I am curled in a fetal position, still wearing the clothes from last night. They smell faintly of smoke, cheap alcohol, and his fiancée’s cloying perfume. It’s a bitter scent.
I remember the cool, grounding weight of Shoto’s arm around my waist, the quiet promise of safety in his presence. I remember the way he didn’t ask questions, the way he just took care of me.
But mostly, I remember the ring. And the word.
Fiancée.
A single, elegant word that serves as the final, official obituary for all the years I gave.
The world owes me nothing, I know that. But Katsuki Bakugo owed me something. He owed me the memory of a love that reshaped his entire being. He owed me the recognition of the woman who held his broken pieces until they fused into something whole.
And now, even that sliver of hope — the fragile, illogical thread I clung to that one day his memory would return — has been cut. He is building a future on the hollow ground of my past.
I whisper the truth into the damp cotton of my pillow, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence of my room:
I am not just the woman he forgot. I am the woman he had to forget to finally become the man she could choose.
Now, I am left with only the artifacts of a life that never was: the phantom weight of a ring that was never placed on my finger, the bitter taste of promises that belonged to a man who no longer exists.
I have to move on. I have to accept the world’s cruel irony.
But a tiny, pathetic ember still glows in the ruins of my heart. It is the hope that one day, years from now, when he is settled into his beautiful, easy life, a scent will cross his path — perhaps the familiar trace of my hero suit’s custom detergent, or a specific brand of coffee I always made — and that the memory will break through.
I hope that, just once, the real Katsuki Bakugo — the one who learned how to be vulnerable beneath my touch — will look at his perfect fiancée and wonder, just for a moment, why his chest aches for a girl he doesn't know.
I hope that one day, he will turn his crimson eyes to me across a crowded room — years after I’ve moved on, years after the pain has scabbed over —and he will see not a drunk, shouting stranger, but the essential anchor, the constant, the beginning of everything good in his life.
I hope he sees me again.
Until then, I will be out here, in a world I helped him save, learning how to be a hero when the greatest battle was already lost.
──── ୨୧ ────
Thirty days.
Seven hundred and twenty hours since the wrought iron gate clicked shut. Since the ring flashed under the porch light. Since Shoto Todoroki walked you away from the wreckage of your own heart.
They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. You’ve spent thirty trying to break the habit of loving him.
You aren’t cured. You aren't "over it." But you are functioning.
The first week was a chemical haze of painkillers and sleep aids. The second was the purge.
“I hate this apartment,” you confessed to Mina, your voice raspy from disuse. “Every corner smells like him.”
“Then we fix it,” she declared, summoning an army.
Mina, Hagakure, Yaoyorazu, Ochaco, Tsuyu, and Jirou descended on your life like a perfectly orchestrated hero operation. They didn’t mention his name. They didn’t need to. They understood the assignment: Erase the Anchor.
They packed up the double-sized agency planning whiteboard where his spiky, aggressive handwriting had scrawled "Dynamight & (Your Hero Name) — BEST FUCKING AGENCY, ZERO COLLATERAL.” They painted over the wall where he’d accidentally scorched the drywall while arguing with you about microwave etiquette. They replaced the ancient, hideous couch he’d insisted on keeping.
Ochaco meticulously scrubbed his favorite mug, the one shaped like a grenade, and placed it in a box labeled "DONATE."
“You’re getting a new life,” Jirou said simply, plugging her headphones into your speakers and blasting something loud and distracting. “The one you were always going to have, just… without the noise.”
They didn't try to fill the void. They taught you how to live comfortably with the space.
──── ୨୧ ────
Slowly, through the haze of grief, you began to find the outline of yourself again.
You started thinking about the man he was, not the stranger he had become. The old Katsuki — the one who remembered you, the one who fought for you — would have hated seeing you like this. He would have clicked his tongue, scowled, and told you to stop being an extra in your own life.
“If you’re gonna cry, do it while you win,” he used to say.
So, you chose yourself. Because he wasn't there to choose you anymore.
But the days were manageable; it was the nights that were the enemy. The nights were when the silence got loud. You’d roll over and your hand would hit the cold expanse of the sheet where his warmth used to radiate like a furnace. You’d wake up reaching for a shoulder that wasn’t there.
And then there was his mother.
The doorbell rang two weeks in. You almost didn’t answer, but the aggressive pounding was familiar.
Mitsuki Bakugo stood there, holding three containers of spicy curry. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her jaw was set.
"I didn't cook this for him," she said, her voice gruff as she shoved the containers into your hands. "I cooked it for you. You look too thin."
