his tone.

"Can I help? I'll get some water and we can clean your-"

"I got it." He waves a hand dismissively at you.

You hear Emma let out a shriek.

"She's probably getting hungry. I'll feed her before I go."

"I got her, too." He limps toward the bathroom.

You roll your eyes at his back.

"Don't roll your fucking eyes at me." He throws over his shoulder. "I know you too well."

You head back into the living room and scoop Emma off the floor, changing her diaper. You fasten her in her high chair and spoon-feed her some yogurt, cooing words of encouragement to get her to eat more.

Emma sneezes and yogurt splatters all over your shirt. You dab at it with a paper towel, hearing Eddie snicker as he comes into the room, having cleaned his feet and gotten dressed.

"I have plans in half an hour, I don't have time to run home and change." You groan.

"She didn't do it on purpose." Eddie grumbles.

You smile down at Emma and kiss the top of her head. "Of course she didn't. She's too sweet for that, aren't you Emmy?"

"You can borrow one of my shirts. Just bring it back." He offers, surprising you.

"You sure you don't mind?"

He shrugs. "It's just a shirt."

"True. Um, thanks."

"The clothes on my dresser are clean."

"I know, who do you think washed them?" You retort.

"I didn't ask you to."

You sigh. Well he was nice for all of twenty seconds. "Never said you did, and you're welcome by the way." You snap.

"You act like you're my girlfriend or something. It's weird. You don't have to do my laundry or cook for me or anything else."

He really has no idea how much I do for him. He takes me for granted.

"Fine." You kiss Emma's cheek and head for the door.

"I thought you wanted to borrow a shirt?"

"Wearing your clothes? That's a little girlfriend of me, don't you think?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I couldn't care less if you go to your plans smelling like sour milk."

You know you shouldn't. You know you're asking for trouble. But you stroll back into the kitchen, dip your fingers in Emma's yogurt, and smear it on his shirt.

Emma squeals and claps her hands gleefully, then dumps the rest of the yogurt over her head.

"Now we can both smell like sour milk, you ass." You hiss at him.

Eddie jumps up and you shriek, running for the door. He scoops a handful of yogurt off Emma's highchair and slings it across the room, pelting you in the back.

"I'm gonna kill you!" You rush back to him, grabbing a soda off the counter. You give it a quick shake and open it, dousing him in Coke.

Eddie snatches the can from your head and turns it towards you, spraying you in the face.

"Oh, you dick!" You squeal, knocking it out of his hand.

Emma laughs, shaking her head and sending yogurt in all directions.

Eddie is laughing, too. For a few seconds it's almost like you're friends again.

There's a honk from outside and Eddie stiffens, glancing out the window with a frown.

"It's your little boyfriend. Must have got tired of waiting for you at your place."

"I'm not…he isn't."

"I couldn't care less who you date. Just keep them out of my fucking driveway."

"Eddie-"

"I need to bathe Emma." He lifts her from her highchair and heads down the hall without another word.

You wipe soda off you with a dishcloth, ignoring the horn beeping outside again.

There's no saving your shirt at this point, so you take Eddie up on his offer and go into his room, snatching a t-shirt off his dresser and changing into it quickly before leaving.

Eddie emerges from the bathroom shortly after with a clean Emma, tucking her into her crib for a nap. He turns and notices your dirty shirt crumpled up on the floor.

Scooping it up, he catches a whiff of your perfume and scowls when his heart speeds up. You always smell so damn good.

He wonders which shirt of his you borrowed, wondering if it's one that's obviously his, like a band tee. He can imagine the look on your boyfriend's face when you climb into his car, sporting one of his shirts.

Emma whimpers and he makes her a bottle, patting her bottom until she falls asleep.

He cleans the mess from the kitchen and checks on Emma once more, content that she's sleeping peacefully.

Wayne comes home with his arms full of groceries. Eddie helps him get them inside, putting them away while Wayne sits at the table.

"I hear you put on quite a show for the neighbors this morning."

"Yeah, well, you can thank Y/N for that. I didn't know she took Emma so I freaked out when I woke up and she was gone."

"Please tell me you didn't give that girl a hard time when she got back."

Eddie busies himself with putting cans in a cabinet, but Wayne catches the guilty expression on his face.

"Son, how many times have I asked you to be nice to Y/N? She does so much for us, for Emma."

"You pay her to do that stuff."

"Twenty bucks a week isn't nearly enough for all she does. She goes above and beyond."

"No one asked her to."

"You're right. She does it out of the goodness of her heart. She's a good person. I know you've had your differences-"

"Differences? She got hot over the summer before ninth grade and completely ditched me freshman year to wave pom-poms and drool over the jocks that she used to mock and defend me from."

"Yet she's still here every other day, helping out. Helping you out."

"Hey, I'm your blood. Who's side are you on?" Eddie protests.

"Emma's. She loves Y/N and Y/N is good to her. She needs a female figure in her life."

"You could always marry Mrs. Birch." Eddie quips and Wayne can't help but laugh.

Eddie finishes putting the groceries away and flops down at the table in front of Wayne.

"I can't help it, you know. She knows exactly what to do and say to make me absolutely crazy. She gets a kick out of pissing me off."

"You make it too easy for her."

"Yeah, well, she infuriates me."

Wayne hides his smile. "Gets in your head, does she?"

"Yes! Ugh, I hate thinking about her. I hate that she's always on my mind."

Wayne cocks an eyebrow and Eddie instantly backtracks. "I mean, she's so annoying, you know? I can't stand her."

"I see."

"I mean it. She's the worst."

"I'm sure she thinks the same of you."

"Well, good."

Emma starts to fuss and Eddie hurries down the hall to her. "Hey, sweet girl."

He brings her into the kitchen and Wayne reaches for her, bouncing her on his knee.

"I gotta get to band practice, shouldn't be more than an hour or two. If you need me-"

"I can handle my niece just fine, thank you. I'll remind you who took care of you most of the time when you were this age. You have fun with your friends. Me and Emmy are gonna watch cartoons and eat all the junk food, aren't we sweet girl?"

Eddie leaves.

Wayne nuzzles his nose against Emma's.

"What do you think, Em? Are Eddie and Y/N madly in love or what?"

Tag List: @aedicn @sidthedollface2 @saramelaniemoon @zahra10999 @natasha84 @harrys-tittie @urallidjits @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki

[eli-lilies04]

Pretty Persuasion

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: You are the proud owner of Hawkins Records and have been for some years now, but dwindling sales mean that you might be forced to close the store that you love so much. Help comes in the form of Eddie Munson, former friend and frontman of a very successful band, but since the two of you hadn’t parted in the best way 12 years ago there is no telling what will happen when you reunite again.

Word Count: 19.398

Content warning: 18+ mdni. Porn with lots of feelings. I am not joking, there are a lot of feels in this. Two idiots in love. Swearing. Oral (m and f receiving). Unprotected sex (p in v). Alcohol use, but nothing outrageous. Short haired Eddie (hey, if the guys from Metallica got a haircut in the 90s, Eddie can get one too). Please let me know if I missed something!

Notes: This story takes place in 1996 and Eddie and Reader are both 30 years old. Reader character graduated in 1984, the year that Eddie was supposed to have graduated as well, and left Hawkins shortly afterwards.

I made a playlist for this that I played whilst writing and it can be found right here for people that are interested. It’s mainly alternative music from the 90s from bands that I love.

Beta read by the lovely Pearl. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @adrille88 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @quantumlocked310 @kaybee87 @istorkyou @bragisrunes

Keep reading

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes #mar moodboards

[eli-lilies04]

Would you ever write for like rockstar!eddie and reader like maybe she's an actor or something or she's his high-school sweet heart and even after he got famous he stayed with her

rockstar! eddie x wife! reader

OMG, ok so you caught my attention. i’ve always wanted to write for rockstar! eddie. i also daydreamed a lot that the reader is his wife (and yes, his highschool sweetheart as well) you know like that bombshell wife that even his fans simp for her as well, gets featured in some magazines and shows. alongside tour interviews and such.

i can imagine the dynamic between them sort of like ozzy & sharon (without the major toxicity but the yelling is there) but overall, you’re just one hella of a wife to corroded coffin’s frontman. and he’s very proud to show you off every interview he gets.

this time they’re doing a reality tv one! like the Osbourne’s.

