GloomWeed

⋆˚౨WHEELER!READERৎ ⋆.˚ malt milkshakes. frequents the drive-in. there isn’t an episode of MTV she hasn’t seen. her dads favorite which doesn’t mean anything other than her having a higher allowance and always getting out of trouble. has the biggest hair in hawkins. part of the hawkins high school student body.

⋆˚౨SINCLAIR!READERৎ ⋆.˚ cheer captain. plethora of sweaters for every occasion. hogs the landline so much her parents got her own. obsessed with her fathers record collection. michael jackson fan ofc. 

⋆˚౨MAYFIELD!READERৎ ⋆.˚ lipstick, hairspray, and nail polish are the scents of her room. new cokes #1 hater. always rushing but never late. despises that billy smokes cigarettes and would kill max if she saw her smoking one because it’s only cool when she does it. owns the best jeans in town.

⋆˚౨HENDERSON!READERৎ ⋆.˚ valedictorian. never returns VCR tapes on time. geography and math nerd. constant sibling bickering. molly ringwald fangirl. one of (if not the) best smelling girls in hawkins.

⋆˚౨HOPPER!READERৎ ⋆.˚ cassette tapes galore. has read every fantasy novel she owns twice. her fathers daughter. DIY pro. although she doesn’t get to go out often, she has a walkman ready at all times. adores the care bears. loves to go bowling when she hangs with friends.

he had been your support since you met when you saved the world of vecna.

but you didn't want to stay in hawkins. you didn't want to be just another small, unnoticed detail in the town's history.

so you weren't going to say goodbye to anyone. you were just going to disappear like dust in the wind.

you packed a small backpack with clothes and food and put some blankets in your car. you didn't know where you were going, but you didn't have to know, just feel it.

you spent the night at eddie's house, as a last memory of him before leaving.

eddie had noticed you were acting strange throughout dinner, but he didn't say anything; he knew that sometimes you wanted your space.

but while they were both lying in his bed, his head on his bare chest, skin to skin, he couldn't help but ask

"i can hear the gears in your head turning, what's wrong?"

you looked at the guitar hanging on his wall and exhaled.

"do you regret it?". you asked.

"you'll have to be more specific, love".

"i mean, you wanted to be a guitarist in a band... do you regret not following your dream?"

the silence lingered in the air, until his chest rose and you heard:

"sometimes i dwell on 'what if...' but i prefer to stay in the present and not in the future, that's how life passes us by".

his words were etched in your mind.

you repeated them as you got out of his bed in the morning, trying to make as little noise as possible to not wake him up.

you thought about them as you got into your car, and even more so when you saw the "come back soon" sign as you left hawkins.

no farewell letters, no phone calls, no visit to any of your friends.

eddie didn't take long to wake up after you left. maybe because of the cold emanating from your side of the bed, the feeling of your absence.

he looked for you, first in the bathroom, thinking you were there, then all over the trailer park, not caring that it was 7 a.m. and the cold was chilling him to the bone.

he called at your house but there was no answer.

the hours passed. the others joined the search: robin, steve, jonathan, nancy, and the children.

there was no trace of you.

they went to your home, everything tidy as always, your scent still present but not your essence. eddie noticed that some things were missing like your favorite blanket that your grandmother had knitted, food from the kitchen, and shower products.

and then he understood.

you had planned that.

it had been your decision.

he connected the dots and understood your behavior yesterday, the question you had asked him.

if only he had done things differently. paid more attention.

you were listening to the radio, the volume low like a faint sound amidst the noise of your mind. until you heard something that made you gasp. you turned up the volume on the radio.

"hey guys, this is rockin' robin"

the voice of a very good friend of yours brought a smile to your face.

"today we have a very special guest who would like to say a few words."

"hello everyone"

that voice froze you.

because you weren't ready to hear it yet.

"today is not a very good day for me, but my friend robin is doing me a favor by letting me participate in this."

you pressed your lips together when you realized you were the cause of the noticeable pain in his voice.

"i know you're listening to this because you spend all day with the radio on, so i don't see any other way to tell you what i think."

you were so afraid of the words that might come out of his mouth. you were afraid he would blame you.

"i do regret not being a guitarist. sometimes i imagine myself singing and playing those same songs we sang together, on a stage, with people shouting and clapping. but i know that if i had that life, i wouldn't have met you, and that's why i wouldn't change it for anything. but i need you not to come back. i need you to never regret anything, to try and not be afraid to try. because if you made the decision to leave, it was because you followed your heart, and there's nothing purer than that."

you didn't make a sound while he was talking. you didn't know what to do.

"don't blame yourself for your dreams"

he knew you so well that you wanted to cry.

"take care and follow the path that makes you feel best"

and so, without a formal goodbye, without hugs, but with feeling, he told you that he loved you without saying it.

they never heard from you again. you never called or gave any sign that you wanted to. when the group was together, they'd come up with theories about where you could be, laugh at dustin's ideas, and enjoy will's drawings of your adventures.

you disappeared one day and for months after. but all the goodbyes can become a see you later.

"this can't be happening, guys, look at this!" robin shouted in the livingroom.

as they had always met at steve's house, a tradition since the group was formed.

in robin's hands was a letter with many postcards on it and your strange way of writing your name on the front.

eddie hurried to robin's side and soon everyone surrounded her.

she opened the letter with trembling hands, read the letter inside, and everyone fell silent, listening through robin's voice to your life since you left.

you recounted the good days and the bad ones when you longed to return to them. but you explained that you couldn't go back to that city, and they understood.

one phrase that had stuck in everyone's mind was "i felt too young to make this decision, but too old to continue living something that didn't completed me."

the letter didn't have a specific address. you didn't want them to find you or send a reply.

they were relieved, some with tears in their eyes.

and eddie? he was happy as long as you were.

────୨ৎ────

i writed this while i listened to cico buff from cocteau twins again and again.

hoped you liked it

xoxo

When he calls to say he’s stopping by your place on his way home from work? Surely it’s just a coincidence that you’re always fresh out of the shower when he arrives, wearing only a towel and asking him to rub lotion on your back because your hands can’t reach that far.

You know…normal friendly stuff.

And the whole time he goes along with it all, trying to shove down his guilt for being attracted to his sweet and unsuspecting best friend. He feels like a terrible person, filled with shame and self-loathing every time he touches himself while thinking about you (which happens a lot).

Things continue on like that until one night when you give him a lingering kiss goodbye, and as your sweet lips press against his, it finally dawns on him—is it possible something else is going on?

He's never been close with any other girls, so maybe he’s reading too much into things? Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part and you act like that with all of your friends? But at the same time, he’s been around you and some of your girlfriends on occasion, and he’s pretty sure you don’t give each other back rubs in your underwear.

Something just isn’t adding up.

Confused and conflicted, it all gets to be too much, so he vows to go cold turkey—no more time alone with you until he can figure things out and get his head on straight.

No more late night movies in his bed. No more tickling or massages or lotion applications. He’s going to avoid any and all situations where things with you might cross the line.

And to your dismay, his plan works. A little too well. He hardly ever comes around to see you anymore and you miss him. The loneliness is almost too much to bear.

So one day you call him up in desperate need of his assistance, hoping he’ll be willing to help you. He’s always said he would do anything for you.

You tell him that you got asked out by this really great guy who’s super handsome and you need Eddie’s opinion on the lingerie you bought for your upcoming date. It’s a bit more risqué than what you usually wear and you want to make sure it doesn’t look too trashy. You don’t want to give this totally-real-and-not-made-up guy the wrong impression, after all.