She came in, and for the first time, the loud, boisterous woman was quiet. She looked around your apartment, seeing the lack of his boots by the door, the lack of his presence.
"I tried to talk to him," she admitted later, sitting at your kitchen island while you ate the curry that tasted painfully like home. "I told him he was making a mistake. I told him he was throwing away the best thing that ever happened to him for some... some shiny new toy who likes the fame more than the man."
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "He doesn't remember, kid. And he's stubborn. He thinks I'm just being controlling. He thinks..." She trailed off, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I raised a hero, but I forgot to teach him how to remember."
"It's not your fault, Mitsuki," you whispered.
"I know," she sniffed, standing up abruptly. "Anyway. I'm not gonna bother you with him. But you... you're still family. Even if that idiot is too blind to see it."
She became a regular fixture, bringing food and fresh laundry, ensuring you survived.
And then there were the flowers.
Every Tuesday, a delivery arrived at your door. Simple, elegant arrangements. White camellias. Blue hydrangeas. Nothing romantic, nothing that screamed "date me." Just... presence.
The card was always the same.
I’m here. — S.
Shoto didn't push. He didn't try to fill the space Katsuki left. He just stood at the perimeter of your life, a silent sentinel, reminding you that you weren't invisible. That someone saw you.
It gave you the strength to do the hardest thing yet.
You walked into the leasing office downtown. The paperwork for the agency was on the desk.
Dynamight & (Your Hero Name) Agency.
You stared at the header for a long time. The dream you had built together. The floor plan included two offices, side by side. A shared gym. A balcony where he promised he’d grill on Fridays.
You picked up the pen.
And you crossed his name out.
"Just me," you told the leasing agent, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hand. "I'll be opening the agency alone."
You were doing it. You were moving forward. You were breathing without the assistance of his memory.
But the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
The call came in at 04:00 AM.
It wasn't a local dispatch. It was a priority summon from the World Heroes Association. A massive, coordinated raid on a villain stronghold involving an international trafficking ring. Target location: Italy.
They needed heavy hitters. They needed widespread quirk coverage. They needed you.
You packed your gear in a trance, the muscle memory of being a hero taking over where your heart failed. You zipped up your hero suit — the one he helped design to withstand high impact, checking the reinforced seams with trembling fingers — and looked in the mirror.
You looked strong. You looked ready. You looked like a woman who hadn't spent the last month crying on her bathroom floor.
You didn't check the mission roster. You didn't want to know who else was deployed. You just needed to work.
Two hours later, you are strapped into a seat on a massive, long-haul military transport jet. The interior is dim, lit only by low-level blue safety lights. The air is cold, recycled, and smells of jet fuel and sterile upholstery.
You stare at the headrest in front of you, focusing on your breathing. In. Out. Just a mission. Just a job.
Steps echo down the aisle as the last few heroes board. You keep your eyes forward, shrinking into your seat, hoping to remain invisible until you land in Europe.
And then, the air shifts.
It isn’t a sound that alerts you. It is a scent.
A sharp, distinct mixture of burnt sugar, nitroglycerin, and expensive, spicy cologne. It washes over you like a physical wave, stealing the oxygen from your lungs. It is the scent of mornings in your kitchen. It is the scent of the pillow you haven't been able to wash.
Your heart gives a painful, treacherous thud against your ribs — a traitor in your own chest.
Against your better judgment, you turn your head.
You look behind you to see who owns the smell, though you already know.
And you are right.
Katsuki Bakugo is walking down the aisle, his gear bag slung effortlessly over one shoulder. He doesn't look at you. His gaze is fixed straight ahead, his jaw set in that familiar, stony line. He looks exactly the same as he did that night on the porch, and yet, he looks like a complete stranger.
He passes your row without breaking stride. He moves to the back of the plane, finding an empty row far away from everyone else. He drops his bag, sits down, and immediately leans his head against the reinforced window, crossing his arms over his chest. Closing his eyes.
He looks peaceful. He looks unbothered.
You whip your head back around, facing forward, your knuckles turning white as you grip the armrests.
You thought you could manage this. You thought thirty days of silence, thirty days of rebuilding, thirty days of tearing him out of your life would be enough armor to withstand seeing him again.
But it still stings. It burns worse than fire.
The proximity is suffocating. Knowing he is breathing the same recycled air, just thirty feet behind you —alive, whole, and completely belonging to someone else — breaks the scab right off the wound.
You turn your face toward your own window, staring out at the grey, pre-dawn runway. You bite the inside of your cheek, willing the emotions to recede. Don't cry, you order yourself. Not here. Not where he can see.
