#lunaloveseddie

[abibliophobiaa]

falling like the stars, falling in love

eddie Munson x f!reader. unrequited steve harrington x reader. unrequited eddie munson x nancy wheeler. steve harrington x nancy wheeler.

summary: you’re fifteen when you fall in love with your best friend, and twenty-one when it all falls apart. eddie munson is there to pick up the pieces of your heart, and you’re there to gather his. but both of you get more than you ever bargained for when your silly friends with benefits arrangement becomes complicated. but such is the nature of love. (15k words).

warnings: 18+, smut, loss of virginity (r), friends with benefits, codependent (maybe toxic) relationships, angst, unrequited love, heartbreak, second chance romance, drinking, mentions of recreational smoking…but i promise a happy ending.

——

The sun shines the next morning.

There’s comfort in knowing it always does, even if the day that came before was one of the hardest you ever faced.

A new page, a turning point, and maybe a new beginning.

It’s all you hope for.

You lean against the wooden beams of the lake house, overlooking Lover’s Lake. Birds chirp in the trees, leaves shift to and fro, the water ripples and shudders, a child giggles near the dock, a mother calls out to another running in the grass.

A blanket covers your form, the chill of the morning air spreading gooseflesh along your arms.

Your body aches in places, a lovely kind of ache. An ache from his fingers along your skin, his lips at your mouth, his hips between your thighs.

An ache from being loved thoroughly.

A living, breathing, comforting thing.

“Are you okay?”

It’s a soft whisper against your ear. You hum gently as he draws nearer.

His hands circle your waist. Your fingers brush over the backs of his forearms. Familiar.

The heat of his chest rests at your back. Your body slumps into his, a new comfort to be found there.

His chest is still bare, hair still a mess. But when you turn in his arms and take him in you find you like it. Tousled and unkempt by your hands, his eyes peering down at yours soft and sweet and warm.

Uniquely him. You love those eyes. Could spend forever falling into them. A long time, a lifetime, but spending it beside him is the greatest gift you could ever long for.

And the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

The answer isn’t simple.

Then again, none of this has ever been.

——

It starts when you’re fifteen.

Silly teenagers with nothing but dreams and fantasies.

No thoughts or cares in the world, other than what clothes to wear, what part time job you want to work, who you’re interested in and who likes you back.

Silliness.

Triviality that, if you look back on it now, wish you could get back.

Steve Harrington is perfect. He’s your best friend. The first person you met when you moved to Hawkins at nine years of age. He’s charming and on the school baseball and basketball teams.

He’s liked by most, but to him you are special.

Best friends, in the way that always brings a smile to your face because you know it’s the forever kind.

Permanent in the way the scar on your knee is, from the day you and Steve raced across the pool yard after hours, outrunning Hopper, and you’d cut it when hopping the fence in your efforts to get away.

You’re fifteen and Steve’s body is changing a bit. He’s fuller than you remember, honed by hours of working out, of skin tanned from endless hours in the summer sun. He’s always been handsome, but that summer he just seemed different.

You’re fifteen and you’re reading a book, left propped open between the circle of your thighs as he calls your name and you lift yourself up to sit, taking in the boy treading water in the pool.

His hair is a wet mess. Little droplets clinging to the ends of his hair, his long lashes. He’s grinning at you — a pearly white smile that has your heart twirling in your chest.

You shove it away, because it has been doing that for months now. It’s a new side effect with him. A sickness you’ve never felt before. Some might call it love, and you groan, shoving your finger in your mouth when your friends tease you about it because ‘he’s my best friend’ and ‘that’ll never happen.’

But you don’t know what else to call that annoying fluttery feeling in your belly when he draws near. Nor can you stop the pitter patter of your heart when he looks your way.

It’s inconvenient, troubling, and it’s a crush.

A silly crush that’ll go away. These things always do.

Don’t they?

And maybe that’s a foolish thought. You certainly think so when he teases you to come on in. Warns that the water is warm.

You hesitate on the hem of your tee shirt. You don’t know why, because he’s seen you in bathing suits before, but lately even this feels different. You want him to look at you the way he looks at the girls at school, and yet you also don’t want him to look at all, because if he looks he might see all your imperfections. Might see something he doesn’t like, and for some reason you hate that even more.

Because you want him to like you, to like all of you, to want you in the way you know you want him.

You’re fifteen and you’re swimming in a pool with your best friend. Your boy who also happens to be your friend. Never a boyfriend.

Never that.

You’re fifteen and you splutter out how you turned down a date with Brendan Abbott because, “I’ve never been kissed.”

“Really?” Steve asks, and he sounds genuinely surprised. And before you can even question the curiosity in his voice, he adds, “I just mean…you’re pretty. I bet loads of guys want to kiss you.”

Not the one that matters, though, you think to yourself.

Steve’s kissed dozens of girls, you know. You know because he’s told you, his cheeks staining a pretty pink. He always goes pink like that, and you always smile back, despite that odd pain that wedges its way between your ribs.

Heartache you think, but again, you’ll never put a name to it.

“I could kiss you, you know?” he suggests. And he’s red again in the face, quickly spluttering, “I mean, your first kiss should be with someone special, right?”

Steve’s the most special.

So you’re fifteen and he’s wading over to you in the pool. He cups your cheek and looks you in the eye. There’s a heartbeat and he’s kissing you. Soft, sweet, simple. It doesn’t linger long. Doesn’t give you enough time to feel like fireworks are exploding in the sky. But it’s enough to set something into motion.

Something terrible, really.

Because you’re fifteen and you’re in love — and maybe you’ll always be.

——

You’re nineteen when you meet Eddie.

A glass bottle to the man you love’s throat. He’s there in an instant, terror in his eyes, and you shriek at the suddenness of it. His eyes flash and you recognize him.

You had…a class before with him.

Can’t recall which.

You know him, of course.

Everyone knows Eddie Munson. Maybe not for all good reasons — and at this moment, it’s the worst reason. Because you’ve been looking for him for hours, trying to figure out what in the hell happened to Chrissy.

He looks like a deer in headlights. A terrified human searching for comfort when the world has grown cold.

He recalls what he saw.

Her body, broken. The way she hovered up on the ceiling. The way her eyes were ripped from her body. It’s gruesome and horrible and you curl a hand around his forearm when you notice he’s trembling. A shiver that only someone who has seen death head on knows. You’d seen it before, when Billy died the summer before that.

So you offer him that. A hand for comfort, as he recounts the worst day of his life, and you realize the newest worst day of yours.

It ends up being a long few days. You spend them hoping you’ll all get out alive, and in the process you find a friend in him. He’s charismatic and frenetic, he’s funny and he’s dramatic and he’s handsome in a rugged way that Steve isn’t.

And he notices the way you stare at Steve. Offers you a hand of comfort as you all trek into the Upside Down. You take it, and it feels like a new friendship.

Neither of you speaks, but it feels like an understanding.

——

At twenty, Steve’s halfway in love with Nancy all over again. You’re used to this. Steve has fallen in love with what feels like all of Hawkins — all except you. Neither of you speaks about that. You’ll never bring it up to him, can’t fathom the idea of shattering years of friendship.

But there’s something different about this time. The way he talks about her and how things are going. He’s dreaming of his future. Talking about kids. His Winnebago. About a future that suddenly seems like it’s hurtling towards you, while you’re seemingly stuck in place in the past.

It chokes you. The idea of him and her. Her and him and their six children he tells you about. Traveling all around the world, making memories, starting a new life.

He never talks like this and it terrifies you.

“I’m sure he’s just being his usual self,” Robin says, “diving in and hoping he doesn’t sink. You know how things were with him and Nancy before.”

“This feels different, Rob.” You huff and you whine and she offers you another beer and a look of sympathy you know means she’s really just doing her best.

There are few people in this world who know how deep your feelings run for your best friend. Those quite literally being her and Eddie Munson. And you plan on keeping it that way until the day you die.

Even so, it still hurts the next weekend when you’re all over Eddie’s new government funded apartment for a game night. Nancy gets up to leave and Steve offers to drive her home. And though you offer to clean the dishes for Eddie in the kitchen, it’s not an innocent offer by any means, because you watch them through the curtains.

Don’t know why you do. It stings. Burns in your eyes fiercely as you watch him lean down to kiss her. Watch how his hand slides down her back and into the pocket of her jeans, the way their bodies fit together like they’re made to, how he holds her close like she’s everything to him. Just like he’s everything to you.

“You’re only screwing over yourself by doing that,” Eddie murmurs from behind you, a dish towel hanging over his shoulder. He holds out a hand as you swipe at the tears gathering on your cheeks, and you hand him a plate to dry down.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff, sponge running over the glass. “Plus you’re one to talk.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He shakes his head with a scoff, moving around you to put a plate away.

“I don’t?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

“No.”

There’s a day you remember vividly. All of you at Lover’s Lake. You, freshly out of the water after Steve tackled you off the dock at the end of your family’s lake home and the two of you ended up splashing at one another for an hour.

He sat by Nancy around the fire after and you opened the screen door to find Eddie leaning over the back porch railing with a beer in his hand. He watched her like one would watch a movie. Her every move, each smile that curled her lips, holding onto her every word like he might memorize them all. The lilt, the cadence, the tone.

In a moment, you recalled all the times you’d seen them together prior. His best friend, he proclaimed. And maybe it was in the way Steve was your best friend. The other half of your soul. Your person. But you also saw the hurt reflected there in Eddie’s gaze whenever she stared at Steve.

Because while Eddie always stared at Nancy, Nancy always stared at Steve.

“It sucks when you’re always looking at them, but they never look at you back,” you laugh miserably, handing him a glass cup, back in his kitchen, “right?”

He looks away.

He doesn’t speak after that.

Good, you think.

Conversation over.

——

It carries on like that.

Pining.

Wanting.

Waiting.

Loving him while you watch him love another.

But you suppose it’s not all bad — that there is some solace in this world you’re destined to walk.

There’s comfort in the kids. In watching them flourish. In your friendships. There are milestones. When you graduate from your community college program and move into your first apartment. Steve, with a ball cap on his head, arms toned as they hug your boxes. Eddie behind him, his hair pulled back into a ponytail.

They’ve grown closer over time, best of friends who scare similar scars. Kindred, in a sick sort of way they never should have been, simply because sometimes the world is cruel.

Eddie looks at you and you look at him and there’s a smolder of something between you, a promise for when everyone else heads home for the night.

That’s a newer development, too.

This…pseudo relationship with Eddie. A space between being together and not. In knowing each other’s bodies in a way that most friends don’t.

And maybe it’s wrong. The way you twine together some nights like vines. Him stumbling through the door after the sun goes down over Hawkins — because no one knows about this secret dalliance — and rushing across your living room to grasp your face in his hands. To kiss you soundly and drag you down onto the floor, ridding you of your clothes, your underwear, his mouth seeking your center like he’s starving for air.

You’re not really sure when it starts.

Sure, there’s always been an attraction there, but it’s always been something you don’t really dwell on, because Steve is the true paramour of your affection.

And you see the way Eddie watches Nancy.

Right?

But Eddie is kind and loving and he adores you in a way that feels sort of like running toward a cliff and jumping without a parachute.

You always know he’ll catch you. Don’t really know when he became that person for you. The one who you trust wholly and completely.

Yet if you think really hard about it, you’d say it started on your twenty-first birthday. After a strong drink and plenty of dancing at the bar. Steve grabbed your hand and twirled you around. Swayed and bobbed to the music and you grabbed his hand and tugged him outside. And maybe it was the little bit of alcohol you consumed and liquid courage granted by it, but you pushed him up against the side of a lamppost and kissed him.

When you think about it now, you want to cry, but in the moment it felt right.

He spluttered and gasped and you knew you’d made a mistake. Watched the way sadness creeped into his eyes, the awareness dawning on him.

Someone barked out a laugh, yourself maybe. Him. You weren’t sure. But it sounded disbelieving. Years and years of unspoken words spilled out like ink onto a blank sheet of paper. Left there to rot. And he stared — stared at you with a hurt in his eyes that ripped you down the middle. Because you knew he couldn’t return it, knew in an instant that he didn’t love you in the way that you wanted him to.

Not in the way that he loved Nancy.

Nancy. Perfect Nancy with the perfect hair and the perfect mind and the perfect life. Nancy, who was beautiful and stunning and wonderful and inspiring — and why wouldn’t someone love her? She was your friend, a good one at that, and a girl that any guy would want to be with.

Nancy, who you knew was the one meant for Steve, even if admitting that to yourself felt like a knife wedging its way into your gut.

“Honey…” he trailed and his voice broke. An aching, shattering thing that mimicked what was going on inside your chest.

Tiny, little shards. Little ruby glitter in the cavity that once housed a beating organ.

“It’s silly, right?” You laughed again. A hollow sound. A grieved cry that had Steve reaching for your forearm, trying to hold you together. “I've loved you since I was fifteen.”

“You’re drunk…”

“I’m not,” you argued. If anything, you felt stone cold sober now.

It didn’t change anything. Didn’t make it any less true. Maybe it was how Steve coped with it. Blaming it on too many drinks, emotions running high, your lives changing at a rate neither of you saw coming.

“Is everything okay out here?” Eddie stood on the sidewalk, watching from a distance, ready to step in if he needed to.

He did that often. Sought you out. Made sure you were okay. Watched your back as you watched his. There was always an awareness there that both of you held toward one another. An unspoken thing. Special still.

“Just…a moment?” Steve asked, and Eddie looked your way. Waited until you nodded it was, in fact, okay before he slipped back inside the bar and left you alone with your heartbreak. “You’re my best friend. I love you, but I —”

“Don’t love me, love me,” you finished for him.

Felt your lip wobbling, felt Steve’s arms as they wrapped around you, tugged you into a solid chest. You heaved out a loud sob, the kind that had him clutching you tighter, one hand at the back of your head to keep your forehead pressed into the hollow of his throat. Kept you hidden as you weeped, just like he knew you preferred it.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Kind of left it like there, open in the air, the understanding that you loved him and he didn’t love you, and it hurt every time you thought about it — every time you reminded yourself that you’d worn your heart on your sleeve and watched it fall to the ground.

Everyone left in separate cars. Robin with her girlfriend, Steve with Nancy, Jonathan with Argyle, leaving you to clamber on into Eddie’s car. Both of you had sobered up enough, dawning clarity breaking like the sunrise.

Eddie turned to you when you pulled up to your parent’s house. Looked at you with a sympathy that made you draw the hoodie you pulled on over your dress closer to your body, wanting to shrink away from him. Make yourself smaller, if only to hide from the emotions warring in your mind.

“Did something happen tonight?” He asked, his voice soft.

You tugged at a stray lint on your thigh, rolled it between your fingers, shrugged a bit. “I kissed Steve.”

“Shit,” he breathed out, unbuckling his seatbelt. Leaned back into his seat, finger running through his hair.

“And then I told him I loved him,” you added, head shaking as you laughed pitifully.

His head shifted on the headrest, eyes taking in your downturned lips. “I take it that didn’t go well?”

Another huff of a laugh. “He said ‘I love you, but…’”

“Fuck,” he said, hand reaching over the center console to rest on your thigh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

He always called you sweetheart. You noticed he called things he held dear to his heart that. His guitar, Max, El, Erica. Nancy. Robin. And most recently, you. So it shouldn’t have warmed your heart, but it did. Twisted something low in your belly, a warm, unfurling sort of thing.

The next words spilled out of you in a rush. Set into motion the course of the next several years. “Do you want to come upstairs? You’ll have to be quiet. I just…don’t want to be alone.”

“I—I…yeah?”

The offer was to talk. To find comfort in another human. Because you hadn’t even thought about sex. Hadn’t had sex in your twenty-one years. Not because you were holding onto your virginity or anything, but because you just hadn’t felt comfortable enough yet to do so. And it wasn’t like you invited him up there for that. It started out innocently enough. Him following closely behind you through your home, slipping up your stairs, fingers laced together. An anticipation hummed in your blood, a tremble of uncertainty in the way he stood there in your bedroom, not moving from the door once you closed it behind the two of you. He seemed so large in your childhood bedroom. Hair a mess on his head, in the way it always was, charmingly so. His hands slipped into his tight jeans, the gesture making his black tee stretch taut over his chest.

A dress still clung to your body after you removed your jacket. Something flowing and pretty that you picked out with Robin the week before. It suddenly felt sticky and tight on your body, and with a nervous glance, Eddie caught your hint and turned around to face the door. Tapped his fingers against his thigh as you undressed and slipped on something more comfortable. A simple pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt.

“You can sit on my bed, you know?” You had sat back down against the headboard, the wood littered with endless pillows and a stuffed penguin that Steve had gotten you at a fair one summer.

In a fearful effort to rid yourself of the evidence of your stuffed friend, you lifted it in your hand and raised an arm to toss it into your closet when Eddie launched himself down onto your mattress with a thump and snatched it out of your grip.

“I don’t sleep with that, or anything…” Heat flooded your cheeks, because why did you care if he knew you actually did sleep with the silly thing, if only to keep the nightmares from the Upside Down away?

“It’s cute,” he murmured to himself, ringed fingers tight around the black and white toy. Sounded genuine and you didn’t doubt him; never did, truly. “Got a name for it?”

“Pip the Penguin,” you said quietly, so quietly.

“I like it…” Suddenly, he changed his voice, warping it into something an octave higher than his usual tone. Bopped the fluffy creature against your forehead, making you laugh. Pretended to talk with the thing and said, “Mr. Pip the Penguin wants you to turn that frown upside down. Because you’re so fucking beautiful when you smile.”

“Pip the Penguin doesn’t curse,” you admonished, plucking him from Eddie’s hands and placing him onto your bedside table. And then, softer still, “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Always,” he promised, and you rolled over onto your side to look at him, to really take in your best friend’s features. “I’m sorry your birthday is shot to hell.”

“It’s not,” you admitted, reaching over to run your fingers along the rings flush against his knuckles, “I’m spending it with you.”

“For what it’s worth,” he said, holding your hand in his and pausing your movements, thumb running across your skin, “you’re great and deserve the world. Anyone who can’t see that is kind of an idiot. Sorry, Harrington.”

You level him with a ‘you’re kidding me’ look.

“I’m serious,” he added, smiling a bit. “I mean, you play guitar like a beast. I don't know many girls who do that. Definitely metal. You’re fun to be around, really cool, definitely would smoke with.”

You had. Numerous times. “Eddie.”

“Maybe a little bit of a shit driver —”

“Eddie!” You shrieked a giggle, clutching his hand tighter.

“I said 'a little bit’” he teased, pushing back a hair that fell into your eyes. “Did you forget that time I had to try and shove your car out of the mud?”

“Yeah, but it was you who told me to turn onto that side road in that rain storm.”

“It was still a fun day, though.”

You sat in your car for hours, rain splattering against the window, waiting for a tow truck. The boy beside you, hair wet from the rain, his shirt clinging to his body. His chest rising and falling with the effort, the cloudy sky and the way he reminded you of sunshine even still. Remembered the way he looked at you, all soft around the edges, that little dimple in his cheek. So handsome it had made your chest ache with it — kind of like how it was then.

“It was,” you agreed softly.

Neither of you slept that night in your bedroom. Instead you talked until the sun started to rise over Hawkins, a quiet something glimmering in the spaces between the two of you. It didn’t have a name yet, no wings to give it flight, but there was something new there nonetheless. You talked about everything and nothing. Dreams, wants, fears. Silly thoughts that sprang to life in your mind, and he was a perfect listener — nodded and laughed and was wholly engaged in you, and you in him.

And you don’t think about Steve once, the ache of rejection dulling to a sweet nothingness.

“Wanna watch a movie?” It was asked after some time, when the nervousness of where you wanted the rest of your morning to go creeped in after your parents called upstairs that they were headed off to work, leaving you alone with the boy they didn’t know was in your bed.

He held you like that. On your bed, arms around your waist from behind as colors flashed across the television screen. Both of you were quiet for a long time. No words said, nothing to say really, until you rolled back over and looked up into his umber eyes. Wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t have to wonder for long, though; he leaned in, nudged his nose against yours, cupped your cheek. Asked you if ‘this was okay.’ A nod, and you sank into the mattress at that first brush of his mouth over yours, at the way your heart fluttered, something sparkly and beautiful flashing behind your eyes. He held you like that, kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck. Fingers tentatively explored as you sighed and hummed against him, over the slope of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the line of your collarbone. And then, with a gentle touch, he brushed a thumb along your ribcage, beneath a breast.

Testing, asking for permission.

“I didn’t come up here to hook up,” he said, but it was muffled by your lips against his, an eagerness drowning out his words.

“I know.”

“I…do really think you’re beautiful.” You tugged at the hem of his shirt, helped him pull it up and over his head. Ran your fingers along the scars there. “Fuck, I — you’re my best friend and I —”

“I want this,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss a line across his pecs. “Do you want this?”

Could feel that he did. Could feel it against your thigh, the thick heat of him through denim, straining against his belt and zipper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” A kiss. “Yes, Eddie.” Another kiss.

He tugged off your top. You slipped off your sweats. He ran calloused fingers along your abdomen, over the slope of your breasts, teased at sensitive flesh. Watched as your head rolled to the side and a sigh spilled from you, feelings you’d never felt settling low in your belly. You liked it, liked the intensity in how he looked at you when he lowered himself down your abdomen, kissing your skin. Liked the desire aimed wholly at you in his eyes as he eased your thong down your thighs and tossed them toward your closet. Felt a thrill at the stare locked on the place only your fingers had ever ventured before this night, like he’d discovered hidden treasure.

“Eddie?” A nervous whispered breath.

He climbed back up your body hastily, thumbed at the worry line creasing your forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’ve never…you’re my…” You swallowed as something like understanding passed over his features.

His forehead dropped against yours, deep breaths spilling from his nose, hand holding the curve of your cheek. “Are you sure? I want you to be one thousand percent sure. Your first time…it should —”

Your hand slid up over his stomach, over the rapid thrum of his heart. “Yes, Eddie. One hundred thousand percent sure.”

He leaned over you with a laugh to turn Pip the Penguin around, facing the lamp. “Can’t have him seeing this. Feels like someone is watching.”

And you laughed, just like you always did with him. Just as you did when he slipped out of his boxers and nearly tripped getting out of them, tumbling forward onto your bed, just as you did when he crawled back up your body and blew a raspberry into your neck to ease the worried lines between your brow when you finally saw him bare for the first time. Something so foreign and yet exhilarating to you. Watching his nervous hands, the way he hovered over your body, the gravity of the moment finally hitting you. He readied you with gentle fingers, with a sort of pleasure that you’d only previously known by your own hand, and yet felt so differently when it was someone else’s inside of you.

Later, as you gasped and shook within his arms in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you watched him roll on a condom with blissful, hazy eyes. Clasped your hand in his as he pressed it down into your pillow, not without kissing the back of it first.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?” he asked, and you felt him there, pushing in just the slightest bit, face pinched in concentration.

Eyes widened at the feeling, so foreign and yet not wholly unpleasant.

Just…different.

“Is this okay?” He pulled out a little, pushed in. Pulled out, pushed in a little further each time.

And then, when he reached the point where it seemed your body wouldn’t allow him to go any further, you gasped and Eddie’s hips stilled immediately.

“Shit,” he breathed, dropping onto his elbows, searching your face worriedly, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. “No, no…you can keep going. Just go s-slow.”

His fingers rubbed along your cheek. “Gotta relax, sweetheart.” You tried to do exactly that. Smiled to yourself as he distracted you with kisses along your jaw, fingers gripping into your hips, little circles along your thigh curled around his hip.

“Can you just, like…” You chewed on your bottom lip, the burning growing sharper with each slow movement of him within you. “Push all the way in.”

“It’ll hurt,” he said, wincing at the thought of hurting you.

“Only for a second. Please,” you leaned up to kiss him soundly, nuzzling his nose as you added, “I want to feel all of you, Eddie.”

As he warned…it hurt, a fullness you’d never felt before. Stole your breath. He wiped your tears away, whispering ‘sorry’ after sorry into your kiss-bitten lips. There was a brief moment where you jokingly teased that you worried if he’d actually fit, even voiced it to him as he shook with laughter into your neck at what he took as a compliment. Because laughter seemed to be a theme between the two of you. You giggled with him, breath hitching when your muscles loosened and he sank in all the way, your body connected with his in an unfamiliar and yet wonderful all at the same time.

That first time was awkward, giggly, and yet perfect all the same. Your bodies coming together in an unhurried rhythm that maybe ended too soon because he spluttered out that you felt too good — a pretty praise that had you preening, and then pleading when he rolled his hips in a way that had you seeing stars, cresting a wave, the crash of your second orgasm stealing your breath away.

Now, it’s a little different.

In your apartment, your back against your new kitchen cabinets, your boy expertly licking at you like he might die if he doesn’t watch you crumble for the third time that afternoon.

First, when Steve and Robin finally left for the afternoon and he had you up against the door, your cheek against the frame, his name a mantra on your lips, his forehead at the back of your head as he filled you deliciously from behind. The second time, you barely made it onto your new bed — frame still on backorder — before he had you on your back, with you scoring marks down his shoulders. Knowing how to draw out your pleasure, to ramp it up – knowing your body in a way no one else ever has.

So different from the people you were a year ago, and yet still trying to pretend that the ties between you don’t grow more confusing with each and every passing day.

——

You’re twenty two and Steve has some news for you. And it’s never the kind of news one wants to hear from the man they’ve been in love with for nearly ten years.

“I’m going to ask Nance to marry me.”

“That’s great!” You blurt it out. You don’t even know why, because it’s a lie, just like the countless other things you have said to save face in front of him. “Really — Steve, that’s incredible! I’m so happy for you. How do you think you’ll go about asking her?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Turns out, it’s happening at Enzo’s the next week. Surrounded by all your best friends. Eddie sits at your right, watching as Steve gets down on one knee. As Nancy cries softly and accepts — as Steve slides a ring up onto her knuckle, thumb brushing against the back of her sparkling solitaire diamond.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt quite like you thought it might. There’s an ache, sure. A feeling of loss that you always feel when it comes to Steve. Though when you turn your head and look at Eddie, and he squeezes your hand in his, there’s peace there.

That’s a newer development. Just as him staying over for days on end is, leaving things of his in your drawers, using your shower. You’re best friends who sleep together and spend all their extra time together, and yet there’s this limbo of where you are and if this is ever going anywhere that neither of you seems keen on opening up to talk about.

Steve finds you later that night, standing outside overlooking the restaurant’s garden. A freshly filled champagne flute rests in your hand. Eddie is inside with Robin, Nancy and the rest of your friends, laughing at the bar where you left them. But out here the world seems quieter. The stars twinkle brighter. Hawkins seems to rest, even though there’s a disquiet in your mind.

“That was a beautiful proposal,” you tell him, turning to rest your back against the railing. He joins you there, elbow leaning onto the metal, his own glass filled with an amber liquid shifting as he moves to get comfortable. “Really. I’m so proud of you guys. You deserve all the happiness in the world after all the hell we’ve been through as a group.”

“You’re in the wedding party, you know?” he chuckles, and you never doubted it. “You and Robin kind of both have to share the title of ‘best man.’”

“As long as we have matching outfits, I’m in,” you giggle airily, head tilting back to look up at the sky.

“You’re in your head a bit,” Steve says, like he knows, because he does.

He knows everything about you.

Except for one thing.

“I’m okay,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink, “just been a long night. We’re getting older, you know? I can’t party like we used to.”

He narrows his eyes, because you’re twenty two and full of shit.

“So it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact you and Eddie are seeing each other?”

“We’re not.”

Not a lie. ‘Seeing’ would imply that your relationship is going somewhere. What you and Eddie have been doing…what you are doing…it has no beginning and no end, but there’s an awareness that at any point either of you might meet someone else and move on.

Lately that thought hurts. Not sure what to do with that.

“Okay…having sex then.”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” You grimace. “It’s weird coming from you.”

“Oh, like we haven't discussed my sex life in thorough detail –”

“Yeah, and I can tell you, as someone who has lived through it, that wasn’t fun either.”

He continues, ignoring you, “Gotta say, kind of feels shitty that you didn’t tell me about it.”

“There’s nothing to ‘tell,’” you say, shifting to look at him. “We hooked up…and then kept hooking up. We hook up, it’s what we do. It’s all we do, actually. I mean, not all we do. We have to breathe and eat sometimes, and we are also friends –”

“Friends who f –”

“Steve Harrington, enough out of you, you child.” There’s a bite to your tone, but no bark. He smirks at you, a cheeky, proud-looking thing that would have made you mourn years ago, but makes you feel a little smug now. Maybe time truly does heal wounds. “How do you even know?”

“When Nancy and I were over at your place last weekend, we realized I forgot my jacket and I, uh, heard you guys.”

Horror seeps into your blood. You wish the ground would open up right now. Swallow you whole. Wish a black hole would suck you up, never to be seen again. “I could have been doing a workout video.”

He grins, and you contemplate shoving him over the railing, but Hopper’s inside and you don’t really feel like facing jail time for murdering your best friend on what should be the happiest day of his life. “Do you always moan Eddie’s name during your workouts?”

Cheeks burning, you splutter, “Maybe I do.”

“So how long has this been going on?” Steve asks, choosing to once again ignore your attempts at redirecting the conversation.

“My twenty-first birthday. We went back to my place,” you tell him, quickly amending, “technically it was the next day. We…talked the whole night. It felt right.”

It was the perfect first time, you decided long ago now. And then that second time, after you’d both passed out, and you climbed on top of him, asking him to show you what he liked, before you ended up skipping your college classes in favor of spending the whole day exploring each other’s bodies.

“That was a…shit day,” he says, and it sounds sad. You never talk about that day. After you told him you loved him, it was almost like both of you had an unspoken agreement in place to just never breathe life into it again. Hearing him acknowledge it now…you don’t really know how you feel about it. “I’m sorry for that, again. I just –”

“It’s in the past,” you reassure him, offering a smile. “We can’t help who we fall in love with.” You know that now.

“So he met Pip the Penguin?”

You shove him. “Yes, he did. And we’ve sort of been – doing this ever since.”

“You love him,” Steve says, like it’s not even a question. At your arched brows, he repeats, “You love him.”

It’s a silly notion, you want to tell him earnestly. Though the more you think on it, the more you can see his words have some merit. For years Steve’s been the object of your affection, and suddenly his relationship with Nancy hurts less, you can be around him without feeling like there’s a raw, bleeding wound in your chest. You always accredited it to getting used to knowing this isn’t something that’s going to change. Yet as you picture Eddie's face in your mind, a coy smile tugs at your lips.

Steve grins. “See?”

“How do you know?” Disbelief imbues your words. It can’t be this simple, can it? To simplify the feelings with the word ‘love.’ An emotion that seems so big and so scary.

“I know what you look like when you’re in love,” he says, mouth tugging southward a bit over how he knows. He makes his way over to the door leading inside, needing to get back to his party. His eyes are soft. “It doesn’t take a scientist to define the way you look at him.”

He leaves you with your thoughts.

You nearly crumble with the weight of them.

——

Eddie’s not himself. You spend the day with Steve and Nancy, working on wedding planning. At one point, the guys end up stumbling into the bridal boutique where Nancy’s standing on a pedestal in a beautiful gown, her veil a billowing sprawl of lace behind her. She’s gorgeous, not that you ever doubted she would make a beautiful bride.

Later that night, Eddie fucks you like he’s trying to forget. Fingers curled tight around your wrists, no words of affection pouring from him, not like they usually do. He’s quiet and when he spills into you, you roll over onto your side and cry.

He tries to console you. A hand splays over your bicep, his mouth at your shoulder. He hadn’t even bothered to undress you tenderly like he usually does. It had been frantic and hurried and it feels like you’re an exposed nerve now, the pain throbbing in your chest.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” It’s another new thing. A nickname for when you’re alone. A term of endearment you wish he would just take back now.

“I feel like you weren’t even here just now. Toward the end,” you whimper, rolling over, lip wobbling.

“No no no,” he coos, kissing along your brow, trying to soak up the blood seeping from your invisible wounds, “hey — hey, baby, I —”

“You were trying to forget.” You tug your blankets up around your shoulders, covering yourself.

“It was a hard day —”

“But I’m right here!” you cry out, launching yourself out of the bed, eyes burning as you whirl on him. “I’m right here. I’ve been here. We’re…this isn’t right, Eddie. It hasn’t been for a long time. Can’t you see that? You just fucked me because you saw Nancy in a wedding dress.”

“That’s not —”

“I think we need to stop this.” His mouth settles into a firm line, eyes rounding as the words slam down on him like a ton of bricks. “Put a pin in it. Call it. Give it a time of death. I just can’t do this anymore. It’s changed for me. It’s not ‘just sex’ anymore.”

“It’s never been ‘just sex’ with us,” he argues.

Eddie climbs out of bed. Tugs on his boxers, tries to console you with soothing hands on your arms. Resolute in your decision, you take a step back, head shaking a bit.

“I’m…” A pause.

After your conversation with Steve some months ago now, you really took the time to think about his words. The realization you’ve fallen in love with Eddie slowly over time. The man who weaved his way into your life so seamlessly on a day you needed him the most.

Eddie, who snores beside you in bed most nights and wakes you with endless kisses along your cheeks, because he wants you to smile first thing every morning. Eddie, who always forgets to separate his lights from his darks every time he does his laundry, so you started doing yours together. Eddie, who you spend every Friday night on your couch with, a pizza and a joint between you, punctuated by soft kisses and endless cuddling as you watch your favorite movies together. He’s become a staple in everyday life; a constant, a rock, an anchor.

You can’t quite pinpoint when it happened. When friendship changed into something more, but it had, and you couldn’t stop the free fall once you were on the edge of the cliff.

This love is also painful too. It’s knowing for a long time the two of you used sex as a way to run from your problems. Had relied on one another to find solace. It’s realizing that, though you want nothing more than to curl your arms around his waist and hold him for the rest of the night, that’s actually the last thing either of you need right now.

“I think you should stay at your apartment tonight,” you tell him, your voice a little hollow. Cold. Eyes downcast. “I think we need some time to cool off, and I think we need to do it separately.”

Eddie swallows thickly. His voice breaks as he chokes out, “Yeah…okay.”

“I love you,” you tell him, stare him straight in the eye as you do so. His breath shudders out of him. “And I think you love me too, but I don’t want you to say it back. I want you to say it when you can fully mean it. But I can’t do this…half version of love I’m getting now. I want the full thing, we both deserve the full thing.”

He tips your chin up. Kisses you. The first tears spill from your eyes, and when you open your eyes, there are tears in his eyes too.

“Fuck,” he rasps, folding his arms around your waist, holding you close as you both break.

Never really together, and yet it’s the worst break up. It cleaves you right down the middle. Leaves you in two pieces, where one belongs to Eddie and you don’t know that you’ll ever get it back. The man wound so deeply in your veins now he’ll likely remain there forever.

You want him to be — just not now.

Not in this capacity, not like this.

You want that earth shattering, ground shaking, immeasurable kind of love. The kind that extends beyond stars and space. Love that transcends time and follows you even in death at the end of it all.

You’d rather have all of Eddie instead of this, even if it means losing him for now.

There’s that saying, albeit cliche, that if something is meant for you, you need to let it go. If it comes back, it was always yours.

In actuality it’s scary — letting him go.

But you trust it’s the right thing. Trust that it’s the best thing for the health of what’s already here, even when every atom and cell in your body wants to fight against what it innately knows is best for it.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak. Thinks better of the words he’s going to say. Instead kisses you on the forehead three times.

I. Love. You.

“I’ll —” He stumbles over the words. Know that he means to say ‘I’ll see you soon,’ but neither of you knows if that’s true.

Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes you simply need to lean up on your toes and kiss him for what might very well be the last time. Tears spill down your cheeks and his. Little fractures. Glittering reminders of beautiful memories made in the time spent together.

He packs a bag and hikes his things over his shoulder. Exits the door you’ve watched him walk in so many times that the thought of never seeing him pass through again makes you want to shatter all over again.

And when he blows you a final kiss on the way out, you do.

——

“So you…ended things?”

Steve tries to understand, your head in his lap, heart in your throat as you bleed love all over your living room floor. It hasn’t stopped since Eddie left. Since you picked up the phone and dialed a number you’d never forget and sobbed out a broken, “Steve.”

There are no words needed to be said. In the background you hear the rustle of keys, and then he’s at your doorstep fifteen minutes later, ready with his arms open for you to fall into. And now you’re here.

He lets you cry. He lets you sob against the pillow on his lap until your eyes are puffy and you’re reduced to hiccuped breaths. Doesn’t judge you for it, offers comfort, understands. He lost Nancy for a while, too. Gets it.

“Staying together in the way we are now isn’t healthy,” you tell him, woodenly, “it’d kill us. I love him, and I know he loves me, but this is what we need right now. Time and space and — and I already miss him so much and it hurts, Steve.”

“Kind of like a limb torn off, right?”

“Maybe not that dramatic?”

“Heart ripped out then?” he amends, huffing a laugh.

“Yeah,” you sob, “that.”

“Hey?” He whispers, and you lift yourself up to look at him. Crumple all over again as he coos, “Honey,” pulling you into his arms. “I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but it’s going to get better, okay?”

“Promise?”

He drops a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.”

Everything feels like it’s ending. But one day turns into two, and then two into three. Suddenly it’s a week, and then a month, and without him, the earth turns. The leaves change. The sun rises and falls every day. The ground withers as winter comes and passes, and the flowers bloom in spring. Without him, children still giggle in the park as you rush along on a run. You meet up with friends, deflect advances from men and women at bars — tell them you’re taken, don’t know why — try to live. Try to heal because it’s what you promised Eddie you would do.

Life continues, you miss Eddie because you’ll always miss him, but you don’t see him.

For seven months.

Nancy and Steve make it happen. Coordinate your schedules in a way that allows you both the time you need.

The night before the wedding, after the wedding rehearsal dinner, you invite everyone back to your family’s lake house. You took it for the weekend, just to have some time away after what you’re sure is to be a busy weekend. Wanted to catch up on some reading, wake up to the familiar sounds of birds chirping and the water gurgling.

Eddie stares at you from across the living room, beer in his hand. Watches you like one would watch a show and it has your heart twirling, stomach churning, fingers twitching around the stem of your wine glass.

It’s fleeting. A brief moment before Nancy asks Eddie to help her with something in the other room, and he rushes after her. Robin leans back against the pillows she’s piled up against the couch, her girlfriend, Vickie, beside her, both eying you curiously, “What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you mutter absently, sipping at your champagne.

“They used to hook up,” Steve explains, shrugging. “But then they fooled around and fell in love. Just like the song. You know how it goes, ‘fooled around and fell in loveeee.’”

“Steve!”

“What? You were going to tell her in a second. I could see it on your face.”

You blanch. “I mean, yes. But you didn’t have to just spill it out there for the whole world to hear.” You swallow. “Yes, we…were together for a bit but then I ended things. It's been over seven months now.”

“Wow,” Robin breathes out, throwing back the rest of her drink, “so, uh, the smoldering looks Eddie is throwing your way?”

“They’re not smoldering looks,” you argue, cheeks burning, “and if there are, it’s probably just because this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”

“Can’t believe none of you assholes told me about this,” Robin huffs out, head shaking. “Does Nancy know?”

“Eddie is her best friend,” Steve says flatly.

“So yes,” Robin concedes. “You’re going to give me grays.”

“You’re only twenty three,” you remind her, and Vickie pins you with a ‘just let her be dramatic’ sort of look.

“I’m just — my best friend was in love with my other best friend. And now the same best friend is sleeping with my other best friend. And those best friends are now acting like a bunch of idiots because they can’t get their shit together and just fall in love and I’m supposed to act like this is all normal?! Just casual, typical Friday night conversation before my other best friend’s wedding to my other best friend —”

“That was…not at all confusing. Nope,” Steve mumbles. Vickie smacks his arm, because there’s a shuffle by the door and Nancy and Eddie appear once more, another log for the crackling fire perched in Eddie’s elbow.

The chatter in the room dissolves after that, as Steve and Nancy make their way upstairs to the room they’re taking for the night. Robin and Vickie have the guest room, leaving you with a decision to make, stopping back into the living room after everyone says goodnight to find Eddie sitting there, watching the fire.

“So…we have one bed free,” you begin.

“It’s yours.”

“You’re a guest,” you remind him, stepping further into the room.

He doesn’t look your way, but you can see orange flames dancing in the reflection of his beautifully dark eyes.

“I want you to have it,” he says, finally turning to face you. Breath hitches in the back of your throat, your body’s normal response when he’s near, clearly not dulled with the passing of time.

“Okay.” You give a curt nod. “Here, let me grab you a blanket.”

He’s quiet. So unlike the man you spent over a year with. Regards you carefully as you move about the room, ducking down to grab a blanket from a basket near the fireplace. Your hand outstretches to pass the blanket to him, his fingers touching yours. It’s a lingering sort of thing. His fingers warm against yours, the barest of brushes of his knuckles across your skin. Electricity dances in your veins.

Then it’s over as quickly as it comes, the blanket thrown over his thighs, his eyes on your face.

“Sorry I missed your birthday," he says.

It was the worst birthday you had in years.

A laugh. “Sorry I missed yours.”

You heard all about it from Steve, but couldn’t bring yourself to go at the time.

He swallows, throat bobs with effort. “You didn’t bring a date for the wedding?”

No, and you hadn’t dated anyone since him either. Tried and failed here and there, blind dates friends set up, but they never went anywhere.

“Neither did you,” you state, as a matter of factly.