“As long as you don’t mind?” you purr into the phone while he grips onto his kitchen counter for strength. “All of my other friends are busy and, I mean, you’re practically one of the girls.”

And Eddie’s no fool. He knows it’s a bad idea to agree to your proposal. Being alone with you in that way sounds…dangerous. But at the same time, you need his help. You’re practically begging and he doesn’t want to let you down.

When he gets to your place a short while later, the lights are low and you answer the door in a silky robe that doesn’t leave much to his imagination.

“Thanks for getting here so fast, Eddie.” You smile. “You’re such a good friend, and I could really use your help.”

And he helps you—down on his knees with your soft thighs pressed on each side of his messy head, those trashy little panties pulled aside to let his thick tongue curl and dive through your dripping cunt.

With his plush lips wrapped around your needy clit, he finally hears you sigh his name out loud, the way he always imagined it would sound in his dreams. And when your legs start to shake and you cum for the first time on his tongue in a flood of sticky sweetness? It isn’t quite enough. He still comes back for more.

After all, what’s a best friend for?

🎶 maybe i’m delusional and the way you act is usual 🎶

hi…just emptying the drafts of some drabbles + imagines 🤍 sometimes i write these as little mini fics with a plan to flesh them out later as a full fic with dialogue and detail. there is a longer version of this in progress but i’ll probably never finish it ;)

The big door of the garage is rolled up, letting in the afternoon light. Eddie's got a rag thrown over his shoulder as he crouches in front of a tattered cardboard box that looks like it hadn't been opened since before each of the girls were born. His hair's tied back loosely in one of your hair ties, greying at the temples. 

Alice is sitting on the steps by the door into the house, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Roan walks back and forth slowly, kicking a loose bolt on the cracked concrete every time she passes. "This is insane, dad." Alice sighs, leaning her head back on her shoulders to stare at the ceiling above her. "You know that, right?"

Eddie shuffles around, grunts when he stands, and moves the box to another area of the garage. "Enlighten me." 

"You're famous!" She says, exasperated as she sits back up straight. She’s sure that one little detail should end this conversation right there. "You're rich! You could hire someone to do this." 

Roan nods, agreeing with her sister as she kicks at the bolt again, watching it bounce out of her vicinity this time. "Yeah, dad. This is a job for like… some guy named Gary. Not us." 

Eddie glances at them, raising his brows as he tries to find exactly where the audacity is coming from. This was just a regular Saturday in April back at Gareth’s for him, when Mrs. Mara Emerson would bribe them into a month’s worth of cleaning with the promise of their favorite burgers and a pineapple upside down cake. "Gary?"

"Yeah." Roan shrugs.

Eddie leans back against your car, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's pretty specific for two teenage girls who get anything and everything they could ever dream of." He shakes his head, "and also offensive to the many hardworking non-Gary's out there." 

Alice groans, loudly, in response, "daaaad."

"What?" He frowns and dips his head, throwing his hands up, palms to them. "Maybe I like cleaning my own garage."

"You don't." Roan challenges.

"You don't know me." Eddie chuckles and shakes his head, pushing off the car to move towards another stack of soft and worn cardboard boxes. "I’ve been gone for two months. Maybe I want to spend some time with my kids, whom I love and cherish and wish that I could see more. Ever think of that?"

Alice snorts, pushing herself off the stairs and then lowering herself down in front of the built-in shelving until she can reach the bottom shelves. "Spending time with us? Or getting free child labor?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, sorting through a bit of knick knacks, "You're welcome for the time you get to spend with your old man." 

Alice shakes her head, running her hands along the bottom shelf until she comes across a little blue tin. She pulls it out, confused, "I didn't know mom had sewing stuff." She shakes the tin, it doens't rattle in the way needles and thread would rattle. She looks at Roan.

Roan drops down beside her. "Open it." 

"Don't open it. Your mom doesn't sew for fun. It's probably some of her doll shit." He says automatically, not looking towards them. "And if it's something spooky she picked up from a yard sale, I really don't have time for that today."

Alice rolls her eyes and pops the lid on the tin despite the judgement. 

Roan tries to look over her shoulder, "what is it?"

"Pictures." Alice says and shrugs, reaching in to pull out a small bundle. The edges are worn and yellowing. She looks at the photo on the top of the stack. There's a red mustang in the background— much like her dad's that’s tucked away under a tarp in the second opening of their two car garage— the sun glaring off the windshield. There's a woman leaning against it with a little boy on her hip. She's wearing sunglasses, her hair dark brown and wild, just like her own. "Dad?" Alice glances over her shoulder at him. 

Eddie turns his head to look at her for a moment, before turning his attention back to the box, distracted. "Yeah?"

She holds up the photo, staying quiet. Quiet enough that it gets him to look up again. He squints and steps a bit closer. "Let me see that." He says softly, holding his hand out. Alice hands it over quietly. When his eyes fall over the photo, something in his face softens. His thumb brushes over the worn in edges of the photograph and he chuckles, almost to himself. The girls watch him quiet and curious. "Girls… That is my mom." He says softly, pointing to the woman. His smile is so kind, the girls aren’t sure if they’ve ever seen him look like that before. Then he points to the kid in her arms, "and that's me." 

Roan leans in, letting her eyes scan over the photo face. "You were pretty tiny."

"I was adorable once. Hard to believe, I know." He jokes softly.

Alice glances away from the photo and into the tin again, holding it up between them. "There's more in here."

Eddie glances down at it, "yeah?"

She nods and starts pulling photos out one by one. One's his mom, sitting on the hood of that same mustang in denim shorts. There's another one of her at a kitchen table somewhere with a man that looks a whole lot like Grandpa Wayne. His arm is slung around her shoulders and she has a lit cigarette between her fingers. In the final one they look at, she's holding who the girls decide is, Eddie, as a baby. He's cradled to her chest and she's looking at him like he was the best love she had ever felt in her life. 

Roan smiles at that one, taking it gently from her sister. "She's pretty." 

Eddie huffs out a breath that turns into another smile, nodding, "She is."

Alice looks at the photo, pinning down the kind brown eyes, dimples, and dark curls. The way she smiles, the same lines and dimples. "She looks like you."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head a little. "Other way around, kid."

Roan traces the edges of the photo in her hand as Eddie continues to peek through the stack. She bites the inside of her cheek and looks at her dad. "Why haven't we seen these before?"

Eddie leans his hip against the workbench along the back wall, not looking up from the photos in his hands. "Didn't know where they were." He says softly. "Thought I lost most of 'em when I moved out of Grandpa Wayne's before you girls were born, if I'm being honest."

Roan and Alice exchange a look, he hadn’t seen pictures of his mom in that long? “How did she die?" Roan asks softly.

"She got pretty sick." Eddie says quietly and leaves it at that.

Roan nods a little, looking at the pictures again. Her heart stinging for her dad's younger self. She knew her grandmother had been gone for a long time. But she couldn't imagine life without you, her mom, and she's 14. "How old were you?" She asks.

Eddie glances over where his own red mustang sits under the white canvas, "six."

Alice sucks in a breath and starts to stack the photos back up to place back into the tin. "That sucks."

It's blunt and honest, but Eddie nods. Laughing lightly at the way it’s said, as he shrugs. "Yeah, It did suck. Just a bit."

From inside, the three of them hear your voice call out the door for dinner. So Alice scoops the photos Eddie isnt holding back into the tin, carefully, and tucks it under her arm. She smiles at Roan, nodding her head towards the door to give signal to her to let Eddie have a minute. They make their way inside and the door swings shut behind them. Eddie sighs softly.