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

another day in the munson household… 

“eddie!” you shouted amidst the large canopy of the munson LA mansion. the camera man swerves the camera to eddie munson’s face, eddie fucking munson, leader of one of the grossing rock bands alive in the 90’s. he lets out a sigh as he can hear your heels stomp against the hardwood large stairs as he looks to the camera with a smirk, counting in his head for your barge in as he speaks. it was another filming day for their own reality tv show, his manager urged him to do this, fans demanding wanting to know more about him and his darling wife. you.

“ah, and here comes my smoking hot angry wife—“

the door slams open inside the studio room, the camera whips to you. all dolled up, fresh from your make-up room, wearing a very tight dress that hugged your body nicely. he wasn’t even focused on the terrifying anger written on your pretty face, just that he’s very focused now on your chest. the camera man backs away, slightly scared, seeing as you had something in your hand. fan mail apparently! tons of it in your hand as the other was situated on your hip, very angry stance.

it was cute to him.

“baby, darling.” he greeted with a smirk, urging your hothead to come closer to him, he was sitting on his office chair, the one he always sat on whenever he would spend nights in this studio room to write or compose a song.

“send panties in the mail! panties? are you out of your fucking mind!?” you threw the mail at him, huffing and puffing with anger. the camera man captured this one moment they all knew would be another hit on mainstream. your fights with eddie were certainly a blockbuster for every corroded coffin fan, plus you were hot in it.

“sweetheart, chill! i meant it as a fucking joke, geez—“

another mail was thrown at him, this time he can clearly see the lace of some fan’s panties were peeking out. oh, was he dead. he is popular with the ladies, you were very hyperaware of that and you despised some groupies for getting a lil’ close during concerts or meet-ups, mainly the obsessed ones you couldn’t stand, but they’re not the wife. you are, so in perspective, you won when it comes to them. and you trust eddie, he’s not that stupid.

“baby, what did you expect? they’re fucking crazy.” he snorts, tossing the mail away. you crossed your arms, boobs squishing, eddie gawked at it with no shame.

“you’re laughing at this? i can’t believe you! you’re such an ass—“ you pouted, fuming red in your eyes. eddie shook his head as he grabbed your arm, knowing well you were going to calm down once he gets in you in his lap. you noticed it.

“that’s not gonna fucking work—“

“try me.” he hums, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sat snuggly. leaning your back against his naked chest littered with tattoos, your name tattooed above his heart. your face somehow manage to soften yet still annoyed at how it worked. munson charm. damn him.

“you okay, baby?” he asks kissing your neck, looking to the camera with a wink and a smirk.

“i will strangle you.”

“i thought that was for the bedroom—“

“i will shove this remaining mail up your ass if you open your mouth again.” you warned, pinching his arm. he yelped at how sharp your nails were as you sighed, simmering down now as he placed kisses on your bare shoulder. the expensive scent of your perfume and body wash making him buck his hips up a bit. so addicting. the camera focuses on the sweet moment as you rubbed your forehead, a headache coming in.

“oh, baby. ‘m sorry.” he cooed.

“don’t.” you huffed. “i don’t like this.” you emphasized to the mails on the ground.

“ ‘course baby, i haven’t even fucking opened them yet.” he place a sloppy kiss on your neck. “and i never will. if that makes up for it.”

“thank you, eds.” you sighed in relief. his heart bloomed as he winked to the camera again. mouthing ‘munson charm’.

“gotta remind them, sweetheart, you’re my wife. nothing’s gonna come between that, ey? not even fucking panties.” he reminds you, grasping your chin to look at him. reminding you how many years you two have been together, since highschool, since that incident back in the upside down, being each other’s first experiences and all. you are the love of his life.

his large thumb caressing your bottom crimson lip. you nodded silently, still a little annoyed, his handsome grin widen as he kissed you. tongue and all, still not ashamed he’s showing this intimate moment on camera then probably on television soon. you wriggled, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants form. you hummed on his mouth, liking the sloppiness as you pulled away, all shy now noticing the camera again.

“and stop sending me panties!” he pointed to the camera. “i’m flattered, but i got plenty already.” he joked, earning a smack from you again. the camera man eventually said cut as you both relaxed in each other’s arms.

“today’s film was great, mr. & mrs. munson. thank you so much.” the cameraman smiled nervously as you smiled back widely, still seated on eddie’s lap.

“no problem, lemonade’s downstairs in the kitchen. help yourself!” you kindly offered as eddie placed kisses again on your neck. hot and heavy he is, it was such a turn-on whenever you got mad at him. the door closed shut as eddie finally got a breather. focusing on you now and his ache in his pants.

“so sexy today, baby.” he mumbles, voice low and deep. “getting you all riled up.”

“mhm. if you ever say stupid shit to your fans, munson. i will kick you out.” you hummed tilting your neck to the side as he nipped your soft skin making you let out a quiet whimper.

“hey, they love you getting mad as well, can’t blame ‘em.” he laughs, squeezing your boobs. the fans were crazy for you as much as they are for him. you chuckled remembering the time you got featured on the front page of playboy magazine, everyone went wild. eddie was fuming at that time but he didn’t hide the fact that he bought at least numerous copies of it, supporting your fame. “you’re such a fucking bombshell. ‘m so lucky.”

“i swear, eddie!” you swatted his hands away as he whined.

“i promise!” he laughs heartily as you smiled again. a moment of silence transpires, you two have been together since ‘86, the large mansion was awfully lonely when he’s away on tour, leaving you here sometimes. you love him, really. since the day he clumsily asked you out by the bench in the woods. supporting him throughout, until his band got in with a label. signing them up. being his soulmate, sticking with him until now. something was just missing in the munson household. the thought a important one for you, and you knew clearly what you wanted next. knowing eddie gives you everything.

“what do you think about a little munson running around here, eds?”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

wrote this in one sitting!

[eli-lilies04]

to be by your side.

pairing(s): vampire!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie needs to go see you and explain that he's not a monster, he didn't mean any of this...he just wanted to see you. part two to i'll tear down sky.

warning(s): eddie being bloody, bloody kisses, angsty fluff and unedited work

ALSO THIS IS NOT NO FREE USE SHIT YOU CANNOT PLAGIARIZE OR REPOST MY WORK ON THIRD PARTY SITES

Eddie leaned against a tree, his legs all curled up as he stared at the leaves on the ground. A stray tear running down his cheek.

Did you think he was a monster?

He wasn't, he needed to let you know he wasn't. He didn't mean to hurt Max, all he wanted was to see you and it blinded him.

Everyone was just getting in the way of him seeing you. He knew he should stay away, they were probably keeping an eye out for him knowing he'd come back for you but he needed to tell you that he wasn't a monster and that he was sorry.

He needed to apologize and tell you that all he wanted was you.

All he needed was you and if they were going to attack him and he was going to die getting to see you again he was fine with that.

He couldn't stay away.

That's how he ended up here staring through your bedroom window, his cold hands on the glass as he peeked. He could hear arguing "I don't need you guys to watch over me I'm fine!" You shouted as you stomped into room.

"We just wanna help!" Steve tried following you "I don't need help! I'm fine! I'm fucking fine!"

"Are you? because it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself" You stopped for a moment staring at Steve blinking a few times "Please leave Steve I didn't need your help then and I don't need your help now. If Eddie comes for me so fucking be it" You pushed Steve back out of the room despite his pleas for you to listen to him.

You slammed the door in his face locking it with a huff.

"Just leave me alone Steve I just wanna be alone!"

You knew Steve was trying, he was always trying. He just wanted to help, he thought he was protecting you but you didn't need to be protected. You needed to be alone.

You stomped into the bathroom not noticing the draft coming from the open window. You walked up to the sink looking at yourself in the mirror sighing at your reflection.

You were tired so fucking tired.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...I'm just thinking" you responded without thinking before freezing realizing the voice wasn't in your head. Your eyes shifted to the figure behind you in the mirror.

Eddie.