Unless she’s hiding somewhere else, and you feel your heart kick anxiously up at the notion.

“Just me,” he says, exhaling deeply.

You thank the heavens, or whoever will listen, for this tiny blessing.

He smiles, and it’s that favorite smile of his. The one where his dimples pop and his face brightens. The one reserved for those many nights you spent inside with him, laughing until the early hours of the morning, both needing to go to work the next day, yet neither finding it in yourselves to care.

“Look at us.”

“Yeah.” Your hand rubs up and down your arm, feet shifting awkwardly beneath you.

“You look…” His eyes trail over your features with a familiar fondness within those dark depths. “You look really good. Happy.”

“I am good…and happy,” you tell him, nodding. “You…you look good, too. I should, uh, head up for bed.”

His head dips, and then dips again rapidly. “Right.” Clears his throat. “Yeah – ah, early morning tomorrow.”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p.’

There’s a pause in the conversation. A moment where neither of you moves. You know you don’t want to. Want to remain right here. You also know better. There were words said months ago, words with intention behind them. The need for both of you to get better, to get to a place where you’re ready for whatever this thing is between the two of you.

You’re ready, have been for a while now, but Eddie…

As you finally start to trek backwards, maintaining eye contact with the man who still holds your heart, he whispers, “I’m glad you didn’t bring a date.”

“Me too, Eddie,” you admit quietly, biting at your bottom lip. “Maybe it’s selfish, but…me too.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He’s beautiful like this. Dark eyes on yours, hair a wavy mess around his shoulders, strands loose from his ponytail. Soft, in a way that makes you want to climb onto the sofa beside him and let him hold you, erasing all the memories lost. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Breathless, you feel completely and utterly breathless under this spell. “Goodnight, Ed. See you in the morning.”

And you’re gone. Slipping up the stairs to your bedroom, closing the door behind you, and placing a hand over the organ clanging away behind your ribcage. With an exhale, you rush into the bathroom and flick the light on. Your features illuminate in the mirror. Eyes wide, chest heaving, looking a little out of sorts. Your cheeks burn with the whisper of his touch, mind whirling at the meaning behind his glances, the timbre of his words.

Steve might be the first person you loved.

Your first kiss.

But Eddie is the first person you can say without a doubt in your mind you are in love with.

Even now, with seven months of time between you – and you don’t think anything will change that.

——

The wedding ceremony is a beautiful thing. Flowing, floral archway. A church that looks like something out of a postcard. Little mosaic windows, a gorgeous sprawling ceiling with high beams. Everyone they love is here. Family and friends made along the way. The kids, with their beaming smiles and not so childlike faces any longer.

Steve and Nancy recite their vows to one another, the words sounding muffled in your ears, because for the first time in your life the boy you’ve been looking at is finally looking right back at you.

Eddie, in a black suit, smiling over at you. Hands folded in front of himself as Steve and Nancy declare their everlasting love in a room filled with their loved ones. The feeling of his hand on your arm as he walked you down the aisle like a brand that lingers on your skin. Can feel it even now, the way his fingers would feel should they grace your cheek. Had leaned into that caress so many times, seeking the comfort of him.

You don’t even know why, but you smile back, thinking of one of your favorite days with him before everything had gone to hell.

You wanted, very badly actually, to hook up that night. He’d brought a backpack with him, intended to stay for the weekend. But when he walked into your apartment, a spare key on his keyring, he found you holed up on the couch, grumbling about how your weekend plans were ruined.

“They’re not ruined,” Eddie chuckled, dropping down onto the couch beside you. “You act like I’m this insatiable man.”

“You can be –”

“Hi pot, meet kettle.” You glared half heartedly. “Plus you’re a very active participant, and you benefit from it in the form of plentiful orgasms, so quit your yapping,” he teased, catching a little wince, the furrow between your brows. “No dice? What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Period cramps,” you grumbled out, pulling your blanket up higher on your form. “You don’t have to stay. I’m not going to be much company like this.”

“One, I always like hanging out with you. You’re my best friend, you dork.” He flicked your nose, grinning when you wrinkled it in response. “Two, let me run to the supermarket real quick, okay?”

“Why?” Your head tilted to the side.

“Going to grab us some food so I can cook dinner,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “and some things for my girl. Gotta take care of her, right?”

His girl. His girl. He’d never said that before, and something about it felt perfectly wonderful and also a little bit like a lie. You wanted it to be true, though. Realized you hadn’t wanted something so fiercely like that in a long, long time. Didn’t know what to do with those emotions, so you dropped back down onto your mountain of pillows and watched as Eddie quickly slipped out of your apartment in a flurry of black leather and curly hair, and slammed the door behind him.

He returned a half hour later with a bag of treats. Your favorite chips, candy, some popcorn. He got started on spaghetti and requested you pick out a movie. Oddly domestic for two people who usually spent most nights tangled in bedsheets.

Later, after your belly was full and the movie was playing on the television screen, Eddie tugged you against his chest and dragged a hand along your lower back, thumb pushing with perfect pressure at the base of your spine to alleviate some of the ache there.

“Is this good?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Perfect, honestly,” you hummed, head nuzzling further into his chest.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, don’t know who fell asleep first, but when you woke up it was to Eddie’s body curled around yours, his arms slung around your abdomen.

Wanting to do something special for him, you quietly extricated yourself out from within the tangle of his arms. Flicked on your kitchen light and started throwing some things together for pancakes. Your oversized tee shirt fluttered against your thighs as you worked, bare legs covered only up to the knee by your crew socks. At some point as you hummed along to the softly playing radio, Eddie appeared behind you, arms around your waist, his chest at your spine.

“Morning,” he muttered, pressing a loud kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay now,” you said, leaning your head over your shoulder to look at him. He trailed the backs of his fingers across the highest point of your cheek. Kissed you slowly, softly, sweetly. “Hmm. What was that for?”

“Didn’t get one yesterday.”

And it shouldn’t have made your heart stutter. It shouldn’t have made a liquid heat pool in your belly. Because the arrangement had always been the two of you being best friends who sought shelter in each other.

You kissed him again. “Better?”

He grinned, twirling you in his arms, hand catching yours. “Nope,” he chuckled, drawing you in closer as ‘My Girl’ spilled out of the radio speaker, “but if you dance with me I might be able to forgive you.”

In the morning light you did just that. He whirled you around and brought you back into the circle of his arms. Looped an arm around your waist to hold you close, your face against the curve of his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head as he gently hummed along. ‘Well I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way? My girl, my girl, my girl. Talkin’ about my girl, my girl.’

Eventually the pancakes burned, the room filled with smoke, and the fire alarm went off. You laughed about it, fell to the ground in a fit of giggles, your thighs over his lap as you both foregone breakfast in favor of eating ice cream out of a carton.

It felt normal. A little too normal.

Now you only look over to him fondly as Steve and Nancy’s vows draw to a close. Wish, as they walk back out the double doors at the end of the aisle once they’re officially husband and wife, for more stolen moments like that.

——

“Hey,” Steve’s voice calls from the end of the hallway, just as you slip out of the powder room. “I’ve been looking for you. They're doing the couple’s dance next.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “I think you forget I’m single these days.” You pause, rushing over to grab at his tie, askew around his neck. Nimble fingers reach up to grasp at it, working the fabric back into proper place. “You go on ahead. It’s your special day.”

“I promised a friend I’d get you onto the dance floor for one dance,” he says, curling a hand around the back of your wrist. With a frown, he adds, “Just one dance, please? He gets all dramatic and pouty when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Go figure, so do you!” He narrows his eyes as you add, “no wonder you’re best friends.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you,” he says, suddenly — albeit dramatically — glum.

“Today is your wedding day,” you remind him, sliding your palm down to wrap around his hand, “you shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“Yeah, but remember when I decided you were my best friend at ten years old? I said I’d protect and love you forever —”

“We were kids,” you laugh, shaking your head, “we said a lot of things we knew nothing about.”

“Hey.” His hand frees itself from yours, only for both to rest on either side of your cheeks. Tears, unbidden, start to burn on your lower lash line, threatening to spill out. “You are my best friend. And I want you to be happy. It’s been seven months. Hear him out, see what he has to say, and don’t let this day pass by without at least giving things a chance.”

“Why, Steve?”

“Because I married my person today,” he says, brushing away a tear as it glides down your cheek, “and I think he could be yours. Look at me, okay? Look at you — too pretty to be crying right now. I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

Would love him forever. That kind of friendship never fades, never dwindles, never dies.

A different type of love than the one you once loved him with, because that spot was always meant for Eddie, even if you hadn’t always known it.

“One dance?”

“One dance,” you agree, curling your arm through the loop of his elbow he leaves open for you to take.

The reception hall is glowing in a pale blue. All around couples start to litter the dance floor. Bodies close together, heads bent low, hushes of whispers between partners shared only for their ears. Steve halts you as you step out into the crowd, and it’s then that the world seems to stop. There, at the edge of the floor, stands Eddie with his hands in his pockets. His tie is a little loose around his throat, the top button of his shirt open, revealing a hint of the tattoos he got to help cover some of the scarring there. And then you catch the tilt of his lips, the dimple in his cheek, the way he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the room.

“Go…” Steve gives you a little nudge and joins his new wife.

On shaky legs, you start to walk. One foot after another, after another. One two, one two. You count each footfall, and can feel the thump-thump of your heart, as every step brings you closer to him. Finally, the tips of your heeled shoes meet his leather ones.

Your head lifts, eyes catching him in the dim lighting. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey,” he says back, unsure of where to put his hands, one raising to touch your shoulder before he thinks better of it.

“I’ve been told I owe you a dance,” you say, fighting back the silly smile that threatens to grow on your lips.

“Got worried,” he confesses, a tentative hand curling around your back, pressing against the middle to pull you in close.

Your body brushes him, and it feels like coming home after a long day. It feels like your whole soul exhales. Feels right. “Why?”

“Thought you might stand me up,” he chuckles, your head resting against his shoulder, “and then I’d look like the only idiot alone on the dance floor.”

“Look, Eddie, I —” you say, just as he says, “I missed you so damn much, sweetheart.”

There it is. The wonder, the questions you’ve yet to ask, uncovered in one sentence. The confirmation that everything you’ve been feeling, every longing moment, has been mutual.

“That day in your kitchen,” he says, quiet enough only you can hear, “when we danced like this was that first moment for me.”

“What moment?” You blink up at him nervously.

“When I realized how completely and utterly fucked I was because I lo — liked you more than I ever realized,” he admits, a little sheepishly, “although pretty sure it was before that. Look — when we broke up —”

“Eddie,” you interrupt, heart hammering away wildly like little hummingbird wings, “I don’t think a wedding is the best place to discuss this. And I want to discuss it, don’t get me wrong, I just think we should…keep things normal for our friends. It’s their day.”

“It’s been seven months,” he reminds you.

As if you could ever forget, as if there isn’t an ‘Eddie’ shaped indent forever etched into your comforter that you’ve stared at for every day since he walked out your door.

“And I’ve thought about you every single day for each of them,” he says, and it nearly breaks you all over again when you catch the longing in his voice.

“I know,” you say, a little hoarsely, “I have too.”

His lip twitches at that, hopefulness replacing the forlorn look on his beautiful face. Everything in you screams to lean up and kiss him, to put to rest the disquiet in your soul, but you refrain. Focus solely instead on the emcee as he announces the bouquet toss.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you tell him, shrugging softly. “You’ll call me? Tonight?”

Eddie grimaces. Nods. “Sure. Yeah.”

Walking backwards, you flash him a wave, trying to not inwardly wince at your last words to the man. ‘You’ll call me?’ There’s little time to linger, as girls gather around on the dance floor and Nancy turns away from the crowd, her back to your group. Steve looks on at Eddie’s side, the two laughing jovially as Nancy launches the bouquet over her head and into the sea of women.

It happens in slow motion. You think it does, at least. An elbow digs into your ribs here, a knee bumps yours there, a shoulder bashes yours, and, without even realizing it, the flowers thump into your chest. Robin’s shaking your shoulder, laughing in your ear as Nancy rushes over to wrap you in a hug. Steve’s grinning and elbowing Eddie, who is turning a shade of red you’re pretty sure a tomato would envy.

It’s just a silly tradition, you think.

Doesn’t mean anything. So you grab onto Nancy and Robin, pull them back onto the dance floor, and pretend you don’t wish deep down it did.

——

Your keys drop into a bowl near the coat rack. Your jacket is pushed up onto a hook, still wet from the rain that’s starting to fall over Hawkins. Feet aching, you kick those off at the doorway, breathing a deep breath at the instantaneous relief. With a sigh, you slip into the kitchen and hit the light switch, as well as the back light, and suddenly the wide open windows to the sliding door leading to the lake are illuminated. Your eyes trail over the water rippling in the distance. The moon is a perfect circle in the sky, the twinkly lights your parents had wrapped around an umbrella outside like little fireflies in the night, even on a dreary evening.

Another sigh and you slip over to the counter, grabbing a bottle opener. An unopened red wine bottle sits idly on the counter, and you snatch a glass from a cabinet above, pouring a generous cup.

You’ve barely enough time to take in that first decadent sip when the doorbell rings, filling the home. Eyes flick to the clock against the wall, read that it’s nearly eleven now. Maybe the neighbor’s dog got free again? Wouldn’t be the first time.

Another ring.

“One second!” you shout into the open air, placing your glass down on the counter to rush down the hall.

Through the peephole you see him. Hair stuck to his forehead and slicked to his leather jacket. His shirt is nearly seethrough. Droplets of water cascade down the tense lines of his face, his forehead.

“Eddie?” you ask as you tug the door open, head cocked to the side. “What are y —”

“I’ll call?” He sounds pitiful. A hoarse sound tugged from deep within his chest, like his words have been raked over glass.

You…there are no words. “Yeah, Eddie. It’s when a person picks up the phone, dials a number, and the other person answers. Generally they carry on a conversation after, if we are getting technical here.”

He shakes his head and water flicks from the ends of his wet strands of hair with the movement. “Since when are we the kind of people who do that? We’re the kind of people who just barge right into places. I show up at your place, you show up at mine. We eat each other’s food, share everything. Hell, I had a key to your apartment. I’d stop on my way back from the shop to shower because you always lived closer to there than my apartment. Gotta say, I miss that. And fuck — I miss you, sweetheart.”

He’s shivering now as you ask, “What are you doing, Eddie?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh, looking to the sky, exasperated. “Standing here in the pouring rain trying to tell the girl that I love…that I’m in love with her and that I want to be with her. For real this time.” He pauses, arms curling around himself. “And I’m, like, really cold right now and I wanted to have this conversation inside but here I am, trying to make a grand gesture.”

“I thought you weren’t a grand gesture guy.” You’re joking, but there are tears burning in your eyes at his words.

“I’m a grand gesture kind of guy for you. Only you.” His teeth chatter, “Fuck, sweetheart —”

“Oh,” you jolt, tugging the door open wider, “come in. I’m so sorry.”

It’s instant. As soon as the door shuts behind him, and he’s standing there sopping wet on your rug, his hands find your face and draw your mouth to his, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

A kiss that starts off tentatively. Light. Teasing. Gentle brushes of skin passing over yours. Relearning each other, as if you’d ever forget him. As if you’d ever forget the mintiness on his tongue, the smokiness in his kiss. As if you’d forget the way he always loops an arm around your lower back to tug you in closer, bringing you flush against him, wanting to always be near.

But it’s not enough, you decide, as you work at the buttons on his shirt. Each one pops out slowly, fingers tripping over themselves, a puddle already forming on the ground beneath you. Once he’s free, you tug his undershirt out from his dark pants, fingers roaming over the soft of his stomach, the line of hair disappearing beneath his pants that has him circling your wrists with his fingers to pause you in your ministrations.

“Slow down, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear, brushing featherlight kiss after featherlight kiss to your throat. “I want to take my time with you.”

“You love me?” you ask him, humming into his mouth as he walks you backward into the living room, barely making it to the couch before you’re clambering up onto his lap, dress riding up on your thighs.

“I love you,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I love you.” He kisses your other cheek. “I love you.” He kisses your forehead. “I love you,” and finally, your lips.

Your face crumples with his words, tears stinging your eyes. His thumbs come up to brush at the ones that slip down your cheeks, voice a coo when he says, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m happy,” you whimper out, “I missed you. Every day, I missed you.”

“You’re stuck with me now,” he chuckles, and you laugh along with him, liking the way that sounds, “I’m moving my things back into your dresser as we speak.”

“Promise?”

He sobers then. Lips turning downward, the wrinkle on his forehead more pronounced, his hands curling around yours and giving a squeeze. “I’m sorry. For that last day. I…my head was all over the place at the time. I was trying to figure out how I felt about you and clearly had some feelings still that I needed to work through with Nancy. But you — you didn’t deserve that.”

When you shake your head, he continues, “It hadn’t been ‘just sex’ for me for a long time. I mean, I made up excuses to see you whenever I could. Maybe I didn’t realize what was going on, but I just wanted to be around you all the time. And when I wasn’t able to see you and just…be with you…it wasn’t easy. But I know it’s what we needed and I’m ready now. I just want us, for real this time. I want to hang out at your apartment, do all that stupid couple shit that I can only see myself doing with you. I want you to yell at me when I leave the damn toilet seat up. I want to brush my teeth with you before bed and hold you every night. I want to do this with you, be with you in the way we should have been all along, if you’ll let me.”

“Yes,” you kiss him, long and lingering, breathing him in as he does the same. “I want it all with you, Eddie. I love you…I love you so much.”

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that,” he says, staring up at you wondrously.

“I’ll remind you everyday, don’t worry,” you tell him with a giggle, sliding your hands up and over his shoulders, along the curve of his jaw. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Eddie makes love to you for the first time that night.

A slow, gentle thing.

His body crowds over yours, hands map out every line of your body, memorizing every detail he’s gone without for months. Kisses along every inch of you he can, whispering praises into your skin. When he pushes inside for that first time, your breath rushes out of you in a strained gasp as your body readjusts to seven months without him, mouth dropping open with a whine when he bottoms out.

It’s slow. His hips rolling against yours, body cradling you close, thumb finding your clit to bring you up and over the edge, trembling beneath him with a cry of his name.

That first time feels like a sorry.

The second, he pulls you into the shower, washing every inch of your body. The remnants of the wedding and him still on your skin. He’s sweet, all soft, fluttery kisses against your lips and shoulders, your spine, your thighs when he gets down onto his knees to glide the washcloth along them.

His mouth finds you in the shower, your head rolling back against tile, fingers tangling in his hair as he props a thigh over his shoulder to keep you open for him.

When you finish, you pull him back up to your lips, smothering his own moan with a kiss as you cup him in hand and help to guide him into you.

That time feels like a promise. The steady rhythm of his hips, the fierceness of his love, the strength of his arms as he holds you, his eyes locked on yours as you both bask in the euphoria of closeness.

The third happens somewhere around the time the sun begins to rise again over Hawkins, the rainstorm from the night before a wispy memory. Thighs slot over Eddie’s hips, his hands sliding up and over your breasts, teasing as you roll over him, the drag of him and the soft moans spilling from the man beneath you spurring you on.

That third time, as he flips you over onto your back and moves inside you so slowly, hands and eyes locked with yours — that one feels like a new beginning, a turning page.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the dawning realization. Tears he brushes away with sweet kisses, whispering, “I know, I know,” into your shoulder as he comes apart at the edges, your own release shattering through you like a bolt of lightning. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sleep intermittently. Both of you. The house is yours for the weekend, so you make the most of it. Lips coming together, bodies joining after soft sighs turn into eager movements of hands beneath covers. Over and over, like you can’t get enough — and you won’t get enough.

Somewhere around dinner time the next evening, you traipse out of bed with Eddie still sprawled out on his stomach, long tee shirt dancing along your thighs. Sock clad feet excitedly slide across wooden floors, fingers curling around the refrigerator door to pull out a bottle of champagne. As the cork pops, Eddie appears in the doorway, a white tank top covering his body, sweats hanging low on his hips. A tattooed arm comes up to rest there, the muscle of his bicep straining with the movement.

“Hi,” he whispers. Pauses, making a little camera with his hands, pretending to snap a photo.

“What was that?” you giggle airily, pouring two glasses, offering one to him.

“Just looked so damn beautiful, sweetheart,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “sunset behind you, your smile.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle with those on his free hand. “How about I order us a pizza? I’m starving.”

You eat in comfortable silence, the bottle of champagne slipping away as the hours do. Everything feels saccharine and wonderful, perfectly warm, as he later tugs your hand on the way downstairs, deciding on a game of pool before heading back up to watch a movie together.

Eddie makes his way over to the record player in the corner. As the music fills the room, the lyrics to “The Way You Do the Things You Do,” meet your ears, a silly smile sliding across your lips.

“Are you a secret romantic?” you tease, snatching a pool cue from a rack.

“Only for you,” he muses, catching the one you throw his way as he starts to rack the balls. “I like this record, though. Reminds me of you.”

You lean over the table to break, not missing the way his eyes trail your backside as you do so. Balls scatter, a solid sinking into a pocket. “So…you’ll move in?”

“Is that your way of asking?” he chuckles, moving around the table to make a shot, knocking another ball of yours in.

“Well…” You bite at your lip, focusing on your next shot. Sink one of his. “My place is closer to your job. It’s bigger. You’ve basically lived there before…”

“You don't think it’s too soon?”

Your mouth pops open, wincing as he sinks another one of your balls. “I mean, I didn’t think. I just feel like —”

“I’m kidding, baby,” he swoops down to kiss your temple, “Told you last night you’re not getting rid of me. I want to do things right this time.”

You sip your glass a bit, relishing the bubbles that spring to life in your belly, sure many of which are thanks to the man staring at you the way he is.

“Your turn,” he says, gesturing toward your cue.

The next song plays on the record, and you once again lean forward, watching Eddie’s gaze in the mirror hanging across the way as he slips up from behind you, curling an arm low around your belly, kissing your neck.

Heat coils low, then lower still. “You’re —” A quiet sigh spills out of you, his lips toying with the space beneath your ear. “…distracting me.”

As he moves out from behind you, lining up his next shot, you snatch his pack of cigarettes free from his pocket. His eyes lock on yours as you pluck one free, holding it between two fingers, drawing it up to pursed lips. Dark eyes lock with yours as the tip glows red, watching you draw in slowly. As you exhale he snatches it from you, bringing it to his mouth.

And maybe you lean over again, backside poking out a little bit too far than it needs to, but the effect is him curling his arms around your hips, dragging your back flush against his chest as you reach up to take the cigarette back from him. Like that, you feel every inch of his body. Each dip and curve of a broad torso, the corded muscles in his arms from working with his hands for hours all day. Hands you know to be skilled, not only with your body, but with cars and his music. And he’s warm — like a damn near furnace, breath tantalizingly sweet against your ear as he kisses you softly there.

“Fuuuck me,” you sigh out as his fingers start to draw lazy circles around the tops of your thighs, dragging higher until they disappear beneath your shirt and toy at the hem of your panties, teasing, slowly swaying to “My Girl” once it starts.

“Always so wet for me, baby,” he purrs, nipping and sucking a line at your neck. He’s hard where he rests at your ass, and the urge to touch him has you reaching behind your back, cupping him through his sweats.

Eddie groans and you’re suddenly spun around, the cigarette stamped out on an ash tray behind you, your glass of champagne nearly knocked over. His hand grasps one of yours, his other loops low around your back, bodies swaying to and fro to the music, lyrics interrupted by the sounds of your lips meeting his. And it’s perfect: moonlight spilling in through a darkened window, your shirt dancing around your thighs, his heart beating in tandem with yours. You’re not sure when, or how, it happens. One moment you’re swaying with him, arms around his neck, keeping him in close. The next, you’re on your back, balls scattering around you on the table, his mouth clashing fiercely with yours.

You shove his sweatpants down, and he tugs at your panties. He’s bare beneath, and as soon as your underwear is tossed somewhere else in the room, he’s crawling up your body, the hot underside of his cock sliding through already slick folds, coating himself in your wetness.

“Eddie,” you let out a breathy whimper, the friction of him against you perfect and yet not enough all the same, “Eddie, please. I want you inside me.”

His eyes are on yours as he grips himself in hand, gliding his glistening pink tip along your center, asking, "You want me like this baby? Tell me.”

“Please. Please, I want it all, Eddie.”

“Look at us,” he whispers, and you watch that moment, that forever splendid moment where he buries himself inside you, closer to you than anyone has ever been or will be. “Jesus…” He grinds out through clenched teeth, pulling out slowly before pushing all the way back in, “You always feel so good. You feel like mine.”

“I love you.” You pant into his neck, clawing at his back as he picks up his pace, “Always loved you.”

You’ve said it a thousand times now. Watched every time as pure and unadulterated peace fell across his features. But now Eddie only holds you, whispering the sentiment back into your skin as his body drives yours further up the pool table, imbuing every roll of his hips, every thrust, with the emotions overflowing in his chest. You can feel it, the depth of it. The way he loves you, the trust between you, the promise he’ll always keep you safe and close.

You can only bask in it.

——

“Are you okay?”

He asks you again, as you stand outside that next morning, a blanket wrapped around your form.

The answer isn’t simple.

Then again, none of this has ever been. Not with Eddie. But you suppose that’s what makes it your favorite love story.

Because it’s yours. Because it’s messy and it’s different and it’s yours. Because you started off as two friends, maybe in the wrong place, in love with the wrong people at the wrong time when you first met years ago.

Or — perhaps, the right time, because in the end you’re here. With him. With thoughts of the future, plans for what happens when you head out later for your apartment.

To the place where you’ll start the newest chapter with him once and for all.

“I’m perfect,” you tell him, lowering down onto the swinging chair against the side of the home. Your fingers tangle with his, your body slumping over his chest as he gets comfortable against the cushions. He holds you like that as you trace patterns into his skin, trace over scars, over tattoos. “I’m going to miss the lake house, but I can’t wait to go home.”

“I know.” He drops a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers brushing against your spine. “Me too.”

A comfortable silence drapes over you as you watch the sun creep higher along the sky. As you listen to the birds chirping, the chatter of children. Later, it’s the ruckus of people launching themselves into the water, people fishing and boasting of their catches. And at night, as you and Eddie make one last fire and share a glass of wine, fireflies drifting around your head, you allow yourself to imagine a life where forever looks like this.

A life with your first real, honest, true love.

Someone who stares right back at you as you grin at him over the lip of your glass, who leans over and kisses you just to whisper he loves you into your lips one more time.

In a year from now you’ll be back, you in a flurry of pretty tulle and him in a tux, newly Mr. and Mrs. Munson, but for now you smile to yourself, ready to watch the next chapter unfold.

——

this is the first thing i have written this long in months after having the worst few months of my life. so happy to finally hit post on this one. i hope you enjoy, maybe leave a comment or a reblog. would mean the world to me. 💕

#lunaloveseddie #lunalovessteve #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[abibliophobiaa]

You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

——

Unexpected pregnancy. Strangers to friends to lovers. And then they were roommates. Forced proximity.

rockstar!eddie munson x pregnant!reader.

——

Chapters:

Chapter One - Halloween

Chapter Two - Miscommunication

Chapter Three - Roommates

Chapter Four - Elena Munson

Chapter Five - One Bed

Chapter Six - A Date

Chapter Seven - Tumble

Chapter Eight - Feels Like

Epilogue - Golden, Like Daylight

Blurbs:

baby’s first halloween

look who’s talking

first concert

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x f!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader

[abibliophobiaa]

No. No no no. This can’t be happening. Absolutely cannot be happening.

And yet the evidence is there: a single brushed silver band around your left ring finger. On the man presently snoring beside you is a matching ring set high on that same knuckle.

Your phone pings on the bedside table. Pings again. And again. And again. You vaguely make out the name of your publicist at the top, and something akin to over three hundred notifications beneath it. The most horrifying being ‘UHM YOU GOT MARRIED?!’ from Chrissy Cunningham.

“You gonna get that?” he grumbles, shoving at the air, palm colliding with your shoulder. “Wait — why are you in my bed?”

“Oh.” Therein lies your problem. Because you don’t know. Can’t recall. Can’t remember. “Oh my god.”

But you do know a few things: you’re in Rockstar Eddie Munson’s bed, something happened last night in Vegas, you have a new tattoo, and, if the ring on your finger is any hint, you might have gotten married.

rockstar!eddie munson x f!pop star!reader. || marriage of convenience, modern day, semi enemies to lovers, forced proximity, 18+.

Coming Soon…

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you��d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[abibliophobiaa]

prompt word - bikini!

18+ (800 words); p in v smut ahead.

-

It’s a black number with neon green accents. Tantalizing lines that hit high on the curve of your hips, along the plushest part of you. The place Eddie’s fingers curl around when he beckons you forward for a kiss.

Now you’re only standing before him on Steve’s diving board, stretching your arms upward in the air, back arching, head thrown back as you soak up the sun.

Stretching.

You’re stretching and he’s hard as a fucking rock.

And you know it, too.

Have that wild glint in your eye when you lower your head and glance his way. The look that’s a mere dare, a curl of your fingers beckoning him forth, a ‘come hither.’

It’s how he ends up with you scrambling across his center console in the van. How his fingers hook your bikini bottom to the side and part your center with his fingers, rasping a moan that mingles with yours when he feels how deliciously wet you are—how you’ve likely been all day.

“I love this bikini. But I think it needs to come off,” he murmurs against hot flesh, fingers palming the dough of your ass as you rock against him. “Fuck, baby—”

“Want you, Eddie.”

It’s a whisper against his lips. Cut off with a low moan from the man as your fingers move to unbutton his jeans. His zipper follows suit, a quick glide of metal cutting the silence, hips moving upward just enough to allow him to push jeans and boxers down around his thighs, freeing himself.

You palm his cock once, twice, before pushing your bikini bottom to the side and aligning himself at your center.

“Slow down, baby—holyfuckinshit.”

A curse rounds his lips as you sink down inch by glorious inch, head lolling back and hitting the headrest of his seat when your hips rest flush against his.

He loves you in all phases.

Has for a while now.

Hair a mess, first thing in the morning when you wake. On the days where you don’t feel like yourself. The days you doll yourself up because you simply want to go all out. On the days where you wear his clothes, because you like the way they smell like him.

Like this, right now in this moment, with your bottom lip pinching between your teeth, hips rolling against his, thighs on either side of his waist, chasing your own pleasure. Mouth parted. Eyes blown out in lust.

It’s a frantic glide.

The sounds of your slick, your quiet moans mingling with his, and the breathy hitch in your throat fill the air.

Your fingers splay over his sternum, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, as you fuck yourself down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust, chasing your peaks, drawing yourselves closer and closer to completion.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need. Just like that. Come on.”

His palm glides up along your shoulders. Curls around the back of your neck to ground you as your pace quickens, bouncing on his cock, breaking off into a high keen as you shatter around him.

His other arm curls around the back of your waist, hips jerking up from the bottom of you once, twice, three times as you clench down on him until he’s coming with a low groan, gasping into the hollow of your throat, whispering he loves you into sweat-slick skin.

Giggling, eyes still rounded in your lusty haze, you curl your fingers around his chin. Brush a soft kiss against his lips as your skin starts to cool once more. “Think the food is done yet?”

And it is.

There’s a whole table full of hotdogs and burgers, condiments strewn about, macaroni and potato salad galore, bowls full of chips, and more drink options than you can count on one hand.

Eddie grins to himself as he watches you chat with Robin across the table, knowing full well he’d slid your bathing suit bottom back into place after fucking you full so you could keep him inside, knowing your legs had trembled as you hopped out of his van, knowing he’d promised to bend you over the hood of it later and do it all over again when you simpered against his mouth that you needed him once more.

So maybe he asks, “Want another hotdog, baby?” when he knows you only had a burger.

Just to mess with you a little.

Rile you up.

And maybe you narrow your eyes at him when he laughs to himself.

Whisper for him to shut up.

But he makes it up to you later just like he told you he would.

Chest over the hood of his car, bikini bottom pushed to the side, fingers around your hips, stretching you open in the way you like until you cry out his name, love a mantra on your lips.

-

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x f!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Velvet

my skin in your teeth

summary: you’re meant to eliminate creatures from the upside down, but something — or someone — has got a hold on you lately…

warnings: 18+, blood drinking, biting, allusions to sex, smut, maybe a bit of obsessiveness, and hint of implied soulmates. to be honest, i don’t really know what this is. just wanted to write something. also thanks @myosotisa and @blueywrites for the additional vampire inspiration. 🤍

vampire!eddie munson x f!monster hunter!reader

Chance and Andy cackle ahead of you, their feet rustling the leaves littering the grass, guns at the ready. Normally you’re on duty with Steve, Nancy and Robin, but the powers at be today have decided to put you together with the biggest assholes of the bunch. Cocky, rude, still bullies despite everything — and yet, some of the best shots in the Upside Down Elimination Team. You suppose there’s some comfort in that. Should things go awry.

Your one goal on today’s mission? Make sure the perimeter of area four is safe. Fortunately for you, it’s been a quiet night. For the guys? They’re not having fun with it. For two trigger happy individuals, an eerily quiet night is an oddity. During your last overnight shift, you, Nancy, Robin, and Steve had managed to take down at least fifty demobats that had come through the gate, along with a fully mature group of demodogs.

The hours tick by. Nothing out of the usual to see. A flicker of movement from a solitary demobat with an injured bat here, rustle of leaves there. But nothing major to note when you return to base once the sun rises and your shift ends.

That is, nothing until three in the morning arrives and you catch the familiar whistle. The crack of a twig in the distance. The rustle of leaves as they draw nearer. A pack of demodogs rush through trees, but the familiar glint of predatory canines draws your attention.

You draw your dagger and throw. The metal slams into the trunk with a loud thud and you shout over your shoulder, “You go on ahead, I’ll take care of this!”

The guys run along, practically bouncing in their steps at the mere prospect of taking down a pack of demodogs on their own. Giddy with it. But your mind? Your mind is drawn to the darkened silhouette in the woods, the one that, given the chance, Andy and Chance would rip apart bit by bit.

And you can’t allow that, because Eddie Munson is yours.

——

It was forbidden; fraternizing with the Upside Down.

Even more so slipping away in the middle of the night to entertain a dalliance with a creature harbored and hemmed in the place where the world had ripped into quadrants.

No one understood how it happened. You’d all seen him die. Had seen what happened when a man was ripped apart by those winged hellions. And yet he’d appeared one night, trembling and starved. A hunger that you’d managed to quench, despite Steve shouting at you otherwise, by slicing your own palm and offering it to your friend.

The friend who peered out from those darkened eyes, lines of deep hunger like spiderwebs crawling from beneath his lashes. You whispered that it was okay, that you wanted this when he stared up at you with worried eyes.

Don’t want to hurt you, he said, sounding so much younger than his now twenty-one years of age. Or twenty? None of you understood this magic. He died at twenty, heart stopped at twenty — but months had trickled by, his birthday passed, and it only felt right to honor it all the same.

Shaking hands had curled around the back of your palm, his lips sliding over wet, injured skin, dripping scarlet rubies onto the forest floor below. Steve whirled around, choked out a horrified breath as Eddie drew in your blood, drew in your essence.

Loud, hungry gulps met your ears, making Steve retch. But you leaned in closer, curled your fingers around his bicep, clinging to him as you slipped away in your mind.

Into that heady, rich, velvety, lush ether.

“Eddie,” Robin warned, as your eyelids drooped, body slumping further into his frame, “Eddie, I think she’s done. Let go of her.”

He fell back, ragged breaths pulling from lungs. And he sounded so familiar, you nearly weeped at it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart —”

Those eyes shifted, changed back into the ones you knew before all of…this. Less haunted, more him, and despite the world tilting on its axis as you fell back into Steve’s arms unconscious, it seemed worth it.

You carried on with it in secret. Your friends decided it was better if, until things got better around Hawkins, Eddie remained nothing more than a shadow in the night. They’d find a way to make things right, but in the meantime…you learned how to keep things secret. How to slip away beyond the outer lines of Hawkins — to find ways to sneak off during patrols. Often, Steve would turn a blind eye. Nancy would wave you onward. Robin would give you a little eye roll and tell you to run along.

It started with conversations in the night. Things you never talked about when you’d known one another prior. And yet — since the day he’d drank your blood, you felt a connection to him in a way you hadn’t before. You would sit side by side, laughing and reminiscing. Dreaming, on nights where the world was quiet and it felt like you were the only two people who existed.

Those meetings changed as the seasons did. His gazes lingered longer. Your hands wandered. His lips glided over yours. Your fingers threaded in his hair. He fisted the back of your thigh and dragged you into his lap, whispered he wanted you against your throat.

That first time had been quick and needy. A frantic thing, with buttons flying, his shirt nearly shredded at the hem to get it off faster. He rolled you over onto your back and pinned you there against the dirt, the ground biting into your flesh, reminding you that you were alive despite it all. And you kissed him, panting into his mouth as his hips rolled furiously against your own, your fingers clutching at blades of grass, nearly ripping them up from the root as your orgasm stole your breath.

It kept on like that for months. Secret meetings, whispered words. His teeth in your skin, your bodies entwined, heart to heart, chasing whatever this thing was between you.

He was euphoria and light in a world filled with darkness, and you were addicted, and nothing would rip him away again.

——

The sounds of the guy’s hoots and hollers of enjoyment over their hunt grows quieter as you approach Eddie. He’s leaning against a tree, the dagger embedded near his shoulder, those dark eyes of his crinkling at the corners as you draw nearer to him. Lips curl back over elongated canines, and you note the swirling lines beneath his lashes, deciding you’ll have to do something about that later when you have more time and there’s no threat of the jackass twins coming back and throwing a wrench into things.

“Sorry I tried to kill you,” you tease, falling into his chest as broad palms slide around your hips to tug you close, “needed to make it look believable.”

“It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” He draws a sigh from deep within your chest as he leans in to claim your mouth. It’s a quick kiss, doesn’t linger long, his head pulling back to look at you in amusement. Mouth curling into a grin, hair in disarray, dark eyes gleeful in the night. “Didn’t know you could throw a dagger like that.”

“You liked that, huh? Been working on that for months now.”

Your smirk grows as he flips you around, your back hitting the trunk of the tree. He grunts out as you coast a palm along the front of his jeans, grinning ruefully at the way his erection strains against the fabric.

“You did.” A satisfied smile creeps up along your features, heart skipping as he grips the dagger hilt near your head and tugs it free from the bark. The metal glints, the sharpened edge twirling as he toys with it in his palm. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, him playing with your weapon, but the way he’s so leisurely about it — like he’s maybe done this before…knowing how good he is with his hands because you’ve been a very satisfied benefactor of their skills many a time now —

“You okay there? You forget I can hear your heart racing.”

He drags the dagger along the hollow of your throat, the standard issue button up uniform loose there, and then lower still toward the first button. He flicks his wrist and a button clatters against the ground, moves down a few centimeters and does the same to the next, the next, the next.

The knife follows. Falls into a pile of leaves, rustles them. There’s a moment — a quick, flash of time before he’s cutting off your breath in a searing kiss. Lips and teeth and hunger — a ravenous type of love, a ruinous thing that you crave. Fingers curl around your throat, apply the perfect amount of pressure that has you moaning into his mouth. He tips your chin up, up, up. His tongue glides along the skin there, silly nips spliced between, the rake of a fang over the throbbing beat of your pulse.

Heat pools in your belly. The sort of heat you know he can sense, your heightened arousal never to be hidden thanks to newer senses. He chuckles to himself as his nose nudges beneath your ear, lips toying with the lobe, breath sending chills down your spine as you shudder against him when his free hand slides down the front of your jeans, dragging a lazy circle over the wet fabric covering your slit.

“How long do we have before those idiots come back to get you?” he asks, a sultriness seeping into his tone.

“Long enough for you to feed,” you rasp out on a gasped breath, “or fuck me. Maybe both.”

“What do you want?” he asks, teeth scraping deliciously against your pulse again.

A little bit more, if you push him down a bit and ask him to take what he needs, and he’ll have sunk them into you again, submitting you to the delectable liquid honey that’ll flood your senses once he does.

The anticipation is one thing, a clanging cymbal that heats your blood. The knowledge that you can do this for him — that you enjoy it. It’s frighteningly empowering. Knowing it’s you who has kept him for so long— that it’s your blood that sings to him. Some might call it wrong; your friends had their own reservations and fears about it, understandably so.

After that first time, you got better with it. Quickly made sure to learn when to stop, how to stop (even if you often didn’t want to).

Sex had been one point of connection for the two of you. And that had been wonderful in and of itself. You craved him in ways you had never craved another. But this? Him having a part of you within him, your souls quite literally becoming one every time he drank from you — that was another level.

A sort of intensity that often made you both lose control. Whatever it was, you were irrevocably changed. This wonderful man, this creature you were meant to kill — the love that drew you into the forest like this, his hands making quick work of your jeans, tugging them down to your ankles, as his mouth licked at you furiously.

A gasp heaved from your chest. Fingers clutch in his hair as he pushes your hips back against the bark, fingers gripping tight to the dough of your thighs, keeping you spread out salaciously before him. It’s thrilling, the waves of your orgasm robbing you of your breath at the dawning realization of it, that at any moment Andy and Chance could appear.

That they might see you tangled so deeply in the web of lies you’ve become so tangled with these months, wrapped in the arms of the man who…loves you.

Because it’s forbidden, yes. By all means, if you’re found out it could be dangerous for both of you. They could kill him — would kill him.

But you would rip them all apart for the man who made a mess of you for all others.