He pushes himself off the workbench and pins the photo of him and his mom in front of her car onto the board hanging on the wall, right next to a picture of you and him at his first big Corroded Coffin show, Alice's first day of kindergarten, and one of Roan covered in spaghetti from head to toe. All his favorite girls in one place.

He looks around, giving the garage one last once over, before walking into the kitchen. Cleaning this up can wait until Gareth’s free and until he can bribe his wonderful wife into making a pineapple upside down cake almost like Mrs. Emerson’s. He smiles at the family waiting for him at the table, the blue tin of photos sitting on the counter, waiting for him to comb through when the time is right. 

he gestures lazily with the cigarette toward the picture frame sitting neatly on the accent table — the one of you and your boyfriend at the beach last summer. his voice drips with sarcasm, but underneath it there’s something venomous that makes your stomach twist. “i never took you as the domestic type.”

your eyes flick to the frame against your will. your boyfriend's smiling face stares back at you, oblivious and happy, and the sight of it suddenly makes you feel sick with guilt. you force your gaze back to eddie, trying to keep your expression steady even as your pulse races. “there’s a lot you didn’t know about me.”

eddie stands up from the sectional in one fluid motion, taking a few slow steps toward you with the cigarette still burning between his fingers. the distance between you shrinks, and with it, the air in the room feels thinner. “maybe so,” he muses, taking a long drag before letting the smoke curl out between his lips. his eyes are darker now, more intense. “or maybe you’re just lying to yourself.”

he stops a few feet away, close enough that you can smell the familiar mix of smoke and his cologne. close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel stripped bare, like he can see every secret you’ve tried to bury deep inside yourself.

“i’ve learned a lot about you this past year,” he continues, voice low and almost conversational, but every word lands heavily. “i know deep down you don’t give a fuck about him. because if you did?”

he tilts his head slightly, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“you wouldn’t be moaning my name while you fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers.”

your stomach drops so fast it makes you dizzy. heat floods your face — shame, humiliation, and something far more dangerous curling low in your belly that you refuse to name. he knows. he’s seen. the realization crashes over you in waves. every time you’d touched yourself thinking about him, every time you’d bitten your lip to keep from crying out his name while your boyfriend slept beside you, every filthy, guilty fantasy you’d tried to bury… eddie had watched it all.

your throat tightens. you feel exposed in a way that makes your skin crawl and your pulse throb between your legs at the same time. you hate it. you hate how easily he can still pull that reaction from you. your hands are trembling at your sides and you quickly clench them into fists, trying to hide it, trying to hold onto some shred of dignity even as your eyes burn.

eddie chuckles humorlessly as the realization dawns across your face, stepping even closer, the scent of smoke and his cologne wrapping around you like a noose. “i’m always keeping an eye on you,” he says, voice low and smooth. “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t?”

your heart slams against your ribs so hard it hurts. the walls feel like they’re closing in. you stumble backwards toward the entryway on shaky legs, your breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. every instinct screams at you to run, to get as far away from him as possible before it’s too late. you spin on your heel, adrenaline flooding your system as you make a desperate break for the front door.

eddie moves fast.

he lurches forward and catches you before you can even reach the handle, his fingers clamping around your upper arm with an iron grip that makes you cry out. the metal of his rings bites into your skin as he yanks you back against his chest, hard enough that your back collides with him. “where do you think you’re going, baby?” he mocks, the words warm against the shell of your ear. there’s amusement in his voice, but underneath it is something dark and possessive.

“eddie! let me go!” you scream, voice cracking as tears spill hot and fast down your cheeks. you thrash wildly in his hold, twisting and pulling with everything you have, your free hand clawing at his wrist. “please! if you love me, let me go!”

he doesn’t even flinch. instead, his grip tightens, fingers digging in until you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. “oh no,” he murmurs, almost gently. “i made the mistake of letting you go once. i’m not doing it again.”

your pulse is roaring in your ears. you can feel the heat of his body behind you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back as you struggle. panic claws up your throat. you try to stomp on his foot, try to elbow him in the ribs, but he’s stronger than you remember — or maybe you’re just weaker from the sheer terror coursing through you. he shifts his hold easily, one arm banding across your chest to pin your arms while his other hand reaches into his pocket.

you catch the flash of white fabric a second too late.

“no— eddie, please—!” your voice cracks into a sob as he brings the cloth up and presses it firmly over your nose and mouth. the sharp, sweet chemical smell hits you instantly. you thrash harder, kicking and twisting in his grip, but he holds you steady against him like nothing. your fingers scrabble uselessly at his forearm. your lungs burn as you try not to breathe it in, but your body betrays you — you have to inhale.

the world starts to tilt.

your limbs grow heavy, sluggish. the edges of your vision blur and darken at the corners. you can still feel eddie’s arm locked around you, his breath calm and even against your hair while yours comes in frantic, muffled gasps against the cloth. tears keep falling, soaking into the fabric as your struggles grow weaker, more uncoordinated. a broken whimper escapes you.

eddie’s voice is the last thing you hear, low and almost tender against your ear.

“that’s it, sweetheart… just let go. i’ve got you.”

your knees buckle. the last thing you register is the feeling of him catching your weight easily as everything slips away into blackness.

the room is pitch black save for the pale moonlight filtering in through the open window. eddie sits at the small table next to the kitchen, the faint scrape of a credit card against glass the only sound as he cuts a few lines. he leans down, snorts them in quick succession, then sits back hard against the chair with a low, guttural groan. the familiar burn floods his system, sharp and electric, chasing away the restless edge that’s been crawling under his skin for months. for the first time in a long while, the noise in his head quiets. he tilts his face toward the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, grateful to finally feel something close to peace.

you awaken not long after.

it’s slow at first — a thick fog clinging to your mind. your head feels too heavy for your neck. your tongue is dry and cottony against the roof of your mouth. there’s a dull, persistent pounding behind your eyes and a strange chemical taste lingering at the back of your throat. for a few disoriented seconds you don’t know where you are or why your body feels so sluggish. blinking feels like too much effort. the room spins when you try to move your head.

then the memories slam back into you all at once.

the apartment. eddie waiting in the dark. the iron grip on your arm. the cloth pressed over your face. the way everything had gone soft and distant as you fought to stay conscious.

your stomach lurches with fresh panic.

you force your eyes open wider, vision still blurry at the edges, and glance around. moonlight spills across the room in silver streaks, catching on dark furniture and the edge of a familiar bed. eddie’s bedroom. the realization settles over you like ice water. you’re in his bed. in his apartment. and you have no idea how long you’ve been here.

a soft creak of floorboards pulls your attention toward the doorway.

eddie walks in, his silhouette cutting through the moonlight. the second his eyes land on you, his lips pull into a wide, almost boyish smile — like he’s genuinely happy to see you. “hey, you’re finally awake.”

you turn your head toward the sound of his voice, sucking in a sharp breath as your eyes adjust enough to see him clearly. he’s dressed in nothing but a pair of gray boxers. his wild curly brown hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling across his forehead. the sight of him — so casually at home while you’re trapped here — makes your chest tighten with a confusing rush of fear and...

“sorry about the restraints,” he says, almost casually, gesturing toward your wrists and ankles.

you hadn’t even noticed them yet, still too groggy and disoriented to register the pressure around your limbs. but now that he’s pointed them out, you feel them — the bite of rope against your skin, the way it holds your arms slightly above your head and keeps your legs spread just enough to make you feel exposed. a cold wave of dread rolls through you. you test the bonds instinctively and the ropes creak but don’t give. the helplessness hits you all at once, heavy and suffocating.