You noticed the blood staining his shirt and chin.

You turned looking at him, his eyes were glossed over like he was getting ready to cry. You wondered if he knew that even covered in blood he looked like an angel "Eddie" you whispered your fingers digging into the sink fighting the urge to run to him. "Hey sweetheart" his voice cracking slightly as he pushed the door shut so it was just you and him.

"You're covered in blood" you stated and he nodded tears in his eyes "I don't know what happened, I just couldn't stop, I couldn't stop" He was supposed to come here but on the way something happened and there was nothing he could do.

Your heart ached for him.

"You shouldn't be here, the whole group's in the living room thinking of ways to kill you." You gulped "And you?" He breathed the overhead light shining on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to kill me?" You hesitated not because you wanted to kill him but because you couldn't find the right words.

"Because if you want to, you can, I just..." he shook his head walking towards you waiting to see if you'd run away once he got in front of you "I just wanted to hold you, just once" He reached forward the blood on his hands smearing against your cheek as he caressed your skin.

You kept on trying to tell yourself to be scared but you weren't.

You were speechless. You had spent a whole year thinking about what'd you say to him if you got one more chance to say something and now that you had it you couldn't think.

"Are you gonna kill me?" You whispered, you didn't know why that was the only question that slipped from your lips but it was and it hurt Eddie.

"I would never hurt you" He whispered shaking his head staring down at you like you meant everything in the world to him. You did.

"I love you and I would never hurt you" He reassured you cupping your face in his hands holding just like how he's wanted all along. You shut your eyes at his touch.

He held you, That's all he did, not overstepping his boundaries, all he did was look at you.

Examining every piece of your face taking note of everything that changed about you while he was away. He wanted this engrained in his brain before he died.

"Are you gonna kill me?" He repeated your previous question, tears falling from his eyes.

Your eyes opened looking at Eddie you blinked back your tears gulping as Eddie awaited your answer.

"I would never hurt you" you replied and he smiled pressing his forehead against yours listening to the sound of your breathing. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, all I wanted was you." You nodded both of you trying not to cry.

This was the moment you've longed for yet you had nothing to say. Maybe all you wanted was just to feel him again, even if his hands had gone cold and his heart had stopped beating.

"You're so beautiful, I don't know if I told you enough before." He pulled back looking at you again "You used to tell me everyday" you laughed finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

"Do you forgive me?" His hands slipped from your face as he dropped his hands to the side looking like a child awaiting their punishment.

You sniffled softly "For what?"

"For being a monster"

You shook your head "Oh Eddie" you whispered "You're not a monster and this isn't your fault, none of this is your fault" Your voice soothed him. You didn't think he was a monster.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie's voice was soft remembering how he was quite literally stabbed in the back before he could kiss you. "Of course" you told him before he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours.

You didn't care that he was covered in blood or that he was vampire because no matter what he'd still be your Eddie.

His lips moved against yours, his hand sliding to the back of your neck while his other hand held your waist. You were both crying but it didn't matter, nothing mattered besides this moment.

You both knew you'd pull away and have to face the elephant in the room but you didn't want to. Not yet.

He held you like the way he had done before this time with more of a hold on you like you'd slip away from him though he was the one who died, he felt like he couldn't lose you again.

You pulled away smiling at him "I love you"

"I love you too"

There was an unspoken question in the air 'Where do we go from here?'but neither of you were brave enough to ask.

All you could do was just let him hold you.

"I don't want leave you again" he held onto you not ready to let you ago "I want to stay with you forever" his nose bumped against yours "I know" you whispered.

"Can I stay with you forever?" Your eyes shifted to his "Later, come back tonight and we'll figure out what to do about this okay?"

Though Eddie had not wanted to leave you again he nodded "Okay" he kissed your forehead "I'll see you later then"

He backed away from you "Till then sweetheart"

"Till then."

──────────

a/n: i wasn't planning to leave this one on a cliffhanger but i couldn't decide if they should get their happy ending and leave together or if y/n should stay and maybe do a lil sneaking around idk so please tell me what you think so i can figure out what to do!

[eli-lilies04]

Grand Gesture | eddie munson

summary: catching feelings for your best friend was never in your plans. when you start distancing yourself from him to protect your heart, eddie vows to do everything in his power to keep it forever.

“Come over for dinner tonight?” Eddie asks, trying to sound natural but maybe not being quite successful. “Wayne misses you, you know.”

It's a lie and he knows it — not that Wayne doesn't like you, far from it, but Eddie is painfully aware he's the one who misses you the most. He feels like a part of him is missing. His uncle, on the other hand, is a man of actions more than a man of words, and judging by the way he always ordered your favorite pizza flavor when you'd come visit Eddie, or how he'd give an understanding smile whenever Eddie did so much as mention your name, it was safe to say he considered you as much family as he did Eddie himself.

But that was before. Eddie now has to be quick if he wants to talk to you between classes. Most of the time you're no more than a blur to him — the ghost of his childhood best friend.

You look up at him very quickly — as if your eyes would burn if your gaze lingered too long, even — and you shove some books out of your backpack into the locker with little care. You smile, but Eddie knows all of your genuine smiles and this isn't one of them.

“Uh, well, I can't today,” you say. "Sorry."

"Tomorrow?"

"Busy too."

You seem to be calculating an escape route as you look down the hall. Eddie feels terribly pathetic when he asks again, "What about next week?"

“I have a test next week, I'll have to study.”

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

Eddie doesn't remember any tests happening the following week. He twirls a ring around his finger nervously and tries to convince himself that it might be from a class of yours that he doesn't attend.

“Thanks for inviting me anyway," you close the locker and smile that same smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Say hi to Wayne for me, okay?”

“...sure.”

You're leaving once more. Eddie feels panic rising in his throat, swallows hard, and says, before he can stop himself, "You're still going to The Hideout on Tuesday, right?"

Tuesday. It was something you and him had agreed on a while ago; Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout every Tuesday and most Tuesdays you'd go see them, but if you couldn't make it every time, the deal was that you'd go at least once a month. And you hadn't been there for the last three Tuesdays, which made this your last chance to keep your promise.

You look over your shoulder at Eddie, saying, "I'll try." And wave before rushing off to your next class without looking back.

He immediately knows you won't come; it's remarkable how much distance you've managed to put between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

On the other hand, you know you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday.

Not because you have an appointment you can't reschedule or because you've already made plans you don't want to miss…but because being in love with your best friend feels awfully like getting a thorn into your foot. You could go weeks without seeing him, slowly forgetting the thorn was there…and then you'd just spend 2 minutes with Eddie and the damn thing would re-enter your skin three times deeper.

So no, you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday, you decide. Watching Eddie play guitar wouldn't do you any good.

And you don't go. Not this Tuesday, not the next, not the one after that. Time goes by too fast but somehow the days seem to drag on terribly. And then days become weeks, weeks become months. Well, month, singular, but Eddie feels like he's lived a lifetime during the time you're not talking to him. It certainly feels like months.

36 days. Not that the two of you are counting. Definitely not.

Eddie is sitting on his throne in the middle of a Hellfire session, babbling his lines and running the campaign almost robotically, when he thinks of you again. The Eddie from before, the Eddie who still had you in his life, would have been ecstatic as he awaited the day to share this campaign with his little sheep around this very table. Now he's having trouble keeping track of what's going on.

He remembers the general idea; a curse, some monsters, an object capable of saving the world that lies in the power of a female elf the party has to find and convince to help. Yada, yada.

It's the third time he's lost himself inside his own head.

"Dude!"

Eddie looks at Dustin as if he's just been slapped. "What?"

“You're being ridiculous. Just talk to her."

"How dare you-"

Dustin realizes Eddie is about to go on a rant about getting out of character mid-session. He's not sure where all this courage is coming from (maybe it comes from the fact that he really cares about his Dungeon Master's happiness) but Dustin reaches out and lowers the screen in front of Eddie.

“You gotta go find your elf, man,” he says, encouraged by the murmurs of agreement rising from the others in the room. "Like, right now. Looks like your world is coming to an end.”

Eddie has an answer on the tip of his tongue as he looks from face to face and back to Dustin's.