You wince. And there’s coo. Eddie’s hands loosen from around your thighs, his body coming up to its full height before you. He lifts your hand, turns your palm up to inspect the splinter wedged into a fingertip. Blood pools from the wound, a scarlet teardrop that coasts down the back of your hand, trails toward your wrist.

Eddie’s eyes darken, and your lips curl up. You say quietly, “Go on.”

It might be wrong, on many levels, the way he brings your hand up to his mouth, tongue dragging along your wrist, the back of your palm, erasing the trickle of blood.

And it’s downright sinful the way he drags your finger into his mouth, eyes hazy and hooded, sucking lightly. Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering rapidly at the beginnings of that familiar euphoria sparkling around the edges of your mind.

“I want to be inside you,” he groans, making no effort to let go of your offended appendage, “and you know I prefer somewhere private for…that.”

You know he means when he sinks his fangs into you, when he’s inside you, and you both lose yourself to the magic in his bite. Wants to be alone for when that primal desire kicks up within him, and he loses himself in your body intertwined like that.

“Eddie,” you whisper, dragging him down to the ground, onto the jeans laying sprawled across the floor. “Please. It’s been days.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, hissing out a breath as you make quick work of his belt buckle, the sound of a zipper ramping up your heart rate, “because your schedule has sucked this week —”

“Please,” you urge him as he helps you up and over his thighs, sliding you down his length like the thousands of times you’ve done this before.

His breath stutters against the curve of your throat as you rise and fall steadily over him, injured hand splayed over his heart.

“Please.”

There’s always a sting. It’s only a brief moment. A soft prick of pain like that of a needle. Only it’s really two, and they immediately are replaced by his tongue to soothe away the ache. A healing balm that oozes into your bloodstream. When he latches on again, it’s a bubbly, almost buzzing feeling that spreads through you. The feeling of sifting slowly through sinking sand, like dragging your fingers through water. Your mind numbs, a feeling of floating — of lightness unparalleled has you sinking further into him, the rolling of his hips beneath you tethering you to reality. Here and there, on the precipice of something earth shattering. It’s always like this with him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against where he’s bitten into your collarbone, into the skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt, “God, I love you.”

And he’s rolling you over, hands on either side of your face, eyes closed in blissfulness. The forest floor at your back, your thighs around his hips, bodies connected in a practiced dance. You marvel at his features, missing that point of additional connection, cupping his cheek instead. He’s told you you taste like the sweetest nectar, like heaven itself. Says it’s not like this with anyone else. That you’re divine, velvet, rich. You’re ethereal and his. And it takes everything in him to restrain himself, to tamper down the throbbing of his heart when he’s drinking you in, to not take too much. He could lose himself in you, in the bliss of your coupling, in the perfection of your essence.

You both come with a cry, and, as always, hate when it ends. There’s no time to hold one another, to kiss along his bare skin as he keeps you close to him. Not with the fear of Andy and Chance appearing at any time, fresh from their hunt, with murder on their minds.

Instead he leans down and cups a hand around the back of your head. Presses his forehead to yours and whispers of his love, devotion, desire for you. It’s a promise for later, sealed with the softness of his lips against yours, and he’s gone…slipping into the shadows.

No longer next to you, and yet forever marked on your heart.

——

A pair of white, well-loved Reebok’s sit near the door.

Paintings and sketches are scattered around the living room.

Further in the home, Eddie listens to the familiar thump-thump coming from down the hall. Can hear the reassuring inhale and exhale of your breath.

It’s night once more, and you’re finally off work, finally able to catch up on some sleep. Have slept most of the day since you got home, now that he thinks of it.

The bed shifts as he joins you once more, kissing along a bare spine, blankets curling low around your hips. He chuckles at the memory of you earlier, nearly kicking the door open on the hinges, ready to reprimand him for showing up unannounced while you were on patrol, only to end up ridding him of his clothes on your way to rest for the evening.

“Hi,” you whisper, eyes blinking up at him, adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom, “How long have I been out?”

“Few hours,” he tells you, running a hand along your bare shoulder. “Missed those eyes.”

“Sap.” It’s a tease. You see him every day, and even then it’s not enough.

“I made you dinner,” he says, rolling over onto his side beside you, nose brushing yours gently.

“Thank you.” You lean over to kiss him, smiling against his skin. That’ll never get old. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Another kiss. “Today was fun.”

A smirk curls your lips. “It was.”

“I should visit you at work more often.” He’s grinning, the insinuation of his words making your heart stumble happily. It’s music to his ears. “You liked that, didn’t you? Could smell it on you. Bet if I touched you now you’d be wet just from the memory of it.”

He’s not wrong. And he proves that point with the teasing drag of his middle finger along your clit, relishing the soft cry of, “Ed —” that spills from your parted lips.

“Reminded me of that first time we were together,” he purrs, rolling over you. Rolling you over onto your back. Your body settles beneath him, form soft and warm against his. “Forest floor.”

“Sexy,” you tease, breaking off into a whine as he pushes inside, rolling his hips against yours slowly. “All the dirt, twigs and leaves. Nothing screams romance like a nice forest fling.”

“We worked with what we had at the time,” he chuckles, cock dragging along your walls, drawing another moan from your throat. “But I think I like this better. Our bed. In our home.”

Because, though it’s forbidden, you never could handle the thought of being without him.

Had asked him to move in here months ago, into your home on the outskirts of town, to live a quiet life away from prying eyes.

Here, where you could protect him.

Here, where you never needed to be parted from him.

Here, where for a year now, and forever still to come, he’d have a place by your side.

“Next time, just bite me somewhere else, will you?” you ask, when you tumble back onto earth when it’s all over and you’re left satiated once more, body draped over Eddie’s. Eddie’s brows arch high on his forehead. “By the time your freaky magic saliva started to heal the bite, the guys thought it was a hickey and teased me relentlessly. And I can’t be with you from jail if they keep it up.”

“Pretty sure we’ll always be together.”

Forever, he’s promised.

Because maybe it’s his new, more animalistic side. The part of him that recognizes a soul mate. Maybe it’s the way you fit in his arms, the way your lips feel against his, or the way your blood sings to him.

But he thinks, in a way, you feel like his.

And he knows, in his heart, he’s yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Seven: Tumble

summary: the one where everything changes.

warnings: oral, f receiving; unprotected p in v; 18+ (7k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

“Say it again,” Eddie breathed out.

A little gasp. A beg. A pleading ask from his lips. Your back fell against his bed, fingers clutched in the buttons of his shirt, trying to work them out of their respective holes as his mouth worked along the flesh of your throat.

“I want you,” you told him, all senses of hesitation tossed out the window.

Heat bloomed low in your belly as he ripped the rest of the buttons on his shirt free, bare arms sliding from the holes as the shirt fluttered to the floor in a heap. Curious fingers inched up to touch his warm skin — to run over the lines of his tattoos, the curves of his arms, the softness of his abdomen.

Without a second thought, Eddie clutched at your hips and dragged you down to the edge of the bed, fingers gliding along the flesh of your thighs, toying with the fabric of your emerald green dress. With a teasing grin, you reached down and gripped one of his hands. Dragged it up the inside of your thigh, where he found you already bared for him, umber eyes darkening in the light provided by his bedside lamp.

“No underwear? This is all for me, sweetheart?” He asked, middle finger trailing through your slick, teasing at your sensitive center. At the first brush of his digit against your hole your back arched, a high and needy moan spilling from you. “Been dreaming about touching you like this again.”

Eddie lowered himself to his knees at the foot of the bed, hair tugged back into a messy ponytail as he stared down at you like he’d never seen anything so pretty — like he’d never wanted anything more.

A man starved, ready to feast.

He pressed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh, fingers pushing up the dress higher on your thighs, a hum spilling from him when you were fully bared.

“Can I kiss you here? Wanna make you feel good.”

You’re nodding, nearly weeping with anticipation, just as the flat of his tongue glided through your folds. A dangerous lick from center to clit, fingers clutched tight in bedsheets, forearm falling over your face to try and muffle your moans.

“No one is here, Buttercup. I want to hear you.”

Eddie’s voice vibrated against your clit. The heat of a finger teased at your center, sliding in up to the knuckle, a garbled cry pitching from your lungs when he added a second. That had him satisfied, one palm curling around your thigh to spread you further for him, the other working in and out of you in a tempo you were certain was meant to drive you to your swiftly approaching orgasm faster than ever before in your life.

“Yes, Eddie,” you cried out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he curled his fingers within you in a way that had you seeing stars. “Right there. Like that likethatlikethat —”

Eddie expertly sucked and flicked at your sensitive clit until you were panting, gripping at the curls along the back of his head, hips wriggling up into his eager face. Wanting more — needing more.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he hummed, mouth popping off of your clit, fingers still sliding in and out, in and out in that torturous rhythm that had you creeping closer and closer to release. “So pretty, sweetheart. So fucking pretty. I’ve been thinking about you like this for so long. Thought a lot about how my name sounds on those pretty lips when I’m making you feel like this. Please say my name. Please, Buttercup.”

“Eddie,” you whimpered, “Eddie, ohgod, I want you inside me.”

“I will. I promise.” His hand curled around your thigh slid across your lap, stilling your hips from where they writhed against the mattress. “I’ll die if I don’t get inside you soon. But I want you to come on my fingers first. Wanna watch you.”

“I — mmm — I’m close,” you said, thighs fighting to close around Eddie’s shoulders, his elbow sliding out a bit to keep your thigh spread wide enough for him as you started to shake.

You come hard with a scream of his name, body trembling beneath him as your orgasm rippled through your form, leaving you gasping against bed sheets, repeating his name over and over again like a prayer.

Satisfied grin on his face, Eddie crawled up the bed and dropped down onto his side near your head, your body rolling immediately to seek him out. Body draped over his leisurely, you kiss him, his lips still tasting of you, making that throb in your center spark to life again. Eddie smiled into it, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, wanting to be nearer to him. And then nearer still.

“Eddie, your pants are still on,” you noted, fingers trailing down the front of his chest, toying with the patch of hair descending down beyond the waistline.

“Are you gonna take me out, pretty girl?”

The words have your belly swooping, heart fluttering wildly behind your ribcage as you slide down a bit on the mattress and hastily undo the buckle of his belt. It tugged free with a hard pull, tossed immediately onto the floor alongside his discarded shirt.

Clambering to your feet, you pulled your own dress up and over your head, revealing the dark slip you’d worn beneath, lace detailing the outline of your breasts, falling just to the tops of your thighs. Eddie’s jaw dropped at the sight, his fingers making quick work of his pants, leaving him lying there in nothing more than a pair of black boxers.

Eddie lifted himself up to sit and grab onto your hand, fingers curling tight around yours. Drew you against his lap, your knees splayed on either side of his hips, one of his hands pressed over your lower back to keep you in place.

“Is this new?” he asked, nosing along the delicate strap high on your shoulder, warm kisses dotting your flesh. “I was obsessed with your body before, but holy shit, sweetheart.”

At your affirming smile, he pushed the strap down and laved a gentle path of his tongue along the top of your breast, grinning against your skin as your hips wiggled against him, a soft sigh falling unbidden from your lips.

“Lift up,” he said, nibbling along your jaw as you rose up onto your knees. “Do you want it like this?”

“Yes.”

The word fell from you in a rush, your hand dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to cup him as he slipped them down off his thighs, his breath stuttering out a low whine as you ran your finger over the tip, gathering the precum there. Pumping him in hand once, twice, you ran his cock along your pussy and shuddered with him as you lowered yourself inch by inch onto him, gasping when he bottomed out and clutched at your thighs to hold you there.

For many nights you dreamed of this. Dreamed of roaming hands and sensual kisses. Of Eddie inside of you, so immensely full you couldn’t hardly breathe with it. The sounds he made, so similar to those he made now beneath you. But nothing prepared you for the immensity of this moment — of how incredible and right it felt.

“Oh god.” His hands clutched harder against your thighs, helping you shift your hips as you rocked over him, relishing in the feeling of him impossibly and deliciously thick against your inner walls. “You feel so good, baby. Take what you need. Just like that.”

“So f - full,” you moaned, head rolling back, hardened nipples brushing against his chest, sending a curling heat low within your belly. Eddie grinned at the way your movements stuttered on his lip, hips rolling up into yours, his teeth clamping on your shoulder. “Like that — yeahyeahyeah — please, Eddie.”

“So pretty like this.” A nimble finger slid across the expanse of your hip, glided low, circling your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

He circled again and again, applying that perfect amount of pressure that had you barely moving on his lap, head swimming. “Mmm — ahh, can’t move while you’re doing that. Feels too good.”

“Then don’t move,” he ground out, rolling you both over gently onto your back, curls spilling about his face, brushing yours.

You whined at the loss of him, eyes glancing down long enough to watch him grip himself in hand before sliding back in, robbing you of air at the change in positions.

“Oh shit.”

Fingers clutched at his broad back, gripped right as he dropped onto his elbows, careful to put all his weight on you, hips snapping against yours, his body driving you further up the mattress with every pump of his hips, inching closer to climax.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m not going to last much longer.” He leaned down and kissed you. Claimed your mouth with his, your own hips rising to meet his, fanning that flame between you two into an inferno. “Pussy’s perfect. So good. Made for me. Come on, sweetheart. Come with me.”

“Eddie!”

You cried his name out around shaky breaths, heart skipping as pleasure rippled through your body, cunt clenching down hard against him. His warmth filled you, sending you further into blissfulness.

He cursed above you, body falling beside yours with a loud groan. You rolled over weakly, head resting over his chest where you could hear his heart pounding almost as fast as your own.

“Hi,” you whispered, bursting into giddy giggles, body still trembling within the cradle of his arms.

“Hey, beautiful,” he echoed, inhaling deeply to catch his breath, your head rising and falling with the movement. “That was…”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, that’s, ah, putting it lightly.” He chuckled, looping his arms tighter around your form. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Your head lifted from his chest, brows arched high on your forehead. “What do you mean?”

“I am not done with you,” he mused, rolling you over a bit so his body hovered over your own. “I plan on doing this again.” He dropped a kiss on your breast. “And again.” To your shoulder. “And again.” Your forehead. “If that’s okay with you?” At your nodded reply, he leaned down and kissed you.

And then made good on his promises.

——

Over the next several days, Eddie made sure to worship every inch of your body. To make sure you knew just how much he adored you, showering you in endless kisses and affection. And you hadn’t minded one bit. Settled into your new normalcy, if one could call it that, easily.

You’d both work and carry about your usual days and when you got home there was an air of tension. A coil of desire that wound up tight throughout dinner, only to detonate as you later found one another in the hallway after you ate, bodies falling together like they were always made to.

Soon enough, it was endless whimpered cries against doorways. Writhing bodies amidst the blankets on Eddie’s bed. Hands slapping tiles in the bathroom, holding yourself upright as he slid home from behind. It was humming as you worked on the dishes in the sink, and Eddie’s heat settling at your back. Slithered fingers between legs and mewling as skirts you wore for work were flipped up and you were bent over the counter, or the couch, or the table.

On nights where you were left satiated and curled in his arms, you’d settle into conversation. His likes and dislikes. His future ideas for campaigns, your thoughts on the movies you’d curl up together and watch on the nights the weather was poor and he ended up rubbing your feet in his lap. Dreamed about the upcoming months. Talk about hopes for Elena.

“I’d like for you to come to our first tour date with her, if you could,” Eddie said one evening, fingers trailing up and down your spine, grinning at the shiver he elicited from you. “It’s in the city. We could get her some ridiculous headphones. I just…I help write my music, that’s my creation. But then —” He trailed his palm along the hill of your belly fondly. “I helped create her too. Would be cool to have some of the things I love most in the world together all at once.”

Neither of you broached the topic of tour often. The reality was you had so long before he inevitably left and you hardly needed to worry about then, and even so, this was the first time he mentioned you coming out to see him. Not that you ever doubted he would, as you’d seen him play at the Hideout, got to see his passion play out on the stage and finally make you understand why he’d pursued it for so long.

He was talented — incredibly so, and you often wondered if Elena might one day pick up the musical habit, or your writing one. Wondered what her own likes and dislikes would be, what her little personality would be like, if she’d be more like you or Eddie.

“She’ll be six months then,” you said, running your nose along his. “I think we could make it work.”

“I want you there too, you know?” he said, dropping a kiss against your forehead. “In case you were unsure. I want both my girls in the crowd.”

Neither of you spoke of what this all meant. The endless kissing. The affectionate touching. Falling into bed together. You simply allowed it to be — to breathe. Maybe it was poor planning on your part, or his, but you preferred it this way. Gave yourself the breadth to accept the growing feelings you felt. The fear that often accompanied them.

And maybe it was foolish. Maybe you’d live to regret it, but it worked for those blissful weeks. Those weeks where you laughed and loved and learned one another, March melting into April, as you swiftly approached twenty-seven weeks.

“Eddie?” you called into the home one evening, heart thundering away behind your ribcage. Your shoes were discarded on the rug below, jacket tossed onto the coat rack a moment later. “Eddie, where are you?!”

The place was quiet, Eddie off for the evening after he’d woken up with a bit of a migraine and didn’t think he’d be able to tinker around with cars all day. From where you stood you could hear the gentle hum of the television — one of Eddie’s shows coming through the speakers.

“What’s wrong?” He rushed down the hall, pulling you into his arms, checking you over from head to toe for any injury or signs of discomfort. “Is it the baby? Do we need to go to the doctor?”

Your head shook frantically, words falling in a rushed breath, “Nancy called me at the school. She — they loved the book. I should be hearing from them soon, she said.”

You still couldn’t believe it. Had hardly believed what the woman was saying when she called, too eager to wait for you to get home from work to tell you the news. But the woman had nearly shouted the news, so proud of your accomplishments that you’d yet to even accept were your present reality.

“I knew it!” Eddie exclaimed, swooping down to press his lips against yours, hand curling around the back of your head. “I knew they’d see how crazy talented you are. I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

Soon enough, you were celebrating over dinner at Enzo’s. Eddie’s treat. You clinked your mocktail against his own drink, cheersing to your news. To your successes — both of yours. Eddie, with his music really beginning to take off. You, with your writing.

And to your future as parents.

“To being there and standing by the other as our dreams come true,” Eddie stated, running a thumb over the back of your hand.

“To our dreams,” you echoed, sliding a hand over your midsection, “and our dream girl.”

Your little girl who, though unexpected, was a catalyst for your motivation behind it all. To be someone that Elena would look up to one day, someone she could be proud of, want to aspire to be.

The girl you envisioned some nights, with her bubbling laughter, Eddie’s hair, your smile, and both your hearts. The best parts of both of you combined into one little person, only a few months from meeting now.

He nodded. “Our dream girl.”

——

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi,” you laughed, rolling over to face the man.

“No, shhh,” he hushed, the palm sprawled over your belly spreading further. “I’m talking to Elena.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I leave the room?” you teased, watching as his eyes rolled at your suggestion.

“I read talking to her is good,” he said with a little frown. “I just want her to recognize me when she’s born, you know?”

“She will,” you promised, cupping his cheek in hand. “She already does. Moves a ton whenever she hears your voice. I think she likes it.”

“I just…with me going on tour when she’s so young, I don’t want her to forget it,” he said, thumb stroking along your skin beneath your satin night dress. “I — I hardly remember my mom’s voice. Would kill me if Elena ever doubted how much I care about her.”

A sigh expelled from your lungs at the heartache in his words. The anguish he still often felt after losing someone who had meant the world to him and always would. Couldn’t fathom what it must be like, having pictures of a face, but losing the recollection of their voice. The tone of it when rounded with the words ‘I love you’ that everyone deserved to hear at least once daily.

“I don’t think she could ever doubt how much you love her. I see it every day. She’ll know, Eddie. You’ll make sure she knows.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“And plus, I’m bringing Elena with me to your nearby shows,” you reminded him, smiling when she shifted against his palm. “See, she wants us to go. Can’t wait to see her dad in action.”

“Not with the music you play for her,” he teased, dropping his lips down lower against your skin, loudly whispering, “It’s okay, once your mom goes to sleep I’ll play real music for you.”

“Hey! Steve likes ABBA too,” you laughed, remembering how Eddie walked in on you earlier, cleaning dishes and singing along to one of their songs.

The man had the gall to snort, fingers combing roughly through his messy curls. “I do have to say that Steve is a highly questionable source for good music.”

“You like some of the songs I’ve played you,” you retorted, his lips tugging upward into a smile.

“Ever think I just like you and relationships sometimes require compromise?” He said it so softly, so quietly, sincere umber eyes on yours, that little dimple in his cheek making your stomach clench.

Relationship. A word neither of you discussed. Even so, was it too far a stretch of the imagination to accept that this was what that was? And yet, your heart still pounded at the word. Chest tightened with the weight of what that entailed. The vulnerability they required.

What it meant.

“Right,” you said, forcing a smile onto your lips.

Luckily not for long, because Eddie leaned back down and continued to talk to his daughter, telling her a ‘bedtime story’ that only resulted in your eyes growing tired as you tried to push aside the fear wrapping right around your neck.

——

“So now you’re not only living with baby daddy, but you’re sleeping with him too,” Micah squealed down the line, and from where you were standing, watching Eddie work on putting together the baby’s mobile at the kitchen table, you could only assume she was bouncing up and down in her apartment. “I am so so happy. God, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you sighed, wanting nothing more than to see one of the only parts of the city you now find yourself missing on any given day. “I really wish you could visit — maybe before the baby is born. Or after. She’s going to want to meet her favorite aunt, you know?”

“I’m going to try, babe,” she said, just as Jeremiah’s voice sounded in the background. “Hey, I’m so sorry. I have to go. Jere and I have a wedding to get to.”

“That’s okay! Eddie and I are headed to a birthing class recommended by one of our friends,” you told her, chuckling to yourself. “I can’t believe I even said that. Who would have thought? Me — of all people.”

“Oh gosh, my friend Stacy went to one of those recently. The instructor was dressed as a clown,” she said, giggling brightly. “Or…she might have said they were a clown? But seriously, babe? Of all the people I know, you’ll be the best mom. Always giving so much of yourself.”

Only it had gotten you hurt so many times in the past. There was an awareness it would be different with Elena. Elena, who presently relied on you for everything — and would continue to do so after her arrival. Someone who would love you unconditionally, someone who knew you more intimately than most, and would for years to come. The weight of the realization was startling, and yet you’d never been more excited to meet her.

“Thank you, Micah.” You leaned your back against the wall, watching as Eddie finally finished his current project. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Talk soon. Love you, babe.”

“Love you more.”

The phone clicked and you turned to face Eddie, his keys already in one hand, mobile in the other. You watched as he slipped from the room with a nod and into Elena’s room, before joining you once more in the kitchen, holding out a hand for you to take.

“Are you ready for this?” you asked, knowing Eddie had been a little nervous when Chrissy suggested that by nearly seven months you might want to consider going to a class. You knew it made things a little more real for him, knowing in just a few months he’d be welcoming his daughter into the world.

“Do these classes really help?”

Your hand remained in his as you walked out to the car, his hand reaching for the door handle to help you in, closing it behind you with a loud slam. He appeared in the driver’s seat a moment later, dark eyes flashing in the afternoon light.

“I mean, I feel like I’m going to be pretty useless anyway. Other than holding your hand, I feel kind of shitty knowing you’ll be the one in pain while I just kind of, I don’t know, cheer you on.”

“Honestly, I really only wanted to try it because Chrissy and Steve said it was very helpful. And centering? Not only for Chrissy at the time, but for them both as a couple during the actual birth. So I figured…”

“I mean, I’m willing to try anything in life at least once, so,” Eddie said, shrugging as you buckled yourself in.

You weren’t even sure you wanted Eddie in the room up until a few weeks ago after a heated conversation with Chrissy.

“Wait — you don’t want him in the delivery room? This is his first baby. Yours too. This is a beautiful, monumental moment.”

“It’s going to be a war zone down there. I would like for him to remember the finer times, like Halloween.”

“You are so dramatic, and so is he. Match made in heaven, really.”

“All I’m saying is, I would like for him to have fond memories.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think he’d also like to have fond memories of meeting his baby girl for the first time?”

But after consideration, and the time spent over the past weeks with him, you knew he deserved to be there. Needed to be there.

The building itself was no more than a small studio. As you entered, you noted the other couples situated on different mats along the floor, the two of you meandering in a little late. A bored worker at the front desk had you sign in and told you both to take a place on the floor, and immediately you sensed the chill in the air. The nervousness that welled up as Eddie and you dropped down onto the mat.

He looked…frustratingly handsome, and the added effect of him in too-tight black jeans, with his black tee shirt revealing tattooed arms, and those endlessly ringed fingers wasn’t exactly needed for a birthing class that you knew would be running two hours long.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Eddie asked, fingers still tangled with yours against his thigh.

“What look?”

“That look.” He leaned his head down to your ear, his curls tickling at the top of your cheekbone.

“If you must know, you look very nice. And it’s annoying me, because we have two hours before we can get back home and I can do something about it. Happy?”

You harrumphed, leaning against his side as your birthing instructor for the evening came out, wearing a rainbow of colors all over their frame, hair up in a bun and fixed into place with a sparkly pen.

“Welcome, welcome! So good seeing you all this evening. My name is Heidi, shall we begin?”

The class started with preliminary information. Things to understand about and during the process, what to expect, how long it might take, different procedures done in order to help assist birth and the like. It wasn’t until a few moments after her introductory session that she drew everyone’s attention to the television against the wall and pushed in the VHS tape.

“Oh no. Eddie, don’t look!” you gasped, reaching up to clap a hand over Eddie’s eyes when a woman appeared on the screen, screaming through what looked to be a painful contraction as a doctor counted down from ten. His fingers reached up to push your hand away, those eyes of his landing on yours, apologetic horror in his eyes. “I told you not to look. I didn’t want you to see the future.”

The movie, fortunately enough, ended soon thereafter, the room descending into silence as the instructor pushed the television away and settled down onto her own mat, her hands clasped together in her lap, a too-wide smile on her face for someone who just watched the miracle of life in all its fullness seconds ago.

“Well, now. Wasn’t that beautiful? The strength and tenacity of the women in our lives, so fully displayed through the blessed agony of childbirth.”

“Blessed…agony?” Eddie asked, chuckling from behind you, making you snort.

“Is there something funny about that?” Heidi asked, blue eyes flashing up to Eddie’s face. The other couples about the room shifted to look as he lifted a hand and rubbed it against the back of his neck. “Your lovely partner here — I am assuming she is your partner — will be enduring that same process in a few months. Will it be funny then?”

“I…uh…well…no?” Eddie stammered, hear burning red at the tops of his cheeks.

“I didn’t think so,” she said, tipping her head back and resuming, “Now, for this next portion of the class I would like for us to start on our hands and knees, with our partners behind us.”

“What the fuck did Chrissy sign us up for?” you whisper hissed up at Eddie, getting into proper positioning, earning a shrug. “Blessed agony of childbirth? Does she not realize my downstairs is about to be ripped wide open like the Red Sea?”

“Sweetheart, please,” he chuckled a little nervously, knees carrying him across the mat until his hips settled behind your backside, the heat of him making you bite your bottom lip, stifling a tiny moan. He gave an experimental roll against you at your reaction, the rest of the room still busying themselves with getting settled. Eddie’s smug grin when you looked over your shoulder made you grimace. “Are you seriously horny right now?”

“I will kill you,” you barked out, though there was no anger there, only pure want.

“In early labor, I like this position for alleviating back pain. And it’s here we are going to focus on belly breathing. Partners, you can assist by counting, as well as running your hand along their back, lower spine. Anywhere that will bring comfort to your partner as they breathe through their contractions.”

“Pretty sure my partner will be within an inch of punching me in the dick for knocking her up, but okay, Heidi,” Eddie whispered near your ear as Heidi began counting you through your first long inhale and exhale, your body rising and falling with the deep breath.

You broke off into a fit of giggles, earning a harsh glare from the woman. “You two seem to be having an awfully good time back there.”

You swallowed, paused in your current breath as Eddie’s hand playfully swatted your backside. You nearly elbowed him, cheeks hurting from your grin. “I’ve heard laughing is good during labor?” You shrugged in explanation.

The class continued in that position for a few minutes. Practicing the long deep inhales in, and the slow exhales out, Eddie’s palm gliding up and over your back, despite the fact you weren’t in any actual pain. Heidi had you all continue with that until satisfied, before announcing the next exercise, which happened to be bouncing on a blow up ball.

You missed the whole explanation for it, because as soon as you clambered on top and Eddie held your hands to steady you, he’d teased you, saying, “Bet this one is reminding you of last night when you looked so pretty bouncing on my c —”

“Hey, Eddie?” you started, stepping off of the ball and hoisting it into the air playfully.

Heidi gasped. “Munson team! That is not the proper use of the birthing ball!”

“You mean I don’t get to toss it at my obnoxious partner’s head?” you jokingly asked as you got back on, bouncing in front of him, and most definitely not thinking about how he’d eaten you out after dinner the night before, and then you’d tackled him on the couch, craving dessert.

Lastly, Heidi announced your next position, which she liked to call ‘birthing position.’

“Now, partners, you’re going to sit behind. While mothers will sit in front, and you’re going to bring your knees up to your chest. Think of it as your baby saying hello to the world for the first time.”

The words were a breathy whisper, all dramatic waving fingers, and wide eyed wonder. As if she hadn’t just said you’d be spread-eagled for all to see so your baby could give a big wave hello as they made their grand entrance to the world.

“I am most definitely not,” you said numbly, back thumping against Eddie’s chest. “Chrissy and Steve are so dead because of this. Pretty sure women have been giving birth for ages without bending themselves like a pretzel and spreading their thighs wide for all the class to see.”

“As your contractions quicken and intensify, you will begin transitioning from your belly breathing, to these, as we like to call them, hee-hee-hoo breaths.”

She began demonstrating for the class. A constant three turn breathing technique that she then had you all mimic, your head pressed snugly into Eddie’s chest as he held you within his arms, trying not to laugh at the annoyed furrow of your brows.

“I would like you to now visualize your cervix stretching and stretching and stretching as you push your baby through your birth canal.”

“Can she stop with all the stretching?” you grunted through your panted breath, Eddie’s sides shaking in his laughter. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad —”

“You two, again.” Heidi clapped her hands together, shaking her head. “I’m going to need to ask you to leave, on account of disrupting my class.”

“We are so very sorry, everyone.” Eddie helped you to your feet, bowing with a dramatic flourish of his arm. “We wish you all good luck and congrats.”

And you were gone, giggling together as you rushed out the front doors, falling into the car in a flurry of heated kisses and wandering hands. Eddie’s forehead dropped against yours, his hand curled around your cheek. “So, how prepared for birth do we feel after that?”

“I think we’ll be fine, as long as you keep me laughing like you did back there,” you said, lips brushing his once more.

He flashed you that dimpled smile, the dangerous one that had your heart softening more and more every day. “I can definitely do that.”

——

Seven months finally rolled around, body aching a little more than it previously had, sleep coming a little less easily. With the weather warming, you had to go shopping as well, finally having officially grown out of most of your clothes. Presently, you were seated near the headboard of Eddie’s bed, your back positioned against a mountain of pillows, Eddie down the hall in the bathroom as you read your book.

It happened to be a romance about a seamstress and her childhood best friend, who also happened to be a Viscount. Forbidden, by societal expectations of marriage — and yet she’d been so keenly aware of the affection growing between them, that they eventually found they couldn’t deny themselves their love any longer.

He was pushing her up onto his office desk when Eddie entered the room, eyes flickering up to your face, noting the way your thighs slid together a bit. He leaned down on the bed with one knee, lips sliding over yours in a gentle kiss as he laid back against the endless pillows, content on merely being by you. Returning to your page, you felt Eddie sidle up against your hip, his ringed palm running over the hoodie covering your midsection, and then trailing lower against your bare thigh.

You remain like that for a while, nothing but the sound of your pages turning to keep you both company, just as the Viscount pulled his best friend into a dressing room and hiked her skirts up over her thighs, mouths clashing heatedly and fingers sliding into her pussy with a growl that had your breath hitching in the back of your throat, as Eddie’s fingers started toying with the edge of your sleep shorts, dangerously close to the wet patch forming on the front of your panties.

Your eyes jerked upward to Eddie’s face as he settled himself between your thighs, pushing at the shorts covering your sex, thumb trailing over your clit until you whined. He looked downright starved, his rapid breath fanning along your skin.

You moved to place your book down, but Eddie shook his head, dark eyes narrowing in on your cunt as his tongue licked across his bottom lip.

“Keep reading, Buttercup,” he murmured slowly, nearly dropping your book as he peeled your underwear away and dragged his tongue along your center. You were already close, heart hammering as his tongue circled your clit just the way you liked. But he stopped when your paperback thumped against your chest, fingers moving to clutch at his dark curls. “Come on, baby. I don’t see your eyes moving over that page.”

His tongue moved back over your flesh as you opened your closed book, resuming where you’d left off as the Viscount turned his lover to face the wall and sunk inside, filthy words spoken between the two of them that had your toes curling, just as the man between your thighs pushed his fingers inside.

“So wet for me, sweetheart,” he cooed, kissing at the inside of your thigh, laying a loving nip into it.

Your eyes started to water as the page blurred, words becoming harder to read at the way Eddie sucked at your clit, fingers seeking out that secret part of you only he’d been able to find. Thighs trembled around his shoulders, fighting to close as your book fell again.

“Eddie,” you whined, nearly crying with want when he stopped again, head pulling away from your sex with a teasing smirk lining his glistening lips. “Eddie —”

At your needy little cry he tossed your book to the side, pushed his gray sweats down, pumped his cock twice and slipped inside, completely eradicating the words you’d read and putting to shame the dreamy Viscount.

——

For the first time in a long time, life seemed perfect.

In a sort of worrying, but-maybe-you’d-be-better-off-ignoring-it-kind-of-way. Or at least, that was what you’d rationalized for so long. Tucked away any of those daunting fears that plagued your dreams. Pretended that you knew exactly where all of these lines would lead to.

You’d spent the better portion of the day at Steve and Chrissy’s, enjoying the warmer May weather with what you assumed to be the first of many barbecues. Had found yourself overjoyed all evening, Eddie’s hands reaching out to touch you whenever he got a chance, drawing the attention of your friends.

Neither of you said anything in regards to the curious glances. All had assumed something was going on, despite the fact a name hadn’t really been placed on the budding relationship.

Even so, it had been an afternoon of laughter and sharing good food. Of the guys clinking their beer bottles together, sharing in an inside joke, arms around the other’s shoulders, heads bent low in conversation. You and your girl friends chatting about your upcoming shopping plans, Chrissy and Robin teasing at your upcoming baby shower (because they clearly couldn’t keep secrets). Recounting your week, talking about new things that may have occurred in the days spent apart, Steve and you getting excited for the school year to almost be over.

And as the sun set over Hawkins, and the two of you eventually headed back home, you realized how terrifyingly important Eddie had become to you these months living with him. The one person you ran to for everything. The one who had been a constant support to you, a confidant, a reassurance, the one you woke up to every morning and fell asleep next to every night. The father of your baby, the person who made your stomach flutter and heart race. The one who made you question if your fears were for naught after all.

Eddie led you into the home with a hand curled around your wrist, whirled you around and pressed you into the doorway, the lock snagging with a resounding schlick into place. And then he was on you, hands fisting in the material of your sundress, thigh pressing into your center, a low moan rumbling from his lips when he found you already bare and slick for him there.

“You walked around like this all afternoon?” he practically purred, leg shifting as you ground against it with a dirty whine, fingers coming up to clutch greedily at his biceps. “Wanted me to just flip your skirt up and have you like this all afternoon, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you sighed, breaking off with a keen as those fingers teased at your sensitive flesh.

He walked you backwards down the hall, leading you to his bedroom, where you knew you’d spend the remainder of the evening, bodies curled together as tight as two people could possibly be.

Soon enough, you were easing him out of his tee shirt and jeans. Tossed them onto the floor haphazardly. He slipped your dress off your frame and kissed you soundly, praises of your beauty on his lips, of how lucky he was to have you. To know you, to be with you.

Soon enough, you were arching your back for him, whining low and desperate as he slipped in from behind slowly, toes curling at the feeling of him so impossibly deep, a hand pressed to your impossibly warm back, the other curled around your waist to rub along your clit, his voice ragged as he stated he wouldn’t last long.

“Let go,” you rasped, the sound of your slick and his hips slapping against the backs of yours hitting you like a freight train, orgasm shattering through you like a bolt of lightning, teeth clenched tight against your bottom lip as you came. “Want to feel you, Ed.”

“Oh fuckfuckfuck —” He groaned, chest bowing over your back, lips dancing along the line of your spine.

He lowered you down carefully to the mattress, a soft kiss at your forehead making you ache with his affection, those perfect fingers of his running along the lines of your face. He whispered for you to stay still as he shifted off the bed and slipped from the room and grabbed a rag, easing your legs apart gently when he returned, insistent on cleaning you up.

He was all tender. Little whispers as he ran along your too-sensitive flesh. Heated kisses as he tossed the towel into a hamper and dragged your body close again, nose running along the side of yours, fingers cupping the back of your head.

He held you like a secret. Like a beautiful gem he wanted to keep hidden from the world. Something so infinitely precious. You grew heavier in the comfort of his arms, body twined tight around his own, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist.

Tucked away from the world, you remained like that as tiredness creeped along the edges of your vision. As your dreams beckoned you further, with nothing but Eddie’s soft breathing to guide you there.

And then, as you nearly slipped out of consciousness completely, you heard it.

Words that changed everything. Words that dropped like lead into your stomach.

“I love you, Buttercup.”

——

please, please, please let me know what you think. needing some positive vibes out there, as my health has kind of gotten bad again. you all make it a lot better, and i’m so grateful for that. means the world to me. 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Six: The Date

summary: you and eddie go to a wedding together. and decisions are made. (7.4k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

  Saturday Morning light seeped through billowing curtains. Golden rays casted shadows along the tan carpeting, illuminating the space in a heavenly glow. You could smell that morning Spring breeze — the freshness of it, the tease of a beautiful day to come. The warming March air teased along your skin, gooseflesh pimpling across heated skin. 

Heated by the man curled up behind you. His fingers remained curled around your midsection, rings discarded into a tray at his bedside. The touch seeped through the tee shirt you wore, your own fingers itching to reach out and trace the forearm keeping you held in place, while your head rested on Eddie’s other toned bicep, your pillow forgotten. 

Breath puffed along your ear. His face pressed into the curve of your shoulder, curls dangling along your skin. If you reached out, you’d be able to tangle your fingers in the feathery curls. Would watch them extend and retract with a bounce, falling messily into place as they always did. 

“Morning.” 

It was a muffled moan at your neck, his face turning into it as he hugged you tighter, limbs stretching out beneath him. Vaguely, you wondered if he’d even realized what he was doing — holding you tighter, wrapping himself further around you, locking you into an embrace. But you eased into it, a low hum spilling from you as your fingers reached down and trailed along the backs of his knuckles, his laughter making your heart soar when your fingertips tickled along his flesh. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to block out everything else around you. Allowed the simple haven you created here in his room with him over the span of several days. A safe space for you to share and for him to listen, for him to express his heart and for you to open up yours. Smiled to yourself as he relaxed further against your back, and you sank into him, your head nuzzling further into his bicep. 

In the distance, his wall clock alerted you he’d have to head out to the shop in an hour, but in here time didn’t exist. At least not right now. Not as he shifted his arm from beneath his head and propped himself up on an elbow, palm pressed to his temple as he looked down over at you. 

As you rolled over, you were shadowed and sheltered in the safety of his gaze, those umber eyes locked on yours and he simply stared. Beheld you, like he thought you might run away. Part of you wanted to. And the other — the other part, beaten and battered by love, still held onto hope that there were good people in this world. 

Good people like the man beside you, with love in his heart, full to the brim, a best friend to you now. 

“Good morning,” you murmured back, gripping his chin in hand and wiggling it lightly, earning a soft smile out of the man. He groaned and flopped back down onto his pillow, forehead smashed into the fabric, hair splayed out every which way, the man dramatic as ever. Endearingly so. “We should probably get up. You have to leave in a few. I can make coffee. I owe you after that back rub.” 

He followed you begrudgingly. Like a boy much younger than his nearly thirty years, with his feet dragging behind you down the hall, fingers reached up to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head. Little pieces spilled out around his face, and you fought back the urge to reach up and push them behind his ears. To see if he’d lean into your embrace like he had so many months ago, and lay a kiss into the center of your palm, stealing your breath all over again. 

But instead you turned around to face the coffee pot, prepping the contents of the machine as Eddie rummaged about in the fridge and took out some things needed to throw together some breakfast for the two of you. With pancakes cooking on the stovetop, you shifted and pressed your hip into the countertop. 

He tipped his head your way, beaming as he reached out and tugged you closer, your front nearly bumping into his side. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Really riveting things,” you told him, mouth curling into a smirk. “As in, shopping with Chrissy for the wedding tomorrow, and grabbing lunch with Robin, her and Melody. Elena is our honorary fifth wheel.”

“Dress shopping,” he mused, flipping a pancake over, head dipped lower as he tossed some blueberries into another pancake. 

“Yeah,” you began, a teasing lilt imbuing your tone, “Got asked on a date or something. Figured I should try and look nice.” 

“You always look nice.” Your cheeks burned at his words. “Who is this guy? Should I be worried?”