“a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” you manage, voice hoarse and shaky.

eddie’s smile softens into fondness as he watches you slowly come back to yourself. “i had to make sure you weren’t going to run off when you woke up,” he says simply, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

he climbs onto the bed without hesitation, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moves toward you. he towers over you, his body blocking some of the moonlight.

your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

one finger traces slowly along your cheek, the rough pad of it dragging lightly over your still-clammy skin. you can smell the faint trace of smoke still clinging to him, mixed with his cologne.

“i missed seeing you like this,” he whispers, voice low and rough. “tied up and at my mercy.”

his finger continues its path downward, gliding from your cheek to the delicate column of your throat. he wraps his hand around it with careful, deliberate pressure — not enough to cut off your air yet, but enough to make your pulse flutter wildly against his palm. “screaming my name while i fuck that perfect, tight little pussy of yours.”

you writhe beneath him on instinct, the ropes biting into your wrists as you twist. you want to disappear into the mattress, to vanish completely. the heat of his body so close to yours, the weight of him hovering just above you, makes it hard to breathe. “what makes you think i’d let you fuck me?” you snap, voice shaking despite the anger you try to force into it. “you’re fucking psycho, eddie!”

he chuckles, the sound low and humorless, and tightens his grip on your throat just enough to make your next breath come thinner. “oh, you will.”

with his free hand he reaches over to the nightstand. the soft scrape of metal against wood makes your stomach drop. he picks up the knife and brings it into view, flashing the blade in front of your face with a lazy flick of his wrist. his eyebrows lift in a mocking little gesture before he catches the handle between his teeth. the sound of fabric tearing fills the room as he rips your dress straight down the middle in one rough motion, the cool air hitting your exposed skin instantly. he discards the ruined material somewhere off the bed, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties.

eddie takes the knife from between his teeth and drags the flat of the blade slowly along your stomach, the cool metal kissing your skin. he watches every flinch, every sharp intake of breath, clearly reveling in the way you squirm underneath him. your soft, panicked pleas and whimpers seem to go straight to his cock — you can see it in the way his eyes darken and his breathing grows heavier. “shh,” he coos gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “it’s okay, baby. i would never hurt you.”

you push your head further back into the mattress, trying to escape his touch, but there’s nowhere to go. the ropes hold you open and helpless. shame burns hot in your chest as your body betrays you anyway — your nipple tightens under the light brush of his finger, a fresh wave of unwanted heat pooling low in your stomach. eddie smirks at the way you flinch and then arch despite yourself. he removes his finger only to trace slow circles over the hardened peak, watching your face the entire time.

a broken moan slips out of you before you can stop it. tears spill down your temples and into your hair as you squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block him out and failing. the pleasure feels so…g-.

“hm… so receptive to me even after all this time,” eddie breathes, voice low and rough with satisfaction. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. then he dips down and drags his tongue over it in one slow, wet stroke, keeping his eyes locked on your face. you moan louder this time, the sound raw and involuntary. you bite down hard on your lower lip to try and trap the next one, but it’s useless, thighs trembling against the ropes.

eddie trails the knife lower, the cold flat of the blade gliding over your stomach and down to your mound. the metallic chill makes your muscles jump. with one clean motion he slices through the delicate lace of your panties, the fabric parting easily under the sharp edge. he tosses the ruined material aside without looking, then groans hotly at the sight of you — glistening and exposed under the pale moonlight.

“fuck…” he whispers, almost reverent. “so pretty…”

he slowly drags the blade through your folds, coating the steel in your wetness. you can feel every inch of it — the cool metal parting you, the sharp edge hovering far too close. eddie licks his lips as he watches the way your body reacts. “tell me. how much did you miss me?”

the question hits you like a slap. your chest heaves with every shaky breath. you hate how fast the answer comes.

“so much,” you whine, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. your voice is small, wrecked. you peer up at him through heavy, wet lashes, shame flooding you the second the confession leaves your mouth. “i missed you so much.”

eddie grins wickedly. he gathers some of your slick on the tip of the blade and brings it up to your lips. “prove it.”

your breathing stutters. you keep your eyes on him as you lean up as far as the ropes allow and drag your tongue along the underside of the blade, all the way to the tip. the taste of yourself coats your tongue and a soft, humiliated moan escapes you as you lick it clean, lashes fluttering.

“that’s it,” eddie groans, palming his cock as he gazes down at you. “you always were such a good girl.”

eddie brings the knife back to your cunt, rubbing tight circles against your clit. the cool metal makes you hiss, instinctively swiveling your hips for more friction.

“you love this, don’t you?” he rasps, his tone low and seductive. “you’re fucking soaked.”

you glare up at him, yanking hard on the restraints in pure frustration. the ropes dig painfully into your wrists, but you barely feel it. you hate how easily you turn to putty in his hands, no matter what he’s done, no matter that he drugged you and tied you to his bed like a fucking lunatic. the worst part is knowing it’s always been like this. you’ve always wanted eddie munson more than anything — even now, when you should be terrified, when you should be screaming for help instead of feeling your clit throb with every touch.

“please,” you beg, voice cracking as you look up at him with glassy, desperate eyes.

eddie tilts his head, that cruel little smirk playing on his lips. “please, what? hm?”

he drags two fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance with feather-light pressure before pushing in to the first knuckle. the stretch is barely anything, but it’s enough to make your walls flutter greedily around him…then he pulls out completely, leaving you empty and aching.

your mind is a fucking mess. you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore. for him to untie you? for him to stop? or for him to finally give you what your traitorous body is screaming for? you settle on both...

you squeeze your eyes shut, lips parting on a shaky breath as another broken moan slips free. “let me go,” you whisper, even as your hips twitch upward on their own, chasing his hand.

the second his fingers sink back inside you — deeper this time — your back arches off the bed. eddie curls his fingers immediately, dragging them against that sweet spot inside you with practiced ease.

“you already know the answer to that one, baby,” he says, voice low and laced with malice. “now, tell me exactly what i want to hear.”

“no,” you force out, meeting his eyes with whatever defiance you have left. but the word is hollow. your body is already betraying you completely — hips rolling, thighs trembling, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. you toss your head back against the pillow, a filthy, desperate moan tearing from your throat as he strokes that spot again. “fuck!”

he smirks, scissoring his fingers inside of you before pulling them out to rub harsh circles on your clit. you moan loudly, the sound vibrating around the room along with the wet, squelching sounds of your cunt. the anticipation of being buried inside of you becomes too overwhelming and eddie can’t take it any longer. he pulls his boxers down in a swift move, pumping his cock in his hand.

your gaze falls on his cock, heavy and hard in his hand. your mouth waters at the sight: tip flushed red, a bead of precum dangling from the slit, prominent veins exposed all along his perfect shaft. your cunt clenches, causing arousal to drip down your thighs to the sheets beneath you.

“tell me you want me,” eddie says, voice low and rough as he rubs the thick head of his cock over your swollen clit. “and i’ll give it all to you.”

you whimper helplessly. your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips as he continues to tease you, dragging his cock through your slick folds again and again. every brush against your clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and you hate how badly your body craves more.

eddie chuckles darkly at your reaction. “if you say so.”

he lines himself up with your entrance, the pressure making your breath catch. for a moment he just teases you there — rocking his hips so the head of his cock nudges against you without pushing in. then he finally sinks into you with one slow thrust, a hot, guttural groan ripping from his throat as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“goddamnit,” he breathes against your skin, the word shaking with restraint.

you grip the ropes above your head so tightly your knuckles turn white, a long, broken moan spilling from your lips as he fills you. your cunt pulses and flutters around his thick cock, the stretch burning in the best way. he doesn’t give you time to adjust. he pushes himself up on his hands and starts thrusting into you hard and sharp, the force of it jolting your body against the mattress.