"I'm the Dungeon Master here, Henderson." He doesn't care if he sounds defensive or silly or if the other boys will realize he's purposely pretending not to understand what his friend means. He doesn't care in the least.

“Oh, for God's sake,” insists Dustin, apparently the group's representative now that the subject is Eddie's personal life. "You know very well I'm talking about her."

Eddie makes a move to lift the dungeon master screen once again in hopes of ending the conversation. Dustin pulls it out of his grasp with little care.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

“You should go after her, man,” suggests Lucas, very quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, working up the courage to say something when Eddie doesn't say anything. “Believe me, it took some time to figure out my feelings for El, too. But at least I got it at some point, you know.”

“A grand gesture is what you need,” Lucas adds with newfound confidence. "It's what I do when Max doesn't want to talk to me."

He cowers slightly when Eddie looks at him, an appraising brow raised. Dustin is nodding his head emphatically in agreement, though.

“We want our Dungeon Master back,” Gareth says, trying to lighten the mood.

There is a silence that seems to last for years. Then, not quite realizing what he's doing, Eddie stands up, nearly toppling his throne in the process, and pretty much jumps toward the door.

Behind him, the boys shout words of encouragement and whistle with exaggerated excitement.

Grand gesture, huh?

"You should ask Eddie to go to the movies with you."

"Mom," you scold for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, helping her into her coat.

"I just don't like leaving you home alone."

"I'll be fine. I'm practically an adult now."

Of course, you are. The discussion is not about that and you know it. She knows it. But none of you say anything. This conversation has played out several times in many different ways over the past thirty days, and it doesn't look like she's going to stop insisting anytime soon.

Your mother gives you her best puppy dog eyes. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes!" You emphasize, gently pushing her out the front door and smiling as convincingly as you can. "I swear I will. Now go have fun!"

She smiles and kisses the top of your head affectionately.

"Lock the door behind me, okay?"

You do. But you might as well have left the damn thing open, because two minutes after you lock it and just a second after you sit down on the couch, you hear a knock.

You run to the door, key in hand.

"Mom, did you forget something agai-"

But it's not your mom.

"Eddie," you mumble, voice barely a whisper.

It shouldn't be possible, but he's right there in front of you, hands in his pockets as he looks at your face with a nervous smile.

"Hi," he says, voice husky and warm just as you remember.

You feel like your heart is about to find its way out of your rib cage somehow.

Clearing your throat, you finally find your voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hellfire?" you ask.

"I left halfway through the session," he says, as if that explains everything. Eddie Ditching Hellfire? When you don't say anything else, standing there looking like you want to slam the door in his face, Eddie quickly adds, "Can I come in?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"We need to talk."

"It's not a good time," you say without looking at him, a little upset because, damn, how are you supposed to forget a guy who keeps showing up?

You start to close the door slowly, almost without realizing you're doing it.

Eddie puts his foot in the gap to stop you.

"Please," he begs. "Ten minutes?"

No, no, no. Say no.

Cursing inwardly, you step back and let him in. "Five."

You gesture for him to sit around the small kitchen table and lean against the counter, keeping a safe distance from him, your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest.

You ask him if he'd like something to eat or drink and he denies, hating how he's become a guest at your place, an outsider, someone you no longer have that familiar intimacy with.

You're staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing you'd ever laid eyes on. "What did you want to talk about?" you ask.

Eddie places both hands on the table, twirling the rings around his fingers anxiously.

"I want…I need to…." he licks his lips and looks at your face, trying to turn thoughts into words and not understanding why it's suddenly so difficult to do so. "Why do you suddenly hate me?"

You can't say you didn't expect to hear a question like this at some point. That doesn't mean you don't get slightly lost when you actually hear it, though.

"I don't hate you, Eddie."

"You didn't talk to me in weeks, you didn't come to see my band," he holds up a finger as he points out each of your actions, "you run the other way whenever you see me in the school hallways…"

His gaze diverts to the space beside you.

“Christ, you even ripped our picture out of your fridge, apparently,” he lets out a completely humorless chuckle, a hint of sadness behind the irony you know all too well.

You look into the empty space he's indicating and suddenly feel guilty. A picture of the two of you the first night Eddie played at the Hideout with the band used to be there.

"I don't hate you," you repeat, silly. "I'd never hate you."

"You don't even look at me."

"Of course I do." You weren't looking until now, but you force yourself to do so even though it's hard. There's something very intimate about looking Eddie in the eyes, you think, something awfully familiar. "I'm looking at you right now."

"Yeah. For 2 seconds, I bet."

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, take a deep breath, and try to keep your thoughts clear.

"Did you come all the way here to tell me to look at you?"

"No," he says. "I came all the way here to say I miss you."

A very long time passes without you saying anything, your chest rising and falling faster than usual. Eddie realizes he's surprised you.

A spark of happiness you shouldn't feel warms your heart. You try to smother it.

In a small voice, he insists, "Don't you miss me?"

Your heart screams yes, but you don't say anything. Eddie stands up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor sounding alarming to your ears.

“We've been friends for…what? Twelve years? And you're going to tell me that you've simply decided that you don't like my company now?”

“Eddie,” you finally say. "Stop."

You uncross your arms, using your hands to lean against the kitchen counter behind you instead, fighting the urge to run. Whether in Eddie's direction or the opposite, you're still unsure.

"Why? So you can go back to erasing me from your life again without saying anything?” he asks, putting the chair back in place before moving towards you. “You can say it to my face, then. Say you hate me.”

"I don't hate you."

"You certainly don't like me."

"I-"

“Or think of me.”

“I never said-”

"If you tell me to leave now, I swear I will and I won't come back," he promises and you know it's true. But then, slower, lighter, almost whispering, he adds, “…but that's not what I want.”

You should tell him to go away, to leave. You know he won't give up if you don't tell him to do so, but you can't bring yourself to be cruel to him, not even to protect your own heart.

So instead, the spark of hope becomes a flame inside your chest and you find yourself asking, “And what do you want?”

For a good five seconds, Eddie looks at you like he's facing a crossroads. Then he comes closer and places his hands over yours, one on either side of you, any definition of personal space momentarily forgotten as he moves his face closer to yours.

“I want…,” he begins, and it's thanks to the way you can feel each word that leaves his lips that you're made aware of how close you are, that you're between him and the kitchen counter. That he's about to kiss you. “I want to-”

His forehead rests against yours, his eyes slowly fluttering closed. The words he wants to say never make it past his mouth.

He is about to kiss you, right?

“Eddie-”

Eddie leans back just enough to consider the expression on your face, eyes big and brown and warm.

"You want me to go?" he whispers.

“No,” you're not surprised at how quickly you respond. Your hand slips from under his to brush a dark curl out of his eyes. "I broke our promise, though."

"It's okay."

He leans in. You feel his lips at the corner of your mouth and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'll go to every single one of your gigs from now on-"

“Please,” he begs, a distinct hint of affection behind his words. "Stop talking."

"What you're doing?"

His upper lip touches yours. You can feel his reluctant smile when he says, “A grand gesture, I hope.”

And then, Eddie closes the gap — your breath catches the very moment his mouth meets yours, his kiss gentle, slow, a step too big to be taken all at once. He leans in and you feel his chest against yours, one hand sliding to the small of your back and pressing you even closer, another moving up your arm, over your shoulder, to the crook of your neck and your jaw. He holds your face and you sigh against his mouth, your lips parted invitation enough for him to deepen the kiss.

And God, being kissed like this does feel like a grand gesture.

He tastes exactly like you thought he would and somehow entirely different at the same time — something familiar, something safe, but also something new and fiery and wonderful.

You're breathing heavily — Eddie not much different — when he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispers. In the silence of the empty house, it's more than enough. “Please tell me you want me to stay, sweetheart, 'cause I have no fucking idea how to stay away from you.”

You're still coming to your senses, all too aware of the hand he keeps tightly on your waist, of the gentle movement of his calloused thumb against your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile the most genuine smile he's ever seen on your face.

“As if I’d ever let you go after this, Munson.”