“Mmm, he seems nice enough. Hope he doesn’t mind that I’m almost six months pregnant.” At his narrowed gaze, you laughed, shoving at him lightly. “What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“Around dinner time,” he said, sliding over the finished pancakes onto a plate. 

You rushed around him before he could say a word and brought them over to the kitchen table, placing them alongside the bottle of syrup and glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. With a click, he turned the stove off and tossed the pan into the sink to let it cool down, grabbing you both cups of coffee the way he knew you liked and brought yours over to you, your hands cupped gratefully around it with a soft smile tossed his way. 

“You’re wearing a green tie, right?” you asked, cutting a piece of your pancake and placing it in your mouth, humming around the blueberries that burst to life on your tongue. Eddie was practically glowing with it, dimpled cheeks and all, and your heart stuttered at the look in his eye. 

“Yeah, sage green is what Chrissy and Suzie called it,” he replied, sipping some of his coffee, rubbing at his stubbed jawline. 

“I’ll try and somewhat match you then,” you said. “I don’t want to step on the bride's toes.” 

“I’d like that…” 

He leaned back against his chair, and you leaned over the table closer to him, fingers hovering over the little bit of syrup he’d gotten on his cheek. Dark eyes watched your face as you brushed your thumb over the plushest part of it, wiping away the traces of his sugary treat. 

“I think I’m going to try and make dinner tonight,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm as Eddie relished in your touch, his dark eyes softening, that mouth of his twitching into a smirk at your words. “I think I’ve learned a thing or two these weeks, Munson. I think it’s about time the student becomes the teacher.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm. So don't worry about anything. You just have a good day at work, and I’ll take care of things around here.” 

Proud of yourself, you leaned back against your chair, satisfied and full from his delicious breakfast, a hand curled absentmindedly over your middle. Eddie rose, his chair squeaking in protest, a kiss pressed to the crown of your head in thanks as he collected your plates and tossed them into the sink. 

With a harrumph, you joined him, nearly shoving him out of the way with a teasingly hissed, “Shoo — go get ready!” and a jab aimed perfectly in the middle of his stomach, making the poor guy hunch over in a laugh, his bright and joyful face twisting the vice around your heart even tighter. 

  ——

  “So…any new events since we last spoke — no, sweetie, that’s not a toy.” Chrissy plucked the remote Melody had stolen from beside Steve’s thigh from where she crawled around on the couch, alternating between crawling in her father’s lap and smacking his face with an eager palm, seeking out his affection. 

“Chris, stop tormenting the girl,” Steve laughed, watching as the players on the screen glided around on the ice, one player managing to score a goal that had Steve breaking off into an excited shout. “She’s going to run out the door if you keep it up.” 

“We’re good,” you admitted, toying with the frayed edge of a pillow you dragged onto your lap, thighs curled beneath you on the couch. “I mean, we’re going to the wedding tomorrow as dates so…I don’t know.” 

You shrugged, and Chrissy looked like the cat who ate the canary. Nearly bounced up and down on the couch, rocking you with the flurry of her movements, her arms coming up to loop right around your shoulders just as Melody broke out into shrieking wails from where she rested in Steve’s lap. 

“Oh, baby!” Chrissy cooed, scrambling back over to her little one, kissing at her chubby cheeks and brushing away those water droplets falling from pretty hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry. Momma is just really excited.”  

Steve grunted as Chrissy and Melody swapped, his wife now draped over his lap, hands coming to curl around her despite it though. You thought it sweet, the way he tucked them both in close, brushing his lips over her temple as she settled her head over his sternum, rocking their baby in her lap. 

It was hard to not wonder. To not dream that this might be your own reality. That there could be a world where you loved and received love in return — the kind you’d long given up on. 

Steve glanced your way as you absently traced a palm over the hill of your belly, Elena a comfort despite the unease steadily growing in your chest. “I don’t like speaking for him when he’s not here, but he really cares about you. Both of you.”

“So much for stopping tormenting her,” Chrissy teased, though it was warm with affection, her hand stroking along his chest beside her head. 

“I’m not the one constantly trying to play matchmaker with our best friends,” Steve retorted, snickering when Chrissy pouted up at him adorably. 

Your heart raced over best friends. Truly, you didn’t know what you’d have done without the Harringtons. They’d been there when you had been alone. Had been there on nights when Robin was gone for the night and your grief got the better of you. And now — now they meant the world to you. 

To you and Eddie. 

In a few months, to Elena as well. 

“I’m giving her encouragement. So much has changed in a short amount of time, so I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, then looked at Chrissy. “Both of you, really. I don’t know what I’d have done without the both of you and Robin. Elena is definitely not short on love by any means. But I really should get back to the house. I told Eddie I’d make him dinner — okay, now both of you are looking at me like you’re meddling. We’re just…we’re…”

“Feeling things out,” Steve suggested, and you nodded. 

“I’ll see you both at the wedding tomorrow,” you said, grabbing your things and walking over to hug Chrissy as best as possible from where she lay on her husband’s lap. Then leaned down and placed a loud kiss on Melody's cheek. “And you too!”

  ——

  The first thing Eddie noticed when he kicked off his shoes and walked into the home was the sound of music playing. Something slow and sweet, a soft, lilting thing. The second thing he noticed was the unmistakable smell of what he assumed to be dinner burning. Followed up only then by the sound of your fretting in the kitchen. Whimpered little cries that had him stepping further into the home hastily, whipping around the corner to find you at the kitchen table with your head in your hands and a burnt to a crisp looking lasagna on a potholder at the stovetop. 

“Sweetheart…” he called out, knowing you’d been a little easily startled as of late. And emotional. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see your dejected state, the way your shoulders were hunched over in defeat, tears dropping into the placemat beneath your head, sides shaking with your tears. “Hey, hey, what happened here?”

When you lifted your head, Eddie’s heart sank. The red tint to your eyes, the puffy lids, the downturn of your lips, tear tracks across your cheeks. With a whispered coo of your name, he tugged you up and off the chair and onto his knees, arms curled right around your form as you pressed your head into his shoulder, sniffling noisily. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But I did, and by the time I woke up, it had burned and now dinner is ruined,” you whined, his mouth shifting downward as you clung tighter to his shirt, clutching the fabric tight in your hand. “I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so good all these weeks and I appreciate everything so much and I honestly don’t feel like I deserve it all the time and I —”

“Breathe, Buttercup. Hey, let me see that pretty face, okay?” You leaned back a bit and stared up at him, his palms coming up to rest on either side of your face. “It’s fine.”

“But it doesn’t feel fine.” 

The sleeves of your thin sweater wiped across your eyes, smudging the mascara on your bottom lashes just the slightest. He brushed at it with his thumb, and you let out a ragged breath, still choked up from your tears. 

“I ruined dinner,” you whimpered, a little broken sound that had him tutting and pulling you back into his neck, where you tucked your head away into, his chin resting on the crown of your head. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised, feeling his chest ache in your shared sadness. He hated seeing you cry, knew a large factor of it was the countless emotions you felt on any given day as of late, but hated it all the same. “You went out of your way to make dinner for me. And so what if it didn’t turn out as planned? I’ll just order us a pizza, we’ll hang out and just relax. That would make my day.”

“Really?” 

“I’m serious. As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m happy,” he admitted softly, hand running soothingly up and down your back. Listened as your breathing evened out, your voice a little less watery now. “Here, stand up for a minute, okay?”

With little reluctance, you allowed him to help you up and off of his lap. As soon as you were up, he joined you in the middle of the kitchen, hand looped right around yours as he reached over to grab the wall phone and called in an order for pizza. Confusion arched your brows, eyes locked on him as he prattled off the usual pizza order and thanked them, hanging up with a loud slam against the receiver. 

“They said fifteen minutes,” he told you, waving you over with a hand. Your brows arched higher, so he continued, adding, “I wanna hold you. I hate when you’re sad. Kills me. Come here.”

He thought it was funny. Ironic, the way you’d both worn matching costumes that night. The partner to each respective costume. And funny now, standing here in his kitchen, with you in his arms, swaying back and forth to the music filtering in from the speaker. 

He’d touched every inch of you, had mapped every delicate curve and traced them with his lips, had pushed inside you and learned what his name sounded like when rounded with the peak of your pleasure. Even knowing all of that, this felt more intimate. Simply holding you and rocking you back and forth in his home, his arms around your shoulders, his daughter protected between the two of you. A slow dance, completely unhurried. Neither of you had anywhere to go, anyone to see. Simply basking in the closeness of one another, swaying as one song changed into another, and then another.

And when you looked up at him, your face inches from his, your mouth softly parted in a way that had him leaning in a bit, he relished in it. Succumbed to the allure of you, the way you pushed up a bit onto your toes, inching in closer. Just millimeters apart now, aching for the distance to be closed once and for all, only waiting for the other to take the leap.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, watching your eyes sparkle in the yellowy light up above. 

A hand drifted up to cup your cheek, and his heart skipped because you leaned into it, tipping your face up to his in a silent offering. The air fizzled with intention. His stomach tumbled in anticipation, falling to the floor as your fingers slid up along his sternum, over his shoulder, toyed with the hairs at the back of his neck, lost within the frizzy curls there. 

“Eddie…” 

His name was breathy on your lips. He thumbed along your bottom lip and parted it gently, your breath stuttering. Watched the way your eyes zeroed in on that point of contact. He wondered briefly if you could hear his heart slamming away behind his ribcage — the drumbeat of want pounding in his system, present for weeks now. 

So he drifted closer. Leaned closer. Felt the frantic whoosh of your breath on his bottom lip, felt the tremble in your form as you stepped in closer, as close as your bodies would allow, hand curling tighter around the back of his neck. Time seemed to pause, the gentle hum of the radio long forgotten, replaced by your shared breathing and the sound of his blood pumping in his veins. 

The two of you. Exactly how he’d dreamed of it time and time again, simply waiting for you to dare to take a leap — and then, the wretched doorbell. A loud chime that sounded throughout the home, dissolving the moment instantly. You stepped back, a hand over your chest, and Eddie swiped a hand down his face as he marched down the hall. 

Couldn’t help his disgruntled annoyance when the worker read the total for the pizza out loud, the way he swiftly grabbed the pizza in hand and made his way back to you, as though the moment would right itself one more, but as fast as it came it was gone. Replaced by the sight of you pulling out paper plates and plastic cups, your water already settled where you usually sat at the dinner table. 

You both ate in silence, neither choosing to broach the topic of what almost occurred in the kitchen. If anything, you proceeded like normal. Joked over pizzas, laughter filling the room, his sides aching when you told him a story about Chrissy and your adventures to the department stores to find a dress suitable for a wedding. 

Eventually, you both cleaned up together and headed to the bathroom, changed for bed, both brushing your teeth in the glowing lights of the bathroom mirror. Eddie sighed at the joyful upturn of your lips, found himself drifting closer to your side, if only to be close. Dropped a hand to run over your middle before spitting out his toothpaste and leaning down toward the bump when you said she was being a little extra mobile than usual — likely because she’d heard his voice, whispering ‘goodnight’ to Elena.

Your fingers trailed to the back of his head as he righted himself once more, dark eyes clashing with yours as you muttered, “We should probably get ready for bed. Long day tomorrow.”

“Uh…right.” 

Wayne’s home had been fixed. He’d left earlier in the day to head back over, and Eddie watched you pause in the middle of the two rooms, unsure of which way you wanted to go now that you didn’t need to share with him. He wouldn’t force you to stay in his room, but he wouldn’t lie that he hadn’t slept better the past few days knowing you were beside him. Part of him wanted to ask if you felt the same, though judging by the way you slept beside him, he had an idea of what your answer might be. 

“Can I…”

“Yes,” he breathed out, trying to fight the smile that crawled across his lips as you hurried on into his bedroom and made yourself comfortable on your side of the bed. 

With a sigh, you rolled over onto your side and Eddie slipped in beside you. Your back hit his chest, he flicked off the lamp, and wrapped right around your form. Tried not to think about the almost kiss that happened in his kitchen, the plush of your parted lips, the hitch in your breath. Tried to not imagine what would have happened were it not for the delivery man arriving when they had. 

And as you whispered goodnight, your hand running along the back of his, he closed his eyes and dreamed of a beautiful woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. Of margaritas and salty kisses. Of stumbling around in the supermarket, giddy on excitement, a shopping basket between the both of you. 

Dreamed of rocking you in the kitchen, holding you close — craving to be closer still. 

  ——

  Dustin and Suzie were wedded on a breezy Sunday in March, surrounded by their best friends. The two had been together as teenagers, separated by college for a while, before finding one another again just a little under two years ago now, when they decided they wanted to be together forever. 

Steve, recently ordained for the wedding, married them, while Eddie acted as best man for the evening. All in all, the ceremony was beautiful. Lush green covered every inch of the room, the floral arrangements accented with pops of pale pinks. 

You sat across from where Eddie stood at the front of the room, seated on Chrissy’s right, with Robin and Vickie to your left, trying to hide the giggly smile that kept creeping onto your lips when he looked your way. He’d been doing so all evening, trying so hard to make you crack — to get you to laugh. And it worked, your sides shaking, mouth hidden behind your hand. 

“You two are actually so cute I’m going to scream,” Chrissy whisper-hissed, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Good thing you can’t get pregnant twice,” Robin added, snickering to Vickie when your mouth gaped open. “What with the way he’s looking at you.”

“Shh, both of you,” you muttered back, but there was no heat behind it, only giddiness, “Pay attention.”

Dustin and Suzie decided to share their own vows, wherein they may have gone into reciting some lyrics of “The Neverending Story,” though you’d ask Eddie about the importance of that to them later. As they pushed their rings onto the other’s finger, you found your eyes watering, tears clouding over your vision, air choking off in your lungs. 

They were so young when they first fell in love. Had lost that love, and then found it again. To have something so lasting — so resilient…it seemed unheard of. And yet, hopeful all the same. 

It was then your eyes trailed away from the happy couple, their eyes locked on one another, fingers clasped between them, and shifted to Eddie. He looked your way, curls less endearingly frizzy than you’d ever seen them before, hands laced together in front of himself, a questioning look in his eye. Timid fingers raised just above your lap to wave at him, and as he noticed the gesture, you watched his own fingers unfurl. Watched him wiggle them close to his hips. Hidden from most, and yet everything to you. 

Heart soaring, the room melted into cheers as Steve announced the new Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, just as the couple kissed one last time at the altar and began walking down from where they came, the room clapping the whole time. 

Eddie was next in line to leave, his arm gripped tight by his partner for the evening, a beautiful curly headed brunette with eyes that reminded you of the ocean. One of Suzie’s family friends. 

But even as she practically tugged Eddie down the aisle, he called your name over the crowd. Caught your attention long enough to tell you, “I’ll find you during cocktail hour,” and disappeared from your sight. 

“Okay, Melody,” Chrissy exhaled airily, “time to go find Daddy so Mommy can get herself a glass of champagne, and a mocktail for your Auntie.”

Cocktail hour proved to be…frustrating to say the least. Chrissy, Robin, Vickie, and Steve remained at your side throughout, Melody hiked high onto Steve’s hip, as you clutched your virgin drink in hand, watching as Eddie’s curly headed friend gripped his forearm and dragged him over to the bar, intent on keeping him locked in conversation. 

“He wants you to go over and say hi, you know?” Steve laughed, trying to pry your fingers free from their vice grip around the glass he must have thought you were seconds from breaking into dozens of pieces. “He’s looking your way. The guy is begging for rescue. Go over there.”

“He’s got the horrified baby doe eyes,” Robin added, giving you a little playful shove. 

“Yeah, but I look like this —” You gesticulated around your form, around the emerald green dress that couldn’t really hide the fact you popped the past couple of weeks. “And…and…”

“You are beautiful,” Chrissy reassured you, both hands of hers curling around your shoulders, giving you a little wiggle. “Now go, my cute jealous green monster.” 

With a heavy sigh, you gripped your pocketbook tighter to your form and slipped through the crowd, bumping against bodies and apologizing every time you did, intent on finding the curly headed metalhead. As you approached, his eyes lit up, the woman beside him turning around a bit to take you in as his arm opened to allow you into his side, immediately tugging you in close. 

The woman’s brow arched a bit, and as if to make things even clearer — much to your happy amusement — Eddie cupped a hand over your middle, introducing you to the woman you found to be named Hilary. 

“Wow, congratulations you two. A baby,” she said, her plans for the evening quickly deflating at the realization dawning that she wouldn’t be going home with him tonight. “That’s — that’s really wonderful. I wish you both all the luck.”

And then she was gone to find another eligible bachelor, something you most definitely didn’t fault her for. The night you’d met Eddie, you’d been fresh off the end of a two year relationship that left you reluctant to get close to another person for a long time. 

The universe just had its own plans, placing Eddie Munson in your pathway. Eddie Munson, who turned you in his arms in a little circle and beamed down at you, eyes roaming over your form. Heat crawled up your spine at the gesture, settling low in your belly. 

“You look…” He breathed out, pushing up one of the green straps that had fallen down a bit higher on your shoulder. “You look really beautiful. Did you get a drink yet? Water? Need me to get you anything?”

“I could have water,” you said, allowing him to pull you further away from the crowd, settling near a corner of the room. “Hilary seemed nice.”

“Someone seems jealous,” he teased, hip bumping yours playfully. 

The heel of your shoe dug at the ground awkwardly. “Well, I don’t know…she was really pretty and you’re…well, you’re technically single, so if you wanted to…” 

“Would you want me to?” he asked, frown settling into place. 

“No,” you admitted, a little too quickly. But it was the truth. You hated to think what it would be like if Eddie brought someone home. Didn’t want to dig up what those feelings were all about. 

He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, voice a little sad when he asked, “You really don’t get it, do you?” 

The question bubbled on your lips. The need for him to clarify what he’d meant, but just as your mouth opened to voice it, people began making their way into the reception hall, once again interrupting a needed moment between you and Eddie. Resigned to the fact a wedding for a friend may not be the best of places to delve further into the intricacies of your changing friendship, you allowed Eddie to lead you into the hall, his fingers immediately plucking both of your name plates from where they were positioned on a large table. 

The two of you were fortunately seated with familiar faces. Steve and Chrissy, Robin and Vickie, Max and Lucas, Will and Mike, and El, Nancy and Jonathan were all placed around you. Nancy, who you’d spoken to briefly over the phone, had rushed over and hugged you as if she’d known you for years. 

Eddie remained by your side as usual. Grabbed your water when a staff member walked by. And you kept close to him, allowing yourself this night with this man. It wasn’t long before Dustin and Suzie shared their first dance, asking the couples around the room to join them in their sweet moment. 

Steve and Chrissy were off to dance together first, their daughter between them, and the sight alone had your chest aching, head looking over to Eddie. Eddie, who watched on with rounded eyes, his chest heaving with his breaths. You imagined he was thinking of Elena, of the moments he’d share with her in only a few months now. Reached over to grip his hand in yours, eyes burning as he laced your fingers with his. 

“Do your feet hurt or do you —”

“I don’t dance, but I’ll dance with you, Eddie.”

Together, you settled into a steady flow on the dance floor. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his looped around the smallest point of your waist, one ringed hand pressing into your skin there. Warming you through the fabric of your dress. And you swayed, a slow back and forth, your head tucked against his chest. Over his heart, where you could hear the steady thump within. In a crowded room, you felt at peace here — alone, wrapped up in a stolen moment, with Eddie. Found that you liked it. 

“I think…we slip out a little early…make ice cream sundaes and curl up on the couch,” Eddie said against the top of your head, tugging you closer when you giggled at the suggestion. “We can blame it on your feet.”

“Using me as an excuse, Munson?” you teased, his echoing laugh vibrating against your form. “I’d love that. These heels are killing me. What did you mean before? What did you start saying before we got interrupted?”

His fingers trailed a path along your spine. A slow, methodical path that had you sinking further into him. “Not the place for it right now. I’ll tell you later, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you said, knowing Eddie always stuck true to his word. “How does it feel seeing one of your kids married?”

“Well, Max and Lucas were first. Was weird, because they’re adults but I’ve known them since they were freshman in high school,” he said, nodding his head to the couple dancing not too far off from where you two were. “I think it’s just like — they’re all growing up and doing things. And for a long time I was just working, going through the motions, trying to make the music thing work.”

“And now the music thing is working,” you told him, knowing he would be leaving for tour when Elena was around six months old. 

“Yeah, the music thing did end up working out for me.” He spun you out in a circle, then brought you back in against his chest, smiling against your forehead at your breathy little giggle. “And now I’m going to be a dad, and I don’t want to fuck that up, so my full focus is on that. So it’s…hard to see Dustin getting married, because he’s still that kid that I met so many years ago, but we’re all moving on. It’s different now.”

“I understand that. It’s weird seeing everyone around you moving on,” you said, recalling memories of when Micah approached you a while back about moving in with Jeremiah. 

It had hurt at the time, especially after years of being roommates, but they were in a good place and were anticipating marriage further down the line. You should have assumed it was the natural progression of things. Happened to also be right around the time you’d moved in with Paul, realizing soon enough that would be a mistake. But hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all. 

“It’s funny how life turns out,” you said, lifting your head to look up at him. “I mean look at the two of us now.”

He huffed out a laugh, nodding. “But I think we’re doing a good job.”

“I think so too,” you told him, leaning your head back against his sternum. “We make a good team and I wouldn’t change any of it.”

Later, after hours of dancing between portions of dinner served and endless chatter with his best friends, Eddie stood beside Robin and Steve and watched as you, Vickie and the rest of the ladies present at the wedding gathered around to try their hand at catching Suzie’s bouquet. 

“I hope you know,” Robin laughed, bumping Eddie’s shoulder. “Your girl over there isn’t going down without a fight.”

“Her and Chrissy scare me,” Steve added, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “Elbows will be thrown for that bouquet.”

And maybe it was all superstition. Maybe it didn’t really mean anything, but Eddie’s chest warmed as Suzie tossed the bouquet over her back. There, in a sea of bright color, you came out victorious, beautiful in a flash of emerald green. 

  ——

  The drive home was quiet. Eddie with his hand on your thigh, warming your chilled skin when you complained about it being a little cold. Your feet hurt, but in a way that you cherished, because you spent the night dancing with him. Spent it within the circle of his arms, bonded to him now in a way you couldn’t have imagined months ago. 

It was funny to think of your conversations that night. The shopping trip. The time shared together. You’d felt so close then, like two people who just happened to get one another, though it paled in comparison to how you felt now. Eddie, who’s head bobbed beside yours to the Metallica song playing through the radio, uncaring of how you perceived him — because he knew you already appreciated every part of him. Even his oddities and intricacies. Had long ago accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson. 

And he did the same. Had seen every part of you — from the lowest of lows, to the highest of highs, and loved them all. The range of your emotions, the thoughts swirling in your mind, your hopes, desires, and interests. He never once judged, only tended to the parts of you that you once thought you had to hide from the light. 

Maybe that was how these things were intended to be? This burgeoning interest that had been bubbling for weeks now, lingering in the back of your mind, making you wonder if it would be so bad to take a leap. To wholly entrust Eddie with the part of you you’d kept locked away. 

The questioning died with your train of thought as the car pulled up in his driveway and he rushed around to open your door for you. With a flourish, he’d helped you down, your heels dangling in his fingertips as the two of you made your way inside, toeing off his own shoes at the door. 

Slipping on your slippers you left in the doorway, you meandered down the hall, making your way into the kitchen where you immediately climbed up onto the counter and grinned as Eddie pulled out chocolate syrup, some sprinkles, and the half eaten tub of ice cream you’d both been snacking on throughout the week.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Eddie warned, thumb rubbing over your kneecap, where your dress had ridden up just in the slightest. He looked so handsome, button up shirt a little messy now from all the dancing, his tie hanging limply around his neck, suit discarded. “I’d prefer if you use a chair if you’re going to do that.”

“Fine,” you grumbled as he handed you a spoon, pouring the chocolate syrup into the opened tub, along with the rainbow sprinkles. Your spoon clanged with his, ready to simply eat out of the carton until it was finished. “I am so glad we both took off of work tomorrow.”

Granted, it was because of the wedding, but your feet were screaming and the thought of waking up early to head to work after getting home so late had your head reeling. 

“Hey, remember when we went food shopping on Halloween?” you asked, brain freezing a bit from your sugary treat, making you wince. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He winced this time. 

“Always.” His words he was always saying to you, his form of ‘as you wish’ when you thought about it, and they brought a smile to his face. 

“I was so nervous that night, I really just needed to stall. So…food shopping it was.” His cheeks burned bright, your sides shaking with laughter as he swiped a hand down his face in embarrassment. “You’d be surprised to know, but I’m a bit of a nerd. People have never really been lined up to spend time with the town proclaimed ‘Freak.’”

“You’re perfect,” you told him, reaching over to tug on the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him into the space between your thighs. “In case you couldn’t tell, I was very much attracted to you that night. And every night, really. Don’t sell yourself short, Munson. Although, I thought it was really sweet. But you’ve…well, you’ve been that way since that night. And then when we saw each other again at the supermarket...letting me live here, accepting this baby, taking care of me all these weeks…you’ve done so much. Too much, probably.”

“You really don’t get it do you?” 

There it was again. That statement. “What do you mean?” 

“I wish I could…I don’t know, kick the shit out of Paul and anyone else who made you think that you’re, I don’t know, unlovable or something. Because I like you, Buttercup — I really, really like you.” 

“Oh.” 

And there it was. The truth. The answer to the questions that had been whirling around in your head for a bit now, validated in his rushed speech, in the way his eyes bore into yours with a need and laced with want that had head swimming low in your belly. 

“I care about you.” He glanced down at your belly. “And you. All the things you say that I’m doing that are ‘too much?’ Those are quite literally the bare minimum. Fuck everyone who ever gave less than that.” 

“Eddie…”

“But you said you wanted friendship. For Elena. So I’ve respected that,” he said, the redness in his cheeks dissipating, breath slowing from its heated rise and fall. Your fingers pressed along his sternum, felt the warmth of his skin there, the heavy thump of his heart against your skin. “But you deserve good things. It just…you break my heart when you say that shit. Like when you get all surprised if I make dinner or hold the door open for you or something. Because if you could only see from where I’m standing what I think of you — what anyone would think of you, if they’d gotten to know you like I have these past six weeks —”

“Eddie.” He lifted his head, dark eyes staring up into yours, your ice cream starting to melt, his palms on your thighs. “I like you too. But I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

His palms gripped your thighs tighter, rubbed up and down along flesh, warming your skin. “Do you trust me?”

There was no doubt about that. This man, who had taken you shopping before heading back to the hotel to make you both comfortable. This man, the one who had accepted his child as his own within moments of finding out they existed. This man, who had opened his home and heart to you these months. 

“Always,” you told him, swallowing the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. 

“I want to respect your boundaries. We can pretend this conversation never happened, or…we can figure out what this is. Whatever we want it to be.” He leaned in closer, the curls along his forehead brushing your own forehead. “I want whatever you want. So you can tell me right now to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” 

Your nose ran along his, breathing staccato against his bottom lip, his mouth parted as dark eyes trailed along your face. 

His palm came up to cup one side of your face, angling you for him, mouth millimeters from yours. Inside, your stomach was swirling. Twisting and twining around as your heart kicked up behind your ribcage, loud enough you were surprised Eddie couldn’t hear. Your fingers moved to the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to you, your chest brushing along his, his other hand curled around your thigh gripping it tighter.  

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

And in a rushed breath. “Please.”

It was funny, you thought, comparing this kiss to the last ones you shared. Hurried, back in the hotel room — on a planned mission. You had moments, him leaving for a few days, and you with no intention of ever seeing him again. So it had been a frantic thing. Sliding lips, and bodies, clashing teeth, rapid flurry of hands to try and remove clothing. 

This time — this time Eddie moved slowly. Pressed the barest of brushes against your lips, just over the seam of your mouth. Thumbed at your cheek when you sighed into him, parting your lips with the smallest of teasing flicks at your bottom lip. And you opened, a hum rounding your mouth as you felt him there, tasting sweet like the bubbly champagne he’d consumed during the toast, the cake he’d had with dessert. 

“Eddie…” 

You sighed into him, tugged closer to the edge of the countertop, his hand sliding up your thigh and looping around your back to tether you to him. His lips met yours again and your eyes fluttered shut, the slowest of exhales spilling out between the two of you as you melted for him. Pretty in emerald green, and making those sounds he remembered for so long because they’d plagued him in his dreams for months now. 

At your moan, he shifted closer. Dragged his lips from your mouth and trailed them gently along the curve of your jaw. The delicate slope of your neck. Memorized every little whimper and cry from your lips all over again as his fingers brushed along the curve beneath your collarbone, followed them with the path of his lips. 

“More, Eddie,” you whimpered, feeling your pulse jump where his tongue laved over it, his nose ghosting along the shell of your ear. “Please.” 

“What do you want?” The voice was no more than a whisper against your skin. Fingers reached out to clutch at his shirt, trying to tether yourself to reality. “Need you to tell me what you want, Buttercup. Need your words.” 

The ball was in your court. He’d told you so for months now in his own way. Waited for you when he could have walked away like so many others had or would. On one side, remain in the comfortability of friendship. In the dark as to what this could be. On the other hand, take a leap. A risk, a dare. An attempt at shedding light on something buried deep between the two of you, hidden from light, given the chance to flourish and grow into something more. 

The answer, you found, was simple. 

“You, Eddie. I want you.”

  ——

thank you for all the love on this series. please please please let me know if you enjoyed. you don’t even know how much it means to your writers. can’t wait to chat with you all. 🩷🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Five: One Bed

summary: you and eddie have to share a bed, and things start to take a new turn. (7k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

——

“Just a warning, these nights get loud,” Chrissy expressed, maneuvering around where you sat near the kitchen island, bouncing Melody on your thigh. “And just think, in a few months we’ll have another little girl here to add to the chaos.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, already dreading the idea of getting her out once all was said and done. “I miss the days when we thought storks delivered babies to your front step.”

“It’ll be all worth it once she’s here.” Chrissy giggled airily at that, placing bowls of chips around the table, tutting when Melody’s hand reached out to try and grab some. “How are things going with you and Eddie? Living together, sleeping just down the hall from one another…”

“I don’t know what that look is in your eye, but it seems diabolical,” you mused, taking a sip of your water perched on the table beside you. “Him and I are friends.”

“Friends who seem very cozy as of late.”

“We’re living together and…so what if we enjoy the company of one another —” You paused as her lips curled into a devious smirk. “— not in the way you’re thinking. We just spend a lot of time together lately.”

“I think the way he dotes on you is sweet,” she said, reaching her hands out to grab Melody. Hoisted the baby up onto her hip. “You know he talked about you a bunch after Halloween. You must have made a good impression on him.” She sing-songed the latter half, a mischievous little glint in her eye that looked out of place on her sent your way. 

Flashes of that night danced across your vision. Those brief introductions at the table. The way you’d spent hours talking and laughing with one another. The moment beneath the awning where you’d almost kissed. Food shopping with him. His fingers on your form as he undressed you, inside you as they drew out your pleasure, mouth hot and fervent against your own. The way he mapped your body later with his lips, how he’d lavished you with his words as he rolled you beneath him that second time, your hands tangled together in bed sheets near your head, eyes locked on yours as his hips rolled into yours.  

The night was seared into your brain. Imprinted on your mind. Intimate in a way you’d reeled from, a spark different than anything you’d had with Paul — or anyone for that matter. A complete stranger, and yet something had felt so different that night. So ‘impression’ deemed too insignificant of a word to express what that night signified. 

For one, it marked the beginning of something new, now nestled within, just beneath your breast. 

“I just think it’s less complicated this way,” you added, glancing down at your midsection. “She’s most important. She needs both of us.”

“And what about what you want?”

“I’ve had enough run-ins with love to know it’s likely not in the cards for me,” you told her sourly. 

“What if it’s just a matter of you not having met the right person?” Chrissy asked, placing Melody in her high chair. “You know, before I met Steve, I’d been dating someone else. My parents loved him. On the basketball team, town golden boy, involved in his church and charity. Perfect, by their standards. But what they didn’t know was that we fought — almost every day. He didn’t make me happy; or I thought he did, until I met Steve.”

“You never told me how you met Steve.”

“At a roller rink,” she giggled, glancing over your shoulder to where her husband and the father of your own child were drinking beers together in the living room. “He’d bumped into me. Literally crashed into me. We spent the day with me icing my head and him icing his cheek. But we talked for hours. And he was funny and sweet and charming and I just knew it was him. Right away.”

“That’s — that’s really sweet, Chrissy…”

“How does Eddie make you feel?” 

And there it was. The question you’d been avoiding, because it meant admitting to the fact you simply weren’t sure. You knew you liked him, but liking him meant putting yourself in a vulnerable situation.

“We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks —”

“Time doesn’t define the importance of something, silly,” Chrissy said, dropping down onto the chair beside you. “Right now, at this very moment, how does he make you feel?”

You glanced his way. And, like he always seemed to, he had this uncanny way of knowing when you needed him. Ever present, with that seemingly constant glowing smile on his face from over Steve’s shoulder where he sat. A question burned behind his gaze, but you shook your head, and he relaxed back against the couch no longer on alert. 

“Good. Heard. Seen. Cared for,” you rattled off, wanting to cover your face with your hands. Wanting to hide from the gnawing fear burning in the back of your mind over the reality of it all. “But it doesn’t matter, because what if we try and it doesn’t work and now Elena has two parents who don’t even like one another, or can’t even stand to be in the same room together?”

Chrissy curled a hand around your shoulder, those bright eyes of hers meeting yours sympathetically. “What if we imagined the reverse? What if none of that happens? You won’t know if you don’t try.” 

Another time, another place, another day — those had been the words spiraling in your mind the day you left him back in his hotel room. Another person — someone who would offer him the rose-colored glasses, the giddiness of relationship, the joy of love. He was deserving of so much; the world, really. 

“I’m not just saying this because he’s my husband’s best friend,” she started, voice lowering into a quieter whisper, “but he’s a good man. The best of the best. What if you opened up to the idea of…simple like? Not even love.”

What if you opened up to the idea…to simple like? Could it really even be simple? It seemed like such a juxtaposition to your current reality. Yet, the words knocked around in your head all the same, wonder already forming in the catacombs of your mind at the mere possibility. 

However, before you could give it any life, the thought was disrupted by the doorbell, to be shelved away for later. 

  ——

  The arrival of the fondly named “kids” came with an air of chaos. Friends who traveled from near and far to come visit, all wrapped together in one room. Max and Lucas, on holiday here in Hawkins, now residing in California together. 

Will and Mike arrived a little later, holding hands and a package of Oreos that you immediately opened and snacked on, much to their shared amusement. 

El, who you had previously met, was visiting her step-brother Jonathan and Nancy in the city — the same woman you’d already contacted, thanks to Eddie’s suggestions, and were now waiting to hear back from. 

Their initial reactions to finding out about Eddie being Elena’s father were met with amusing degrees of excitement and many questions — but overall, they were all over the moon for him. It made your chest ache to see him so happy, the way he proudly talked about his daughter before them all, the fondness behind his eyes as he spoke. 

You remained at his side through it all, overjoyed to simply be there with them, laughing when they’d dove into a story about a time Steve, Robin and Eddie had taken the kids camping, and Eddie and Steve had the not so brilliant idea of trying to spook them before bed. 

“To be fair, we were only fifteen at the time,” Mike explained from beside Will. “Which should really show you what these assholes are capable of —”

“Hey, watch what you’re about to say,” Eddie began, waving a finger in Mike’s face. “That is your mother and father you’re talking about.”

“Who’s mother?” you asked, laughing when Steve pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

“Steve’s mom,” Robin explained, appearing in the doorway with Vickie. “And your guy over there is dad.” 

Neither of you bothered to correct Robin on that comment. 

“So maybe we’d told them a little campfire story about bears in the woods before bed,” Steve started, curling his arm tighter around Chrissy’s shoulders. “What’s the problem with that?” 

“Well,” Dustin interjected, leaning out of his seat from where he sat next to his soon to be bride. “Here’s the thing — we were on high alert. Started stocking up in case we needed to fight off a bear.” 

“Wasn’t our fault Eddie is an idiot and started growling outside of our tent and maybe got sprayed in the eyes with hairspray,” Max said, bursting into loud giggling when Eddie cringed beside you, as if recalling the memory like it had happened moments ago instead of years ago. 

“That shit hurts, okay?” Eddie grumbled, and you patted his kneecap teasingly. 

“The scream he let out,” Lucas added, and the rest of the group laughed in agreement. 

“I do not scream.” 

“You do, man,” Steve said solemnly, earning a glare from his best friend. “It was so loud. Thought the police were gonna be called.”

“Sorry,” Eddie began, rolling his eyes, “who was it that used Farrah Fawcett spray in the first place? Because that’s where these little asshole gremlins got it.”

“Hey — it works!” Steve shouted. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Steve, my friend, I walk out of the shower and my hair looks like this. I don’t need products to enhance what I was naturally blessed with.”

“Bet you’re doubting your decisions to procreate with him now, aren’t you?” Mike joked, flicking his gaze between the two fighting men. 

But you only laughed, because you weren’t doubting it at all, but instead thoroughly enjoying yourself.  Especially now as Eddie interrupted their stories meant to embarrass him and suggested they maybe start their game before it got too late and they’d have to call it a night. 

Eddie on a normal day was…breathtaking, beguiling, intriguing. Different from most you’d ever encountered in all the best ways imaginable. Appreciated for all he was simply because he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and enjoyed it to its fullest. He never once put on airs, tried to be anyone but his fullest self. Had accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson years ago. 

You’d known as much from conversations with Steve, Chrissy and Robin over dinner. Eddie’s face bright red in a blush whenever they recounted stories from their younger years. And over the span of several weeks, you’d gotten to know it for yourself as well. 

Eddie was Eddie. 

Perfectly, wonderfully atypical. 

But seeing him like this — in his element, surrounded by his loved ones, weaving a tale that left you enraptured. Left you leaning out of your seat, as if lured by some unseen vision, his words wrapping around your heart. Your mind. 

Chrissy grinned to herself at the sight. A little flash of it you’d seen, twisting those pretty pink lips. But you’d chalked it up to the fact Eddie Munson was a natural born storyteller. Inspired by the many books his mother had read to him as a young boy, even now. Even so, what a lovely thing? To be graced with it so intimately like this, to see his inward love so outwardly on display. 

Later, after the campaign had wrapped up and everyone left for the evening, you sat beside Eddie in the passenger seat of his car. Regarded his face illuminated by streetlights as you passed them by. Glimmers of dark eyes, full lips, those freckles cheekbones. 

Long, torturous moments passed in silence, fueled by Chrissy’s comments and insinuations. Fueled by the questioning of what would happen if only you played the tape deck forward. Would you crash and burn or take to the wind and soar? Would you risk it all for the sake of your own want, or play things safe for the needs of the third party in this increasingly complicated situation? 

“Are you —”

“Can we go somewhere, Eddie?” 

You’d both spoken at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you’d done so. Rushed utterances of the first things that stumbled into your minds. Eddie’s ringed fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, shifting onto the side of the road with his right blinker. 

Once settling the car into park, he shifted in the seat your way, worried lines marking his forehead. “Is everything okay?” 

“I just…” What did you want, though, really? “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Not quite a lie, and yet not also the full truth as to your whirring thoughts. 

“Do you want to go for a walk around our neighborhood?” he suggested, turning the car back on when you’d nodded. “I know you mentioned you were having a hard time a little while back, but I didn’t realize how bad. How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of weeks,” you grumbled out, leaning your head against the window. “Doctor said insomnia is another thrilling side effect of all of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffed out, though it was hardly his fault at all and you both knew that, drumming his thumb along the steering wheel. “You could have told me, though. I’d have tried to help you.”

You shrugged, shifting on the seat a bit so you were facing him. Noted the determined line of his lips, his bare arms moving as he steered. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I’m thinking we need dessert for our walk,” he said, the turn signal clicking as you waited to make a left turn into the parking lot. “Chocolate?”

“Mmm Oreo sounds really good right about now.” 

“So I have something to ask you and I know it’s kind of out of the blue and last minute and I meant to ask you beforehand but we had Steve’s today and it kind of got pushed to the side.”

“Is this why you’re buttering me up with a milkshake?” 

“Maybe.” He said, a little teasing glint in his eyes, the red stop light bathing his skin in the bright glow. “Okay, so, Wayne’s place is getting work done. Something with a burst pipe and he can’t stay there for a couple of days.”

“So you want me to stay with Robin or something —”

“No, no,” he urged with a hand on your forearm. “I just need the guest room for a couple days.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, considering. “I can sleep on the couch for a few days.” 

“What? Sweetheart, no. I’m not — I’m not making my pregnant —” He paused, catching himself, swallowing thickly. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not taking your bed,” you argued, “so I guess we’ll have to share.”

The words spilled out in a rushed breath. You’d not even really thought about what you said until the words were already there, out in the open, exposed for the taking. 

“I mean, we’re adults,” you continued, shrugging. “We can sleep in the same bed without it being weird.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding evenly, mulling over your words, “that was easy then. You’ll sleep in my bed. With me.”

And that — that had your stomach turning. Twisting in that giddy, roller coaster, butterfly type of way. The way that had your fingers curling around the edges of your seat as Eddie parked the car and rushed into the opened diner to grab the two of you your sugary treats. 

He returned as your heart settled back into normal rhythm. Opened your door and thrusted your drink into the air, muttering, ‘For the lady’ with a bow that had your cheeks heating up.