“he doesn’t know how to make you feel good like i do,” eddie growls, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “i’ve seen the way he fucks you.”

his words hit deep in your gut. but you spread your legs wider for him anyway, the movement instinctive and humiliating. “i bet it killed you,” you breathe, voice trembling. “watching another man fuck me. knowing it should have been you.”

eddie’s eyes flash darkly. he brings the knife back to your throat, pressing the cool, flat edge against your skin as he drives into you harder, deeper. the threat of the blade makes every nerve in your body light up with fear and want.

“perhaps,” he muses, voice tight with arousal. “but i know it killed you. remember, baby… i watched you touch yourself after he'd leave.”

he nicks your skin, groaning hotly as you whine in pain beneath him. he leans down and licks the blood pooling at the surface of the wound, lashes fluttering at the metallic taste. “mm…”

you wince as the cut begins to sting. you flick your eyes up at him with a doe-like expression. “perhaps.”

eddie’s lashes flutter as your tight walls clench around him, his wild curls falling forward and brushing against your face. his head hangs low between his shoulders as he groans, “god, i missed your pussy so much. it was fucking made for me.”

you yank hard on the ropes, the coarse fibers biting into your wrists. you’re desperate to touch him…to drag your nails down the smooth plane of his back, to fist your hands in his hair and pull the way you know drives him crazy.

“let me go,” you moan, tugging uselessly at the restraints again. “wanna touch you.”

“you know i can’t do that,” he breathes, voice strained with pleasure. he sets the knife aside and replaces it with his hand, wrapping his fingers around your throat and squeezing just tight enough to cut off your airflow. your eyes roll back instantly, a choked gasp catching in your chest as the pressure builds. the edges of your vision start to blur while your cunt clenches even tighter around him.

“eddie—!” you rasp, his name barely making it out.

he grins wickedly and releases his grip, letting you suck in a desperate, ragged breath. “such a good little whore,” he groans, hips still moving in deep, brutal strokes. “aren’t you?

you’re so far gone, so lost in the overwhelming mix of fear, shame, and pleasure, that the word slips out before you can stop it.

“yes…”

eddie’s eyes darken with satisfaction. he pulls out without warning, pushing your legs back to your chest and you're completely pinned beneath him. he thrusts back into you in one sharp motion, the new angle so deep it punches the air from your lungs. “gonna cum so deep inside you ,” he grunts, smirking down at you with wild possession in his eyes. "gonna..fuck a b-.”

you cry out at the sudden, brutal depth, your body stretched and helpless in the new position. his words barely registering through the haze of sensation, but they send a fresh, shameful pulse of heat through you anyway. your cunt pulses around him as your orgasm builds fast and merciless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“please, eds… i need to cum!” you beg, voice wrecked and shaking. "wanna cum.."

he leans down, his hand wrapping around your throat again as he keeps fucking you deep and hard. “who do you belong to?” he breathes, voice rough against your lips. “tell me and i’ll let you cum.”

“you!” you scream, the word tearing out of you hoarse and broken as your face twists in overwhelming pleasure. the tip of his cock slams into your sweet spot over and over.. “you— fuck— you!”

“that’s right, baby,” eddie moans. his grip on your throat tightens for one more second before he releases it, letting you gasp in a desperate, shuddering breath. at the same time, he buries himself as deep as he can and cums with a guttural groan, pulsing hot and thick inside you. you feel every spurt of his cum flooding your cunt, the heat of it pushing you over the edge.

your orgasm crashes through you violently. your back arches hard against the mattress, legs trembling as your walls spasm around his cock. the pleasure is overwhelming, made sharper by the lack of air and the way he’s still grinding into you through it. tears spill from your eyes as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath him.

eddie stays buried inside you, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours as the last waves of his release pulse into you. his hand stays loosely around your throat, thumb stroking gently over your racing pulse like he’s soothing you.

Eddie is the type of husband to ask you for a “little sneak peak” so you flash him one titty, and he pouts because the other one is going to get jealous. So you flash him the other one and he goes “No, no do the titty drop thing,” just testing his luck trying to see how much of a show he can get. You relent, making it all slow motion while his mouth is agape and he reaches out his hands like he’s going to touch them and you smack him away and laugh and say “No, you said a sneak peak, not a touch! Now leave me alone so I can cook supper!” And he walks away with a smile and his bottom lip in his mouth and his hands behind his back like a little kid who just got in trouble.

Eddie is the type of husband to walk up to you and say “Hey, you wanna see my cock?” And you’re like “Eddie, I’m trying to work on our taxes.” and he puts his hands up in resignation and responds “Okay, I was just checking! …you sure?” And you groan while looking at the ceiling and say “Oh, my god!” and he’s like “Okay, okay, okay! I was just making sure, I know how you get.” And all you can do is roll your eyes at him and giggle while he mumbles, “Just let me know if you change your mind.” You ask to see his cock later that night.

Eddie is the type of husband to always need to use the restroom when you’re in the shower. Even if you asked him beforehand. Even if he went beforehand. And he always pulls the shower curtain back and either asks “Whatcha doin’ in there?” Or he just goes “Mmm!” And then leaves. Sometimes he’ll poke your ass. Sometimes he’ll ask, “Wanna see my cock? It’s already out.” Sometimes you even say yes! He will always follow up with “Wanna touch it?” He just wants to make sure he’s not leaving you hangin’ 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭 You touch it later that night.

Eddie is the type of husband to “accidentally” drop something in front of you so he can bend over and tease you with his ass in the air like he sees the women on the TV shows do while saying “Oops, silly me always dropping stuff!” While he makes a show of bending over and shaking his ass and looking back at you coyly until you smack it. He stands back up straight with nothing in his hands to show for it.

Eddie is the type of husband to walk past and smack your ass and say “No, that one didn’t feel right,” and smack it again until it makes a satisfactory *crack* sound. Sometimes he’ll even instruct you like, “Stick it out a little more, I can’t get it good like that.”

Not every date with Eddie was planned weeks ahead or written neatly into a schedule. Sometimes they happened after he got off work, calling her on his drive home from the shop just to tell her to ‘be ready’ by the time he got there. Then all he had to do was shower, change, and take her to whatever little restaurant he’d decided on that night. Though she never minded the lack of planning, dates with Eddie felt special no matter what they were doing.

Tonight, he’d taken her to Roane Street Bar & Grill, a casual little restaurant in the main part of town that the two of them had been to more times than they could count. The dim lighting and worn booths gave the place a cozy feel, and the food was good — the kind you craved on nights when both of them wanted something comforting but neither felt like cooking.

The two of them often sat tucked into a booth near the back of the restaurant, close to the old jukebox that still worked despite its age. Every now and then, Eddie would wander over and shove a few bills into it just to play music that, according to him, ‘people just don’t appreciate anymore.’ The way he said it — with complete seriousness and the faintest hint of old-man grumbling in his voice — always made him seem older than he was. He was an old soul in so many ways, and it showed without him even realizing it. She loved that about him.