[eli-lilies04]

Nothing Else Matters (part 3)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader (part 1)

Word count: 6,196

Warnings: Mentions of parents yelling, Jason Carver being an absolute shitheel (as usual), sorta angsty beginning but after that it’s pure fluff town, I don’t know shit about Advanced DnD because I don’t hate myself enough to play it (5th ed gang gang), description of parents being shitty, pure fucking indulgent fluff, Eddie being real cute, one sexually suggestive moment but nothing too explicit?, no use of y/n, Eddie treating you like you deserve xo

AN: Part three made me near sob with how cute it was, and also mixed with the fact this will never be real for me ;w; But yeah, fluff ahoy, let’s gooooo!

taglist: @awkwardambition @chickpeadumpsterfire @lonelysupernova (if I forgot you I AM SO SORRY I AM SMOOF OF BRAIN)

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[eli-lilies04]

Nothing Else Matters (Part 2)

Summary: After Jason’s plans to break you and Eddie up backfire, you go on your first date and go back to his trailer afterwards for yet another first. (You can read part 1 here and part 3 here!)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 7,548

Warnings: Porn with plot 18+ MINORS DNI I’LL CHASE YOU WITH A BROOM, you guys go on a date and it’s kinda cute, mentions of parental neglect, Jason Carver is an absolute shitheel but we get him back, reader is Jason Carver’s little sister, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, protected sex (wrap it up kiddos), fluff in the first half pure hedonism on the second, not beta read

AN: Thank you so much for all the love you gave the first half!! I hope you like the second half; I worte this and thought ‘hm is this a bit flowery?’ but I decided to keep it as is because first times tend to be more about emotions and feelings, if you want one where I focus more on the act itself please lemme know!! Also I have read all your replies and reblogs, and thank you so much for all of them! Unfortunately this is a side blog so I can’t reply easily ;w; But I do read and cherish them all!! I really wanna write more of this ngl, so keep an eye out for that!!

taglist: @awkwardambition

Keep reading

[eli-lilies04]

Nothing Else Matters

Summary: Being Jason Carver’s little sister can be be hell. Especially when you fall in love with someone he despises. Jason has a plan to break you up, and it almost works. Almost. (Part 2 is here!)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 6,618

Warnings: V ANGSTY, angst to fluff, heavy themes of bullying, themes of child abuse and neglect, Jason Carver is an absolute shitheel in this, mentions of suicide, argument heavy in one part, reader is Jason Carver’s little sister, this is kind of a rough one for the first three quarters or so, it does get better I swear, posted without being beta read and in the early hours of the morning

AN: This was a wonderful request that I got from borhapgirlforlife19, and my first one for this blog, so thank you!! Really hope you enjoy it! The request asked for smut at the end, and I’m gonna be working on that in the next couple of days! I wanted to put it in two parts; one because this got quite long, and also separating it means that those who don’t wanna read smut can choose not to click on the second half if they wish! Actually gave myself psychic damage writing some of this lmao

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[eli-lilies04]

prompt idea! dramatic confession of love in the rain with friends to lovers reader & eddie. maybe like arguing outside about the fact that somethings been off with one of them & demanding an answer, love confessing ensues then BAM! rain kiss 🫢

i love this request so much, i adore writing love confessions! ♥ | 1.7k words (got a little carried away lol)

It started with a simple question.

"Do you mind getting another ride home today?" Eddie had said.

You didn't mind, not really. Of course, you used to take every opportunity to spend time with him, but you could understand that he had his own life and sometimes his plans didn't line up with yours. It was okay.

When he explained the reason behind the question, however, you felt yourself wither and dwindle like a dying flower.

"I'm going to take Aubrey home, so...you know."

You did know. Aubrey lived on the other side of town, completely off the route you and Eddie took to get home every day. He wasn't just giving her a ride; it was something. Something else. Maybe some kind of date, even.

Date.

You felt your heart three times heavier as you forced a smile and said, almost capable of hearing the tiny pieces of it tinkling inside your chest own chest, "Oh, sure. It's okay."

And then, before you could stop yourself, you did the stupidest thing one could possibly do; you had asked.

"So…did she ask you out on a date or something?"

You'd poked him in the ribs playfully then, trying to look more relaxed than you really felt as the words left your mouth.

If Eddie noticed it, he didn't let it show. He actually laughed, looking a little embarrassed, and replied, "Actually, I kind of asked her."

Wonderful.

You couldn't stop your eyebrows from rising then, whatever's left of your heart from breaking. You tried to avoid looking like the kicked puppy you felt. Probably didn't succeed as much as you'd like to say.

In general, you were good at doing this — you'd been doing it ever since you realized your feelings for Eddie Munson went far beyond a mere affection between two good friends. It was almost second nature — both being in love with him and hiding it.

Eddie hadn't noticed anything wrong when you smiled that day, just as he doesn't notice anything wrong with the smile you're giving him now, in the school hallway, a week later.

He's so blind when it comes to you.

"I'm not going home with you today," you tell him, closing your locker and packing your backpack carefully.

It's been no less than torture letting Eddie drive you around in his van for the past few days; his van, where everything smells like him, where he strikes up conversations and tells jokes and makes you laugh like everything is fine.

Because everything is fine to him. You're the one who couldn't help but fall in love. Like an idiot.

You didn't want to risk him finding out that whatever he had going on with Aubrey made you jealous, though, so you'd forced yourself to let him pick you up and drive you home from school every day while he remained blissfully unaware.

He seems surprised when your words sink in.

"No?"

"I have to go somewhere else first," you lie. It comes off easily when you're not looking at him.

"It's all right, I'll go with you."

"No, it's fine. I think it'll take a little while."

"I don't mind."

Smile, just smile. "Eddie, really, it's okay."

"It's raining a lot," he argues, looking awfully worried. "You can't just walk home. Do you even have an umbrella with you?"

"Yes," another lie. It's downhill from here, you can tell. "Don't worry."

You feel like you're going to get burned any moment now if you don't get away from Eddie.

Most people have already gone home — you've been studying in the library and Eddie's been at Hellfire with the boys, so you two had stuck behind. The empty hallway makes everything seem worse somehow, his worried gaze on you heavier.

He lets you take three steps before grabbing your arm.

"Wait," he says, brows furrowed, eyes searching for something in your expression. Whatever it is, he finds it. "Something's wrong. What's wrong, Y/N?"

Eddie never had much of a sense of personal space — he's invading yours now, very much, and everything just got a lot more complicated; his fingers around your elbow are warm, the eyes that stare back at you are kind. He smells the same as always: leather, spearmint, cigarette smoke masked by cheap cologne.

You look at your arm and wonder what are the odds you'll be able to break free and walk out the front door without him following you. Not good.

"Nothing," you manage to say. "Nothing is wrong. What are you talking about?"

Perhaps the fake smile is losing its power, you think, because Eddie doesn't look like he'd be giving up anytime soon.

"Something is off with you these days," he insists.

"Eddie, look, I need to go-"

"Have I done something wrong?"

"What?" you sound horrified, because you are horrified; as if Eddie would ever be able to intentionally hurt you. It would have been funny if you weren't so sad. "No, of course not!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not, I-" It's hard to get the words out with him so close, with his hand on your arm, with his eyes on yours-

Oh, how you'd like to disappear right now.

“Did I forget something?” Eddie looks terribly guilty, even though there's nothing to blame himself for. "Your birthday is still pretty far, so-"

You hate this.

"Eddie-" you try, but he's too far inside his own head to hear. He's probably going over a list of things he could have done to make you mad right now.

“-did we make any plans that I forgot?”

"No, I-"

“Did I say something wrong? Shit, I did, didn’t I?”

“Eddie-”

"-I'm sorry if I said- I don't know what I said, but I am sorry, I-"

“I love you.”

It's a mistake. You instantly know that, you know that the very moment the words leave your mouth without permission, a confession you never meant to make. One look at the way Eddie's entire body seems to tense up, at how his lips freeze mid-sentence, parted but not uttering any words, any sound... it's more than enough to tell you it was a fucking mistake.

Time seems to slow down, each second stretching impossibly beyond normal. The only sound that can be heard is the rain. Heavy, rhythmic, coming down without pause.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You pull your arm back and pretty much run towards the door as if you might distance yourself from the stupid words you just blurted out by doing so.