It only took another few minutes to pull up in front of Eddie’s home, your door opening so you could hop out as soon as he’d shifted it into park. Tugging your hoodie tighter to your body, you walked along the sidewalk and waited as he hooked his keys onto his belt loop, locked the car, and joined you beneath the street lamp. 

“After you,” he said, practically bouncing on his heels as you began your loop around the neighborhood. 

“You know, there are so many stars here than back in the city,” you muttered after a while, pausing with your drink outstretched in hand, head tipped back to take in the sky. “It’s just another thing I don’t really miss about back home. I feel so much more…I don’t know, connected? To myself and those around me. Without all the hustle and bustle.”

“Never thought about that,” he breathed out, hand guiding you closer to him on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t stray too far into the road. “I guess it’s easy to take for granted when I see it all the time.” 

“Did you know there are two to four hundred billion stars in just our galaxy alone?” You tilted your head over your shoulder, catching the way the moonlight illuminated Eddie’s features. “And there are something like hundreds of billions of galaxies. Fun things you pick up when you work at a high school library.”

“I did not,” he admitted, lowering his head to take you in. His eyes lingered on your face, on the lines of your lips, and you swallowed the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. “Anything else you learned while at my old high school?”

“The worst lunch days are definitely Wednesday,” you sounded off, sipping your drink, “O’Donnell always has mustard on everything while we have lunch and Elena hates it. Which means I hate it. Uhm, they definitely need a wider selection of novels, and their cataloging system could use some major work. Oh — and the vending machine near the nurse’s office has the best snacks.”

He laughed, a bright, happy sound that had you nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Sounds about right.”

“You know, tonight was actually really fun.” You tipped your drink lid into his chest, smirking slightly. “I saw a different side of you tonight.”

He followed as you trailed onward again, the sound of his shoes pounding against concrete to keep up in your ears. “A good side? Come on now, sweetheart. Can’t leave a guy hanging like that.”

Nose wrinkling, you snorted. “I liked it. You had a very…commanding presence. The kids enjoyed it, too.”

“So she likes commanding —”

“Hey —”

“Kidding, kidding.” Eddie held up a hand in surrender, waving his cup in the air with a big flourish as you halted on the sidewalk in front of him to allow him to catch up. “Honestly, I’ve been doing that for so long, it’s become something I look forward to. Back in high school I’d run the club, and that’s when I ended up meeting the guys. Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will. Took them under my wing a little bit — you know how it is, teenagers are shitty.”

“Teenagers are shitty,” you agreed, sounding a little morose. “I was lucky to have Micah at that point. So it never felt like I was alone. But those years can be isolating. I can’t imagine. I’m sure they were so happy to have you there for them.”

“Yeah, well…they’re now attached to Steve and I. Like our own little band of shithead gremlins. But we love them.” 

“I can tell you do,” you said, thinking back to when Max had hugged him goodbye and he’d patted her head. Looked up at him like she’d admired him. “They love you too. The way they talk about you is really sweet.”

“Now they’re all grown up,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Which reminds me…Dustin is getting married in a week and he suggested today that I might ask you to come with me.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. A nervous little bounce in his step. Noticed that he’d dragged a hair along his lip, trying to hide himself from you. 

A knowing smile creeped along your lips. “Like…as your date for the afternoon?”

A date — you could do a single, solitary date with a friend. 

 He glanced down at his feet, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I’ll have to buy a dress,” you said quickly, putting the poor man out of his misery, “but I’d love to.”

“Okay.” He nodded, grinning softly to himself. “Ah, awesome. Perfect. Can’t wait.”

You continued like that for a while. Simply walking beside one another, talking about anything and everything beneath the stars. Simply basking in the presence of another person as the moon glowed brightly above. 

Eventually, when you’d finished your shakes, you both decided to head back to the house, but neither of you seemed keen to separate for the night. 

Eddie spoke with you on your bed, your feet in his lap, his hands rubbing at your sore calves, until you started to doze off against your pillow. 

Stayed with you until you finally fell asleep. 

  ——

  Wayne was on his way out of the house for the afternoon when you whirled around, Eddie’s apron tied around your waist, your sous chef beside you with his hair pulled back. You’d been working together for an hour now, making penne alla vodka that you couldn’t help but lean over and smell the sauce that was currently simmering in a pot. It should be illegal to smell so good, you thought, hip brushing Eddie’s as you moved around him to grab the shredded cheese. 

Tonight was the first night of your arrangement. Sleeping beside Eddie in his bed. Platonically. No funny business to be had by any means. Sure — Wayne would be working the night shift and gone for most of the time you’d be sleeping beside Eddie, but you’d cleaned out the guest room to allow for him to sleep in there, making sure the man knew this was his home as well as yours. 

Not that you’d had any say; nor could you quite pinpoint the moment when Eddie’s home had become yours too. Found yourself saying things to him in conversation when out and about from time to time, simple remarks of “let’s go home” and “oh, it’s at our place” and even the night you’d walked under the stars with Eddie, back in the car, when you’d said “this isn’t the way home.” 

And even so, here you were, hosting at the place you called home with Eddie. 

Weird to think how a few weeks had changed everything. Nearly twenty-three weeks along, and living with Eddie for a little over a month now.  

“You two went out of your way to do all of this for me?” Wayne mused, chomping at a piece of garlic bread (that didn’t make you run for the toilet this time, luckily enough), seated across from the two of you when you all finally settled down for dinner. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re going into work,” you said, offering him a grin, “we wanted to make sure you were fed.” 

“Thanks little lady. Ed.” He took another bite and picked up his fork, nodding his head your way. “How is my grand baby treatin’ you?”

“Pretty much moving all the time now,” you sighed, Eddie pouring you another glass of water when yours emptied. “Eddie will have to show you her room. He did an amazing job with it.” 

“I’d love to,” he agreed, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “And thanks for letting me stay with you two. Sorry to steal your bed.”

“It’s fine, seriously!” you huffed out with an amused snort, pushing your chair back as you finished up your plate, reaching over to grab Eddie’s as well. “Do you want me to put a pot of coffee on?”

“Nah, this here is fine,” Wayne said, polishing off the rest of his plate and adding it to the plates you began running water over. “I’ll grab some when I get to work. You two have a good night now.”

As Wayne slipped out for the night, you raised the dial on the radio Eddie kept in the kitchen. An older Frank Sinatra song was playing, hands buried deep within the sink, when he’d sidled up to you and began drying the dishes you laid into the drying rack. 

You hadn’t even asked him to, but it had become a routine of sorts as of late. These little things he’d do, if only to spend a little extra time with you. That foot rub last night as you watched a movie; the lingering hug in the doorway last night before bed; helping you fold laundry on laundry days; the delighted way he’d rubbed the knots out of your shoulder after work simply because he said you deserved it. 

You worked in comfortable silence. Each time you finished a dish, you handed it over to Eddie, and he placed them in their proper storage places. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, and the music still played between the two of you, a soft and gentle tune that had you humming to yourself.

Neither spoke as you shut the light after leaving the kitchen. Nor as he offered you the bathroom to change, and you slipped inside the small, dimly lit room with a shaky exhale. Hands rested against your lower back, feet carrying you back and forth along the carpet, eyes catching on your reflection in the mirror. 

This was stupid — wasn’t it? He’d seen you fully bare before him before, and he’d enjoyed what he’d seen. And yet, the prospect of slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and a tee shirt had your heart racing. With shaky fingers, you reached down and plucked your sweater up and off your body, pausing at the sight of your form reflected back at you. 

He’d liked you before. But you wondered what he thought when he saw you now, every day feeling a little less like yourself, body a home to someone else as of late. Then again, it didn’t matter, you reminded yourself. Just because you’d developed feelings for the metalhead didn’t mean he’d felt the same. 

With a deep sigh, you snatched the Corroded Coffin tee you’d plucked from your dresser and pulled it over your head, and then reached down to tug on some pale sleep shorts. Once satisfied, you finished up your normal bedtime routine and slipped back down the hall, knocking on Eddie’s bedroom door for entry. 

“Come in,” he called out, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the bare chest that greeted you near his bedside table. 

He was tucking away a pair of his socks into the drawer, head turning over his shoulder, eyes widening at your appearance. You mentally cursed, feeling self conscious. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“A shirt,” you groaned, rushing over to your designated side of the bed, wanting to get the night over and done with. 

“Why do you sound upset?” he asked, dropping down onto the bed behind you, palm coming up to curl around your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “What did I say, sweetheart? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.” 

He grimaced as you shoved a pillow over your head. “You just looked at me funny. I know I don’t look the way I did the night we hooked up —”

“Hey hey hey, breathe.”  You groaned into your pillow, the sound muffled by Eddie’s laughter. “I looked at you ‘funny’ because there’s a ridiculously pretty woman wearing a shirt with my band’s name on it, who happens to also now be laying in my bed, okay? And remember what I said that night? You’re out of my league — that’s still true now.” He paused, feeling your shoulders relax a bit at his light hearted, if a little self deprecating, joke. “Come on, Buttercup, look at me for a second, okay?”

You rolled over in the bed, pillow falling with it, and he lowered himself down onto an elbow, running a constant and comforting line across your bicep. “Looking.”

“Just — you’re wearing that,” he repeated, toying with the hem of the shirt to stretch the logo across your chest. “The matter of my attraction to you has never changed, if anything it’s…grown because I don’t think you realize what it does to a man when he looks at the woman carrying his child, and now that same woman is laying in his bed.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, cheeks heating rapidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah — oh, sweetheart. Wanted to make that clear, so there’s no confusion here.” 

He rubbed at the back of his neck, tops of his cheeks flaming red, moving over to his bathroom. Pleasure swooped low in your belly — curled, tumbled and spread it as you caught him adjusting himself in his pants on the way. 

  ——

  “Nancy sent in one of my children’s books,” you said, crawling into bed on the second night, tugging the blankets up and over your shoulders. Eddie slid in beside you, head resting on the pillow, hair spilling in a halo around him. “She said it was really good. She thinks I should hear back soon hopefully.”

“It is really good,” he reassured, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I wish you could see that. I’m so damn proud of you.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, shuffling closer to him. “My ex, Paul, kind of — well, he didn’t think writing was something one could turn into a career. Kind of discouraged it, which is why I’d put it on the back burner for a while. It’s hard to think that it could ever turn into anything. Or it was…until I found out I was pregnant. And suddenly everything changed. I want to do the best for her, be the best for her.”

He thumbed along your bicep, offering you a soft smile as you continued, “One of the things I admire about you is how you’re just…unabashedly you. There’s only one Eddie Munson and he’s just who he is and you’re literally watching your dreams come true. It’s made me realize it can happen for me too.”

“First of all, your ex is an idiot for not encouraging your dreams. I hate how society says if it’s art you’re interested in it’s not practical and not valid. Sometimes I wish I could give a giant fuck you to all the teachers who said I wouldn’t amount to anything because I preferred music over school,” Eddie started, those umber eyes catching yours in the lamplight. “But I’m glad you’re trying because I don’t doubt for one second that you have a gift. I believe in you.”

“Can I hug you?” 

“Always, Buttercup.” He shuffled even closer, his stomach pressing into yours, dark eyes glinting with vibrancy. “Looks like there’s some di —”

“Do not finish that sentence!” You laughed, shifting until you were comfortable enough, forehead pressing into the curve of his chest, arms looped tight around his waist.  

His eyes softened then, lips settling into a firm line. “Look, I know — I know we didn’t plan for this to happen the way it has, but our little girl really has the best mom.”

“You really think so?” He hated the sound of your voice. The lack of confidence behind the tone. Felt his heart cleave down the middle. 

“Absolutely. Why…do you doubt that?” Eddie frowned as you tugged him closer, fingers twined in the back of his shirt. 

“I…my parents weren’t around much. Always too busy, too worried about other things than quality time spent with me,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m afraid when she gets here I just won’t know what to do. Won’t know what she needs when she’s crying, or how to change her diaper, or how to tell what she’s thinking. I didn’t have an example of all of that, so what if I’m terrible at it?” 

“Can I be honest?” Eddie asked, tipping your chin up with a finger. 

“Shoot.”

“I’ve never changed a diaper. Or been around a newborn other than Melody. Even then, I’d kind of waited until she was less fragile to hold her. I’m scared as shit, too,” he said, locking eyes with you. “So we’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

“Okay.” You weren’t alone. Despite everything, you weren’t alone. Eddie and you would figure everything out as a team — two people navigating the unknown. 

“Also, we can’t change how we grew up. But we can make sure we try harder for Elena to give her the best.” 

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, pressing your fingertips against his sternum, feeling his pulse race beneath. “Always knowing what to say.” 

He chuckled, a low, raspy tired sound. “I'm flattered you think that, but I’m just figuring it out too, you know? All I know is I’ll never be the way my dad was to our daughter, and the rest I’m sure will come along with her just being here.”

He paused, glancing down to where the two of you were connected, saying, “You have me.”

“You have me too, Eddie.” 

  ——

  Tossing and turning. Eddie felt you tossing and turning all night, annoyed huffs of breath falling from your lips every time you flipped over onto the opposite side to try and get comfortable. He’d realized quickly you never did, though. 

“Hey,” he whispered, testing to see if you were presently awake. A displeased groan fell from your parted lips, body flopping back over so your face was mere inches from his on your separate pillow. “Can’t sleep?” 

“I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, mouth turning downward in a sour frown. “It’s not even like I’m not tired. I know I’m tired, but my mind feels all restless. And so is she.” 

At that, Eddie pulled back the comforter and lowered his head to your middle, palm spreading over the hill of it. “Hey, behave in there, okay? Your mom is trying to get some sleep.” At your laughter, he shifted back onto his pillow. “Turn over.”

“What?” 

“Turn over. I’ll rub your back and we can talk until you fall back asleep,” he said, immediately noticing the curve of your brow in confusion. “My mom used to do that all the time when I’d have nightmares. Figure it’ll work the same.”

“But you need sleep,” you argued, knowing he had taken an extra weekend shift tomorrow at the shop that he needed to be up early for. 

“I’ll make an extra cup of coffee in the morning. Right now though, we both need sleep,” he stated plainly, “but I won’t be able to if I know you’re unable to.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled back over, hips wiggling very innocently as you got comfortable, and yet in a way that had Eddie swallowing the thick knot in the back of his throat. 

The past few days, being so close, sharing a bed — he’d said it would be easy, a simply platonic situation, but he’d felt anything but. Wanted so badly so many times to lean over and kiss you, to see if he nudged that part of your neck he’d discovered on Halloween night you’d make those pretty sounds he’d strum from you over and over again. 

But he knew better. Respected your wishes and boundaries. Knew he wouldn’t press the matter unless you decided you wanted to take a leap again. He’d decided it from that moment weeks ago now, where you had suggested the two of you remain friends for the sake of Elena. The ball would remain in your court; forever, if you’d decided that was what you wanted. 

With a thick swallow, Eddie raised his fingers up to your trapezius muscles, fingers curling around the breadth of them, thumbs digging into the space below. At the first deep exhale from your lips, he rubbed in circles, watching as your body slowly melted into the blankets further, breathing becoming deeper. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you asked, and his cheek twitched. 

It became a game of sorts these few weeks. Various questions intended for getting to know one another. Either him or you would pick a question or a topic and talk. Sometimes for hours a night, simply listening to the other. Eddie could listen to you prattle on for ages — had known as much some weeks ago now. 

“Red,” he said, palms sliding down the planes of your back, grin curling upward at the breathy moan that left you. “What about you?”

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted, curling your palm beneath your head. “It kind of changes every day. Lately it’s yellow, but tomorrow it might be cornflower blue.” 

“Cornflower blue, huh?” he chuckled, fingers digging into your lower back. 

He mentally berated himself when your hips arched backward a bit, nearly falling into the cradle of his lap. Now wasn’t quite the time to get a hard on. It had been bad enough having to slip out of bed before you woke each morning before you realized the effect you had on him — an effect that went far beyond normal morning wood. 

“What is one thing you wish you spent more time doing as a child?” 

Eddie paused for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. “I…maybe I’d have taken more pictures with my mom. I’d always been an asshole when she tried, especially when I got older. They always came out so blurry. The few pictures left of her I have are like that.” 

Your fingers reached backward to circle his wrist, pausing him in his movements. “I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Definitely,” he promised, resuming his massage. “What about you?”

“Mmm, reading more books, probably. Funny, seeing as I’ve worked in a library setting for a few years now.” Your head turned over your shoulder. Eddie’s breath hitched at the softness behind your eyes. “If you could become a superhero, how would you like it to happen? Like…what’s your origin story. I feel like I’d want to have, I don’t know, realized I was impervious to fire or something. Would be pretty cool.”

“Easy,” Eddie said, mouth tipping into a smirk, “I plug into my amp, get a little electrocuted, get electric powers.”

“A true rock god.” You giggled, and it sounded like wind through the chimes you'd installed on the front porch. A swift punch to his gut, a hand wrapped tight around his heart. 

You continued like that for another half hour. His fingers dragging long lines over your back, your eyes closed as you tossed question after question into the open air. Eventually, you began to drift. Body pulled further and further into an oncoming rest, yawns spilling from your gently parted lips. 

For a while, you remained silent, and Eddie wondered if you’d fallen asleep. But you flipped over to face him, closer now than you had been before, and curled your palm beside your face. Close enough he could reach over and brush his lips along your every knuckle. Wanted to, he realized. 

“If you could change that night. Halloween. Would you?” 

He watched the worry as it crossed along your features, the fear over his answer to your question plaguing your mind. The question you’d been building up to with all the lighter ones. Exhaling deeply, he reached over and brushed his fingers along the back of your hand, head shaking slowly. 

“No, because I’d have never met you. And with Elena, it’s not what we planned, sure. But…in getting to know you, I care about you so damn much, Buttercup. I like waking up to you humming in front of the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing. Or when you yell at me for tossing something colored into the whites. I like cooking with you in the kitchen and I even like our couch talks when I rub your damn feet.” Your eyes, glittering with unshed tears, flickered up to his face, and he brushed the moisture collecting there from your bottom lash line. “You’re one of the most important people in my life now, I hope you realize.” 

“You’re one of the most important people in mine,” you whispered back, lacing your fingers with his. “I think the massage worked, by the way.”

He smiled, watching your eyes start to droop a bit. “Tired?” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, fingers tightening in his. 

A long sigh spilled from you, eyes shutting, and he immediately missed the sight of them. The glow of your irises in the dark, uniquely yours, and strikingly beautiful. Gentle fingers lifted to run along your cheek, your breathing starting to even out a bit, becoming deeper with every passing second. 

“Can I ask you one more question?” It was spoken quietly, so softly Eddie had almost nodded off himself when you’d finally asked. 

“Anytime.”

“Can you hold me?” 

Hesitant, you sounded so hesitant, fear of rejection evident in your voice. Another reason why he hated Paul. Because you’d deserved the world and he’d gone and taken advantage of your heart. 

“Always,” he reassured, heart racing as you rolled over and shifted backward a bit, his own body coming to rest along your spine. Like this, your backside rested in the cradle of his hips, your head rested along his bicep tucked beneath a pillow, and his arm swooped low around your belly. “Is this good?”

He ached with the warmth of it. With the way you leaned down and nuzzled your head further into his arm, the way your body fitted perfectly against his, how you felt so relaxed and comforted by simply being near him. Beautiful. You were so damn beautiful, like a fucking angel in his arms, and he realized how lucky he was.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whispered.  

With you in his arms, his hand splayed over where his daughter grew, he realized what he really held in that bed. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered back, dropping the softest of kisses to your temple. 

His family — not the one he’d been born with, and maybe not the perfected image of one, but family all the same. 

He’d never take that for granted. 

  ——

please let me know what you think. it quite literally makes my day, as well as other creatives, so just throwing that out there. i also have just loved talking to you all every week. it’s been the best. also, stay tuned for next week, with chapter six titled ‘the date.’ getting closer to the end here. 🩷🥹

#daylight!eddie #lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Four: Elena Munson

summary: what’s in a name? (7.2k words)

warnings: blood mention (r gets blood drawn); needle mention (same as before); mentions of abusive relationship (eddie’s father toward his mother); talks of death (eddie’s mother) and loss.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

“Sweetheart, the foot tapping is making me a little anxious,” Eddie murmured, reaching over your lap to press his ringed fingers against your thigh.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you gasped, clutching his hand tight within your own, straining the knuckles white as your voice dropped lower, “I’m just a little nervous. I hate doctors, and needles, and they called me last minute to tell me I was getting blood drawn today. So excuse me for being a little much.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

But there was no winning when it came to you and your hormones; he’d lost that battle willingly early on. Decided when you were right, you were right. There was no point in arguing.

You’d playfully shove him off, were it not for the fact you were surrounded by other women in varying stages of pregnancy. All of which sitting either alone or with their partners, some unspoken band of sisterhood when one glanced your way and raised a brow from over the magazine they’d been reading.

“Is this your first one, dearie?” one woman asked, her husband’s bored expression dulling further as he dropped his magazine onto a table beside him and looked up at the two of you.

“Yeah,” you muttered, a little forlorn, sliding a hand down your midsection. “What gave it away?”

“The look on your faces. All that nervous excitement.” She arched a brow Eddie’s way. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“Not yet,” Eddie said, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in closer. “But we’ll find out today.”

“We’re excited,” you told them, jumping upward as your name was called and a nurse appeared in the doorway.

The couple wished you well on your way as you grabbed your things and followed the nurse down the hall, clutching at Eddie’s hand for support as she led you to a room to have your blood drawn. Immediately, your lungs tensed tight in your chest, taking in the little chair meant for you, with a rolling one Eddie tugged over when he asked if he could remain at your side.

Eddie tapped on the back of your hand as the nurse went to work prepping everything she’d need, drumming out a tune you couldn’t recognize.

“So I thought we might get tacos after this,” he suggested, drawing your attention to where he sat. He was all dark eyes and messy hair pulled back into a bun. Handsome, just as he always was. “How do you feel about tacos?”

“I…guess I could do tacos,” you said, biting at your bottom lip as the nurse had you make a fist and wrapped a rubber band tight around your bicep.

“What kind of tacos?” he asked, stroking a soft line against the inside of your wrist.

“Uhm…” You faintly heard the nurse tell you to take a deep breath. Barely registered the prick of the needle sinking into your skin as you answered, “Not sure, but I know I need cheese. Buckets and buckets of cheese.”

“Cheese, huh?” He chuckled, his dark eyes glancing over your arm to watch as the nurse tossed vial after vial into a container. But you relaxed against him all the same, deep breaths falling from your lungs with every brush of his fingers against your skin. “I don’t know about you, but nachos sound good, too. Don’t they?”

You nodded, face a little soft and hopeful, and he glanced up at the nurse’s awaiting gaze, adding, “We don’t eat out super often. Today is a treat.”

“It’s a big day,” the woman agreed. “I won’t tell the doctor, don’t worry. And just like that — you’re done, hon.”

“Really?” you asked. Eddie grinned to himself as you glanced down at the bright blue bandage around your elbow, his chest burning when you looked his way and murmured, “Thank you.”

“Always, Buttercup.”

The walk down to the examination room felt like decades shaved off your lives. Eager anticipation brimmed as you clambered up onto the table and the nurse continued through your routine vital checks, her voice soft as she announced a sonographer would be in soon for the ultrasound.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, palm running along your jeans, wiping away sweat-slicked skin.

“How am I feeling?” He shuddered out a breath. “Excited to see them. Nervous. Mostly excited.”

“Any last guesses as to what it is?”

You’d both been playfully arguing about it on the way to the doctor’s office.

You thought it had to be a boy, given the unruly nature of the little one who had begun to kick at you all hours of the day in the past couple of days, just on the back end of weeks of endless sickness. Once that abated, it seemed like they were insistent on finding other ways to make their presence known.

Eddie, on the other hand, believed whole-heartedly it was a girl. Said he’d had a feeling all along from the moment you sat together at the diner some weeks ago now.

“I’m sticking with my guess,” he said, not protesting at all as your fingers slid back into his, tangling in the space between the two of you. “Deep breaths. It’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re right.” Your back leaned against the table, shoulders relaxing, tension sliding off your form as his other hand ran up and down your forearm gently, tethering you to reality. “They’re fine. We’re fine. It’s going to be okay.”

The exam itself was different from the others that had come before it. More clinical, the technician quieter than they had been at previous appointments. You supposed it was the fact they needed to look into everything, taking time to measure and inspect every little organ and detail. But Eddie sat transfixed on the spot, elbows propped up on the table beside you, still clutching your hand tight in his own.

He was meeting his child for the first time, and the sight had your chest breaking open at the mere realization of it. At one point, you’d stopped watching the screen and instead opted for the man’s face. Reached over and patted his cheek as the sonographer pointed out the little thumb, pressed in the baby’s mouth — a sight that had his eyes growing wide and watery, breath faltering in the back of his throat.

“Are we finding out the sex today?” the sonographer asked.

Your head whipped around to face the screen, heart thumping madly as you and Eddie simultaneously said, “Yes.”

Time seemed to halt. You could feel Eddie’s hair tickling at your arm as he leaned in even further, his hand gripping yours tight, trying to get even the slightest hint from looking at the wriggling form on the screen.

“It’s a girl,” they announced, “and we are all done here. I’ll print out some pictures and the doctor will be in touch with you soon. I’ll give you two a moment. Congratulations.”

The door clicked and your breath fell in a giant whoosh, releasing the air you hadn’t meant to hold in. Beside you, Eddie brushed at his eyes, laughing disbelievingly to himself.

“A girl,” he repeated, testing out the words on his tongue. “You’re having a girl, sweetheart.”

“We’re,” you reminded him, a choked sob spilling from your lips as Eddie brushed at a tear that escaped your eye. “We’re having a little girl.”

Later, as you sat in the front seat of his van and he walked back to the car with multiple bags of your lunch in hand, you marveled at the photo. Pressed a hand to the small swell of your midsection, feeling her roll around again and again.

Jolted a bit before settling into his warmth as Eddie leaned over and dropped a kiss against your forehead, fingers cradling the back of your neck, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ against your skin. Confusion warred in your mind, glancing up into those umber eyes to find him softening there.

“I never…” He exhaled, thumb running over his daughter’s cheek. “My dad wasn’t around. Had been when I was younger, but he’d — he wasn’t a good man. I’d lost my mom pretty young. I never thought I’d be cut out for this. For a long time, it was just my Uncle and I. And I…I already love her so much. It seems so weird — how can you love someone you’ve never met, right? But I know I do, and I’m grateful you’re doing this with me.”

“She’s really lucky, Eddie.”

You left out we’re really lucky, Eddie.

But the sentiment rang true.

His eyes softened, and you worried for a moment he’d get emotional again like in the doctor’s office. But instead he handed you the bags and turned his key in the ignition, curls bouncing about his shoulders.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

Hesitation was far from your mind. In fact, as soon as he uttered the question, you’d nodded. Found yourself sitting now at Lover’s Lake, aptly named for the famous make out spot (though you were sure Eddie was only joking about that).

The windows were rolled down, the winter air turning over into spring already starting to warm up. You sat perched in the front seat beside Eddie, listening as the lake water lapped against the dock. As animals scurried on by, a flap of a tail from a fish, the sound of a bird chirping in the distance.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d been here,” he said, reaching over to grab the bags. “I come here whenever I need to just get away and think.”

He started to pull out the various packages and opened the front driver’s side door, rushing around toward the back to open the vehicle up. A questioning brow raised, head turning over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the man scurrying about to gather some pillows and blankets, laying them out in the back of the van. He patted the surface, eyes on your face, and you narrowed your gaze in questioning.

“Have lunch with me?” he asked, waving you over once more.

With hesitant fingers, you pushed open the side door, rushing around to clamber up into the back beside him. Once settled down, he propped a pile of pillows near your back and tossed a blanket over your thighs, sliding over the tray of nachos closer to your bent kneecaps.

“Cheese for the lady,” he teased, sliding over an extra container of melted cheese for your nachos. “This place actually has really good tacos. Some would say that Taco Tower is the best, but I think this place takes the cake.”

“There’s this place back in the city that actually has really good ones,” you muttered around a mouthful of chips. A napkin raised to your lips, wiping at the remnants of your sour cream there. “All different flavors and types. The lines would always be so long. But this is really good, and the cheese is everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

He chuckled, smiling ruefully. “Do you miss it? The city.”

“Maybe in the beginning,” you said, really giving it a thought. “But I’d told you when we met that night that I dreamed of something slower and a smaller town. Turns out fate led me to Hawkins, I guess.”

“Of all the towns.” He barked out a laugh.

“I love it here,” you admitted, staring out at the lake.

You can smell the nachos below, the crisp air, the freshly cut grass. Back home, it would have been car exhaust, those untrustworthy water dogs, garbage pails. Different, but welcomed. Appreciated. Perfect for where you saw yourself and the little girl tucked beneath your heart.

“I miss Micah and Jeremiah. They’re like family to me,” you said, turning your head to glance at Eddie. “But here it feels like home already. Quiet. Peaceful.”

“I kind of resented it for a while,” he said slowly, breaking off a piece of his taco into a tin. “Moved here when I was twelve. Right around when my mom died. I’d been sent to stay with my uncle, which I hated at first — but I don’t know where I’d have ended up if it hadn’t been with him.”

“You mentioned your mom before.” He stilled, pushing his tray to the side. “Can I…can I ask what she was like?”

He remained quiet for a while. A soft, somber look slid over his face. Those dark lashes lowered a bit, head tipping downward. Fear knitted in the back of your throat; worried over having pushed him too far, the wound still too deep after all this time, the loss of a mother so young so understandably painful.

But as he raised his head again, he offered the slightest of smiles, a quick twitch to the corner of his mouth as he brushed a hair behind his ear that the wind picked up and curled over his mouth.

“She was, uh, she was really great. Always smiling, but I think that was mostly for my own benefit growing up. I didn’t know my dad was…I didn’t know he was.” He swallowed, and your heart plummeted. “He was a piece of shit. Put his hands on her, and she wore a goddamn smile on her face just so I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Obviously when I grew up and realized, I did.”

You shifted closer on the blanket, hand curling over the tattoos on the back of his forearm. Inky bats you traced the wing spans of, easing the tension in his shoulders, heart skipping at the audible exhale from his lungs.

“But she had this really pretty hair.” Your fingers trapped a wind spun curl between index and thumb, his beaming lips blooming wider at your arched brow, at the encouraging grin that slid across your lips. “Yeah, like mine. Dark eyes. She was really beautiful. She always had this way of making you feel loved. Just super positive, bright, happy. She was a spitfire. Kind of like you, in that regard. I can only hope our daughter gets that. She loved reading, and I think that’s where my love for fantasy came about; she’d read to me all the time. She’d also — well, I’d come home after school and she’d always be cooking or baking something —”

“Like you,” you pointed out, tugging your blanket up higher on your lap, feeling his dark stare on your face.

“Yeah, we’d cook together. Kind of became our thing,” he said, a little sadly. “My dad was in and out at that point. Came around when he needed money — for alcohol, drugs, to get him out of whatever bind he’d gotten himself into. It didn’t matter though, she was my best friend and we had each other.”

Until they didn’t.

It was the unspoken sentence that lingered in the air, your fingers reaching over onto his lap to curl tentatively around his fingers. He didn’t hesitate to flip your palm within his own, turning it face up, his index finger tracing along the ridges in your skin. Just tracing the curves and edges of your palm, silence extending.

“We’d been driving home from my school one day. The roads were icy and —” He lifted his head to the ceiling, jaw clenching. “I woke up in a hospital and my uncle was there. I don’t even remember what he said, my ears were ringing so loud. I just knew that I made it and she didn’t. We buried her and I moved here.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah, it’s fucked.” His wobbly mouth felt like a knife in the chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “She sounded so lovely. I’m so sorry.”

“She would have loved you,” he said, gripping the edge of your chin and giving it a soft wiggle, lips tilting upward at your wrinkled nose. “Would have been over the moon if I told her she was gonna be a grandma. Wonder if she knows; I’d like to think she does.”

“She does know.” Your voice wavered, eyes darting to the lake, tears blurring your vision. “I know she does. What was her name?”

“Elena.”

“Her name is as beautiful as she sounds.” A swift nudge had you pausing, a watery laugh spilling from your lips, glancing downward. “I think she likes it too.”

“She’s moving again?” At your nod, he asked, “Can I…is it weird if I…”

“Uh — no, not at all. Here uh —”

He remained still as you shifted closer to him, the blanket falling off of your thighs onto the floor below. You cupped your hand around his, drawing it beneath the hem of your sweater.

A touch that previously would have had heat rolling in your gut for another reason, now suddenly became more intimate in a way you’d never imagined back when you met him on Halloween.

“You might have to give it a minute.”

“Not in a rush.”

He laughed beside you, his gaze firmly planted on where his wrist was draped in fabric, palm warm against your skin.

“She’s kind of like…down further,” you muttered, shivering as his fingers slipped a little lower, brushing at the line of the jeans you wore beneath your sweater.

Your eyes fluttered close, mind willing the little girl within to move. As though she were tethered to you — as though she could hear you.

Eddie had told you not yet, that she’d be able to hear him in a couple of weeks (and therefore, he also promised to start playing his music for her to get her accustomed to the life of a rockstar’s daughter). But still, you wished for it all the same, for her to shift, to give him this moment so he could feel connected to her.

“I think she stopped…” He exhaled, lips dropping into a frown, though his fingers still pressed against the warmth of your skin, spreading wider to cover more surface area. And then — “Wait, was that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, grinning widely as she moved again and his eyes widened further.

“That’s so cool.”

His breath came out a little shaky, your eyes watching his beautiful features as he waited, as if he’d be able to see her, as if he could pinpoint the next movement. And once he’d felt one, another round was spurred on, and then another, each making his lips tug upward further. Like this he was all soft angles, the curve of his jaw, gentle slope of his nose, those dark eyes narrowing in complete and utter awe of what he was experiencing. It made your breath catch, lungs tightening, stomach rolling wondrously.

“Hi there,” he muttered, bending lower toward your midsection, and your chest ached with it. “I’m your silly dad. You must love cheese, just like your mom. She dances when she eats it too.”

You shoved at him, earning a barked laugh. “Shut up.” You waited a moment, his hand still against your skin, and asked, “What do you think about calling her Elena? I just feel like…she’d been calm up until we started talking about your mom. It felt like a sign.”

His eyes flickered upward, dark and scorching along your skin. “Really?”

“Elena Munson does have a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

He glanced down again to where he was connected to his unborn daughter, and sniffled loudly. “I’d love that. Thank you, Buttercup. You don’t know what that means to me.”

You both sat like that as evening turned into night. Him with his hand against your abdomen, relishing in those special moments with his daughter. With Elena.

And you watched as he realized fully that he was going to be a father — as he fell in love with his little girl. Tried to keep your tears at bay as he ran a thumb along your skin like he’d traced the photo of her earlier, muttering he loved her out loud, before wiping at the underside of his eye.

Your fingers reached up to brush at his cheek, thumb trailing along his jaw. “Now how about we go get some milkshakes.”

“Chocolate?” he mused, knowing you’d had one a couple days ago when you insisted you needed to have one at eleven at night.

“Please?”

And he could never say no to you, not really.

——

It wasn’t that Eddie hadn’t wanted to tell Wayne about Elena. He just didn’t know how to. Wanted to do so with your company, and in your own timing. And with the craziness of being in California, and then you moving in with him shortly thereafter, no time seemed like the right time.

Until now, that is.

He’d been working on your car in the garage, doing a quick oil change, when the phone had rang. His uncle’s voice spilled through the line as he’d asked Eddie to stop by for dinner — nearly yelling at him to stop being a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, catching your sleepy stare from where your head poked up over the couch.

He’d thought it adorable how often you napped; figured you needed the rest anyway, despite the fact he knew you would be apologizing left and right for it later since he’d been working on your car while you did so.

“There’s, ah, a reason why I’ve been a little MIA,” Eddie said calmly. “And I kind of wanted to talk to you about it. But it’s the kind of conversation we would need to have in person.”

“Well alright,” his uncle acquiesced gruffly. “Come by this weekend then.”

“Can I bring a friend?”

“Oh I see now.” Only, he didn’t understand half of it. “Bring ‘em on by. They special to you?”

Both of them, he thought, catching your form in the living room. Watched as you folded up your blanket and placed it over the top of the loveseat, snatching your slippers up from the floor and padding into the kitchen.

“Yeah, they’re special,” he admitted, grinning to himself as your head turned to look at him, a box of berries perched within your palm. He reached out to grab one, your nose wrinkling at him as you settled at the kitchen table. “Sunday sounds good? Our usual time?”

“Yeah, Ed,” his uncle said. “See you soon, boy.”

“See you soon.”

As the line went dead, your curiosity only piqued. He could tell from the little furrow of your brows, the way you glanced down at your berries as if they were the most interesting things you’ve seen all day. How you avoided eye contact with him, so as to not make it seem like you’d been listening in on his phone call. He hardly minded, but damn it he thought it so cute how you assumed he did. Hated that his thoughts ventured there more often than not as of late; ventured to that untouched, and to remain untouched, part of your relationship. The romantic part, the place where his emotions dwelled most days.

“You gonna ask who that was, sweetheart?” he teased, dropping down onto the chair across from you. His ringed fingers slipped into the container, grinning to himself when you reached forward and jokingly swatted at him. “I know you’re just dying to know.”

“Are you going to tease me or tell me?” you huffed, eyes lingering a little too long on his mouth when he tossed another berry within.

“It was my uncle.”

“The famous uncle,” you repeated, trying your hardest to keep your intrigue at bay. “The one who raised you that you speak so highly of.”

“Yes, the very one.” He chuckled to himself, tapping your chin when your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, worrying at it. Your bottom lip popped back out, eyes drawn high on his face. “He and I usually have weekly dinners. We haven’t because — well, I was in California for a couple months, and then we’ve been busy with…all of this. But he wants to get together this weekend. And I asked if you could come along.”

“Eddie, I don’t want to intrude on your —”

“I want to tell him about Elena. I want him to meet you.” He reached over to thumb at your wrist, feeling you relax a bit under his gentle touch. “I want you there.”

Apparently Wayne — he refused to let you call him ‘Uncle Wayne’ — knew right away when Eddie had asked you to come along that the news he wanted to share happened to be the two of you were expecting. Said he’d had a gut feeling, but that he was over the moon excited to have a little grand baby in a few months time.

The man himself was lovely. Rougher around the edges, and yet kind in a way that had you immediately comfortable in his presence. You’d even moved outside onto the front step with him, Eddie inside finishing up the dishes and getting dessert ready, a cup of steaming camomile tea resting in your palm, foot tapping on the ground beneath you.

“You know, I haven’t seen that boy smile so much in a long time. You’re good for one another. Always smilin’ and laughin.’”

You didn’t have it in your heart to correct him — to tell him your relationship with his nephew was strictly platonic. Not with the way he’d smiled at you both over dinner, looking so damn proud of Eddie it cleaved your heart down the center. Because this man loved your dark haired metalhead inside. Would defend him to the ends of the earth, if need be.

“I’m proud of him,” he continued, lifting his glass to his lips to take a sip of his coffee. “Worked hard to get himself to where he is, and finally starting up his music career. Now raisin’ a baby. His late Mama is smilin’, if I had to guess.”

“We decided to name her Elena,” you told him. You heard the sharp inhale beside you. “She sounded wonderful.”

“She was one of the best. She loved that boy more than anythin’ in this world. I remember her sittin’ right where you are when she brought him here the first time. He had this dark head of hair, even then. Screamed bloody murder; always had a pair of lungs, my Ed. But god she loved that boy.”

“He’s a good man,” you admitted softly, “hard not to, you know? He talks about you a lot. How you raised him. I bet a lot of that is because of you.”

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he said, staring up at the starry sky. “You plannin’ on staying in Hawkins?”

“Yeah,” you say, stroking along your middle fondly. “I think it’ll be good to plant ourselves here. I have my job over at the school, there’s a daycare nearby, we have friends here. Eddie and I haven’t discussed what happens when he goes on tour, but I know he intends to be here as much as possible.”

“I’m glad,” he admits, glancing your way.

“And we’ll bring Elena over as much as you want.”

His answer was a kind hand over yours on your mug, followed by the sound of a screen door opening and a fluffy head of curly hair poking out. His dark eyes met yours first. “Dessert is ready now.”

Eddie approached you from the front, holding out a hand you definitely didn’t need, but you took it anyway, allowing him to help you to your feet. He curled his palm around your cup of tea as you then helped Wayne up, warmth blooming in your chest as the older man gripped your shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze, slipping inside wordlessly.

“You two have a good time together?” Eddie asked against the crown of your head.

Shoulders slouching as he reached up to rub at the knots in them, you turned your head over your shoulder. “He’s really great. I understand why you love him so much. He speaks so highly of you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed out, cheeks brightening a bit even in the moonlight. “He’s, ah, he’s the best.”

You spent hours together playing Monopoly. Watching as Eddie lost his composure when he’d eventually started losing to his uncle, and not just losing — paying up seemingly every turn. They were a joy to watch, an honor to encounter. What with the way they spoke, how deeply they loved, the strength of their bond evident and on display. And later, as you hugged his uncle goodbye and walked out to the car to get in, your eyes half-lidded in your tiredness, Eddie lingered briefly in Wayne’s doorway, heart clenching as his uncle wound him in a tight hug.

“Love you, son. Don’t be a stranger now, I’ll be wanting to see more of your little lady before my grand baby comes now, you hear me?”