Now, the two of them sat in their usual booth with plates of food spread out in front of them. Eddie had ordered one of his typical hearty meals, a grilled chicken platter with roasted potatoes and vegetables, while she’d gone for a cheeseburger with fries and a small side salad alongside it. Leaning back against the booth, Eddie watched her with an easy smile, his fingers idly tapping against the condensation-slicked glass of his beer.

“So,” he drawled, “tell me something I don’t know.” It was a game they’d played since early in their relationship — trading little facts or stories or details about themselves that they hadn’t yet shared with each other. The kind of thing that kept their relationship from ever feeling stagnant or predictable.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting, the dim lighting catching in the dark waves of his hair. His fingers stilled against his glass, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was genuinely interested in whatever she might say next, no matter how small or silly it might be.

She hummed thoughtfully around a bite of her burger, quickly wiping her hands on her napkin as she looked upward in thought. A blush crept onto her cheeks as her face scrunched slightly, the memory suddenly resurfacing.

“When I was younger,” she said after swallowing, “I accidentally ate a dog treat because I thought it was an Oreo.”

Eddie snorted into his beer, barely managing to swallow before breaking into laughter that made his shoulders shake. She facepalmed dramatically, elbow resting against the table as an embarrassed laugh slipped past her lips.

“It’s not funny,” she muttered, dragging out the last syllable despite the smile threatening to break through. Eddie wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, breath still hitching between chuckles as he reached across the table to tug her hand away from her face.

“Oh, it absolutely is funny,” he countered warmly, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But you can’t just drop that on me and not tell me if you didn’t realize it wasn’t a cookie halfway through chewing.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh jeez, no, I did,” she explained quickly. “The second I bit into it, I spit it right back out. But in my defense, the container it was in wasn’t the original packaging.”

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, the gentle amusement in his expression making her embarrassment feel softer. “Okay, I need to know — how old were you? Five? Ten?”

She scrunched her face. “Like... eleven, I think.”

Eddie's grin widened even further, the faint scar above his eyebrow creasing as he shook his head in delighted disbelief, fingers still laced with hers.

“Eleven,” he repeated, smirking, “so right in that sweet spot where you're old enough to know better but young enough to still pull dumb shit. Christ, I would've paid good money to see that.”

She scoffed in mock offense and gently swatted at his hand. He laughed again, his hand dodging the half-hearted swipe before catching her wrist and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.

“Come on, angel,” he teased, voice softening as he studied her expression, “we've all had our moments. I once tried to microwave a frozen pizza still in the box because I thought the instructions meant to leave it in there.”

Her mouth dropped open as her eyebrows shot upward, a small snort escaping through her nose. “So… arson?”

Eddie groaned, running a hand over his face while she dissolved into giggles, his fingers spreading just enough to peek at her through them. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up — smoke alarm went off, whole place smelled like burning cardboard for a week.”

She grabbed a fry and popped it into her mouth, laughing softly as she chewed. His eyes flickered over her face, lingering on the way the corner of her lips lifted upward as she ate. The warmth in his chest had nothing to do with the beer in his hand — just the easy comfort of nights like this, the way she always made even the simplest moments feel like something worth remembering. She found herself staring at him for a moment after that. The lazy smile resting on his lips, the dark curls falling around his face, his broad hand wrapped loosely around his beer glass. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she got to love someone who looked at her the way Eddie did.

“I love you, you know that?” He spoke gently, squeezing her hand lightly. It definitely wasn't the first time he'd said it, but tonight it felt softer, somehow.

“Oh, I know,” she said matter-of-factly before reaching for another fry. He arched an eyebrow at her casual tone, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he traced idle patterns against her knuckles with his thumb.

“Yeah? You're just gonna leave me hanging like that?” His voice dropped into something teasing, yet tender.

She smiled at him lightly, sweet and knowing. “I love you, baby.”

His expression melted into something impossibly warm, thumb stilling against her skin as he leaned in slightly.

“Say it again,” he murmured, eyes flicking between hers like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“The ‘I love you,’ or the ‘baby’?” she asked softly, a teasing note slipping into her voice. His smile was slow and effortless, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way she’d learned to trace with her fingertips on lazy Sunday mornings.

“Both,” he admitted, voice dipping lower as he tugged her hand closer, pressing another kiss to her knuckles. She released his hand gently, giving his beard a soft tug.

“I love you, baby,” she repeated. His chest rose with a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut for just a beat at the words before opening again with such warmth it could've melted the ice in her glass. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he leaned back against the booth, wiping his mouth with a napkin before nudging his cleaned plate aside — chicken gone, potatoes and veggies vanished, only faint sauce smears remaining. 

“Damn right you do,” he said, stretching an arm along the back of the booth while his other hand lifted his glass to his lips to finish his beer. One thing about Eddie, he always finished his meals.

Rolling her eyes with a smile, she finally wiped her hands clean before reaching into her purse for her phone, checking the time and any notifications. A second later, she casually flipped to the camera and aimed it toward the table, recording as she zoomed in on their plates — hers still holding a quarter of her burger and a few fries, while Eddie’s plate had been completely cleared. “Damn.”

The camera slowly panned up toward Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s expression was completely serious, dark eyes shifting between her and the camera before he slowly inhaled through his nose.

“Yeah… wait till you get home,” he said, his voice low and weighted, like he’d already mapped out exactly how that promise was going to play out. Her eyes betrayed her immediately, widening as she was left completely speechless. Without another word, she silently ended the video.

The second she lowered her phone, Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with his fingers loosely laced together. The movement pulled the sleeves of his shirt tighter around his biceps, the muscle in his arms shifting noticeably beneath the fabric. His grin was slow and knowing, eyes never leaving hers as he mumbled, “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

Her hand drifted up to the side of her neck, cheeks flushed pink as she tucked her phone away. “Well damn,” she muttered, fighting back a smile. “Check, please.”

Eddie chuckled, the sound vibrating deep in his throat as he politely flagged down the waiter, fingers drumming against the tabletop in anticipation. The second the check landed between them, he snatched it up before she could blink, forearm flexing as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket with one smooth motion. The leather creaked softly as he flipped it open, fingers plucking out enough cash to cover their meal plus a generous tip. Her intrusive thoughts won the second she watched him slide the bills beneath his beer glass.

“You are so hot,” she mumbled before she could stop herself.

Erica Sinclair stood in the doorway, chest heaving, looking like she’d run the entire length of Hawkins without stopping.

Eddie lowered his notes slowly.

“I saw a boy,” she gasped, “eating a girl.”

Eddie stared at her.

She stared back.

He sat up, set his notes down with great care, and folded his hands on the table like a man about to deliver very important information.

“Erica,” he said, in his most patient voice. “What you witnessed is actually a completely natural, if deeply personal—”

“Shut the dumpster” She looked like she wanted to throw up. “Not like that, you absolute creep, he was eating her brain—”

“Wha—”

“Her actual brain, Eddie—”

“Okay, I hear you—”

“There was so much blood—”

“ERICA.” He was on his feet now. “I hear you. Okay? I hear you.” He crossed to the window and looked out, half expecting to see nothing, half expecting her to be pranking him, because she was absolutely capable of it and he wouldn’t put it past her.

Eddie saw Jason Carver on the sidewalk across the street.

He saw Jason sucking the brain out of some cheerleader’s skull with enthusiasm.

He dropped the curtain.

“Okay,” he said, very quietly, to the wall. “Okay. That’s. Yeah.” He turned around.

Erica was watching him with wide eyes. She was twelve years old and he had no answers for her.

“Lock the door,” he said.

You tried to mitigate the effects. First, it was the travel size bottle of tums that you kept in the glovebox of your car. Next it was the bottle of pepto that you kept in the kitchen, in addition to the one in the medicine cabinet, just in case.