But you can't stop it.
A single, hot tear spills over, tracking a slow, humiliating line down your cheek.
You raise your hand to brush it away, to hide the evidence, but another hand beats you to it.
Cool, gentle fingers graze your cheekbone, catching the tear before it can fall further. The touch is grounding, solid, and safe.
You freeze, turning your head slightly.
Shoto is there.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't look back at the blonde man in the rear of the plane. He just looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, steady understanding.
He lowers his hand and silently takes the empty seat beside you.
As the engines roar to life and the plane begins to taxi, pushing you back against the seat, Shoto shifts slightly so his arm is pressing firmly against yours. A silent anchor.
He is here.
And as you lift off toward Italy, leaving the ground behind, you realize that while you are flying into a war zone with the man who broke you, you are not flying alone.
──── ୨୧ ────
part 4
a/n: hiii 💗 thank u SO MUCH for waiting for part 3!! ✨and YES, before anybody throws tomatoes at me — there will absolutely be a part 4.
also if you need emotional support or a palate cleanser after this heartbreak buffet, my wattpad fic “trust no hero” is waiting for u!! it’s got fluff, romcom energy, k-drama moments, all the serotonin ur poor heart deserves 😭💗✨
thank u for the love & the messages… see u in part 4 🫶
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Series CW: modern au/ angst/ eventual smut/ fluff/ toxic relationship behaviors/ starting a new life/ healing/ unexpected romance/ trust issues/ trauma/ low self esteem/ slow burn/ hateful words/ parent loss/ swearing/ yelling/
Series Pairing: Eddie Munson X (f) Reader
WC: 22k (I blacked out and wrote maybe too much smut and feelings- how tf did I go from barely 7k chapters to 22k??)
Summary: Is there hope for you and Eddie?
Chapter CW: /crying/anxiety/comforting Eddie/lots of feelings/fingering/oral(f receiving)/handjobish/pinv/unprotected sex(Eddie’s pull out game still strong)/MULTIPLE orgasms/talk of mask kink/talk of physical fight/grinding/talk of cum/i think that’s it…
A/N: yesterday was a lot. And I figured this makes me happy so I got it edited and done. BUT I make up for the all the angst and sad Eddie the last two chapters with this one 🫣 I hope yall enjoy!!
After a long day, and what seems to have been a longer week- though it’s only Thursday- you lay in bed after eating dinner with your laptop opened on a pillow in front of you. You haven’t really checked social media in awhile, especially Facebook. Mostly due to have been friends with a lot of Jeremy’s family members, and when you changed your status to single, you had to block each of them to prevent anyone from reaching out.
But you need some mind numbing scrolling tonight, to keep your thoughts away, if you can even remember your password.
When your feed loads, up at the top is a red icon-
1 New Friend Request: Edward Munson
Your heart skips, and clicks on the profile without realizing it.
His profile picture is dated a few years back- a mirror selfie in his bathroom, clearly taken to show off the fresh demon tattoo stretched across his left pec.
It’s now fully healed- you remember as you traced your finger over it that night when he was hovered over you..
“Stop.” You drag a hand down your face. You can’t start thinking about that night- it’ll only cause you to think about the morning when you left- the way his face dropped when you opened the bathroom door— “Stop! Your mind really is your worst enemy.” You mutter to yourself.
You divert your attention back to the photo- he’s shirtless, hair still damp from a shower, gray sweatpants slung low on his hips like he didn’t bother to tighten the drawstring. The tattoo is shiny with healing balm, skin around it still a little red. His phone covers part of his face, but you can still see the lazy smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Caption: “New ink.”
Comments:
Dustin Henderson: Sir this is a Wendy’s.
Gareth Emerson: Why is your nipple staring into my soul.
Jeff Johnson: You could’ve just posted the tattoo, but no.. we had to get the full thirst trap with mood lighting.
Grant Fischer: Blink twice if you want us to roast you into oblivion, Munson.
Edward Munson: Appreciate the feedback. Will post my ankles next.
You snort. It’s automatic, a soft huff of breath from somewhere just behind your ribs.
The rest of his page is private, but two old posts are still visible.
5 years ago: Okay HOW do I change my name on this damn thing? I swear I didn’t type “Edward.” I haven’t even written the word “Edward” voluntarily since I was like eight and in trouble...
Comments:
Dustin Henderson: It knew. It sensed the government name.
Mike Wheeler: You’d think Edward Munson would be in a cult. You’d be right.