“Oh, she’s not,” he swallowed, looking over his shoulder to where you scrambled into the passenger seat. “We’re…figuring things out.”

“But there’s love there. Respect. Those are good, strong foundations,” he stated plainly, waving when you did.

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“She cares for you. You don’t think in my old age I know what it looks like? That I can’t recognize it on the face?” Eddie exhaled, rubbing a hand up and down his neck. “Just give it time. You’ll know what to do. Always do.”

Just give it time.

——

Work that following Monday proved long and arduous. It also happened to be the day your feet finally started to hurt from standing all hours of the day, lower back aching as you stepped through the front door and kicked off your shoes.

The home itself was quiet, save for the sound of Eddie drumming his fingers along the kitchen table as you entered the living room. He had your notebook sprawled out on the table in front of him, a dark head of hair poking up to see you as you approached, fear furrowing his brows when you dipped your gaze downward to peer at what he stumbled upon.

“It was out,” he muttered rapidly, closing the book with a resounding slap. “I swear. I would never just read your personal stuff like that.”

“I know,” you said, stepping further into the room, palm rubbing against your presently aching lower back. “I forgot I left it out. It’s fine that you read it.”

“Sweetheart, you know that stuff is really good, right?” He lifted the notebook once more, fingers running along the leather binding. “Like — really good. You told me you liked to write, but you didn’t mention you’re ridiculously talented.”

You shrugged. “I always wanted to write. I went to school for it, but the issue was always…I couldn’t just write full time. I needed to pay rent. So I worked for a library and then…never had time to write once I started doing that.”

“And now?”

“Since I moved here, I’ve honestly written a ton. I wrote all of what you see there in a little over two months.” You rubbed a hand along your forearm, feeling a little bashful. “Sometimes it’s a sentence in the morning, or sometimes, especially now that she’s been keeping me up sometimes at night, it’ll be a few hundred words when I can’t sleep. But it’s the first time I’ve been consistently writing in years.”

“You need to talk to someone about this. Show this to them.”

“I really don’t think it’s that good, Eddie.” You felt your cheeks warm, hand coming up to rest over your chest, foot digging into the carpet below.

For years, your ex had suggested that writing wasn’t a real career. That it couldn’t get you anywhere, would lead to heartbreak and disappointment. Suggested it was a waste of time. And you’d started to accept that — for a time.

Hated that you did when you could see such excitement in Eddie’s eyes from your written words poured out onto the pages.

“It is that good,” he said, placing the book down onto the coffee table. “I know someone. Nancy Byers. She’s a journalist but I know she’s friends with publishers. She might even know someone you can contact to be an agent.”

“Really?”

Your breath caught. Held for a prolonged beat. You’d always dreamed of writing. Always thought it was your purpose, but it got lost on the way. Swept up in the wind, in the chaos of bills and plans, in business and lost naïveté, in reality in the form of a baby made after a night that was meant to be a one night stand. It seemed like a long lost dream — or at least had for a time.

But now.

Now Eddie seemed convinced you could do this, his eyes so bright and hopeful, voice strained in his excitement as he said, “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t just say it if I didn’t mean it. Have you written anything else aside from this historical romance piece?”

You dropped down onto a chair beside him, snatching the notebook and flicking it nearer to the front of the book, turning to a children’s story you'd written shortly after you’d found out you were expecting.

A particularly rhyme-filled book for hopeful parents, to read to their little one, showing the nervousness and excitement about bringing a new life into the world. And at the end, though there weren’t pictures within it yet, you expressed to Eddie you pictured there would be a drawing of the parents holding their child at last, overjoyed to finally meet them.

“I worked in the children’s section when I was still in the city,” you explained, flipping the book a few more pages back to another children’s book you’d written about bears that go to fairs. “So usually we’d read all the incoming books to better make recommendations for parents. I’d get inspired and write something silly of my own. Like this bear book.”

“It’s not silly.”

And he wasn’t looking at you as though it were either. He held his gaze on your face as your fingers rested across the pages of your old notebook, regarding you with a look in his eye you couldn’t quite place a name to. Interest, intrigue, awe.

“You really think they’re good?” you asked, heart fluttering away nervously behind your ribcage. “Like you really think they could be something?”

“Yes,” he said, bringing a hand up to rub a gentle circle into your shoulder, “I really really think so. I’ll get you Nancy’s information. Her husband, Jonathan, is also in photography and design. I wonder if he knows someone who could help as well with the children’s books. Illustrations and all of that. You should seriously try and submit these.”

Heat crawled up your spine at his words. “Thank you, Eddie.”

He waited a moment and then asked, “Do you have any more?”

Giddy on riding the high of his sudden interest, the two of you curled up on the living room couch, flipping through the pages of your journal, describing to him how you pictured certain images in your head. Described what you’d want depicted on each page, color schemes and the like. You knew you wouldn’t have much sway in the matter, but it was still fun to dream.

Eventually, he’d asked about the end of your adult romance novel. Wanted to know all the sordid details of your Viscount who had fallen in love with his brother’s best friend, and you told him. Even if he’d be your first and only ever reader of the book, it brought joy to your heart seeing him so excited with every tidbit you gave him. So genuinely invested in a story that you’d written.

“After I finish this one, I did have a plan for a pirate romance as well,” you expressed after a while, when day had turned into evening, and your belly had started to grumble in your hunger.

Hearing that low grumble, Eddie lifted himself up off of the couch and extended a hand your way. Helped you up and off of it with a tug, his hand resting on the small of your back as he ushered you toward the kitchen, saying, “I’m going to start us dinner. But don’t think you’re getting away with just dropping that story idea on me without telling me all you have planned for it.”

You paused in your footsteps, eyes burning with the suddenness of your emotions. These unnamed emotions that constantly flooded your system as of late. Without a name to place to them, you turned into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist instead, settling on running from them, pulling him as close as you could.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t falter or tense. Instead, a hand came up and curled around your hips, low against your waist. Another slid up and over your shoulders, stroking a line into the back of your sweater, warming you through the material.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you mumbled, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just…can I stay here for a minute?”

Better than okay — you felt seen. For the first time in a long time, you felt wholly seen by someone.

Without judgment or ridicule, only acceptance.

“Yeah.” He held you tighter. “For as long as you need.”

——

The middle of March brought with it warmer weather and your twenty-second week. It brought a freshly painted bedroom. Pastel pink, gleaming in sunlight pouring in through the windows. It brought with it a new hamper, boxes of baby clothes gifted by Steve and Chrissy, and deliveries from furniture companies.

It brought with it fresh cinnamon buns that melted on your tongue that sunny Saturday morning, and the image of Eddie sitting on the nursery floor, pink tongue tucked against his bottom lip, tank top showing almost too many tattooed ribs (for your sanity) with his best friend Steve tinkering away across from him.

You’d insisted you had a ton of time to put everything together, but Eddie had been on a mission since he woke that morning, more than sure he’d be capable of handling it all on his own. A few hours later, he’d called in for reinforcements — and you called in an order for pizzas for the guys, swallowing your own heaping mouthful of sauce and cheese in the kitchen with a loud gulp as Eddie slipped into the room rubbing a paper towel along the back of his sweaty neck, revealing that tantalizing curve of his hip bone beneath his Corroded Coffin tank, that smattering of hair low against his abdomen, the soft of his stomach that you’d never forget you marked the path of with your ton —

“Smells so good I could kiss you right now —” He paused, as though he’d realized what he said. As though he caught the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, nearly choking on your lunch. “Not that I’m going to. It’s just a phrase. A thing people say. A saying.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, even though the racing of your heart told you otherwise. “How is the room coming along? You really didn’t have to do all of this. We have a long way to go till she gets here, my friend.”

“We’re almost finished up. And enough of that. I wanted to,” he reminded you, your hand raising in a wave as Steve entered, wearing a white shirt, a pair of tattered basketball shorts, and a backwards baseball bat. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Are you good if I head home soon?” Steve asked, snatching a slice of pizza and a plate from the table top. “Melody is going to stay with Chrissy’s parents and I’m planning on taking her out to dinner.”

“Oh my gosh, Steve, absolutely. You already did more than enough,” you reassured him.

“Seriously,” Eddie said, “I owe you.”

“Pretty sure he was about to start crying soon if you hadn’t showed up with all the whining I kept hearing,” you joked, earning a half-hearted glare from Eddie.

“There’s too many pieces and the directions don’t make sense. Might as well be written in another language.”

Steve chuckled, taking another few bites of his slice before wiping his hands on a paper towel. “We’re still good for next weekend with the kids at my place, right?” His question was directed at Eddie, but your brow arched upward.

“You have more kids?” you teased, though you’d already met some of the ones Steve was referring to.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “A whole bunch of them. Though they’re not really kids anymore.”

“We started hosting DND nights a few years back. Some of Eddie’s guys from Corroded Coffin come, and the kids. Depends on who is free at the time. But the next one is next weekend,” Steve explained, moving to the sink to throw out his dish, catching the image of Elena from your most recent appointment on the fridge. “She’s cute, looks like you — good thing with this guy’s face, am I right?”

He glanced your way as he said it, and Eddie bent the guy nearly in half, arm right around his neck until Steve punched at Eddie’s bare ribs, both laughing brightly.

It dawned on you then, how much had changed in such a short time, and yet how much you loved that it had. This feeling of love and familiarity between them, forged in years of friendship, now an extension of your own life.

It felt safe and secure — the kind of place you could see your daughter raised in, a place for you to rest your head.

Chrissy, Robin, Steve. Eddie. The kids. Wayne. Elena. Different, and yet welcomed. Unfamiliar, and yet fond.

Your heart swelled with it, growing fuller as Steve left and you followed Eddie into Elena’s room, as you took in her newly assembled crib and the nearly finished changing table positioned against the wall. He’d already gone and put some of the clothes you’d bought for her in the closet, a kaleidoscope of color, each outfit cuter than the last.

“Well?” he asked, coming up to stand beside you as you slowly circled around and around in the middle of the room, taking in everything. He halted you with a hand at your side, his lip twitching at the perfectly aimed nudge that pushed back against his palm. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” you exhaled, still overwhelmed by the fact he’d gone and done all of this, just so his house would feel a little more like home for you both. “All of it. She’s going to love it.”

And you…well, you realized then you might have the tiniest, most glaringly obvious, bit of feelings for the man who had gone and done it all.

——

please let me know what you think, and stay tuned for next weeks chapter titled ‘one bed’ 😉🩷

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #lunaloveseddie

[abibliophobiaa]

the boy is mine (luna’s edition)

i was tagged in @carolmunson’s blurb challenge, and here’s my fluffy little submission. i encourage everyone to join in, and you can find the guidelines here.

summary: an evening in at the trailer park with your boyfriend eddie munson. established relationship, eddie munson x f!reader. little suggestive, but no smut. just fluffy sweetness (1k words)

——

It’s your favorite time of the day. When the sun starts to set across the sky. Pinks, purples, oranges and reds casting light against the new trailer you and Eddie purchased, spilling in through the billowing curtains in the living room. Eddie’s there on the couch, with a cozy cream knitted blanket over his thighs, one of his crew sock covered feet you bought him just last week poking out at the end.

He’s perfectly sun-kissed after a day spent walking in the park together after running errands, your hand in his, both of you simply basking in the springy Saturday sun. Dark hair spills out of a messy ponytail, curly strands tickling his shoulders and cheeks, though it seems he’s too invested in whatever he’s scribbling in his small notebook to care.

Its contents? You’re uncertain, but he’s been working for the past hour as you finished cleaning up an early dinner. Take out pizza, since neither of you were keen on cooking tonight, instead wanting to curl up together with a movie on the couch for a loved up night in. Said movie is calling your name as you drape your dish towel around the refrigerator handle, making sure to pluck two bottles of beer from within.

“Popcorn?” You call out, smiling to yourself when Eddie jumps a little on the couch, head lifting as those umber eyes meet yours.

“Sure, babe,” he says, smiling softly, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” you tell him, moving over to a cabinet to pull out a bowl, and a bag of M&Ms. “Candy?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

A laugh bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head, opening the microwave to grab the popped treat. “Today was perfect, huh?”

You smile to yourself as he hums in agreement, pouring the popcorn into the plastic bowl. Both are placed down onto your coffee table as you slip into the living area, your knee taking up residence to the left of one of Eddie’s hips, before the other joins on the other side, straddling the man.

“Whatcha writing?” you ask, trying to peer down at the notebook, just as he slams it shut.

Eddie tosses it behind him on the windowsill, head shaking, eyes a little wide and a little breathless at the suddenness of your arrival on his lap. “That’s private.”

You pout. “Private? From the woman you live with? Love with all your heart, soul, and might?”

“Hey,” he chuckles, thumb pressing beneath your bottom lip, wiggling it playfully, “none of that. You know I love you, but some things are personal.”

“Is that what you called shitting while I was in the shower the other da —”

“That was an emergency,” he clarifies, and you snort. Sobering, he adds, “It’s just — not ready yet.”

Fingers thumb at your thighs, shifting upward the sundress draped over his thighs now. Those dark eyes linger on your face, his free hand coming up to brush along your cheek, dragging your face down to meet his, your foreheads brushing. Every breath from his lungs puffs against your bottom lip, that tantalizing feeling of need you don’t think you’ll ever get used to with him making your insides liquify. Then again, it’s always been this way with him. A sense of peace and quiet in your soul. Of home, with his arms as your walls and his heart as a safe place to land.

“It’s a song…if you must know,” he says slowly against your lips, a dimple popping in his cheek, “about a major pain in my ass.”

“You should get that checked out,” you muse, heart pitter-pattering away at the notion he’s written a song about you, “might be serious.”

“It’s a permanent condition,” he sighs dramatically, though it’s tinged with a joyous laugh, “the only cure is constant exposure.”

“Your doctor needs to get their license revoked,” you tease, breaking off with a sigh in the back of your throat as he leans forward and kisses you deeply. Grapples at your hips and rolls you over him, swallowing the moan that bubbles in your throat at the feeling of him already hardening beneath you. “If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem.”

He grins up at you, finger pushing at the strap of your dress until it falls down one shoulder. Eddie leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin there.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Distracting me!” You shove at him playfully, wiggling on his lap as deft fingers tickle at your sides, drawing you closer to his frame. A contented exhale spills from you, body leaning into his chest, letting his arms fold you in against a broad chest.

“You really wanna hear it?” he asks at the crown of your head, fingers tangling with yours in your lap.

“Please?”

“It’s rough,” he warns, reaching behind him to grasp the small notebook. “It’s also…not our normal style, so you better not tell the guys.”

You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth. “Did Eddie Munson write me a love song?”

“Quit it or I won’t play it for you,” he snarks, but there’s no bite there, only love. Always love. So much so, you’re always overflowing with it. “Sit over there — yeah — okay.”

You drop down against the pillows piled high in the corner of your couch, the knitted blanket drawn up and over your thighs. And as the sun continues to set over Hawkins, you watch as the man who holds your heart pulls over his acoustic guitar, flipping the pages of his notebook to where he left off.

Sings in his smoky voice of a girl with sunshine in her hair and the stars in her eyes, of a girl who he calls home, the one his soul longs for, the person he finds rest in. His love.

With your heart in your throat and tears swimming in your eyes, you blurt out a broken, “I love you.”

He tugs you close, his heartbeat under your ear as he whispers back, “I love you most.”

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fluff

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Three: Roommates

summary: eddie proposes you move in with him, and you do — for the baby, duh.

warnings: mentions of morning sickness; brief vomit mention; but other than that 7.2k of fluff.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

——

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

Though you anticipated seeing more of Eddie in the upcoming months, you hadn’t expected it quite literally the next day. Chrissy had suggested a ‘family dinner’ that Sunday evening, but Steve ended up meeting a work friend to play some golf, and Melody had been fussing all day. When she had helplessly mentioned she hadn’t been able to go food shopping, you offered to go pick up everything she’d need.

It just so happened to be that when you drove up, Eddie’s van was sitting in front of the house, his head visibly bobbing where it was above the steering wheel, fingers dancing along the steering wheel. Curiosity got the better of you and you pulled into the sprawling driveway beside him, rolling your window down and looking in until he’d realized he had been caught and lowered the dial on his music.

The window beside you rolled down next, his head leaning over the center console so he could ask, “Need help? Backseat is looking a little full there.”

“We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just see you having your own private concert?”

“Please,” he laughed, turning the car off. Before you could even argue with him about the endless grocery bags, he was already out of his vehicle and heading over to your trunk. “Pop the trunk. You’re not meant to be lifting much anyway.”

“How do you know?” You walked up beside him, unlocking the trunk to reveal the endless bags hidden within.

“Steve gave me one of his dad books to prepare,” he said, lifting some of the heavier bags first. You reached in to grab some of the lighter ones, resting them high on your hip. “I stayed up all night reading up through the fourth month.”

“Eddie, that’s crazy.”

“I wanted to be prepared.” He shrugged, walking beside you up to the house. “Did you know that the baby’s eyes are closed right now, but they move around? Kind of cool, maybe a little creepy.”

“Definitely creepy,” you echoed, a little impressed he’d done all of that as you entered the home and Chrissy came stumbling out, now no longer with Melody in hand. “She finally went down?”

“Yes, thank goodness.” She approached Eddie, taking a couple of bags to lighten the weight loaded in his arms. “Just put everything on the island, I’ll take care of putting it all away.”

The second trip to the car proved different. Eddie noticed immediately the giant box of diapers and bag of baby clothes you’d yet to bring downstairs. Paused as he took in the sight of the tiny clothes, thumb running over a colorful onesie that peeked out of the plastic.

“Here,” he said thickly, lifting the box of diapers in one arm and the bag in the other, “I’ll help you bring them downstairs.”

Exhaling deeply, you closed the trunk and led him to the side entrance to the apartment. Robin had gone out with some friends, leaving the place empty. Eddie whistled as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off near the door, still wet from the snow that had fallen the night before.

“Uhm…where are you sleeping?” he asked out loud, taking in the space. “I mean, I’ve been here before. I know Robin has the bedroom, but where is your stuff?”

“I’m on the pullout couch,” you explained, walking him over, snatching a laundry basket on the way.

Waving an arm out to him, he handed over the bag of clothing and dropped down onto the couch beside you, the diapers already laid out on the kitchen table.

“You’re not serious.” He eyed you as you pulled outfit after outfit from the bag.

“I sleep right here,” you said, nonplussed.

“You can’t,” he stated plainly, voice rising.

“I mean…I can,” you retorted, tossing baby socks into the basket to be cleaned, “and I do.”

“Move in with me.”

Now you were convinced he’d absolutely lost it. The man who you procreated with was losing his mind, because there was no way in hell you’d heard him correctly.

“I can’t move in with you, I don’t even know you.”

“Look — I own a home. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s better than sleeping on a couch. There’s a guest bedroom you could stay in and another bedroom we could turn into a nursery. But you can’t stay here.”

“I was saving up for my own place,” you explained, tossing another item into the bin. “This is fine for right now. I can’t come live with you, take up your space, uproot your quiet. That’s silly, Eddie.”

“It’s not silly,” he argued, reaching into the bag and holding one of the little sleepers in his hands. He marveled for a moment and then shook his head, like he’d remembered something. “I told you I wanted to help out. Don’t you think it would be easier if, I don’t know, the baby woke up in the middle of the night and you had someone else there who could take care of things? I want to be able to bond with my kid too, you know?”

In theory, it sounded nice. The thought of having Eddie down the hall to assist with diaper changes seemed like a dream. An opportunity you hadn’t even imagined possible before bumping into him at the supermarket. And yet, the facts remained the same as they were: Eddie was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

“Just…think about it?” he asked softly, “please?”

You thought about it. For about five minutes after Eddie returned upstairs to help Steve fix something with his car. Apparently, when he wasn’t working on music, he maintained a job as a mechanic at the nearby car shop.

It just didn’t seem logical — his whole suggestion. Or, rather, you convinced yourself it didn’t.

Robin, however, seemed to be on Eddie’s side in regards to the whole ordeal.

Traitorous by your standards, and only further complicated your already swirling thoughts.

“I mean, you’ll have an extra set of hands. Someone else to help change diapers. Help with midnight feedings,” she rationalized, trailing off with a grin lining her features, “Plus the two of you probably need to learn to get along for the next eighteen years. That’s a long time, babe. Only way to do that is if you spend time together.”

——

Moving day happened the next weekend. It all seemed crazy when you thought about it. But then again, you hadn’t thought much about it. Your friends had sat around a table with Eddie after dinner on ‘family night,’ and Chrissy had the lovely idea to make a pro-con list.

That pro list didn’t lie, you’d give it that much.

Despite the beginnings of this ‘relationship,’ you were going to need to figure out how best to navigate the next couple months and the foreseeable future if both parties wanted to be involved in the most important person’s life in this situation.

Because when all the pieces had been laid out, despite your innate desire to protect and nurture them, this baby did have two parents.

And both deserved a part in their life — you knew that.

So arrangements were made and you agreed to moving in with the man. Settled on the fact that this was the best option for the baby, as you were not at all inclined to think about that man in any way other than friendship.

Especially not when he’d walked in from (conspiratorially) helping Steve work on his car for a couple days in a row while you waited for moving day, feet up on the couch reading a book, noticing his tee shirt covered in grease, hands the same color, hair pulled back into a ponytail.

It was the hormones, that was all. They were the ones betraying your body, not you. Because in the rational part of your mind, relationships failed. You’d seen it more times than you could count. Loved ones going through a divorce, friends falling in and out of love, your own failed relationships. It wasn’t worth it trying to complicate an already tangled web with feelings. Feelings were fleeting anyway.

The butterflies that kicked up whenever Eddie was near? Fleeting. The way you swore your heart skipped that first afternoon when Steve had helped you unload some of your things on moving day and Eddie entered from the bathroom, shirt pulled up to wipe at his sweaty forehead? Fleeting. The way your insides melted when you perused the living room and kitchen as the guys walked back out to your car to bring in the last of your boxes, only to find his What to Expect When You’re Expecting book perched on his coffee table, and a picture you’d given him from a recent ultrasound on his kitchen? Fleeting, with a capital ‘f.’

Eddie’s home itself was adorable. A small, three bedroom, one bathroom, with one level. The interior was a mix of darker furniture and sparse walls. He’d already agreed that you could spruce things up if you wanted to, and you’d immediately made notes that first day he gave you a tour. You loved the place — from the open plan of the kitchen and dining room, to his bedroom full of music memorabilia and Dungeons and Dragons merchandise (that you definitely teased him about), to your bedroom, with its white walls and olive bedding. There was a tan dresser on the far wall, and a floor to ceiling mirror on the back of the door. Simple, for the time being.

He’d brought you to the additional room next, had smiled at you and leaned an elbow up on the doorframe. “I figure a crib can go on that back wall. The closets are pretty decent sized. Maybe a dresser on the left wall, and the changing table over there. You could probably fit a rocking chair next to the crib, too.”

“Eddie…”

He sounded so hopeful. So expectant of what the future held. Smiled to himself like he could imagine his son or daughter in this room and radiated pride with it.

“We can get paint after we find out what it is.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. Those dark eyes of his met yours. “I know it’s not the biggest, but I think it’s good for now.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hands, overwhelmed by the thought that in just a few short months your baby would be here, sleeping in this room in this house. “Damn hormones. I am not crying.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he chuckled, moving back down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner. How do you feel about grilled cheese since we’ve been unpacking all day?”

Maybe you moaned a bit. And maybe Eddie laughed. And maybe you’d actually stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone, but you found yourself hopeful. Excited for the future standing before you, and followed him back down the hall with dreams of gooey cheesy goodness on your mind.

——

The first couple of days proved to be an adjustment. On the first night, you padded into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed, bladder full, and screeched as you fell backward and careened into the toilet bowl.

Eddie sprang up out of bed at your terror, nearly crashing down the door, asking, “What happened? Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Eddie! Close your eyes, I’m naked!”

“Pretty sure seeing you naked is how we got into this situation.” He clapped a palm over his eyes.

“Do not even go there! You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Jesus Christ, just tell me what happened, will you?! You scared me half to death.”

“Eddie Munson,” you nearly snarled, snatching a towel from the rack to cover yourself with, “did you leave the toilet seat up?”

“I mean…I may have.”

“Eddie!”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To be fair, I did live alone for the past five or so years here.”

“I could have drowned.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think, sweetheart?” His lips tugged upward into a grin that made you want to bash your head backwards against the wall. “And I came to your rescue, didn’t I?”

——

The second day brought long hours at work and a special home cooked dinner when you walked in through the front door. The house smelled amazing, like freshly made sauce and spices, mixed with a candle burning on the coffee table in the living room. You kicked your shoes off at the door and dropped your pocketbook on the ground beside them, shouldering off your jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

Eddie turned around as you entered the kitchen, watching as your hands rubbed up and down the sleeves of your sweater, trying to bring back some warmth into your body. He looked…annoyingly handsome. Feathery curls brushing his shoulders as his head bobbed to the music he had filtering through the radio, dark wash jeans, a thin black sweatshirt. An apron was tied around his waist, sitting low on his hips where his shirt had ridden up just enough to reveal the happy trail you knew slipped beyond his boxers.

Annnd now was not a good time to be thinking about Halloween. Not as you stepped up beside him and asked if he needed any help with anything. “You could grab us some drinks. Maybe grab the cheese from the fridge. I think I have everything else all good to go.”

“So you cook?” you mused, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing two cans of Coca-Cola and the Parmesan.

“Should you be drinking that?”

“I still have food aversions because of your kid,” you said, pointing down for emphasis, “so I will drink whatever I can keep down at the moment. And right now that sounds like Coca-Cola.”

“Point taken.” He nodded, raising the volume a bit on the radio.

It sounded angry. Something metal, you assumed. Curiosity piqued, you asked, “Is this the kind of music you play? It sounds interesting.”

“Yeah. This one is actually ‘Master of Puppets.’ I learned it in a matter of a couple days back in my senior year of high school. Wayne had gotten me the album since I’d been passing all my classes. Was really nice of him.”

“A couple days?” Your elbows leaned onto the counter beside him, listening to the lyrics about obeying your master, and a master of puppets pulling strings. “That’s really incredible.”

“You could watch us play sometime?” Eddie suggested, dialing down the knob on the radio. “I’d…like for you to meet the guys. They’re also in town. We sometimes play smaller gigs at the Hideout. Kind of where we started, back when we were in high school.”

“That would be really cool,” you said, just as Eddie opened the oven and revealed rows of endless garlic bread.

Normally, you’d be over the moon. Ready to consume said garlic bread by the bucket full. But the scent — oh god, the scent had your stomach churning like waves lashing at the hull of a ship. Had your belly tightening, hand coming up to rest over your mouth as you dry heaved into a palm.

Eddie whirled around with the tray in hand and glanced worriedly at your face, feet carrying him closer as he prattled, “Are you okay?”

You held out your other hand in a silent warning of ‘stay back,’ heaving once more into your palm. “Please.”

He tossed the bread onto the stove top and called out your name, but you’d already rushed down the hall and expelled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, grasping onto the porcelain edges for dear life. A second wave crashed over you and you groaned, forehead dropping down against the wall of the shower, the chilly exterior cooling your clammy skin.

Eddie’s head popped in hesitantly as you lay there, curly hair bouncing about his shoulders as he reached around in the medicine cabinet and tossed one of the ginger candies Chrissy had given you by the bucket full, because while her morning sickness had faded after the start of the second trimester, yours had yet to do so.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, dropping down onto the ground, back against the sink cabinets.

“You’ve done enough,” you grumbled, popping the candy into your mouth with one hand, the other running over your midsection to quell the nausea. “I’m so sorry because I know you probably spent ages working on it, and I’m so grateful, but I need you to throw away the garlic bread.”

“No good?” You shook your head and he grimaced apologetically. “Let me go grab you some water and I’ll make sure to vanquish the evil bread before I come back. I’ll let you know when it’s safe, okay?”

You pressed a hand over your heart, feigning a faint. “My hero.”

He smirked, and you hated that fluttering wings stirred in your belly because of it.

——

The third evening brought with it a conversation as you readied for a night out with your friends. Chrissy and Steve had gotten a babysitter, and the two of you decided to meet up with them for some food and drinks at a local restaurant.

It sounded like a double date, and with your life already complicated enough being nearly eighteen weeks pregnant as February grew closer and closer to a close, you needed to make sure Eddie understood your friendship needed to remain the one stable thing in your life.

Because, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what the two of you were. Roommates and friends. The kind of people who greeted each other after a day of work, maybe shared a bit about their day, ate at the dinner table together, and drifted off to bed separately.

An endless, platonic sleepover — with someone who you just happened to have previously slept with. But that wasn’t happening again; not even with the increased hormones running rampant in your body, insistent on keeping you on edge at nearly all hours of the day.

Luckily for you, the shower stall provided just the perfect sound barrier and proper channel to take care of such…urges, and Eddie remained none the wiser to it.

You could do this. You were doing this.

You found Eddie that evening adjusting the sleeves of his leather jacket in the living room. He’d gone with dark pants, a red shirt beneath, and that signature black leather jacket that should be a crime to society because of how well fitted it was to his body. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, a sparkly earring you’d never noticed before dangling in his ear as you approached.

“Don’t make fun,” you groused, stepping into the living area, “I need to go shopping, my sweaters are getting tighter now.”

You’d worn simple black boots, a pair of your newer jeans, and a cream knitted sweater that maybe only had a few weeks left of use in it.

“You look great,” he reassured. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You glanced down at your feet, a little bashful, nervousness welling. “And hey — thank you for the past couple of days. I know it has to be weird having me here.”

“It’s different, having another person in the house. But it feels right.”

“I’m really happy that we’re doing this whole…friendship and parenting thing,” you continued, watching the corners of his mouth twitch downward just the slightest. “I just think that’s best for the baby.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the hurt lining his words.

“Sex complicates things. Obviously, we’ve already learned that,” you began, toying with the ring on his middle finger, “so I think we should keep things friendly. It’ll be better in the long run.”

As in, Halloween was to remain a memory and not something revisited.

“Is that what you think?” He sounded doubtful, but you knew he’d respect it without issue. You’d learned that much in the short while of knowing him.

“Yeah.”

Even though you craved him. Chalked it up to human instinct to want to be nearer to the man, but you pushed it into the caverns of your mind. Locked it away in a box, to remain untouched.

“Then we’ll work on being best friends,” he agreed, stepping forward to loop his arms around your shoulder and tug you in close for a friendly hug, “for the baby.”

——

You found out Eddie wasn’t a fan of spinach in his eggs by the fifth day. You had ended up making extra anyway, and since he was kind enough to cook dinner without even asking most nights, you thought you might do the same. He whistled upon entering the kitchen, face growing pale at the plate you smiled gleefully at when you exclaimed ‘I made you breakfast.”

He still ate them despite your countless protests that he absolutely didn’t have to. Poor guy had grinned at you through what looked like terror in his eyes, swallowing each bite with an emphasized hum of forced pleasure. And damn it he didn’t need to look so good like that, freshly crumpled shirt from bed, bicep reaching up to rub at his neck, revealing dark swirling ink on his limbs, hair in a messy bun at the back of his head since he’d end up pulling it back for work anyway.

“Eddie.” You laughed, pulling your chair closer to the table in the kitchen, stabbing at your own eggs. “You really don’t have to eat them. I just figured you’ve been so kind feeding me literally all week, I wanted to help out a bit. Do my own part around the house.”

He shrugged, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “You really don’t have to. I enjoy cooking. Might not be great at it, but I like it.”

“Yeah, but I want to contribute more,” you explained, chewing at a strawberry and swallowing it down with some water. “You’ve given up two rooms in your home. Maybe I can do some of the chores. Dishes after dinner, laundry — I don’t know.”

His mouth twitched at that, dark eyes rising to meet your own. “Deal.”

“Really? I thought I was going to have to grovel. Seeing as you haven’t let me lift a finger in days.”

“I hate laundry,” he stated plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you drive a hard bargain, Buttercup.”

“Then great, I’ll start now —”

“Sit down,” he chuckled, hand curling around your forearm before you could rise from the table, hip nearly bumping the corner in your hastiness. “Finish your breakfast. And the water. Please.”

A twinkle gleamed in his eye. Something that made butterflies burst low in your belly. “What is your day looking like?”

“I have work till around four, and then I thought I would invite some of the guys over since it’s Friday. If that’s okay?”

“It’s your home.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours too now.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Would you want to meet them? I’ve told them about you,” he said, then glanced down beneath the table, “and you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your back leaned against the wooden chair, a deep exhale falling from your lips. “Do you want to go food shopping together? Get some drinks and snacks?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.”

——

Laughter filled the home. Loud and boisterous. A sound that had you beaming from ear to ear, shuffling about the kitchen as you familiarized with where Eddie preferred everything to go. Snacks away in the pantry. Cookies easily accessible in another cabinet in case he ever needed one (you didn’t question it). Placed various paper plates and napkins bought for the evening on the kitchen counter, the plastic utensils in a holder beside them, plastic cups face down nearby.

He made quick work of putting everything else perishable in the fridge, making sure to grab what you’d need for the cookies you decided to make. After perusing the aisles together for what felt like hours, the thought jumped to Eddie’s mind to bake.

A perfect bonding moment, he said, and he was right. There was no arguing about the intimacy of baking with one another. A fact made more prominent as he draped his little apron around his hips and grabbed a giant bowl, some mixing utensils, and a baking pan and placed them down in front of you.

While he did that, you rooted around for the ingredients you needed. Vanilla, flour, brown and white sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, cornstarch, salt and the like. The oven was preheated, the pans slicked, and prepped for baking.

Shoulders pressed together as the two of you worked in tandem. Tossing ingredients into a bowl, taking turns mixing, laughing as you accidentally flicked sugar over the lip of the bowl and a streak of white remained in its wake along Eddie’s abdomen. Tongue dipping out to drag along your bottom lip, you steeled your gaze up above, in the bowl, on the task at hand.

In another bowl, Eddie began mixing the flour, baking soda, and salt. Frantically, he’d done it so frantically, with his smirk you’d grown to love lining those perfectly plush lips. Laughter bursted up from deep within you, flour flicking across Eddie’s cheek at the jolt of the sound, his smile spreading wider as you paused in your own mixing and stepped closer to him.

He stilled on the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as your midsection bumped against the harder lines of his abdomen, palm reaching up toward his face.

At his raised brow, you whispered, “Got a little something…right here.”

A low sweep. Your finger arced in a low sweep against his cheek where flour had painted him a ghostly white. Dark eyes trailed your face, over the lines of your mouth, the fullness of your lips — then flickered up to your eyes, and you heard his breath as it faltered.

Cheeks burning, you whirled away, returning to your bowl. “I got it all. Good as new.”

He leaned in closer, bringing both bowls nearer to one another. “We mix the two now. And then it’s the chocolate chips.”

Watching as he did as explained, you reached across the countertop to grab the chocolate chips. Snipped the top edge off the package when Eddie instructed you to do so, and poured the contents within. Before long, you had a perfectly mixed cookie dough, ripe for baking.

“We’re not so bad at this,” Eddie mused once you began spooning small dollops onto the baking sheets strewn about the countertops. “Granted, it’s not parenting. But the working together thing — I think we’ve got it.”

“It’s baking,” you said, wrinkling your nose at his words.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, nudging you with his elbow, “but we communicated through every step, and I think that’ll come in handy.”

“If you’re trying to convince me into thinking you’ll be a good father, you don’t have to,” you said, laughing. “I already know you will be.”

He paused beside you, faltering in his movements, and you wondered if you said something wrong. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you promised, understanding from the look on his face, the nervousness in his eyes, the doubt that there was a deeper conversation to be had here. “You know that too, right? That you’ll be a good father.”

Eddie swallowed, mouth settling into a firm line. “I think I’m still trying to accept that this is happening a little bit. It’s only been a week or so. And I guess it’s probably a little different for me —”

“Because you haven’t seen them?” you asked, recalling at your last doctor’s visit he’d only gotten to hear the heartbeat. His only visual was residing on his refrigerator, in the form of a black and white photo he’d not been present for the taking of. “I feel like…it’s also different because I know they’re there. Always. I haven’t really felt them yet. Maybe a little here and there, but I’m not really sure — I just know they’re there. But you’ll get those moments too, you know? You’ll bond with them, Eddie. They’re going to love you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said softly, a little sadly, placing the baking trays into the oven and setting a timer for the allotted time.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His head perked up, just as you flicked leftover flour at his shirt. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Your tone was teasing, light as Eddie backed you up against the counter, his front against yours, him reaching over your shoulder to grab a handful of sugar from an opened container. Heart hammering at his proximity, you allowed yourself a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his form pressed solidly against yours as he sprinkled the dusty sugar over the crown of your head.

“That’s rude, Edward.”

The man reached over your shoulder again and snatched chocolate morsels in his palm, popping one within his mouth. As your head leaned in, body still against the countertop, he took the hint and pressed two against your lips, grinning as your mouth parted just enough to slip them behind your teeth.

Like this, you could feel his breath against your lips. Could see the dark depths of his eyes, the little honeyed flecks that lay within. The dark swirl of his lashes, the arches of his cheeks, the little freckles you hadn’t even noticed the night he’d worshiped your body over and over again, the curve of his bottom lip, the pillowy nature of the top one.

“I’m really happy you —”

Eddie’s words were cut off by the doorbell ringing. Followed up by a swift knock against wood that had you shifting up and away from the counter. Eddie’s hands were there at your biceps to help steady you as your body swayed with the suddenness of your movement.

“That’ll be your friends,” you stated softly, dusting off the remnants of the sugar from your shoulders. “Introduce me, will you? Little nervous here.”

He rubbed at the soft of your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it. They’re gonna love you.”

——

Charmed.

All of his friends were charmed as soon as you’d walked in, holding a tray of various appetizers on a plate and settling them down on the coffee table, smiling prettily and laughing as one by one they’d introduced themselves.

Commented on how beautiful you were, how they couldn’t believe Eddie had ever had a chance, how you were glowing. And damn it, he’d never thought someone prettier than you looked at that moment. You had the room eating out of your palm in minutes, Jeff insisting you join in on the fun, nearly tugging you down onto the couch cushions beside him.

“Careful,” Gareth laughed, tossing a chip in his mouth, “Eddie’s got eyes on the back of his head these days.”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder to shoot a glare Gareth’s way. Noticed as Murphy slowly shifted on the couch as the night went on, as he leaned over and tapped you on the shoulder. Watched as your mouth softened a bit as he apologized, as the words he spoke rolled over the room. That he’d thought it was a terrible ploy when you’d called, that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he could never forgive himself for what he’d done.

When Eddie had gotten home the night he found out he was to be a father, he’d nearly booked another flight back out to California to demand answers.

Instead, the phone call came late at night, Gareth nearly half asleep when he picked up and Eddie growled down the line that someone had to speak up and fast.

Apparently, Murphy had truly thought it was a joke. A prank. Someone trying to foist off a baby on Eddie, just conveniently on the back end of their band appearing in the news as rising stars to watch, to try and obtain some money or notoriety. He’d been doing it out of ‘protection’ and to some degree he understood because of situations in the past and with other bands they’d seen in the business, but on the other he’d been robbed of time.

Precious time that had hurt you in the end. For two months you’d lived with the hurt and sting of rejection — with the thought he had wanted you to do this alone. That this was your cross and yours alone to bear. He hated that. Resented it because it reminded him of his late mother’s face, of the sadness she bore when his father had finally walked out and left them high and dry.

Murphy had cried, because he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known it was the same girl from the party. The fucker had cried and Eddie wanted to hate him, wanted to yell, wanted to shout because of it all — but he couldn’t. Because he pictured that little profile of a face on that black and white picture he’d tucked away in his coat jacket, he pictured your smiling face, closed his eyes and thought of that damn heartbeat and he knew he couldn’t.

Wayne raised him better. Wayne. When everyone else had walked out on him, his uncle remained.

But then you had to go and crush his heart further by leaning over and folding your hand over his bandmates, before dragging him closer for a tight hug, forgiving him.

It was hard being friends with you, harder living with you, when you just continued to do things like that. Loved those around you deeply, openly, even though you kept him at a distance.

Kept what he represented at a distance.

And he understood. Understood that with him it was different, the stakes were higher, there were other parties involved. It never stopped the wishing, the wanting, the waiting and wondering though. The ‘what ifs’ that kept him up at night, when you’d long since shut your bedside lamp, shrouding your side of the hall in darkness. But he respected your desires to keep things friendly for the sake of the unborn child. Understood that if this was what you thought best, he’d put aside his own feelings for the betterment of yours.

So for now he watched as his friends crowded around you. As they welcomed you with open arms into the band, as Jeff mentioned you should come over and meet his wife, June, and have dinner over their place soon. As Gareth invited you (overriding the fact Eddie was still Dungeon Master) to their next planned night (he wanted to ask you anyway). As Murphy waited on you hand and foot, making sure you never had to get up for the duration of the movie you all ended up watching, there with snacks and water at the ready.

And later, as the guys left and you fell asleep with your head on the armrest of the couch, Eddie tried to squash down the ache that formed in his chest when he rubbed your shoulder and your eyes fluttered open, your mouth rounding into a yawn, before settling on his dark stare.

Tried to suppress the affection that bubbled up as he helped you to your feet with a hand around yours, the furrow of your brow as you tugged a pillow close to your chest, the soft shuffle of your slippers against the carpeted floor as you both walked down the hall to your bedrooms.

“Goodnight,” you muttered with a soft wave.

It was a punch to the gut, the way you smiled at him in the night, the lamplight spilling into the hall shrouding you in a golden halo.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He waved back and you turned in for the night, darkness shrouding your end of the hall.