Then, one day, came the end. And, oh boy, did you think it was Capital-The, Capital-End.

Heartburn, the likes of which you'd never experienced before, took you by surprise. You were innocently sitting at your desk at work when it started. A hot sensation in your chest that slowly overtook your abdomen. Just a constant, searing feeling that practically took your breath away after enough time passed. You thought it would just go away; you figured a handful of tums and you'd be fine. Until you weren't. Until you were sitting through a meeting wondering if you were actually having a heart attack. Until you excused yourself and belched obnoxiously as soon as you crossed the threshold into the bathroom.

You could taste the taco pasta bake Eddie insisted on making the night before. Layers of cheese, meat, beans, sour cream and extra, extra pickled jalapeños on top. It was rich and decadent. Delicious.

And it was going to be the thing that killed you.

Your boss, thankfully, saw how miserable you were and sent you home. But home offered no respite.

You dropped your work bag haphazardly by the door, and you stripped down to your underwear; the tight waistband of your pants was doing you no favors. You had the foresight to grab a glass of ice water and place it within arms reach on the edge of the coffee table, before you fell into the squishy cushions of the couch. As you settled into the most comfortable position you could find, the heartburn subsided and the mother of all stomach aches began.

Time passed with only three certain facts: You were gonna puke. You were gonna poop your pants. And then you were going to die.

"Honey, I'm home!" Eddie's voice cut through your agony, and you slowly cracked your eyes open to stare at the ceiling. "I saw your car outside. And your clothes on the floor? You home early as a surprise? Are you naked in bed?"

No, you obviously forgot one certain fact; you were going to kill him.

But as you opened your mouth to yell, your stomach cramped painfully and you let out the most pitiful groan.

"Babe?" The playfulness in his voice was gone, replaced by concern. "You ok?"

"I'm dying," you muttered weakly.

He scoffed immediately, concern vanishing. You both had an understanding: if you were feeling good enough to be dramatic, you were feeling good enough. Typically, it applied to Eddie more than it did to you—he was the biggest baby when he was sick—but you had your moments. Regardless, he took pity on you as he dropped to his knees in front of the couch.

“Alright, the doctor is in,” he joked. “What’s the preliminary diagnosis? Terminal illness? A parasite? Do we need to amputate?”

His fingers reached your bare side and he tickled you gently, wincing as your instinctive laughter turned into another groan.

"Ah, I see." He stroked his invisible beard with one hand and flattened the other so he could rub over your sore belly with the utmost care. "Any other pain? Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and dare I ask, diarrhea?"

"I took some pepto earlier," you explained. "Didn't help."

"Well of course it didn't." He now put on an invisible stethoscope. "You didn't have a proper examination."

"It's just a stomach ache," you deadpanned as he started to lean down and inspect you. "You put too much sour cream in the taco bake."

“Nonsense, there’s no such thing as too much sour cream!” He curled his fingers into his palm, and then kneaded your belly in a way not unlike a cat. Of course, a little too much pressure caused a very gentle toot to inadvertently escape you. He wrinkled his nose and you covered your face in embarrassment. “Ok, maybe in this case I was a little heavy-handed.”

He went back to gentle rubbing and then adjusted his invisible stethoscope.

“Let’a give it a listen shall we?”

He leaned his head down and gently placed his ear against your abdomen, readjusting his head a few times before he hummed.

“Ah, well well well.” He lifted his head for a moment. “Seems I found an extra terrestrial creature.” You rolled your eyes as he went back down. “Chest burster? Giant worm of some sort? We’ll get you the bottom of this. You’re lucky I’m a xenoglot. I’ll translate.”

Your stomach, clearly working with Eddie on this comedy act, suddenly made the most embarrassing sound. It was wet and bubbly, and you felt it rumble right below his ear. What did he do in return?

“Gur-gur-gur, blblblbl.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he mumbled stomach noises and resumed kneading and rubbing. He looked up at you, utterly serious, and shushed you. “I’ve made contact. I need concentration if I’m gonna make a proper diagnosis.”

Despite your condition, and the fact that said condition was his fault, you couldn’t help but look at him and be overwhelmed by all the love you felt. From the way he dropped everything to check on you as soon as he got home, to now when he couldn’t help but make you smile as you felt miserable. This idiot—your idiot—had charmed you beyond your wildest imagination, and you didn’t want him to stop.

“Alright Dr. McCoy,” you joked and rested a hand atop his head, giving him an appreciative little scratch. “Or are you Uhura? Communications officer?”

“My legs would look good in that dress.” Your stomach grumbled again. “It agrees. Now shut up. I need to do an advanced procedure. Very delicate.”

You thought his kneading was as far as he was gonna take it. But leave it to Eddie to commit to the bit. He straightened up, shook out his arms, cracked his neck. Then he leaned down and blew the biggest raspberry on your stomach, and in turn you couldn’t help but laugh. You also couldn’t help but pass gas through your poor, unsuspecting ass.

Oh, so you were gonna have the hot poops later. Take back everything you thought about loving him, this was not gonna be fun.

"See, gastrilitis superioris." Eddie nodded sagely, still touting some fake-doctor bullshit. "Also known as a stomach ache. Or, as I like to call it, a case of the Gurgles.”

Of course he had a cute little name for it.

“What’s the treatment doc?” You questioned. “Aside from never letting you cook again?”

“The treatment is 50cc’s of ginger ale,” he ignored your comment, “and letting me feed you saltines as I continue rubbing your tummy for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”

It sounded perfect.

“I think you’re missing something,” you lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie.

“I am?” Eddie frowned, and straightened his spine. He looked around the apartment as though he expected to find the answer lying about. He saw the telltale pink bottle on the counter in the kitchen and his brows jumped. "Pepto? Because babe, I will pour that pink crap down your throat all night if you need it."

You rolled your eyes and forced yourself upright, just so you could gently cup his face in your hands.

"I hate to ask, doc, but I think the usual treatment also includes 10ccs of smooches."

It was a lightbulb moment, and you were sure that you saw hears in his eyes. His arms snaked around you.

"You already have a prescription for that, sweetheart. Endless refills," he muttered and leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

And you melted into him.

Until you felt your esophagus quiver with an impending burp. You pulled away to try and spare him, only to belch loudly right in Eddie's face.

"Ok," he winced. "Now that was pretty gross."

---

A fond, appreciative hum left her throat. Eddie heard the sound and paused mid-motion, glancing over his shoulder with a grin already tugging at his lips.

“Mmm?” he repeated, one eyebrow lifting. “Someone’s up early.” His voice was low, still rough with sleep but already carrying that familiar teasing tone as he turned toward her, the shirt he’d grabbed left hanging loosely over his shoulder instead of being pulled on.

“Mhm,” her eyes closed briefly as she nodded once.

Eddie chuckled softly before tossing the shirt onto the bed beside her. A second later, he crawled onto the mattress, his weight dipping it beneath him as he hovered over her, bracing himself on his forearms. The warmth of his freshly showered skin and the clean scent of his cologne wrapped around her instantly, caging her comfortably against the bed. His beard brushed across her skin as he nuzzled into the curve of her neck.

“Good morning,” she hummed with a smile, slipping her arms out from beneath him so she could loosely wrap them around his neck.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled back, the word muffled against her skin.

Her fingers moved absentmindedly through his hair, still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken after waking up, while he slowly pressed further into her. His face stayed tucked into her neck as more of his weight settled over her, drawing a laugh from her the more dramatic he became. His arms slipped beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress just so he could hold her tighter. He was heavy, all warm muscle and weight, but she loved the way he always seemed to melt against her like this.