You think you hear a mumble of "shit" behind you, but you don't stop to look, don't turn around to be sure. Your eyes are prickling and you can taste the tears that ain't coming.

Rain. You're still running anyways. You're soaked and still running, stumbling because it's hard to see through the storm now, hair sticking to your neck, heavy breathing pushing your chest up and down, your face wet from both the rain and your tears.

The rain...almost as cruel as whoever was responsible for making you fall in love with a friend like Eddie.

A friend who's now calling your name — a yell in the distance muffled by the sound of the rain and of your breaking heart. You ignore it. You can't look at him. Not now.

He insists.

“Shit! You- you can't just tell me you love me and walk away! HEY!”

You avoid the hand that tries to grab your arm this time and keep walking across the parking lot as fast as you can.

But did luck ever stay on your side?

No.

Your head bumps right into Eddie's chest.

He holds you by the shoulders, palms gentle on your now cold skin, eyes gentler when you lift your chin up to look at him. You try to back away, attempting to squirm out of his grasp.

Not this time, though. Eddie holds you tight this time.

"Are you out of your mind?" he says, shouting to be heard over the storm...or maybe just because he's angry. "You can't just storm off like that with weather like this!"

Eddie's hands slide along your arms and then drop from your fingers.

He's taking his leather jacket off.

You take a step to the right to try and go around him, seizing the opportunity; he, however, steps to the left and holds the jacket over your head — as if you weren't already soaked from head to toe. As if he wasn't soaked from head to toe, too.

Eddie looks angry.

And too close.

Of course he looks angry, you think, I blew it.

“Eddie-”

“You're an idiot,” he says. “How could you just take off running like that? You could get fucking pneumonia out here!”

“I didn't mean to-” he's close, very close, and you feel silly, high, dizzy. Everything and nothing at the same time. The words you want to say are lost inside your mind like a paper boat drifting at the sea.

Eddie is still holding his damn jacket over your head like the goddamned gentleman he is.

Despite the closeness, you feel like you need to yell in order to be heard, your voice high and hoarse. “Just let me go!”

You try again and again, but he skillfully foils every one of your plans to walk away from him.

"No!"

"I am sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that, I just…I just need some time! Just give me time and I'll get over you, Eddie, I swear, and everything will get back to normal and you and I can just pretend it never happened-"

In a heartbeat, he's tossing the jacket to the floor and his lips are on yours.

You gasp, too surprised, too tense, and Edde slides a hand to the small of your back, pressing you against his body with something akin to desperation — both of you so entirely soaked from the rain, so entirely frightened, so entirely in love.

When the kiss ends, it's because both of you are out of breath; Eddie doesn't let the space between the two of you grow any further, though.

“Don't get over me,” he pleads, pretty much breathing into your mouth, forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t ever get over me.”

It seems like your heart is about to jump out of your mouth. He leans in again and you don't have it in you to do anything other than the same.

Letting yourself be kissed is easy. Too easy. It also makes it easier to forget everything that brought the two of you here — the confession, the feelings you believed were unrequited until now… Aubrey.

Aubrey.

You realize you broke the kiss and whispered her name when Eddie opens his eyes to look at you.

“I mean, you and Aubrey…the date…”

He squeezes your waist and laughs, "The date lasted 10 minutes before she told me the obvious."

“Obvious?”

His smile grows.

“That I love you.”

[eli-lilies04]

can we please get a blurb about what you mentioned in your eddie and soft reader fic about eddie being the one to listen when you get drowned out in a group?? i thought that detail was so important, loved the fic btw

you absolutely can get this! i’m happy that detail touched someone’s heart and i’m more than happy to elaborate on it! i went a bit off of this ask but still captured the main idea!

warnings: eddie munson x soft/shy!reader, mentions of thoughts of anxiety, tooth rotting fluff, soft & sweet eddie, a continuation/addition to this blurb! | word count: around 700

“she said that she wanted to see me after class.” you continue telling your four friends what happened to you at school today.

you watched as robin slightly pushed steve, a silent reminder for him to keep listening to you. nancy leaned on her hand, nodding along with what you were saying. eddie was watching you intently, eyes focused on you and only you.

“i was really worried something was wrong with the paper..” your voice trails off as robin lets out a loud laugh, turning away from you as her and steve placed their attention on what dustin and lucas were doing across the room.

your eyes found eddie’s, he gave you an encouraging smile, urging you to continue.

“but i worked really hard on it and-“ you were cut off again by nancy gasping, running over to pick up the food that fell on her living room carpet.

“steve!” she scolded the brunette making the rest of the room burst into laughter.

your chest burned with embarrassment, that achy feeling settling on top of you. you were reminded why you tended to only listen in on conversations, never being the one to start them.

your mind sunk in on itself, suddenly making you feel small in comparison to those around you. you anxiously bit your bottom lip, mouth drawing in around it as you watched everyone forget about what you were saying.

eddie’s hand on top of yours is what brought you back into the moment. he moved towards you, close enough your thighs were touching. you looked at him with wide nervous eyes and he only gave you a warm smile in response.

“there she is.” he whispered softly, holding one of your hands in both of his. “you were saying..”

you shook your head and nervously laughed.

“no no, it’s not important anyway.” you lied, feeling the tears that stung the back of your eyes retreating back where they came from.

“i wanna hear the rest of your story, babe.” he rubbed your thumb gently, pouting as you slouched your shoulders. “come on, please… you worked really hard on it and…?”

a small smile creeped up on your previously embarrassed cheeks. the look of utter fear being replaced by a look of endearment at the idea of eddie remembering exactly where you left off.

“and mrs. greene said she really loved it.” you smiled widely, leaning toward eddie.

“yeah?” eddie said happily, his heart skipping a beat as you moved to hold both of his hands.

“yeah…she even asked if she could use it as an example for future classes!” you laughed happily, “i-i couldn’t believe it.”

“that’s really good news, sweetheart.” eddie said with an exaggerated nod, making you laugh more.

you continued talking for a few more minutes, smile bright on your face as you rambled about how hard the paper was to edit.

eddie listened to every word, he could care less about anything around him. he’d do this everyday if he could, loving the way your voice got a touch higher as you talked about something you were focused on.

“sorry..i’m sorry.” you pout softly, realizing how much you were talking. eddie shook his head, leaning his head on the back of the couch.

“you think you could tell me what you remember from it?“ he asks you, making your mouth widen slightly.

“really?“ you ask, a surprised look evident on your face. “you don’t wanna go join their arguing?” you nudge over to the group who was currently bickering about which horror movie is best.

“nah.” he shook his head, “i’d much rather hear about what you wrote, you know since you did such a good job on it.”

you nod excitedly, happy that eddie decided to keep listening to you. what you don’t know is that he’ll always choose to listen to you, over anything else.

[eli-lilies04]

AFTERMATH | Eddie Munson

Summary: After the teacher reads Robin’s and yours notes about the infamous freak out loud, Eddie confronts you after class and (sort of) asks you on a date.

Sequel to Out loud

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the love and support on out loud! It now has over 10,000 notes and that’s truly insane. I’m sorry that it took me a while for part 2 to be posted, I just had no idea where and how to continue it. Hopefully this meets your guys’ expeditions 💖 (If i forgot you on the taglist, i’m deeply sorry) Not proofread

Your eyes widened as you read the words.

“I was actually staring at you, not Chrissy. Cheerleaders aren’t my type.”

You read them over, and over, and over again. Was Robin trying to prank you? Was anyone else but Eddie pranking you?

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was impossible.

You quickly scanned the room, your eyes landing on Eddie. He was already staring at you— anticipation written all over his face. That disappeared, replaced with a cocky look as he saw your flustered reaction.

Tearing your eyes from Eddie, you look back at the note. He just admitted to staring at you. Was it because he likes you? Or does he think your weird? Or did he lie because he felt pity? Maybe he was playing a cruel joke on you, just to stir up those rumors. Or maybe he was actually being serious? Your mind just couldn’t accept the fact that he wrote a letter, to you.