He remained awake for hours.

——

A few days turned into another week.

You entered your nineteenth of pregnancy, tossed some clothes that no longer fit into a bin in your closet, and made room for newer things.

Life with Eddie became almost natural. An extension of what you’d known before with Robin. You came home every day to a cooked meal or takeout with him, shared about your days, watched movies and read books together, and slipped away at the end of the night. Every night.

He was easy to live with. Mostly cleaned up after himself (except for the hair he’d left to sit on the inside of the shower curtain some days and the numerous pots and pans he left out whenever cooking). But he’d been a perfectly wonderful roommate, and an even more caring friend.

You supposed part of that was the fact that, because you were growing his kid, he wanted to make sure you were both taken care of. Always asking if you needed snacks for the work day, if you’d drank enough water, gotten enough sleep.

Already concerned, and endearingly so.

A hum spilled from your lips. A familiar Madonna tune playing from the shoddy radio Eddie kept in the laundry room, connected to the garage. A laundry basket sat propped on one hip, as your hands reached down into the washing machine to pluck whites from within.

With a wrinkled brow, you held aloft one of Eddie’s white work tees. Now an interesting pink color, tinged like the numerous other shirts and socks strewn within. The further you dug, the more you found. A onesie for the baby, once white, now pink. One of your tank tops. The edges of some of your socks.

The culprit? A red pair of his boxers, tossed deep within the washing machine, the same color of rubies. A huffed breath spilled from you, laundry basket propped up on the drying machine before you slipped back down the hall from where you came and entered the living room.

He lay sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His top half was covered in a black tee, and over that one of his red plaid shirts, which resembled that same pair of boxers you’d come to reprimand him about, caught up in the disarming sight that was always Eddie Munson.

That increasingly familiar head of dark hair shifted where his head lay propped against a couch cushion. Dark eyes framed by long lashes lifted to meet yours, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled up at you, holding aloft a bag of your favorite wavy potato chips.

He knew you’d been craving them and bought a few bags on the way home from work. Damn him for always knowing. A hand reached into the bag and pulled out a few, mouth watering around the salty goodness before you once again remembered why you’d come out of the laundry room to find him.

“Eddie, dearest.”

“Yes?” He lifted himself up at that, waving you over to settle down beside his hip on the couches. “Why do you have that look in your eye?”

“I get a look in my eye?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘she’s going to kill someone’ look,” he explained, and it gave you pause, brow arching, “hey, hey. I can see that little wrinkle above your brow — don’t be upset with me now, sweetheart. You don’t do it often but I’ve seen it before. Like the other day when I used the last of the milk for my cereal.”

“Yeah, because you used the last of it on your second bowl when I hadn’t gotten any,” you said, brows furrowing higher on your forehead, “but I wasn’t really mad. I was just hungry — and I, well I — are you trying to say you think I’m mean?”

“Oh no. No no no,” he murmured, gathering your shoulders in his arms, tugging you into an embrace that you definitely didn’t protest. As your face pushed into his chest, you sighed, eyes on the television ahead, that extremely hormonal sadness roiling in your gut. “I know that look too. I don’t want you to be sad and cry over it. I’m only joking. What did I do? Be mad at me instead. Just don’t wanna see you cry; I hate that.”

“Left a pair of red boxers in the washer when I was doing whites,” you grumbled into his warm skin. “All our whites are now pink. Even the little baby clothes.”

He gasped, “Not the little baby clothes!”

“Edd-ie.” A whine spilled from you and he chuckled, the abruptness of his laugh jolting your head. A sniffle shook your form and Eddie hugged you tighter. “Gosh, I’m so backwards. Morning sickness? Supposed to be gone by now for most people, and I still have it. Crying at the drop of a hat in the first trimester? Try the second too. Whoever said this whole thing was beautiful hasn’t met me.”

“Hey now.” Eddie shifted you on his chest, finger tipping your chin up to look at the ridiculously goofy grin he had on. “Don’t be mean to my friend, okay? I happen to think she’s pretty fucking great. And she’s beautiful. Plus she’s making this whole growing a literal human thing look like a walk in the park.”

“You mean it?” Your head wiggled up along his chest, rumpling the fabric of his shirt, stopping at his collarbone.

“There are many things people have called me through the years, but I don’t think liar is one of them,” he said, and the sincerity lacing his tone had you easing against his chest, watching the people move about on the television screen. “Come on now. Grab that blanket and watch the movie with me. We can always get new stuff, don’t stress yourself out over my silly mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

Lifting long enough to grab the blanket in question, you reached over and draped it over both your thighs, head looming above where it had been against his collarbone. Eyes searched his face imploringly and he tucked you back down against him, exhaling deeply as you laid there, warmth seeping into his skin, the comforting weight of you against him welcomed there.

Friends cuddled, right? And you were great friends with Eddie Munson.

“What movie is this anyway?” you asked, reaching over for the VHS box settled near his opposite thigh. “Star Wars? What’s that?”

Eddie tensed. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen these? Am I about to take your Star Wars virginity?”

A giggle bursted free from your lips, hand coming to rest over his sternum, rubbing idly. “I’m kidding.”

“I was going to say we needed to fix that and have a full marathon. My kid is getting fed Star Wars even before they’re born.”

“We could still have a marathon,” you suggested, nuzzling deeper into his skin, body relaxing further. “It’s raining, I’m just doing laundry. Perfect day for it.”

He grinned to himself, ringed fingers coming to rest at the top of your head. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Now shh, I hate talking during movies.”

“Oh so he’s one of those. Filing that one away for later,” you teased, wincing as he flashed a glare your way.

But he smiled at you right after, and you didn’t know what to do about the stutter in your pulse that followed shortly behind.

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Epilogue: Golden, Like Daylight

summary: everything falls into place (4.2k)

warnings: mention of birth, allusions to sex.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist || previous chapter

——

Elena Munson was born on June twenty-eighth, on what would be one of the warmest days the month had seen so far. Fitting, for a little girl who brought the sun along with her, filling the bustling hospital room with overwhelming love and light as she was lowered against her mother’s chest.

It was a swift labor, but he cheered you on and held your hand throughout the whole thing (only groaning when you nearly broke one finger), and Eddie Munson had decided he’d never seen anything more incredible than watching the woman he loved bring his daughter — his daughter — into the world. Kissed your sweat-slicked forehead as his hand raised to cradle the tiny, wailing body against you, both your tear-streaked faces upturned with the widest of smiles.

Eddie was certain the two of you cried more than your new daughter, his body crowded over yours, the two of you tangled up on that narrow hospital bed, peering down at the face both of you had dreamed of for months. Pouty lips, those perfect little cheeks, a curly head of hair that impressed the doctor, and ten tiny fingers and ten little toes.

Perfect, by every standard. In every single way. Completely and wholly yours, knitted together in love.

And later, after the nurses had cleaned the baby and done their routine checks and you were allotted time to enjoy the joy of being a family, both of you watched Elena take in the world with new eyes. Merely looked on at her in awe, neither of you wanting to let a moment pass by lest you miss anything. Concentrated wholly on her little wrinkly forehead, the furrow of her brow, fingers resting against her father’s clavicle from where she rested in the crook of his elbow.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you asked, marveling at the beautiful human you carried within for nine months.

“Her mother is beautiful, I’m not surprised,” he teased, rocking Elena when she mewled a bit. “Thank you.”

For loving him. For giving him this moment.

“We did it,” you told him. “She’s finally here.”

He leaned down then, kissing her brow, those mystified eyes of her’s closing. “I love you so much,” he told her, the first of the promised many to come. You snuggled in closer, body still sore and tired from exertion, head resting on the other side of his chest. Then he leaned down, lips soft against yours, grinning into your skin, both of you still on cloud nine. Whispered, “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your thumb reached over to brush over the curve of Elena’s cheek, her head stirring, but not waking her from her slumber. “We are the luckiest girls in the world. Aren’t we, Elena?”

——

Welcoming a new baby into the home was an adjustment, to say the least. Your nights had definitely changed, both of you quickly growing accustomed to a lack of sleep with a crying newborn keeping you up all night. But Eddie helped out as much as he possibly could, feeding the baby to allow you extra sleep, changing diapers, and he always was excited to do it.

Seeing him become a father made you love him more, if that were even possible. He doted on his little girl all hours of the day, singing to her, talking to her, simply looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever stumbled upon. And she loved him back, always wide-eyed and cooing at him once she was old enough to do so.

Soon enough, you’d fallen into a routine. He worked during the day while you stayed with the baby, and when he got home you spent time together as a family. Often just laying on your bed like you were right now, staring down at your daughter as she kicked her feet and waved her hands in the air, oblivious to just how loved she was.

“I want another one,” Eddie mused to himself, blowing a raspberry on Elena’s chubby cheek, ringed fingers splayed over her abdomen, giving her a tiny wiggle. At your horrified expression, he added with a laugh, “Not right now. I just…didn’t think I’d love being a dad so much.”

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say when you didn’t have to push her out of your body two months ago. But Eddie, you’re doing a great job. Really.”

Those first days and weeks had been trying. Eddie often felt helpless initially when Elena would wake, screaming bloody murder, unable to do much since she really needed you. And though that was true to an extent because of obvious reasons, he’d gone above and beyond in other ways, if only to make sure your burden was lessened. Cleaning around the house, cooking for the two of you, making sure you could get in a shower and nap when needed.

You knew that insecurity was brought on by years of neglect due to his father, but Eddie would never follow in that man’s footsteps. His heart was too big, his love too deep for his family. Eddie had taken to fatherhood in stride and an eagerness to make sure Elena knew he’d move the mountains for her every single day.

“I’ll think about it,” you mused, leaning down to give Elena another kiss. “I think I wanna steal your last name first, though.”

It was a newer development. Talks about marriage. He’d brought it up a few days after Elena had been born, wanting to ease you into the idea of forever, to see if it would be on the table. And you’d surprised yourself with an immediate ‘yes,’ fully believing that all that you’d gone through was meant to bring you to where you were now, with this man.

He proved to you every day that your initial fears were for naught, trust for the love he bore you running deep, his soul a security you’d never known before.

Eddie rolled onto his side, head propped up against his palm, elbow rumpling the comforter near Elena’s hip. “Yeah?”

You nodded, rolling onto your side, nose pressing into Elena’s cheek, grinning as her gummy mouth turned to seek you out. “I am the only non-Munson in this bedroom.”

“You’re a Munson. You know that,” he said, leaning over to kiss your furrowed brow, “but one day soon…officially.”

“Soon, huh?” Your nose grazed his cheek, lips barely touching his, relishing in his contented hum.

“Can’t be giving away all my secrets now,” he whispered, nosing along your jaw, mouth dancing at your pulse point. “I want it to be a surprise.”

——

That surprise came a week before Eddie was set to leave on tour. Months had flashed before your eyes, your newborn suddenly six months old and more vibrant than ever. Constantly smiling and babbling. Your home was filled with laughter — yours, her’s and her father’s, the two of them the brightest lights in your life.

That same father stood in the kitchen, bobbing his head to a song as Elena sat in her baby chair, blinking up at the fan circling up above. It was her newest fascination — watching the blades spin around and around and around, like it was the most entertaining thing on earth.

“Eddie, I just finished washing the rest of your clothes. They’re just out to hang dry on the line now,” you told him, slipping your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. Could feel his heat through your sweater, sighed into it. “What if I just hold onto you so you can’t get onto the tour bus? Cling to your ankles?”

Eddie turned off the sink, wiped his hands on a towel, and spun around. Shifted you so now his arms curled around your waist, sliding beneath the fabric of your sweater, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. You’d never tire of him in this way; his hands on your body, his form against yours, his lips, times — though understandably less frequent now — when he’d have you under him or over him in whatever way you’d liked, crying his name like a song.

“We’re going to miss you.” You pouted, pressing your ear to his sternum.

“You’re going to be at the first few shows,” he murmured against the top of your head, swaying you back and forth, “but I’m going to miss you both more. You better take pictures every day. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Every day, I promise.” Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A tiny little box nestled in Elena’s fist, hand waving it back and forth in front of her face. “Hey baby girl, what do you have? Can Mommy see?”

Legs kicked, kicked, kicked in her cozy little sleeper, her happy cooing sounds growing louder the closer you got. And then you dropped down onto the floor, leaning over to give her a giant smooch on the cheek, prying those pinchy fingertips from around the box, and replaced it with a rattle toy so she didn’t end up bawling.

Once Elena was satisfied, you lowered yourself down onto your bottom, thumb brushing over the velvet material. Eddie’s voice was warm behind you, “Open it, Buttercup.”

“Eddie…”

“Told you I couldn’t tell you all my secrets.”

Too stunned to do much of anything, much less speak, Eddie joined you on the ground, hand curling around Elena’s foot as she continued to huff and kick, the only sounds in your home her rattle and the clanging of your heart in your chest. Eddie took it upon himself to take the box from you, flipping the lid open to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Your hands cupped your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out a sob.

“A little over a year ago I fell in love with a woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. You quickly became everything to me, even when you didn’t know it. There is no doubt in my mind that I wa —”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks now, Elena’s rattle growing louder with the fury of her movements.

“I didn’t finish,” Eddie laughed, grabbing your left hand in his, plucking the ring out of the box. It hovered over your finger for a moment as he continued, “You are my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. And I’d be a really lucky guy if you’d become my wife too.”

Your reply was a nodded cry of ‘yes’ and he pushed the ring up onto your finger, sliding it flush against the knuckle. It was a perfect fit. Arms circled his neck as you practically leaped onto his lap, giggling as his arms wound right around your waist and tugged you flush against him, lips sliding over yours.

Elena, seemingly unhappy with not being the main focus of all her parent’s attention, tossed the rattle onto the ground and cried. Pouty bottom lip wobbling as tears spilled down plush cheeks, her father was there to the rescue as you shifted off him to unbuckle her and pull the baby onto his lap, bouncing her until she giggled again.

“Someone was a little jealous,” you teased her, poking at her belly, “he was mine first, little missy, so you’re going to have to get used to sharing.”

He was yours. And you were his. From that very moment on Halloween, even if you hadn’t known it back then.

Eddie pretended to chomp on her baby cheeks, earning a loud, bursting round of giggles from his daughter. “Your mommy said she’d marry me. How does that sound, Elena?”

She shoved her fingers into her gummy mouth.

“I guess she’s happy,” you laughed, lifting her up onto your hip, clambering onto your feet. You held aloft your left hand, wiggling the glittering diamond as Eddie appeared at your side with a hand at your waist. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”

——

After a conversation later that night spent tangled in bedsheets, you quickly realized neither of you wanted to wait to get married. In a spur of the moment decision, you’d suggested a trip to get a marriage license that next morning, and that same day you were given the green light to go ahead with your nuptials at the local courthouse.

In the end, it had been a private affair just a few days later. Wayne was there as a witness, standing with your daughter in his arms as you and Eddie recited vows to one another. Made promises to uphold for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health, until death did you part. You cried as Eddie breathed life into those words, as he declared those promises, and he silently cried as you echoed them back, sliding a simple gold band onto his ring finger.

Mr. and Mrs. Munson.

Later, you arrived at home to find all your closest friends packed within, there to celebrate the newly wedded couple. Chrissy, finally showing with her second baby, had gone all out and decorated as much as she could, and Robin directed the flow of traffic to the food buffet table.

Everyone took turns toasting to the Munson’s, reminiscing on memories they had about the two of you, both alone and together, and celebrating love. The room was full of it. All glowing faces under candlelight, friends and family alike enjoying the closeness and community.

Every so often you snuck glances over at your new husband, bent in conversation with one of his bandmates, his fingers wiggling in a wave your way.

Husband. It sounded so crazy to think after all this time that was what he was. You’d chosen one another now and forever. Decided that you were going to nurture and grow this relationship for the rest of your lives.

Your family.

That night, after your guests left and Steve and Chrissy took Elena for the evening, Eddie loved you gently in the dim light of your bedroom. Tenderly. Fingers curled with yours against your pillow, the room filled with soft sighs and rolling hips seeking the pinnacle of pleasure. He kissed you slowly, held you tightly as you shattered around him, tucked you away from the rest of the world. Whispered he loved you, punctuated kisses against your face and shoulders with sweet nothings.

Head nuzzling your neck as you both drifted back to earth, he asked, “How does it feel finally being Mrs. Munson?”

Right.

It felt right.

——

Two and a half years later…

——

The stage was bathed in dark shades of maroon and red, the anticipation on eager faces awaiting the last song of a sold out concert a ripple that rose with every passing second. Hands reached out to touch him and his bandmates, a sea of screaming fans huddled before him, and yet his heart only searched out one face. Fingers pressed against strings, the feeling familiar, so practiced, a part of him just as simple as breathing.

A spotlight drifted toward center stage, illuminating his bandmates. His friends. His family. Jeff passed him a knowing smile, Gareth grinned devilishly, and Murphy nodded his head. He’d never be here, standing on this stage, in a crowd of tens of thousands were it not for them — for the years of blood, sweat, and tears. The sacrifices made.

And then, as the room rose in volume, cheering grew louder and louder, Eddie’s eyes drifted off toward the side of the stage. Found you there, his wife, the love of his life, glowing with your support of him as always, lips tugged into the proudest of grins. You were beautiful, wearing his Corroded Coffin band logo across your chest, with a floral skirt fluttering with your every movement falling against your thighs.

In your arms, against your hip, you bounced his newest little. Benjamin Munson, nearly four months old now, with a giant pair of headphones atop his curly head of hair. You swayed him back and forth, one hand curled around his tiny fist like you were dancing, the baby’s eyes transfixed on the stage.

To your right, playing furious air guitar, head banging in all her curly headed glory with a matching pair of headphones to her baby brother, stood his now three-year-old, Elena. His first baby, the one who made him a father, the second love of his life, one of the pieces of his heart. You reached down to brush your fingers over her head, Elena’s head tipping upward just enough, eyes twinkling and dimples that mirrored Eddie’s as she looked across the stage and saw her father standing there with a broad smile on his face.

She smiled back in wonder, always so full of love. He never understood it — how much he could love someone who was a part of him, someone who he’d had a hand in creating, how much they could love him back. How his daughter looked to him like he was her whole world, her hero. But he lived every day trying to be worthy of it, knowing he was.

The first notes of his guitar rang out onto the stage, head bowing, eyes closed. He pictured your smiling face, sitting there in that darkened bar on Halloween. Could see you, just as the crowd roared to life, pulling out a stool and joining him at that table. It was easy to do so, being back in the city where he first fell in love with you tonight. You’d smiled at him, and it had been all over for him, from that very moment.

It was that same smile he saw when his head lifted and he looked your way once more, your beaming face, love and support grounding him in this moment, doing the thing he loved most with the people he loved most.

And as the final note rang out, clear and true into the magnetic energy of the crowd, surrounded by all the people he loved, his dreams now his real life — he knew he’d do it all over again, if only to end up right here in this moment.

Infinite.

——

You left the concert with the promise that Eddie would meet you and the kids back at the hotel once he’d signed endless autographs and merchandise to make his hands hurt. By the time he slipped into the hotel room, you were propped up beside Elena in bed, her eyes locked on whatever cartoon you managed to find on the television.

Ben rested in the crook of your arms, hand against your chest, freshly fed and looking like he’d fall asleep at any moment. Eddie always pleaded with him to stay up so he could wish him goodnight. Not that the baby understood, merely blinking at his goofy dad in reply.

You watched a smile stretch across your husband’s features when he noted the long lashes that fluttered against the tiny face that was shaped so much like his fathers, you’d jokingly cried, “Figures I do all the work and you look like your dad” in the hospital the day he was born as they’d laid him in your arms.

While Ben was serene and serious faced most of the time, Elena was still your giggly and boisterous little girl. Eddie’s twin in every way personality wise, though her features screamed you.

Said little girl hopped up onto the bed despite you telling her she shouldn’t be jumping on it. Ben stirred in your arms as Eddie dropped his things at the door and held his arms up like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, growling, “Daddysaurus is hungry and demands kisses.”

A routine. This had become a routine for them the past few weeks after Elena decided she loved everything dinosaur related. Eddie, wanting to encourage her desires wherever they lay, bought her countless dinosaur toys, books and stuffed animals to engage her curious mind. And then “Daddysaurus” became a thing and you were sure your daughter loved her father even more because of it.

Your big, lovable dork of a husband leaned down and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s middle, flipping her up onto his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the hotel room. Elena squealed in her excitement, hair spilling across his shoulders as she dangled upside down, his fingers wiggling at her sides.

Once properly tickled, he dropped her down onto his hip and kissed her cheek, beaming as her little hand settled against his chest and her head leaned onto his shoulder. “Miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m here now,” he reassured her, “it’s your bedtime though. How about you go potty and we’ll come help you get ready for bed, okay?”

“Do I hav’ta?” she whined, fingers twined in his curls, pouting when you nodded. God, your heart swelled every time she did that. “Benny sleeps too?”

“Yeah, baby, Ben is going to sleep too,” Eddie told her, lowering her down onto the bed.

Elena, still having no perception of how chaotic she could often be, jumped down to the ground and stirred Ben from the half-slumber he’d found himself in, before running off into the bathroom and slamming the door a little too loudly.

Chuckling, you handed Benjamin to Eddie, “You were amazing tonight. As usual.”

He grinned, arms coming up to cradle the baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth to soothe. “Helps that I had my biggest fans in the crowd. Hottest one, too. Wanted to flip her skirt up after the show in the green room.” He added that with a wink.

“Not while the kids are around,” you hissed, but heat still burned low in your belly all the same, craving the next time you’d be able to have some alone time. Luckily that would be tomorrow, when Micah and Jeremiah took them for a few hours so you could explore the city you’d fallen in love in years ago. “He did really well for his first concert.”

Eddie tugged the baby closer, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is that right, Benny Boy? Just wait — in a year or so I’ll teach you how to play too. Just like your sister. We can start our own band.”

“Don’t tell the guys that they’re getting replaced,” you laughed, palm curling up and over his broad shoulder as he settled down beside you on the bed. Cuddled up to his side and staring down at your sweet baby boy, you added, “Robin and Vickie called. Chrissy and Steve had another girl.”

“Poor guy is in trouble. Three girls.” Eddie whistled, running his index finger along Ben’s slackened bottom lip, little sighs falling from the baby.

“Heard from my publisher too. We finally solidified the release date on my next book.”

He leaned over and kissed you, forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

All your dreams were coming true — together.

Every day you loved him a little more than the one that came before.

You had your two beautiful babies.

Your family.

Your friends.

Life was good.

“How about you put him down for the night and I go check on our girl?” you asked, just as Ben finally slackened in his father’s arms, lost to the waking world.

Eddie nodded, happy to do so, whispering sweet words to his littlest love as you made your way over to the bathroom, peeking in to find Elena already finishing up pulling on her pajamas. “Look at you. Such a big girl. How about we go lay down and get ready for a bedtime story? I bet if you ask Daddy real nice he’ll tell you a good one.”

A tiny fist came up to rub at adorable doe-eyes as you carried your daughter back to the bedroom, finding Eddie sprawled out on the bed, the comforter drawn back to make room for the two of you to scramble on in.

Elena, naturally, untangled herself from you and rushed past in her hurry to plaster herself to her father like a starfish. Limbs all sprawled across his form, trying to be as close as possible. His hand slid up and over her back, locking her against his chest. After brushing a final kiss to Ben’s forehead and wrapping him within a blanket from where he lay in his portable crib, you tucked against Eddie’s opposite side, head over where his heart thumped steadily within.

“Missed my favorite girls,” Eddie said, kissing the tops of both your heads.

Your fingers stretched across his chest to tangle with Elena’s, giving her a little squeeze as she sleepily asked, “Story now?”

His laugh rumbled beneath your ear. “Yeah, what kind of story tonight? The one about the bears maybe — or the one about Mr. Turtle?”

“New one please?” She shrugged, nuzzling further into Eddie’s chest.

“How about I tell you the story about the day your Mommy and Daddy met?”

Her eyes sparkled in the darkened hotel room, head rising and falling rapidly.

“Once upon a time, there was a giant Halloween party in a beautiful…uh, castle. A traveling minstrel — which is a fancy word for a musician — looked across the room and spotted the most beautiful princess in all the land…”

He told her the story of Halloween.

He told her the story of where it all began.

He told her the story of your love.

——

well, this is the end. thank you so so much everyone for all of your lovely comments every week, all of our conversations and just generally thank you for loving this story as much as i have. cannot wait to share the next eddie stories i have planned with you all. and please please — if you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know. it means the world to content creators, and i love getting to chat with you all. until next time, xoxo - luna. 🩷🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me

chapter three: you can hear it in the silence

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut - r is inexperienced; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; time skip, where r and steve are parents, purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series.

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist

——

Steve kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times before. He kisses you and it feels like kismet — like pieces of a puzzle shifting together. He kisses you, and you feel like you could take to the sky, run a marathon, or leap into the unknown with only his arms as safety.

And you soak up every moment. Every precious second as his lips move over yours, fingers twining around your hips, tugging you flush against him. It shifts, the atmosphere changing, the intensity of his kisses deepening. Heat rises in the room and it has nothing to do with the fire burning in the fireplace. You soak up every soft breath from his lips as you swipe your tongue over his — soak up the breathy moans that pour from him when your fingers glide over the planes of his abdomen, over the softness of his stomach, the hardness of his cock in his jeans.

And it’s there that your experience falters. That nervousness creeps in, because when you jolt back at the unexpectedness of it kicking up in his pants, he presses your palm harder, seeking friction, whispering that it’s okay. That you’re doing everything right.

The nerves ebb. “I - I want it to be good for you,” you say, breathless, “I just - I don’t —”

“It’s already good for me,” he whispers against your collarbone, tugging you down onto the couch, his body hovering above yours. “Pretty sure I’ve never been so hard in my life. But I really just want to make this good for you. Do you trust me?”

With your life. “Yes.”

“Can I take these off?” He slides a palm along your leggings, index finger toying with the band that rests high on your waist.

“Please.”

Deft fingers curl and tug. Slide them down your thighs, baring naked skin. Those same fingers glide over your ankle, up the curve of your leg, the glide of a hip. They toy with the edge of your panties; simple black lace, which you blow out a grateful breath for choosing that morning.

“Still with me?” he rasps, fingers stroking over your lower abdomen, your muscles dancing under the touch.

Hazel eyes, nearly molten honey now in the firelight, meet yours. Flickering with a look you’ve never seen within them before. Lust — for you. At your slow nod, eyes fluttering at the feel of his fingers sliding over the edge of your panties, he pushes the flimsy fabric to the side. Exhales shakily at the first brush of him, robbing your air straight from your lungs.

He drops onto one elbow, palm cradling your head with the softest of touches, lips molding to yours as he slips the first finger inside, your back arching up against the delicious intrusion.

Reality spins around you. Turns on its axis as Steve’s lips move to coast along your abdomen, against hip bone, the inside of your thigh. As your best friend slowly, carefully, reverently slides your underwear down your thighs and whispers a question that has you sighing a soft ‘yes,’ just as your panted breaths turn into cries of his name into the living room. As your heart races when his tongue glides over your clit just so — as he licks at you like it’s his job, a dream come to fruition at last, something he’s wanted to do all his life.

“I - I’m —”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing at your thigh with his free hand, “it’s just me. You can let go.”

No one has ever touched or kissed you like this. And you’ve never…never spiraled like this either. Never felt so close to the edge of pure, endless pleasure. Never seen the peak, never skirted over the edge, crying out another’s name.

Until now.

Steve knows this. Soothes you through it, crawling back up your body to brush at your cheek as you clutch his shirt tight, gasping breaths warming his flushed skin. As you float back to reality, a hazy mass of trembling limbs, he cups your chin and kisses you soundly, tongue gliding over yours, tasting yourself on him.

“We can stop,” he manages to get out before your fingers slip to grip at the hem of his top, tugging at the fabric, wanting it off.

In one swift movement, he grips the collar from behind his head and rips it free from his form, the ripple of his arms, chest and stomach dancing in your vision. He swoops back down and kisses you anew, body against body. Pulling back, you sit up against the armrest of the couch, Steve leaning back onto his knees. He watches with rounded, heated eyes as you grab at your own sweater and slide it up and off your frame, revealing a matching black bra to the panties that now lay discarded on the floor.

Your fingers reach behind you to grip at the clasp of your bra, appreciating the way Steve’s throat bobs.

“Wait!” His shout has you pausing, your eyes narrowing in fear of rejection, until he eases that nervousness away with the fumbling of his jeans, pushing them down around his ankles before kicking them into the corner of the room. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. It seemed fair. We’re equal now.”

In one movement, you unclip the bra. Straps flutter around your shoulders, the cups freeing from your breasts, the warmth from the fire skittering along your flesh. Heart racing, you watch as Steve grips at the band of his boxers, pushing them down and off his thighs, the part of him you’ve never seen before slapping against the soft of his stomach. Against the dark hair that trails there. He’s hard and huge and there, the evidence of his desire on display.

Curiosity and reverence has you inching closer on the couch, settling your palms against his abdomen, gliding up and over his chest and shoulders, down his biceps, along the backs of his hands. Nervously, you raise one to your breast, gasping as his fingers cup the fullness of it in his palm, cradling it, brushing over a nipple with a thumb as his forehead drops against yours.

No one has ever touched you like this before. Before, it had been a rush and a hurry in the back seat of someone’s car. A flurry of movement. But Steve’s gentle touches roam your body, his other hand coming to cup the other breast, sliding down your sternum, along your stomach, between your thighs, making you whimper against his lips. Hesitant fingers reach out, trail along the rippling muscle of his abdomen, over the line of hair beyond his naval, the long and thick cock lingering in the space between you.

A trembling palm curls around him and experimentally moves, a gesture brought on by human instinct alone, an upward and downward stroke that has Steve’s forehead falling to your shoulder, rasping out a curse into your skin.

“Like this?” you ask through a pleasant sigh as he curls that digit within you in the way that had you crying for him moments ago, marveling at the way he grapples at your side with his free hand, fingers pressing tight to the fullest point of your hips.

“J-just like that, honey,” he stutters, lifting his head again to claim your mouth in a fervent kiss, swallowing your pretty noises. “Are we really — is this really happening?”

“You’re not dreaming,” you giggle, shrieking as he shifts you both over so you’re rolling onto the floor, onto the endless mountain of blankets and pillows below. “Steve!”

Broad palms press against your cheeks, lips falling against yours, a hum spilling from you. Without a moment to even try and stop your head from spinning, Steve drops kiss after kiss to your skin. The curve of your neck, the line of your collarbone. The dip of your sternum. A tongue glides over a pebbled nipple, bringing it into his mouth, hazel eyes locking on your own with a blazing heat behind him as another callused palm kneads the other. You could unravel just like that, with his eyes on you, drinking you in like he is now. But you know you want more. You want it all with him. Want to feel every inch of him that’s presently resting against your inner thigh, want to feel him inside, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Steve,” you rasp, curling your fingers in his long tresses, “I want — no, I need you inside me.”

He shifts up onto his elbows, peering down into your eyes. A shudder licks along your spine, the realization of what you’re both about to do dawning. The importance of this moment; a moment that’ll change everything you know about your relationship fully and completely. Where there might be nervousness, you only feel solidity in your choice — excitement, to finally be taking this step, this leap, with Steve.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks and chest warm under his gaze.

A palm comes up to seek his face, brushing back the hairs that fall over his forehead, so messy and perfectly him. With a slow exhale, Steve curls his palm around the back of one of your knees, parting you for him, lifting it a bit into a bend. Instinct has your ankle hooking around the back of his knee, tugging him closer, shuddering at the feel of him against your slick center.

“I’m on the pill,” you blurt out quickly, “And you know my experience is…”

“I want you to know right now that this is the best night of my life,” he promises, knuckles brushing along your temple, quelling your nerves, “you could never disappoint me, okay?”

A nod.

“I’m clean, and I’ve never —” he gestures to where you both lay bare, “without a condom. I just want you to be sure. We can stop at any point.”

“I want this,” you tell him, curling your ankle tighter around his thigh, the heel digging into his muscle to draw him closer.

He grabs himself in hand, those dark eyes locking on yours. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you feel him nudge at your entrance, “it’s just us,” and he’s sinking in.

Slowly, so, so slowly.

“P-perfect,” you stutter out, clutching at a forearm as he inches in a bit more, that unfamiliar burn making you wince. Worry clouds his eyes, but you shake your head, “just…go slow, okay?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pushes a little further, gauging your reactions, clutching at the bend of your thigh, thumb stroking along the inside of your knee lovingly. Another inch, and you lean up to kiss him tenderly. “Ah, shit —”

“W-what?”

Anxiety fills your tone, and he shakes his head rapidly to assuage your fears. “No. No. You just feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.”

Heat blooms in your chest at his words, hips rolling experimentally from beneath him, that burning dulling into a pleasurable fullness. The delicious stretch of him giving way to something…new. Something different. Twine spills out before you, a coil, a line you feel growing tighter with every passing moment. He gasps out a breath. A hot puff against your collarbone as his head falls, wispy hairs teasing along your warm skin.

“More,” you pant, clutching at his shoulder as he fully seats himself inside, pussy clenching around him at the newness of being so full of Steve.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod, head falling back as he pulls back, nearly pulling out, and drives back in. In and out, in and out, beginning something you know will forever change your relationship. “Oh god.” A gasp, as he repeats the motion again and again, brushing against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grounds out. He pulls back, pulls out, and you nearly cry with the loss of him, until he smirks and pushes back in, punching your breath straight from your lungs. “It’s like you were made for me.” You could cry, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you lose yourself to this, to this moment — to him. “Tell me you’re mine. You’re finally mine.”

“I’m yours,” you promise, keening as he lifts your thigh higher onto his hip, driving into you in a way that makes white flash behind your eyes, “and you’re mine.”

The words you want to say bubble on your lips. The three words with the power to change everything. The three you’ve denied yourself all these years in fear of the rejection that might come should you ever utter them. But you feel them with every beat of your heart, with every roll of his hips, with every kiss he presses to your lips as you inch closer and closer to release.

And it’s there. Right there. That elusive thing you’ve only heard about with friends in mixed conversation. That blooming low in your belly, the unfurling as he continues to grind into you over and over again, the flame licking in the space where you’re irrevocably connected to him now in a way you’ve never been before.

“Steve — I’m —”

“I’m close too,” he grunts, chest pressing against yours, lips at your cheek. “Let go with me, yeah?”

It ripples through you with a broken sob, and the feeling of Steve’s hips faltering in their rhythm as he finishes, warmth spilling into you. Hearts race. Mouths come together in the middle, foreheads pushing against one another. Your hands tangle together like whispered secrets on knitted blankets, against pillows littering the floors.

Neither of you pulls away, bodies only rolling enough to face one another, his softening cock still inside of you. Fingers trail along his bicep as his other arm slides beneath your head, cradling you there. It’s all sweet and soft kisses against skin. His mouth at your brow, your cheek, your jaw…lips. Different and yet it feels like something that’s always been meant to be. A part of the two of you never tapped into.

Until now.

“So…”

“So…” You nuzzle your nose against his, blinking up at his tired, blissfully hazy eyes.

“That was…”

“Perfect?” you finish, gliding your fingers through the hair curling around his ear.

“Perfect,” he agrees, index finger gliding up and down the line of your spine, “everything. Tired, hmm?”

He watches the flutter of your eyes. The telltale yawn that pours from you. The liquid form of your limbs draped over his own. Your head rests over his chest and fingers dig into his hip.

“Let me take care of you and then we can pass out, okay?”

He parts from you with a whine, limbs aching a little as you stretch and he disappears into the bathroom, only to come back with a warm washcloth to clean you with. It’s tossed across the room a moment later, the man of your heart rearranging the pillows around the floor into a better makeshift mattress, blankets already tucked low around your hips as you find him again, your bare chest pressing against his.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I just want to remind you that you’ve always been enough,” you tell him softly. Quietly. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“You have me,” he promises, squeezing you tighter. “I’m yours.”

And you’re his.

A beautiful thing that curls around you both as you slip into sleep.

You’re grateful for a holiday weekend, because for the next three days, neither of you leave the comfort of the bedroom. It’s there that you learn every inch of Steve. That you remember the way his fingers trace your skin, how he feels when he’s inside of you, over you and under you, what it looks like when you drive him to finish, the way he looks at you when you writhe beneath him, hands fisted in his hair.

For days, all you know is that. The complete and utter bliss of a new relationship — despite the fact neither of you have given things a title yet. And even so, you hardly feel like you need to. You’d both said those words: you’re mine, and I’m yours. Wholly and completely. In your heart you know it, in your mind, and in your body. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for years, this is what you know you want.

He’s holding you now, your back to his chest, his fingers stroking you between your thighs, the fullness of him sliding in from behind. Another arm loops over your chest, resting over your heart, keeping you close. And you pinch your eyes shut at the feeling of it, at the sound of your sweat slick skin against his, the place where you’re joined, the press of his lips against your spine, your shoulder.

“You always.” A kiss. “Feel so.” Another kiss. “Good.” He tips your chin up and kisses your lips, swallowing your moan as you drive your hips back against his, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl inside him if you could. “Taking me so well, beautiful.” A whine. “Gonna come for me, baby? Want it.”

You’ve been at it for hours. Or it feels like hours. He’d woken up that morning insistent on feeding you, before falling back into bed with you for the third day in a row. Had kissed every inch of you before rolling over and watching you with hooded eyes as you sunk down on him, robbing him of his very breath. That had been a frantic thing, hips rolling over him, his hands digging crescent moons into your sides, little medals for the honor of watching Steve completely crumble beneath you when his orgasm snuck up on him, knowing you’d done that.

Another whine punches from your lungs. Stolen from you as fire licks up your spine and you’re engulfed with it, clutching at his forearm and crying his name with your release, forehead slumping into your pillow as he follows soon after, hips slowing to a stop as he tugs you flush against his chest, whispering your praises against the skin of your cheek, his fingers dancing along your sweaty temple.

“I think that was our best yet,” you laugh, stroking along the hairs against the back of his arm, relishing in the shiver that ripples from him in the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “How about we shower and grab some breakfast at the diner or something?”

“Are you up to grab a tree with me for the holidays too?” At your nod, he grins against your shoulder, “maybe some ice skating and hot chocolate at the rink?”

“Is this our first date?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

He hums against you, breathing a sigh, and you know the contentment pouring from him because it mirrors your own. “If you want it to be. As much as I want to stay here forever, I'm pretty sure our friends are worried we’ve fallen off the face of the earth.”

“We kind of did,” you muse, recalling the parting words on Thanksgiving just days ago now. “I haven’t slept a wink in days.”

“Says the woman reaping all the benefits in the form of endless orgasms,” he teases, laying a love bite against your shoulder, pulling away from you to rise up onto his feet, nodding his head toward the shower. “Come on.”

“No funny business,” you tease, curling a blanket around your shoulders as you follow him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You only make it five minutes in before you break that promise by sinking down onto your knees.

…And naturally, he repays the favor after.

——

People notice Steve wherever he goes. As the town handyman, he earns a bit of attention. Smiles from those that pass by, waves as he walks down the street, calls of his name from across parking lots. So you suppose it should come as no surprise when you meander through the endless rows of trees, your hand in Steve’s, earning a bunch of stares of your own.

For a while, you’ve been simply the girl who follows in his wake. A familiar face around town while you’ve been here, and a figment of a past time to those who had been around much longer. Now, you were swiftly approaching what you knew to be a permanent fixture in the town all over again.

It feels natural — the weight of his palm in your own, fingers tangled, arms swinging in the space between the two of you, dressed in similar outfits. It’s nothing unusual in comparison to your years long friendship, though now you know what his lips feel like against every inch of you, you know that his heart against your spine thrums like a perfect tattoo while his arms circle you, you know what the weight of him above you feels like.

And even so, you earn the curious gazes of wandering eyes. The glances from those trying to garner what is happening here. You don’t mind it, though. Don’t mind the way people wonder, because you already know the truth within your heart. The depth of the feelings he has for you mirror your own, as sure as the sun rises and sets every day. The realization that this is the start to what you hope might be forever.

“How about this one?” Steve asks.

An hour later you’re both dragging a tree into his living room and decorating it in dozens of shiny lights and bulbs. He kisses you long and slow, fingers in your sweater, foreheads pressed in close, hearts even closer.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, staring up at the tree, beautifully lit and adorned with love.

“It is,” Steve says back, but he’s not staring at the tree, he’s staring right at you instead.

——

The Hideout is bustling with customers. Endless rows of children constructing and decorating gingerbread houses at one table, while parents and family members alike mill about at the other tables, conversations about the upcoming holidays filtering through your ears as you pass by, handing off drinks and food.

Steve’s not here yet. A fact you notice as you watch the table of your friends grow, the group bent low together, beaming at what the other is saying, caught up in their company as day turns into night.

You’re finishing up handing off water to a table of teenagers when you notice Abi waving you over, a weary look in her eyes. It’s when your gaze travels southward you notice the shaggy blonde curls that you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Nor the pristine suit and tailored pants, the too expensive watch, that tie cinched around his neck. Green eyes drift your way from the bar, arms crossing over a toned chest. Chiseled cheekbones give way to blonde stubble, a messier look than you’re used to on Clark’s conventionally attractive features.