They stayed like that for another couple of minutes before Eddie finally lifted his head, his face hovering only inches from hers when she met his eyes. He leaned down first, placing a lingering kiss to her cheek before beginning to pull himself away. But before he could fully lift himself from the bed, her hand reached up, fingers gently catching the silver chain dangling from his neck.

Eddie froze mid-retreat, blinking down at her with amusement flickering in his eyes. A slow, knowing smirk crossed his face — one that only deepened when she tugged lightly on the chain still clasped in her fingers.

“Oh?” he questioned. “You wanna play before work?”

“I absolutely do,” she mumbled softly, eyes wandering over his face. “Unless you have to get going...”

Eddie let out a breathy laugh, his pretty brown eyes slightly hooded as he looked down at her. His nostrils flared faintly before he settled his weight back over her again. 

“Baby, who’s gonna write me up for being late? Me?” he said with a small grin, dragging his fingers through her sleep-mussed hair. She smiled at his joke as his hand moved down to gently grasp her wrist still holding his chain, guiding it away before pressing her hand firmly into the mattress beside her head.

Her expression softened as she bit down on her lip, her free hand slipping between them to push the blankets aside in a messy heap near the edge of the bed. Warmth bloomed through her cheeks, anticipation curling low in her stomach as Eddie dipped his head and kissed her softly, unhurried and lingering enough to make her melt beneath him. Her hand drifted upward, fingertips gliding over the broad slope of his shoulder before settling around his bicep. She could feel the subtle flex of muscle beneath his skin as he shifted over her, solid and heavy in a way that always made her feel completely surrounded by him.

The belt buckle clicked as Eddie freed it one-handed, his fingers working without hurry — a sharp contrast to the way his mouth moved against her neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin in gentle, teasing bites. He hummed deep in his throat at the way her breath caught, her fingers tightening against his arm as he tugged his belt free from the loops and let it drop carelessly to the floor with a muted thud.

“You just look so good getting ready for work,” she whispered near his ear, slowly dragging her knee along his side.

Eddie’s beard tickled her skin as he laughed softly against her neck, taking her hand and guiding it smoothly to the waistband of his pants. “Undo these for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, unable to hide the subtle excitement in her voice as her fingers moved to undo the button of his pants. The rasp of Eddie’s zipper filled the room as he helped her guide it down, his breath warm against her lips when he leaned in to claim hers again. She opened her mouth to him as her hands cradled his face, breathing deeply through her nose. The kiss deepened naturally, full of the same passion he always gave her, steady enough that she could savor every second of it.

Eddie shifted his weight onto his left elbow, while his right hand worked his pants open just enough to free himself. His fingers trailed down her thigh, lifting her leg just enough to drape it over his hip as he settled himself between hers. She could feel him pressing against her, slow and teasing at first, until a quiet hum came from her throat as she tilted her hips upward to meet him. Eddie groaned softly against her mouth, fingers tightening around her thigh as he pushed forward, slipping inside with one smooth roll of his hips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling back slightly from the kiss. His forehead pressed against hers as he buried himself fully into her. “Morning sex is so fuckin’ good.”

His hips rocked into hers at first, each movement lazy and thorough, dragging soft gasps from her lips while his fingers traced idle patterns along the skin of her thigh.

He kissed her again, swallowing her quiet moan as he pushed himself deeper, setting a steady rhythm that quickly had her arching into him, chasing every careful thrust. Eddie laughed low in his throat at the reaction, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against her skin, biting lightly at her pulse point. Her fingers curled into his hair, nails barely scratching against his scalp as he shifted his weight, adjusting himself onto his forearms for better leverage. The new angle sent him deeper, earning a loud moan from her lips as her hips moved to meet his thrusts. Eddie groaned, his breath hot near her ear as he quickened his pace slightly, just enough to draw more of those pretty sounds from her throat.

“Eddie,” she mewled, fingers tightening in his hair as he lowered his head to leave open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. His name spilled from her lips again, quieter this time, barely more than a whisper as his hand slipped under her shirt, fingers teasing just beneath the curve of her breast.

Eddie hummed against her skin, his hips thrusting deep and slow as his thumb brushed over her nipple, prompting a sharp gasp from her mouth. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, his own darkened with pleasure as he watched her lips part on a moan.

“That’s it,” he cooed, squeezing her breast gently in his palm. “Lemme see you.”

She arched into his touch with a faint whimper, her nails dragging lightly down the back of his neck as she let her head tip back against the pillows. The heat of his hand on her skin, the rhythmic push of his hips — every sensation tightened the heat already curling low in her stomach with each deep roll of his body against hers. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her legs tightening around his waist as she pulled him closer, craving the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

Eddie growled, low and rough, when she clenched around him, his fingers flexing on her side as his hips stuttered slightly. His lips found hers again in a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue dragging lazily over hers while his free hand slid down her body, slipping between them to press into the heat of her. The first brush of his fingers against her clit drew a sharp cry from her, muffled by his mouth as she writhed beneath him, pleasure coiling tighter in her stomach.

“Fuck,” she hissed lightly, pulling back from the kiss as her nails dug deeper into his shoulders. The tension pulled tighter with every deliberate stroke of his fingers, every deep thrust of his hips — her body trembled beneath him, heat pooling low until it threatened to spill over. Eddie watched her unravel with dark, possessive satisfaction, his rhythm faltering as her thighs clenched around him.

“Atta girl,” he rasped, breath ragged against her ear as her back arched off the mattress. The back of her head pushed into the pillow as she came undone beneath him, every muscle tensing before sinking into the sheets — Eddie watched her fall apart with heavy-lidded eyes, his own release chasing hers with a groan muffled against her shoulder.

He stayed inside her for another moment, savoring the way her body still fluttered around him before finally pulling out with a quiet exhale. His fingers brushed stray hairs back from her forehead as his thumb traced the warm flush high on her cheeks.

“Damn good way to start the day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her nose before rolling off the bed with a quiet grunt.

“Ugh,” she whined the second his weight disappeared from above her. Chuckling as he stretched, Eddie tossed her wink while adjusting himself back into his pants.

“C’mon, don’t make that face,” he teased, bending to retrieve his belt before giving her thigh a playful swat. “If I’m any later, Ray’s gonna start thinkin’ I died.”

She smiled, huffing a quiet laugh through her nose as she rolled onto her side to watch him fix his belt and pull his work shirt on. Eddie stood from the bed afterward, grabbing his watch from the nightstand and fastening it around his wrist with practiced ease. When his gaze lifted back to her, a dimple pressed into his cheek as he smiled.

A second later, he crossed back toward the bed, bracing a hand beside her as he bent down to leave one last soft kiss against her lips before pulling back just enough for his face to hover above hers.

“See you later, angel,” he murmured, “I’ll call you on my break.”

“Okay, baby,” she smiled sweetly. The way she looked up at him — soft and sleepy, skin still flushed from the morning they’d shared — made something tighten warmly in his chest. His hand came up to cradle her face, thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone as he leaned down once more, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate tone she adored so much.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked at him softly, the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. “I love you.”

His thumb lingered against her cheek for another second before he finally straightened with a reluctant sigh, reaching for his keys on the dresser, the soft jingle of metal filling the room.

“Don’t go back to sleep before you eat something,” he said, glancing back at her with that familiar fondness and slight bossy tilt of his chin.

She mirrored the look with exaggerated seriousness. “Will do.”