You didn’t know if he wanted you to write back or not, but you ultimately decided not to. Crumbling the note and stuffing it in the pocket of your sweater. But you knew that you would be obsessing over it later, butterflies swarming your stomach as you played out fake scenarios.

Another tap made it’s way on your shoulder, another note coming your way. You quickly grab the note, silently thanking the ‘note messenger’ before practically ripping it open.

“What? No response? Seemed like you were pretty comfortable talking about me earlier.”

Fighting back a smile, you look back at Eddie, who was once again, already staring at you. He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding towards you, waiting for you to write something back. What would you write anyways? “Sorry that I’m a total creep and for writing notes about you in class?”

Dismissing those thoughts, you stuff the note into your pocket. You didn’t want the teacher to see you passing notes again, she would most likely read them out loud again, humiliate you and have you spend an hour after school cleaning her classroom.

The next few minutes of class went by really slow. You prayed and prayed that aliens would come and abduct you, but sadly that didn’t happen. The only thing that happened was you trying to escape the classroom without any confrontation before a tight grip on your shoulder stopped you— pulling you aside.

“Sooo, how long have you liked me?” Eddie asked, loosening his grip on your shoulder as his arm fell to his side. You looked everywhere but him, your cheeks feeling warm as you watched people whisper to their peers— pointing to you as they giggled.

“I- I don’t…” You mumbled. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your thumb against your forearm in hopes of not breaking down in front of him.

He still had that amused look on his face, like he was getting a kick out of this.

“Really? You think Robin will tell me if I asked her?”

You finally looked at him, your heart beating through your ears. “No!”

“What ab—“

“Okay, fine! I don’t know, it just started one day! Are you happy?” You rushed out nervously. You just wanted to end this conversation before you embarrassed yourself even more.

He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of what to say. What would he even say? He just found out the prettiest girl in the school liked him, fuck, she was writing notes about him in class. People really only wrote notes to each other in elementary, but here you were, discussing your feeling about him over notes.

It was weird for him. Not a-disgusting-type-of-weird but a confusing-type-of-weird. He honestly thought you didn’t like him. You talked to everybody else— Nancy, Mike, Dustin, Erica, but him. It was like he was ghost. The irony of the whole situation is he was certain you liked Steve.

You guys were attached to the hip, so it would make sense. A hot guy who peaked in high school and a hot girl, he even tried to convince Steve into asking you out on a date. Guess it made sense when he tried to turn the tables on Eddie, trying to convince Eddie to ask you out instead.

“Can I go now? I uh… I have to go put-“ You motion to the wristbands on your wrist, “these in my locker. It’s hot out and they make me sweat. Shit— I mean I don’t sweat, well I do, we ALL do, but what I mean’t to say wa—

He pulled you in, taking you by surprise as he crashed his lips onto yours, your nervous ramble being cut short. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was long enough for everybody to see, a few gasps being heard.

Pulling back, a large grin settled on his lips. He watched as you struggled to form words, the flesh of your cheeks heating up. You settled on saying nothing, your mouth shutting as you focused on breathing in and out of your nose— hopefully not passing out.

“You talk too much, y’know that?” Eddie humored, looking around as he took in all the stares. He was used to this, but he knew you weren’t. You were practically hiding under your desk in class when the teacher was reading your note, the idea of having everyone’s eyes on you made you feel like you were naked.

Maybe kissing the freak in the hallway where all the “popular” students met up, wasn’t the best idea.

You on the other hand couldn’t believe what just happened. Eyes blown as your mouth was agape. He just touched his lips to your lips— that was a kiss… right?

“You still have to… uh” He motions to your wristbands, “Put those, away?”

You looked down at your wristbands, shaking your head. Eddie grimaced, scratching his neck. You made a complete fool out of yourself, huh? Now he wanted nothing to do with you— was it because of the sweaty wristbands? Did you not kiss well? OH MY GOSH, what if your breath smelled?

He stops scratching his neck, checking his watch. His face falters for a quick second before he looks up at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “I gotta go to class, if I’m tardy again I’ll have detention after school, that’ll intervene with our date and we can’t have that.”

“Wha— Date?” You blabbered, looking at the clock that hung loosely at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, is that okay? After school? We can meet by my van, I’ll take you to the diner?”

You nod eagerly, trying your hardest not to grin from ear to ear.

“Do you know what my van looks like?”

“It’s white on the bo—“

“Yes, that’s it. I’ll see you by it, okay?”

“Okay.”

He hesitantly leans back in, but stops. People were still staring. Instead, he smiles at you before skipping off— bumping into people as he rushed to class.

He lied about the tardy part.

He just didn’t want anymore of those judgemental stares on you.

Taglist: (Also added people who requested a part 2 let me know if you want off list 💖)

@wintermunsonreads @strangerthingsstories5255 @depressooexxpressoo @aheadfullofsteverogers @eddiemunsonxdeath @marriedtoeddie @catwoman-from-the-moon @vvile-soul @sarahivi @josephquinnlov3r @florch988 @evansgal @moviegirl50

[eli-lilies04]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes. 

"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart." 

"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.

"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.

He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying. 

"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves? 

He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up. 

"Mommy.” Her breath quivers. 

"Don't cry," he says very gently.

It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely. 

"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?" 

"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry. 

Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap. 

He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers. 

Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting. 

Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.

She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.

She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned. 

He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close. 

The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws. 

"What's your name?" he asks. 

She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased. 

"I'm Eddie." 

"Dee," she says. 

"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is. 

She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair. 

He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open. 

"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"

You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly. 

Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks. 

You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling. 

You're really fucking pretty. 

Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps." 

You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up. 

She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.

"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest. 

The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features. 

"I'm only three down," he says. 

 "Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.

Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile. 

Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat. 

"She did? She said that?" 

"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.

Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet. 

He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression. 

"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…" 

"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination." 

"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."

"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker." 

You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound. 

"I can see where she gets it." 

As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out. 

Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general." 

The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?" 

"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name." 

"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels. 

"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."

"Junie," he repeats, surprised. 

You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?" 

He follows you up the steps and through the back door. 

"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder. 

He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks. 

You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly. 

"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.

You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?" 

Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again. 

You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…" 

"I'm an oatmeal fiend." 

You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar." 

He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me." 

Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?" 

She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble." 

"She likes you." 

"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder. 

You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop. 

"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation." 

"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water. 

Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."

Junie looks like she agrees. 

"For sure, but..  not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively. 

He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel." 

He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall. 

Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant. 

Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it. 

"You got a job?"  

"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl." 

"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles. 

"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it." 

Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.

"She really likes you," you say, closer now. 

You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off. 

You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you." 

"Why thank you," he drawls. 

He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls. 

"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.

He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie. 

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?" 

"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries." 

He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips. 

"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate. 

You blink. "What?" 

"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip. 

"Salt. Sometimes raisins." 

You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?" 

You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"

"Blue," Junie says. 

You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants. 

Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?" 

He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.

"What's after?" 

"Music." 

Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?" 

"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist." 

"And you're in a band?" 

"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to." 

"At the Hideout?" 

"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie. 

He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is. 

He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room. 

Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good. 

You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.

You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her." 

"Smart Junie." 

The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.

Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly. 

Junie takes the bottle and shakes it. 

It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale. 

"Thanks, junebug."

"Tanks," Junie says. 

"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie." 

Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice. 

Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his. 

"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident. 

He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it." 

"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?" 

You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette. 

"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.

"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it. 

He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different. 

Baby's want love. Care and affection. 

And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently. 

Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness. 

"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her. 

In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming. 

"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks. 

"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils." 

Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment. 

You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic." 

You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily. 

"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks. 

Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.

"I don't really like bananas," you say. 

Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.

"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold." 

Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home. 

You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else. 

Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows. 

Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out." 

You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth." 

"I'm sure." 

He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger 

More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.

You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.

It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt. 

It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress. 

"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door. 

"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels. 

The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.

"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.

Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry. 

He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour. 

Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.

He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it. 

"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.

"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that." 

"And have the precious little lady starve?" 

"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone. 

"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers. 

She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more. 

You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.

"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes. 

"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?" 

"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness." 