His eyes narrow at your appearance. To him, you’re wearing no more than a pair of jeans you bought off of a clearance rack, and a black sweater with a hole in one sleeve after you’d gotten it caught on Steve’s truck handle. He’s seen you in designer gowns, shoes, decked to the nines with jewelry, looking like the ever dutiful daughter. And now — now his eyes roam your form with distaste, the curl of his lip making your stomach drop.

“I can ask him to leave,” Abi murmurs low against your ear as you slip behind the bar to join her, “just say the word, and he’s gone. Eddie wouldn’t mind if I toss him out. He’s kind of an asshole anyway. Asked me if I had a specific bottle of wine, and scoffed when I said we didn’t. I almost told him he could shove the credit card he slapped against the bar up his ass.”

“Sounds about right,” you grumble, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be okay. And if not, and you catch me ready to throw a glass and lose my job —”

“I’ll turn the other way and pretend I didn’t see it.”

Offering her a smile, you slip back out and round the bar, grabbing Clark’s sleeve and tugging him to a smaller table positioned away from everyone else. From here, you can see Steve when he arrives and escape if need be. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head up, staring into that blank stare.

“So this is where you ran off to,” he tuts, snickering, “it’s…charming.”

“It’s where I grew up,” you tell him flatly, “it’s home.”

“Home is in the city,” he says, leaning up onto his elbows, hand coming to curl over your own. Your eyes narrow at the contact, at the feeling of his finger cradling the back of your palm. “Come home. Stop this, please? Your family misses you, your friends miss you — believe it or not, I miss you.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Darling…” The hand around yours tightens, and you know he’s trying to narrow your window of escape, to ensure you stay rooted in place. “We had fun together, didn’t we?”

“At events, sure.”

He was kind enough. Was willing to laugh with you, to joke and tease, to talk. But there was nothing of any sort of romantic nature beneath the surface. Your marriage was intended for monetary purposes and those alone.

“You hardly even gave us a chance.”

“Clark, we were in an arrangement,” you remind him. “A mutually beneficial agreement for both of us.”

“Which has since fallen through.”

“And I am sorry about that —”

“Then come home,” he says again, eyes intent on your face. “Come. Home.”

“This is my home,” you whisper, catching the sight of Steve walking by in the window. His eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Clark across from you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Clark lets out a bitter laugh as Steve appears in the doorway, approaching your table cautiously. “This is the guy you ran out on me with. Him? You’re choosing him. What can he offer you that I cannot?”

“Love, Clark,” you say, voice breaking at the end, “I love him…and I — I think he loves me. So yes, I’m choosing him. I’m choosing to stay here…with him.”

He fixes Steve with a hard stare, mouth parting slightly, settling back into a firm line. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, and it’s watery. A broken off sob at the realization of your admission. “I do. We wouldn’t be happy together. You know that. I mean…you were kissing Christina on our wedding day.”

“She’s, ah, that’s…complicated.”

“But she means something to you,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We wouldn’t be happy. You know we wouldn’t. Tell me you can see that.”

His palm slides down his face, head shaking slowly. “Your father’s company —”

“You’re an amazing surgeon,” you remind Clark, “and my father will come around. Eventually. I’m certain. And…maybe when he doesn’t hate me for making the choices I’ve made, I can send over a glowing recommendation. We don’t have to do things just because it’s our family’s way. We can choose our own happiness.”

Clark leans back a bit, his hand falling away from yours, fingers curling around the chair beside him to make room for a perplexed looking Steve Harrington at the table. “Can I at least say hello the man my fiancée ran out on me — on our wedding day, no less — for?”

“Clark,” Steve mutters with a nod, sinking down onto the chair beside you, arm curling around your shoulders. “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. And, uh, sorry about your wedding day.”

Clark reaches over to grip his hand. “You’re really not sorry, though,” he chuckles heartily, shaking Steve’s hand.

Steve grins, because no. No, he’s not at all sorry, and you couldn’t be happier.

The three of you sit there in that restaurant for an hour, talking about plans for the future. About Christina and Steve. Christina, who is from a not so affluent family. A family his family doesn’t quite approve of, but he loves her. A fact you could even tell after seeing them together in their embrace.

In the end, Clark decides to head back to the city with the intention of making things right with the woman he loves. You also send him on the mission to talk to your parents, to convince them neither of you wants the marriage, and to let them know you’re okay since they don’t wish to contact you as it is.

Once he’s gone, you’re left to finish up cleaning your station, later announcing to your friends that you and Steve are heading for a little walk. Neither of you wants to stick around at the moment. Not when there’s so much to talk about.

Without him even saying anything, you know he’s overheard what you said to Clark. That you loved him. That you love him. Nervousness wells within you as you tug your jacket closer to your form, reaching out to lace your fingers with Steve’s, your hands swinging in the space between the two of you. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get used to this. Part of you doesn’t, wanting merely to rest in the excitement of finally having the one thing you’ve both always wanted come to fruition.

“So…that was nice,” you say, peering up into his eyes.

The moon shines above, but Steve’s eyes are on your face. A lingering look you feel all the way down to your toes. “He’s still an asshole.” He swallows. Here it is. “Did you mean everything back there?”

“Which part?”

He pauses on the sidewalk, hands curling into your belt loops, tugging you against him. “Well, for starters, the part where you said this is your home now.”

“If you don’t mind having a roommate for a little while longer. At least, until I get back on my feet. Pretty sure my inheritance is not happening ever.”

His fingers cup your jaw, mouth brushing lazily over yours. “I’m not kicking my girlfriend out.”

It’s the first time he’s called you that, no fanfare, no need for explanation. And it feels right down to your marrow.

“Are you…asking me to officially move in?” you question, head tilting back a bit to gauge his reaction to your words.

“Are you saying yes?” He bounces on the heels of his feet a little, your palms resting against his stomach.

“I mean, an endless sleepover with my best friend sounds pretty great.”

He beams. “And then there’s that other part of the conversation I walked in on.”

“What part might that have been?” you prompt, leaning up onto your toes, biting at your bottom lip.

His fingers slide around your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your denim jeans. “The part where you said you love me.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Steve,” you tell him honestly, “I’ve…been in love with you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

His nose runs down the side of yours gently. “I’m in love with you too.”

He says it so quickly, all in a rush, like he simply wants to breathe the words into existence. To make them known. To speak the secrets that have been lingering in the silent moments between the two of you for years. To give them the voice they deserve. To set them into motion, to flight, to give them the breadth to roam freely.

“All this time?” you ask, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill.

“Yeah.” He nods. “All this time, honey. Always, if you’ll let me.”

You trust that his words are true. You know within your heart he means every single one of them. You welcome the free fall, and what a beautiful, safe space to land you’ve found in Steve.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” A kiss brushes the tip of your nose.

A giggle. “Deal.”

——

Two years later…

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window. Warms your skin as a yawn spills from your lips, arms stretching against pillows, head nuzzling deeper into the mattress's downy embrace.

A warm arm slides in around your waist, a palm gliding over your stomach. “How are my girls doing?” It’s the voice of your husband that stirs you, chest rumbling against your spine, thumb stroking along your skin.

“We were just taking a nap,” you sigh, rolling over to face the man, “you finished for the day?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to look at the scrunched up newborn resting near your hip. “Uncle Eddie and Aunt Abi’s new house has a nice deck now. They also decided to keep the swing in the backyard just for when you grow up a little bit more, Summer.”

Summer sleepily stares up at her father as he carefully lifts her into the crook of his elbow, bouncing her a little to help her settle when her face wrinkles with the beginnings of a soft cry.

“She’s bigger than she was this morning,” he huffs, the hairs that are getting a little too long on his head now puffing upward with the hard breath.

Giggling, you roll over to lean against his shoulder, running the pads of your finger along her chubby cheek. “She’s the same as she was this morning.”

“Do you think she missed me?” He glances up, hopeful.

“Always,” you reassure him, knowing he hates going back to work after the initial few weeks he took off to spend time with his newborn daughter. “We got an invitation to Clark and Christina’s wedding.”

“At least that wedding won’t end with a runaway bride situation.”

“Hey, that runaway bride became your wife.”

Your own wedding was a year ago now. And because Steve had helped nearly everyone around town, it became a huge event. Nearly everyone in town had gathered around as you walked down a grassy aisle to the man who always had your heart. It was there he pledged forever, a promise to keep you close and your heart closer for all of time to come.

Your parents had even come, deciding that love truly mattered above all else — though a lot of that was thanks to Clark and Christina’s influence. Those two had even become closer friends to you than you ever thought imaginable. Just four people who had come together in the strangest of circumstances, finding that sometimes the person who people deemed ‘best’ for you wasn't actually the right one — and that choosing love would overcome any other obstacle that might try to get in your way.

“That she did,” he says, leaning down to brush a kiss to your forehead.

And now you had an extension of that, in the form of a bleary eyed baby staring up at the two of you. Equal parts him and you, and everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. “Come on, I have something to show you! Summer can come too.”

“You just don’t want to let her go.”

“I never do,” he coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over her forehead, “she’s like her Mom. Has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not even two months old.”

“I’ll say a prayer for her future suitors now —”

“Hey �� she is not dating until she’s thirty and that’s final.”

You shove at him lightly as he leads you down the hall and into the newly extended part of the home. There’s a little sunroom, full to the brim with plants, and just outside on the back porch, he’s added a beautiful wooden swing that overlooks the water.

“Steve…”

“I know you like to read out here, but I figured now that we have Summer…” He settles down on one of the cushions, making room against his hip for you to curl up next to him, watching as the sun begins to set over Hawkins. “We could come out here…as a family. I have more plans too. A seating area over there for when we have company. Maybe some stuff for when Nancy and Jonathan bring their son over for a play date. A treehouse over there.”

“I love it, Steve.”

“I love you,” he says, brushing his lips against yours ever so softly, just as Summer starts to whine in the crook of his elbow. “Oh no, sweetheart, shhh shh. Don’t cry…this mountain I must climb…feels like a world upon my shoulders…”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh as he starts to sing, sides shaking with the memory of your return to Hawkins so long ago now.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” He continues, and Summer stares up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky for her. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder.”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” you sing along, snuggling closer into his side, looping your arm around his and lacing your fingers with his own. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the both of you sing-whisper out in equally as horrendous voices so as to not wake the baby that’s starting to doze off, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, the song falling off, along with the laughter, as Summer’s eyes flutter shut. “Thank you for this. For all of it. This life we have together. For choosing me every day. Us. Our family.”

“Thank you,” he breathes back against your lips, kissing you as the sun sinks further along the sky, soft and pink and golden — just like the life before you and the one to come.

——

#lunaloveseddie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Eight: Feels Like

summary: in the aftermath, revelations are made (7k words).

warnings: allusions to sex, medical complications.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Three words. Three simple words — and yet the most terrifying ones. The ones that changed everything. That marked a turning point, a declaration, a fork in the road. On one side, turn back — run to safety, to what you knew, the easier route. On the other, push onwards, accept change — take a flying leap into the air with nothing but faith to catch you.

And the look, the look on Eddie’s face. The pure, unadulterated fear at the way your features couldn’t dare to hide the swimming emotions that choked off your airway. The face that had betrayed you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and captured your tears with his thumbs — as his brows furrowed at the pout of your bottom lip.

“Sweetheart…”

But it was too late. Caught up in the moment or not, caught up in the bliss of a post-sex haze — he’d said the words and they were there now. Out in the open. He couldn’t just will them away, couldn’t pretend he’d never said them, couldn’t turn back the very hands of time.

“You love me?”

You whimpered. Felt your heart cleave down the center at the way his mouth mashed against your forehead, those broad arms of his curling you against his chest, right where you could feel his form trembling down to the bone marrow. Could hear the thunderous beat of his heart clamoring through the tee shirt your fingers bunched up within your palm.

“I —”

His mouth opened. Shut again. Opened once more to speak, to say something, to hopefully quell your screaming fears tumbling one after the other within your mind, but as he did so the doorbell rang. A resounding ring that offered the distraction you needed to drown out the disquiet in your soul.

You dressed in the silence that echoed within the room. Donned a pair of sleep shorts and pulled on your too-big hoodie. Padded down the hall with Eddie on your heels, slipper-covered feet clapping against the floor.

Before your fingers met the handle on the front door, Eddie called your name. Frowned softly as you whirled around to look at him, those lips of his marred by hurt you'd put there. Had never meant to — had never wanted to, but it happened all the same. With a slow exhale, you leaned up onto your toes and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Caught the hitched breath in the back of his throat.

As you pulled back, your resolve shattered at the brokenness there. At the way he regarded you like you were already distancing away from him — or maybe it was him distancing himself from you. Either way, you could see those walls building up behind his eyes. Watched as he erected the surface brick by brick to protect himself. Couldn’t even blame him, because you knew you’d done the same for months now.

Eddie went and opened the door at the second ring. Lingered behind as you shrieked when, there on the front step of your home, stood none other than Micah and Jeremiah, their bags in hand and car parked on the curb, seemingly packed for a day or two.

You were all a blur of limbs and tear-streaked cheeks, your arms looped around Micah’s neck, her arms around your waist. Her hand pressed to your belly when you stepped back, jumping up and down excitedly when Elena made her presence known. “There’s really a baby in there! Still can’t get over it.” She nearly squealed, as Jeremiah looped an arm around your shoulder and Eddie’s and tugged you both in close.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not complaining, definitely not at all complaining. And even so, it was wholly unexpected. The last time you’d spoken with the girl, she’d been uncertain of if or when she’d be able to make it into town.

“Eddie invited us to stay with you two, actually. Wanted it to be a surprise,” Jeremiah said, clapping the man you’d been living with for months now on the shoulder gleefully. “Got yourself a good one here.”

I love you, Eddie had said. The words and the timbre of them, the way they sounded on his lips, filled your ears once again. Silenced everything else around you as Eddie helped lead your best friends further into his home and gave them a tour. You remained at Micah’s side, mind far away as you followed along with them, drawing comfort from the way Elena pushed at the palm you kept positioned over your midsection.

“You okay, babe?” Micah asked as you all settled down in the living room and the guys opened up cans of beer, sleep suddenly a thought pushed far away from your fatigued mind.

“Just in shock,” you muttered, far away, watching Eddie’s profile as he laughed at something your best friend’s boyfriend had shared. Eddie’s dark eyes met yours, and you heard it again: I love you. A mantra, a steady beat, a promise. “I just…can’t believe you’re here.”

Not a lie. Not quite, at least. And yet, Micah frowned. Reached over and laced her fingers within your own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not really. No. Not at all. You held your breath as Eddie offered you a weak smile — as you smiled back, knowing you needed a moment with him, and yet also acknowledging that now wasn’t the time. Not with your company for the next few days.

I love you.

His words screamed into that faraway, tucked-into-the-shadows shard of your heart. The place where the idea of ‘love’ had gone and ceased to be. The place where hurt had watered the seeds of resentment over the mere concept of it.

“No…no, it’s fine.” You assured her, and she seemed to accept the words, knowing better than to push you for answers. “Do you want to see what Eddie did with Elena’s room?”

A distraction.

You needed a distraction.

“Sure, babe,” Micah whispered, squeezing your hand tight as you excused yourselves from the room.

She didn’t press you any further.

——

May morning light streamed in through Eddie’s bedroom window. After hours of chatting with friends, you’d both made your way into the bedroom in silence, freshly washed faces and brushed teeth gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the gently parted curtains.

Neither brought up Eddie’s words. You wondered if it was for your benefit, or to protect his own heart. Like he couldn’t fathom seeing the look on your face once more, and the answer you’d unwittingly given by not saying anything at all. And even if you wanted to talk about it, you didn’t know how to bring it up now. The moment had passed, the harm was done, and the guilt that filled your heart overwhelmed every other thought you might have had in your mind. Because Eddie had gone and invited your best friends to Hawkins. He’d wanted to give you a slice of your home away from home, before your lives completely changed from what you once knew.

Even now, he held you close. The nearness of his body against your spine a comfort, a warmth you’d grown accustomed to, his breath dancing along the slope of your shoulder, where the strap of your nightgown had slipped down a bit. One of his broad hands rested against the curve of your hip, always seeking you out, always seeking touch — even in your sleep. When it happened, the endless need for close proximity, for touch, you weren’t certain, but it became familiar. As simple as breathing, even when love was not.

His other hand lay sprawled over the curve of your midsection. Rumpled up the silky fabric of your dress, edging the lace up higher on your thigh. Most mornings, he’d rouse you with kisses against every inch of you he could reach until you hummed into him, the press of him, hot and hard at your backside. Often you’d roll over, and then onto him, watching his umber eyes blow out dark, nearly black, with the rising sun as you sunk down onto him and rolled your hips over his. Other mornings, he’d wake you with his head between your thighs, or your mouth on him, a previously spoken agreement between both of you.

Today wasn’t like that. There were no long, drawn out languid kisses and wandering hands. No sighs as he inched his mouth along your throat, the huffs of his stuttering breath as your fingers slid beneath the band of his sweats, no pleas for more as his guitar string calloused fingers teased at your center.

Instead you were met with silence and persistent heartache over the memory of the flicker of pain that crossed Eddie’s features the night before.

Later, after an awkward exchange in bed wherein Eddie grumbled to himself he’d make everyone breakfast, you found yourself cornered at a local spa by your three best friends, their introductions full of giggling and excited energy. You were hardly surprised — Micah and Chrissy were very similar, two kindred souls, and Robin loved Micah from the moment they’d all met.

Still, it brought you joy knowing they all got along, their conversation easy as you all slipped into fluffy robes and sat around as massage therapists rubbed at your shoulders, eyes nearly closed from the bliss of it. Eddie had arranged the whole thing; a morning out with your closest girlfriends, getting your nails done, massages to follow. You’d gone with a pale pink on your fingers and a matching shade on your toes, similar to that of your daughter’s bedroom.

Eddie, who always went above and beyond to make you smile. Had given up room in his home, had been there for you the moment you told him you were having his baby, had stepped up in ways you’d never thought imaginable. Eddie, who loved giving the most of himself, had always done so for as long as you’d known him, who was still doing that now.

Elena was a lucky little girl. You both were. And it hurt you to dwell on it — the realization he’d done this, had planned it some time ago.

“We need to have an intervention,” Chrissy stated when you later arrived at a restaurant for an early lunch, her palms splayed over the table. “You’ve been in your head all morning. And don’t say you haven’t been, you have that little forehead wrinkle —”

“She does get a forehead wrinkle when she’s overthinking,” Micah added, nodding as she sipped at her mimosa. “I knew something was up last night. She’s been all giggly over the moon because of all the sex she’s been having, and suddenly it’s all grumbles and sad looks —”

“Well this just got interesting,” Robin mused, leaning back against her chair. “You didn’t tell us you and Eddie were christening his household.”

“You two are his best friends. I — it’s weird. And that’s…that’s not important,” you said hurriedly, tossing a french fry into your mouth. “I’m just…he just…hetoldmehelovedme.”

“I’m going to need you to take a deep breath and say that slower,” Chrissy said with an uneasy giggle, “because it sounded like you spoke another language for a second there.”

“He told me he loved me,” you told them, sipping at your cup of seltzer water, shrugging like you hadn’t just dropped a major declaration on them.

“Okaaaay, and?” Micah urged, waving a hand in front of her face impatiently.

Robin frowned. A soft and impossibly understanding looking thing that had her reaching across the table when your lips twitched downward. “Honey…”

“I didn’t say anything at all,” you admitted, fighting the urge to cry. Swallowed the watery sob that tickled the back of your throat. “He told me he loved me and I just…I sat there. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak — but it was too late. He looked so sad. And I feel terrible; I am terrible.”

When no one said anything, all around the table giving you looks with varying degrees of pity behind them, you continued, “I was scared. I'm still scared. What if he wakes up one day and decides I’m not what he wants anymore? What if he realizes he made a mistake?”

Chrissy exhaled, clambering up and off her chair to move to your side, arm looped around your shoulder. “Can we play the tape forward again?” She glanced at your friends, asking, “Don’t you think we should play the tape forward?” Micah nodded, Robin agreeing with a squeeze to your palm still curled within her own.

“Scenario one,” you said, exhaling shakily, “We continue this, he realizes this isn’t really what he signed up for, and he goes on his merry way. I have to watch him date other people, bring them around our daughter, and move on without me.”

Scenario one was always the negative route, and Chrissy nodded as you finished, offering you a comforting nod. “Okay, now scenario two,” she said, knowing it was her turn for her little exercise. “What if you two are it for each other? You raise Elena together, go on the road together, make new memories, fall deeper in love. You watch that little girl one day go off to college and start her own life, and you’re still just as in love, and maybe you’ve gone through some trials in your relationship since then, but doesn’t everyone? Isn’t every relationship worth fighting for? And you’re happy. Both of you are genuinely and completely happy and you’re together.”

“Also, Eddie isn't like those in your past. He’s not your family that walked away, not your friends who have come and gone, he’s not all those heartbreaks that have come before,” Micah added, offering you a kind smile. “I mean, he did all of this to make you happy. The man put together our whole outing and made sure Jeremiah and I had a place to stay while we were here. I think anyone who spent two minutes with you two could see how much that man loves you and your little girl…who isn’t even here yet.”

“Love shows up,” Chrissy said, “let Eddie show that he will.”

“Dingus Two found his girl,” Robin mused, poking fun at Chrissy’s husband with a cheeky grin. “But here’s the big question: do you love him?”

There it was. The question that had been plaguing you for weeks now. Did you love him? Did you love Eddie Munson? The easy answer, the one that came to your mind swiftly, was yes. A simple word, but along with it the heaviest of weights. You loved him — truly and deeply loved him. It had only taken a matter of weeks to fall for him, only a matter of weeks to solidify just what he’d meant to you, and a matter of weeks to realize what was at stake if you ever lost him.

“There’s your answer,” Robin teased, pointing at the small smile gracing your lips.

“God, I’m so stupid,” you groaned, curling a palm over your forehead.

“You’re not stupid,” Micah argued, running around the table to curl you and Chrissy into her embrace. “You just needed some time. You deserve this. You’re worthy of this. And I’m so proud of you, babe.”

Chrissy practically squealed as she rubbed at the tears collecting on your bottom lashes, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes. “I love you so so much,” she enthused, giggling brightly, “but…today isn’t over yet, and we’re on a time restraint. Eddie’s next request on your day of pampering is to find a dress, any dress, for dinner at my place.”

Your brows arched. “I have dresses back at our place —”

“He wanted you to pick out a new one,” Micah said, teasingly wagging her brows.

So with a renewed hope burning in your gut, your friends and you finished lunch, gathered your things, and headed to the department store where they tossed you dozens of dresses in search of the perfect one. And finally, as you laid a long black dress with daisies along the fabric along your form, you stepped out into the waiting area of the fitting room to three beaming faces, all of which cheering on your choice, your mind still whirling with the knowledge that Eddie had done all of this because he loved you.

And you loved him.

——

“No way…”

The words died on your lips as you walked out into the backyard after your girl friends and saw the array of people seated and chatting around the tables set out across the Harrington’s backyard lawn. There, along the interior of a tent set up above a table positively overflowing with baby gifts, was an archway of pink balloons, and against the table a hanging sign that said baby girl in pretty block letters.

And there, organizing packages against the table that partygoers handed him, was the man who was responsible for all of this. For your friends being here in Hawkins, for the evening you had with them at the spa and out for lunch, for the baby shower you’d just stumbled into.

Beside you, Robin, Chrissy and Micah were all glowing smiles. Little cheers and clapping hands as you took in your surroundings, from Steve and Jeremiah at the grill, to “the kids” seated around a table, waving as you entered, friends from work, Joyce and Hopper who you’d become friends with over the weeks, Wayne, who tipped a beer in your direction with a smile that crinkled at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

Eddie turned then, looking handsome as ever in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a black tee shirt that showed all of the tattoos you’d trailed your fingers over these last few weeks. He’d tied his hair back, little curled tendrils falling around the sides of his face, swaying in the gentle breeze as he walked your way and leaned down to kiss your forehead. Forehead, you noticed, with a pang of disappointment.

Still, your fingers curled in the front of his shirt, sandaled feet wiggling against the grass as you whispered, “Was this your doing?”

“Chrissy helped,” he said, gesturing to the blonde who merely mouthed that she loved you at Eddie’s words. “We invited all of the family.”

All of the family. Because when you glanced around the party parameters, family was all you saw. People who had been strangers months ago, and were now the ones you leaned on, the ones who loved unabashedly, the ones who had been there when no one else was. The ones you chose, and the ones who made you realize that, in a world of frequent hurt, there were people who would always walk beside you no matter what.

These people. And at the center of all of that — Eddie Munson.

“You didn’t have to do all of this —”

“I wanted to,” he said, brushing another kiss along your forehead. “We all did.”

“Now come on,” Chrissy said, practically bouncing on her toes as she rushed over to clasp your hand in hers, “there are guests to greet, and a special chair with your name on it for the mom-to-be. Let us spoil you!”

The evening passed in hazy pastel pinks that mirrored the sunset against the sky. Lilac purples as you pulled out baby girl outfit after outfit. Pretty olive greens on little sleepers and baby blankets. In dusty oranges, like the colors of the rainbow binkies, bibs and bottle tops you received.

Micah sat beside you writing down the endless things you got, while Chrissy and Robin giggled conspiratorially to themselves as they plastered the endless ribbons and bows on packages to a makeshift hat that you definitely knew would be atrocious by the end result.

Eddie lingered by Steve and Jeremiah at a lone table, his legs kicked out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, a smile plastered on his face. It made your heart skip in your chest, watching him watch you. Made you want to run over and tell him the three words that rattled around in your brain all afternoon with every new gift opened.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Later, as Eddie pushed the gifted stroller you got, filled to the brim with packages, into his home you thought about telling him. The words bubbled up on your lips as he and Steve worked on unloading everything into Elena’s room. As you started to put away the things you knew you could, while you tossed all her new clothes into a hamper to be washed before she arrived.

Steve leaned over to give you a hug before he announced he was heading out for the evening, and Eddie thanked him with a clap against his back and a tight squeeze, before the man wished you both goodnight and offered a final congratulations for the little girl everyone had celebrated that evening.

You slipped into your shared bedroom in uncomfortable silence, Micah and Jeremiah driving back home to the city and leaving you with a quiet home once more. It had been a tearful goodbye, your hands on her cheeks and hers on your midsection as she promised she’d be back as soon as possible to meet Elena. Jeremiah had even whispered in your ear he’d gotten Micah a ring and, after you demanded him to show you, thanked him for being the best brother by choice one could have, and a loving soon-to-be uncle.

“I’m going to spend the night at my uncle’s…” Eddie announced as you clambered up and onto the bed, blankets tugged high against your thighs.

“What?” Your head tilted to the side, not quite understanding, even as Eddie grabbed a few of his things and began tossing them into a backpack.

“I just…I think I need a minute?” He swallowed thickly, and your heart ached with it. With the understanding of what he was saying. “Just — just need to, ah, clear my head, you know?”

“Eddie, I…”

But you understood. Had seen the look on his face clear as day — the hurt there. He’d laid his heart out for you, gave you the power to do with it as you would, and you’d remained quiet. In your silence, he’d gotten his perceived answer.

“Just for the night,” he stated, a pair of his sweats tossed into the bag with a ratty old band tank top. “I’ll see you when I get off from work tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay…” You said, even thought it was far from okay.

None of this was okay.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to shout that you loved him. And even so, you knew now wasn’t the time. Not when he’d already made up his mind, stewed in his hurt, and ached with the full force of it. He was allowed all of what he was feeling — deserved to sit in his emotions and their fullness.

Still, it did nothing for the sting of rejection in your gut as you followed him down the hall, watching his backpack thump against his narrow back. Did nothing to quell the ache in your chest when he turned around and cupped your cheek in his palm, eyes dark and focused on yours, full of love and sadness all the same. Leaning up onto your toes, you brushed your lips against his, the barest of touches, a shuddered breath falling from your softly parted lips.

For a moment his resolve wavered, hands pulling you closer, breathing a little ragged. Flickered across his features as he leaned back down and kissed you again. But your fingers reached up and gently rubbed along his sternum, forehead nuzzling against his, and he took a step back, fingers curling around the front door handle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, night pouring into the home, anguish seeping into your blood.

“See you tomorrow,” you muttered back a little brokenly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he slipped out and shut the door behind him. “I love you.”

A whisper, a little too late, but not at all untrue.

And then, without Eddie’s laughter and voice to fill the home, silence.

——

Something wasn’t right.

Then again, a lot hadn’t been right since Eddie walked out last night to spend the rest of his evening at Wayne’s. Waking up had been miserable with the lack of Eddie’s warmth along your back. That and you missed the sound of his voice, that first slow breath he always let out when he leaned over and kissed you long and gently, like he’d poured all of the time he’d spent missing you in his dreams along with it, overflowing with emotion.

But this wasn’t just the persistent ache in your chest that had been there since Eddie closed the door behind him. This was a cramping feeling that throbbed low against your stomach, like your menstrual cramps but stronger. Breath falling from you in a groan, you walked over to the front desk library check out area, hand on your back, your coworker, Holly’s, eyes nervously fixed on your face.

“That’s five,” she pointed out, sliding out a chair and rolling it over for you to sit down on. Once seated, her hand curled around your shoulder, a contemplative look on her features, “I think you need to get out of here and go to the hospital. I’ll take care of everything —”

“I can’t,” you gritted out through clenched teeth, wincing at the pain, “It’s too early. I'm only thirty weeks.”

“Exactly why you need to go,” she said, and you nodded because you knew. “Please, just…get checked out. We can take care of everything around here.”

You tried calling Eddie at the nurses office, but the phone only continued to ring, the guys likely in the back working. Tried again when Steve popped his head in and said Chrissy would take you to the hospital, hugging you when you’d whimpered you were scared. Tried a final time when you got to the hospital, terrified when you were immediately hooked up to various monitors and pricked with what felt like dozens of needles.

“It’s going to be okay,” Chrissy reassured you, when the doctor’s said they needed to keep you there to try and stop what looked to be preterm labor. Words that terrified you, because they were the ones that immediately dropped like lead in your stomach, worry for Elena tightening your chest. Choked off your breathing. “And he’ll be here soon, okay? Robin raced over there to get him. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Her fingers swept back and forth over your knuckles, words a comforting whisper that quelled the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage.

Mind whirling with thoughts, you closed your eyes and tipped your head to the ceiling, trying to breathe deep. Elena would be okay — she wouldn’t come today. Everything would be absolutely okay. The doctor’s were going to do their best to make sure of it. Chrissy was here, you weren’t alone, everything was fine, and Eddie would be here soon.

——

To say Eddie Munson hated hospitals was an understatement. The last time he’d been here, him and his mother had gone in, and only one of them made it out. This time, the two most important people in his life were here, one of which was likely scared out of their mind and he’d been gone. He’d left and something had gone wrong; he’d left and regretted it from the moment he’d closed the door. Had almost turned back around and rushed back into the house, claiming your lips with his, wanting you laying prettily against a mountain of pillows on his bed so he could whisper he loved you into your mouth once more.

But he hadn’t. He’d driven away and watched his house grow smaller in the distance, slept at his uncle’s, and missed your phone calls when you’d needed him the most. Had nearly shit himself when Robin rushed in without warning, earning the attention of all his coworkers, and said you were in the hospital.

“I need —” Eddie rasped out through frantic breaths as he greeted the front desk worker, chest rising and falling rapidly. He gave your name, at which the woman asked who he was to you, and he quickly added, “Husband. I’m her husband.”

The walk down the hall seemingly shaved years off of his life. Heart thundering away along the pale walled hallway, shoes tapping against the floor. He hadn’t had a chance to change, hair still pulled back, jumpsuit still on. Oil stained his fingers black, despite the hard scrub he’d given them before leaving for the hospital.

As he entered, his heart squeezed at the sight of you in a gown, an IV in one hand, a cuff around the other bicep, all teary eyed as he appeared in the doorway.

You’d barely managed to open your arms fully to him when he rushed forward and curled you into his arms, hand cupped around the neck to draw you into the safety of his chest, rocking you back and forth as you weeped into the fabric of his tattered jumpsuit.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Chrissy murmured, backing up out of the room, “I’m going to call Steve and Robin. They’ll want an update.”

As soon as she left, Eddie pulled back a bit and cupped your face in his hands. Brushed a kiss to either side of your cheek and rubbed at the tears that had spilled down your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re here now,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, his kiss on your lips bruising, and yet you sighed into it all the same, urging him onward. Gripped him tighter, his tee shirt hidden beneath his jumpsuit fisted in your palm. “Never again. I promise. I love you, I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry and I’m so —”

“I love you, too,” you whimpered into his neck. He pulled back, hearing the hitched breath you let out. The sob that followed. “I’m scared out of my mind, because of what you mean to me, but I’m going to be brave because this is worth it — and I love you. I wanted to tell you yesterday but —”

He kissed you again, urgent and searing. Felt you melt into his frame, arms looping around his neck, curling into the hairs at the back of his head. The heart monitor near the hospital bed spiked, and he grinned to himself against your lips, feeling your chuckles against his skin. Your sides shaking where he cupped them in his palms, the sides of his thighs pressed against yours, body leaning as much as he could over yours with the elevated bed.

“You love me?”

“Yes,” you giggled brightly, your smile splintering his heart into a million shining pieces, “I love you, you dork.”

God, he could stay like this forever. Pressed his forehead against yours, fingers laced with yours in your lap, breathing in the space between you two. Relishing in the comfort of the newness of love — basking in it. But a knock sounded at the door and Eddie was reminded of why you were here. Fear had him shifting on the bed, his mouth pressed to your knuckles as the doctor explained their course of treatment. You’d be staying under observation, medicine already ran through your IV in hopes of stopping things from progressing any further. Prognosis looked good, which had Eddie and you beside him exhaling deeply in relief. Otherwise, outside of the scare, Elena looked perfect.

He remained at your side for the next twenty four hours, only stepping away when nurses came in to check yours and Elena’s vitals every so often. Chrissy and Steve popped in to check on the both of you, offering to bring in food or a change of clothes or whatever else you needed.

Even Wayne and the kids had stepped in, running over to Eddie’s to clean up the place so that when you went home, you’d be able to get to rest.

Bed rest, that was. For the next few weeks, however long Elena decided to stay put, you were on ordered bed rest. Eddie thought your pouting adorable when the doctor had told you all the things you wouldn’t be able to do. Had held your hand when you whined about it after, not wanting to cut out of work just before the school year had ended (you’d grown fond of the kids). You’d also gone on to grumble about how you weren’t allowed any strenuous activity, head pressed against the dashboard in his car when you’d later come to realize that also included any sexual activity as well.

“It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple of weeks,” Eddie said, running a hand along your back when he pulled up in front of his house, kiss after kiss dropped against your temple. “Come on now, got to get you into bed. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“You’re not getting rid of me,” he promised, opening his car door and rushing around to greet you on the other side. “Except for when I have to work, but then Chrissy and Robin and the kids will be taking shifts.”

“You all really don’t have to do this,” you said, easing yourself down onto the ground, squeezing Eddie’s hand in yours. “I’ll be okay on my own for a bit.”

“I know that, but you don’t have to be. We want to help; we love you.” He laughed, coaxing you in front of him along the walkway. “Plus, you need to slow down. The doctor said so.”

Inside, Eddie watched your face light up as you walked down the hall and slipped inside his bedroom. He peeled back the comforter and tucked it around your hips once you settled down, before rushing around the other side and slipping in beside you.

His hand glided up and over your hip as you shifted to face him, along the curve of your waist, across the span of your arm, and then rested on the hinge of your jaw. Warmth seeped into his fingers, your lips soft against his when you leaned over to kiss him. As if you still couldn’t believe he was there, like you expected him to vanish, like you hadn’t fully realized he’d be yours forever if you’d let him.

And then, as your eyes started to droop in tiredness, you asked, “You love me, Eddie?”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

The other cheek. “I love you.”

Your forehead. “I love you.”

Your chin, where you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, running his nose down the length of yours.

He’d reassure you every day if he had to, helping to heal your heart piece by piece — to prove to you that people stayed.

That people still chose love everyday and meant it.

Stay, when his father hadn’t.

Stay, when his mother hadn’t been able to.

He’d do it all just to have you here, like this.

——

Late June, Six Weeks Later…

——

“Why the pout?” Eddie asked, wandering into the living room where you were presently wrapped up in a blanket, thankful for the AC blowing frigid air into the heated home.

“I tried to go for a walk and couldn’t see my feet. I called Chrissy to see if she’d be able to help me, but then we ended up making ice cream sundaes instead.”

“Baby, you haven’t seen your feet in weeks,” Eddie said, dropping down onto the couch beside you, palm running over the hill of your midsection, still in awe as ever that he’d be meeting his daughter in just a few weeks.

“That’s mean.” You pouted.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, a gentle kiss brushed against your lips, “Also, it sounds like your day was better than mine.”

“Hardly,” you huffed out, snuggling into his side, “it’s the same as the past six weeks. I wake up, I say goodbye to you, someone comes to visit, I walk to the bathroom to pee seventy five times, I go to bed.”

“Only a little while longer now,” Eddie promised.

But he knew it had been hard. The initial days were an adjustment. For someone who’d been used to doing all the time, you’d had a hard time adjusting to being unable to do many of the things you’d done before the scare.

It helped that Micah and Jeremiah got engaged soon thereafter; gave you something to focus on, something to be excited about. After that, you enjoyed the company of the kids. Mike, El and Will would come over and play cards with you. Dustin and Suzie would bring board games, and you’d argue with Dustin when he assumed you were cheating (bedrest had just made you really good at board games). Max and Lucas checked in, back in town on a visit. Joyce and Hopper brought food. Steve and Chrissy popped in with Melody. Robin came with Vickie, always with new gifts for their new niece (no matter how often you reminded them she had enough clothes).

Soon enough, you became stir crazy. Resorted to working on puzzles, coloring in coloring books, watching your favorite movies over and over again. Walks were limited — not more than a few minutes allotted, just to make sure you didn’t overexert. That, and Eddie watched you like a hawk. Wanted to make sure you were okay at all times.

Part of you wanted to find it annoying, but it only endeared you to him further. Being in love with Eddie was easy. So easy you wondered why you’d feared it at all in the first place. He was attentive and doting, affectionate and patient, hilarity ensued and yet grave when he needed to be.

As much as you hated being stuck inside for the past six weeks, you’d loved that intimate time spent with Eddie, enjoying the fullness of your relationship before Elena’s arrival.

“Come on, let’s get in bed,” Eddie mused, climbing up off the couch, extending a hand your way.

“I need a solid cuddle,” you grumbled, hand on your lower back as he helped you up on wobbly feet. “My back is all crampy today.”

“You’re cramping?” he asked, sounding a little worried, his voice growing softer.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him, rubbing at the place that twinged once more, “Just discomfort of being a million weeks pregnant with your restless kid.”

“Oh, so she’s my kid now?”

“She is when she stomps on my bladder like she’s at one of your metal shows,” you teased, slipping beneath the covers of the bed. “Can you believe we’re the same two people who met on Halloween?”

“Honestly?” He crawled in next to you, fingers trailing along your temple. A light kiss pressed against your lips. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Buttercup. Maybe we skipped a couple of steps along the way, but I wouldn’t change any of it.”

“I wouldn’t either.” And it was true. All the imperfections, the hurdles, the joy and laughter, the good and bad — you’d do it all again to get to this point. “I love you, Eddie.”

You said it all the time now. Randomly throughout the day, over dinner, in the morning, cleaning dishes in the afternoon. The words were still new, still so precious to you. Just as the man who held them near to his heart was.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

It was a whisper against the crown of your head as you rolled over, smiling at the familiarity of his arm slinging around your form, his chest against your back. Your anchor, for months now, as you slipped into rest.

Hours later, however, you woke to the bed feeling wet, Eddie’s hand against your shoulder, your head spinning from the pain that ached low, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the bedroom lamp being turned on abruptly.

You winced, and Eddie ghosted a kiss against your temple. “Eddie…” The searing pain followed, cutting off the rest of your statement.

“You think it’s time?” he asked, swallowing back the groan forming in the back of his throat as your fingers curled around his fingers and squeezed hard, the bones sliding together painfully. “Right — right, dumb question. Ow. Let me grab the hospital bag. You stay there, don’t move.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to anyway.

Panicking, he rushed around the room gathering your things. Tossed the hospital bag onto the bed, along with your slippers. He traded his sweats for a pair of jeans and pulled his hair back, as you slipped on a hoodie over your sleep shorts. When another pain lanced through you, you hunched over the bed a bit, gripping Eddie’s forearm as he appeared at your side.

“You have everything?” you asked through gritted teeth, straightening as the pain started to subside.

“Diaper bag, change of clothes for us, car seat…” he rambled off, coaxing you to walk down the hall, “the woman I love —”

“That was corny,” you laughed, sniffling at the tears that formed in your eyes when he opened your car door for you once outside.

His thumb brushed at your cheek. “Just trying to keep a smile on that face, Buttercup.”

As you buckled yourself in, he rushed around the back, clipping in the car seat like Steve had shown him a couple weeks ago. The hospital bag was tossed in beside it and the door shut, your eyes following his form as he darted around the vehicle and got in your front driver’s side. He still hadn’t fixed his van, so your car would be the baby mobile for a bit.

As he settled down, a kiss was dropped to your forehead and a palm cupped your cheek, those dark eyes of his searching your weary, fear-stricken face. “Ready to meet our girl?”

“I’m ready.”

——

our happiest little epilogue is next. thanks for being patient, i have been having a hard time again health wise, but you all make it less daunting. 🥹🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x pregnant!reader