He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender. 

She pouts. 

"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again." 

You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning. 

"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work." 

Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn  toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.

"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."

You blink. "That's okay." 

"It was sick to meet you," he says. 

You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.

He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt." 

"You could?" 

"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes." 

"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you." 

He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?" 

It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?" 

"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain. 

You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie." 

"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.

"Bye!" Junie calls back. 

You both grin. 

-

You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted. 

You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back. 

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.

You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist. 

Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath. 

Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow? 

Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel. 

"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.

Somebody knocks the door. 

You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours. 

"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?" 

You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos. 

"Hi," you say. 

"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?" 

"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell. 

He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. 

It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer. 

"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction. 

Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic. 

You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately. 

"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names. 

Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"

The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms. 

You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat. 

Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes. 

Eddie visibly softens. 

It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.

He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," Junie says. 

She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls.. 

Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face. 

"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe. 

He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy." 

You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week." 

He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing." 

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better. 

"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically. 

You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate. 

"You okay?" Eddie asks. 

You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me." 

"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?" 

It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door. 

"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning. 

He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out." 

You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.

You're in dire need of one of those. 

"What was wrong with the little lady?" 

You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm. 

Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think." 

"A little." You smile ruefully. 

He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says. 

It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him. 

“Woah,” you say.

Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits. 

"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?" 

"What do they all do?" you ask. 

"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk." 

Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons. 

"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all. 

"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school." 

You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work. 

"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day. 

"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?" 

He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?" 

"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly. 

"Got a pencil?" 

You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in. 

Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.

"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper." 

She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed. 

"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas." 

"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks. 

A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to." 

Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it. 

"Please don't ruin the door." 

A wolfish smile. "No promises." 

You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.

You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams. 

You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.

She's excited. 

"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?" 

Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill. 

Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big." 

Junie reaches up for the drill again. 

"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands." 

Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent. 

Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!" 

Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans. 

"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?" 

He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?" 

"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness. 

Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know." 

You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it. 

Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.

When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh. 

"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed." 

You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet. 

You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight. 

"I like your tattoos," you say. 

Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?" 

"I- I like your tattoos." 

He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room. 

"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you. 

"They're cool. Have you had them long?" 

Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door. 

Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud. 

He pulls open the door.  Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free. 

It’s solid. 

He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces. 

"Sorry," he whispers. 

You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you." 

If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated. 

"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-

"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me." 

You beam. 

Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease. 

"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say. 

He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll." 

You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist. 

"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning." 

"Sh, you'll wake the baby." 

You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese." 

"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity. 

You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself. 

With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty. 

You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines. 

Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage. 

Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.

"Hi?" you whisper.

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can." 

You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric. 

You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head. 

"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table. 

You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl.  "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero." 

"Thanks, sweetheart." 

The fatigue ebbs a little. 

Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.

-

It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite. 

"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?" 

Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together. 

"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it. 

"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer. 

"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded. 

"Peroni." 

"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand. 

"Pepper."

"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it." 

Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?

"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening. 

You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited. 

"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar. 

"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?" 

She babbles. 

"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours. 

You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.

You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good." 

"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?" 

You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up." 

"Uh-huh. How's work?" 

"What?" 

"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods. 

"You're asking me about work?" 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Nobody ever asks about work," you say. 

You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers. 

"Sorry," you mutter. 

Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking." 

He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.

"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic. 

"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly." 

"She's like a magic item." 

"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."

"Are they all terrible?"

"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this." 

"I asked. And I get it." 

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me." 

"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?" 

"No, I know, I just-" 

Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips." 

Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly. 

"I know." 

Junie puts her hand on your cheek. 

You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur. 

"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned. 

"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.

"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff." 

"I couldn't-" 

"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck. 

Junie starts clapping her hands together. 

"I think she's decided," you say. 

-

You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.

You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles. 

"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear." 

"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm. 

"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says. 

You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing. 

"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly. 

"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile. 

"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles." 

"Stickles," she says. 

"She couldn't when I got them," you amend. 

He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says. 

He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently. 

"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it." 

His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing. 

"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?" 

You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist. 

She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck. 

"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back. 

"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.

"Eddie, that's too much for her." 

"She's a growing girl." 

"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one." 

"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap. 

You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”

She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.

She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible. 

Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks. 

You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish. 

He stands up. 

You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands. 

“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to. 

“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”

“What?”

“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily. 

He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess. 

You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn. 

He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well. 

You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it. 

The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?

It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating. 

-

Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly. 

You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair. 

Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve. 

Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water. 

"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat." 

"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water. 

Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles. 

You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun. 

She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly. 

"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness. 

She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face. 

"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-" 

He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?" 

She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch. 

You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?" 

"Have you always had long hair?" 

He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.

You smile encouragingly.

He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet." 

"I love your hair," you say. 

Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?" 

Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble. 

You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on. 

You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this." 

"But?" 

You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?" 

"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed. 

You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully. 

"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask. 

"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"

You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to." 

He goes quiet. 

"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-" 

"Would you do it now?" 

You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?" 

"I'm in dire need." 

He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to. 

You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall." 

"I could go home, come back?" he suggests. 

"I can do it over the sink?" 

-

Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury. 

And it does feel luxurious.

It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam. 

But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that." 

You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to." 

That was that. 

Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.

Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs. 

"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long." 

"Can’t do it?" he teases.

"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse." 

It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away. 

It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands. 

You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning." 

He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite. 

"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you." 

"My hero." 

You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom. 

Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.

One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too. 

"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him. 

"Nothing," he says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while." 

He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours." 

"I guess we do sound the same." 

You do, but it's not really what he'd meant. 

The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen. 

Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end. 

"I'm gonna do that much, okay?" 

You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing. 

You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.

You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close. 

You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.

"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly. 

"If you please." 

You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath. 

You draw closer, as close as you can be. 

"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask. 

"Zits, mostly." 

He can feel your laugh under his hand. 

"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick." 

"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly. 

"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know." 

He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?" 

"Mostly." 

"What was the worst part?" 

"Being scared all the time."

He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?" 

"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie." 

He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise. 

"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?" 

"Did it work out perfect?" 

You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part. 

He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?" 

"Yeah, by myself." 

"I'm sorry." 

You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up." 

You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?" 

"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about." 

"How old were you?" he asks. 

"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

"I wanna know about you." 

You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her." 

He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."

You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under. 

"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke. 

"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television." 

"Yeah?" 

Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out. 

A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.

"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?" 

You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs. 

"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands. 

Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him. 

As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room. 

You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have." 

"And you had me?" 

"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to. 

Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh. 

He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself. 

His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you." 

Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist. 

He tickles her until she's screaming. 

You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it." 

"No, you're okay." 

Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap. 

"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?" 

"I don't think that," you say. 

"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues,  "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?" 

"Sleep," you say. 

"Well, I can't help you there." 

"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday." 

"Food coma," he says knowledgeably. 

"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably." 

He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.

"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me." 

You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself." 

"It's my house." 

"If you don't let me-" 

"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner." 

"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping. 

"No you're not." 

"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza." 

"I'm not gonna let you use the phone." 

"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here." 

"Eddie-" 

"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks. 

"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest. 

Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you. 

He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised. 

Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt. 

Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in. 

He holds the bottle in front of her face.

She finally looks up with a pout. 

"For you," he says, offering the water. 

She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there. 

You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home." 

You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion. 

"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter. 

"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper. 

He didn't know. "Really? I love that." 

You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."

"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well." 

"Yeah?" 

Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you. 

"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave." 

"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest." 

"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly. 

"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask. 

"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer." 

"What about me?" 

"What, would you be a hero?" 

You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you. 

"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival." 

"I don't know what that means," you say. 

He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist. 

"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines." 

"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own. 

"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze. 

Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down." 

He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse. 

"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," you say. 

He waves. You're both too tired to wave back. 

He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.

"Hey." 

"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff. 

"Junie's mom did it for me." 

"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door. 

Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls. 

"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back. 

"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush. 

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