Jeff Johnson: There’s no fixing it now. You’re legally Edward until the end of time.
Edward Munson: I’m suing Zuckerberg personally.
3 years ago: Reorganized my entire room at 2am, found a mixtape I made in 10th grade labeled “VOLUME 1” like I was gonna be some kind of underground DJ. It starts with Slayer and ends with Fleetwood Mac. I was going through it, man.
Comments:
Gareth Emerson: Please make a Spotify playlist of it. I need to study your descent into madness.
Lucas Sinclair: Fleetwood Mac as the closer is WILD. That’s like finishing a fight with a hug.
Dustin Henderson: Release the tracklist, coward.
Grant Fischer: This mix screams “I wear fingerless gloves and cry in the shower.”
Edward Munson: Volume 2 was gonna start with Metallica and end with The Cranberries. Y’all weren’t ready.
You click back to the news feed, and don’t accept the request. Not yet.
But at the top of the page is a post from Hawkins Police Department that is getting a ton of traction:
We’ve received this video several times today. As of now, no one has come forward to confirm the identities of the individuals involved, and no calls were made to report the incident at the time it occurred.
Given the lack of formal complaints and absence of any immediate police involvement, no further investigation will be pursued.
Thank you to the community for your concern. Please remember to report emergencies in real time if assistance is needed.
—Chief J. Hopper
You watch the attached video in silence, it’s a bit blurry and shaky- someone clearly recorded it from across the bar on their phone- but there’s no mistaking the chaos. The crowd. The swing of Eddie’s arm. The blur of Jeremy falling onto the ground.
The comments are flooding in:
I got five bucks on hoodie guy if there’s a round two.
The dude that got his ass kicked? Grabbed some girl twice before ghostface showed up. Y’all actin’ like it came outta nowhere.
Chief Hopper really said “not my problem” and logged off.
If the hideout had loyalty points, masked man just earned free drinks for life.
This comment section ain’t snitching.
You don’t know why it matters what strangers say. But it does. Because they saw it too. They saw you. They saw him.
You scroll back up and replay that second Steve’s hand pulls off the mask from Eddie. The video ends just as Eddie turns in your direction. Even in the terrible quality, you can see how all the anger left him once he saw you.
You stare at the screen long after the video ends. Your eyes then catch that little red notification still sitting there waiting.
Thinking about it, he must have sent this before everything. He never mentioned it.
Before the first kiss.. before the first night. Before the fear.
You hover over it and click accept.
———————————————————————————
Eddie is sprawled out on his couch, hasn’t left it since he got home from work. He’s about to doze off when his phone dings on the coffee table.
King Stevie: dude you’re literally going viral on facebook right now. small town famous. congrats. also ur lucky hopper doesn’t own reading glasses
Eddie groans like he’s aged twenty years and fumbles to open the link Steve included. It’s a Hawkins Police Department Facebook post.
He doesn’t even flinch when he sees the video. He knows exactly what it is. What frame people probably paused on. What moments they replayed.
“No one has come forward to confirm the identities… no calls were made… no further investigation will be pursued.”
He snorts. “Yeah,” muttering, “because Hopper definitely didn’t recognize the guy who’s been dragged into his station three times for ‘disturbing the peace’ and once for pretending to perform an exorcism behind the middle school during my senior year.”
He scrolls the comments. All the usual suspects: chaotic townsfolk, wannabe comedians, one woman using it as a chance to remind people she’s a part of some pyramid scheme.
But no one’s naming names. Some even talking about why it happened- defending him. And somehow, that feels even weirder. Like the whole town agreed to keep the worst kept secret in Hawkins about The Freak.
Eddie exhales, lets the phone drop down onto his chest. He drags a hand down his face, and mutters to no one, “Awesome. Can’t wait to be the masked urban legend that haunts every ‘remember that one Halloween?’ story for the next decade.”
He rolls to his side with a groan, his phone shifting with him, wedged into the cushion. When it dings again, he doesn’t even flinch. Just grumbles under his breath and reaches for it blindly.
He huffs a breath through his nose. “What now, Harrington?”, expecting another text about Facebook fame or Hopper’s ancient computer skills.
But it’s not Steve.
Y/N Y/L/N accepted your friend request
He just stares at the notification. For a second, he genuinely thinks he’s hallucinating. Because he doesn’t even remember sending a friend request- not recently at least.
Then it hits him. The diner.
That morning he showed up while you were having breakfast with Steve and Robin. He only came in thinking he was gonna annoy Steve. Ended up having a good time with you… and Robin and Steve, of course.. finding out you also enjoyed Lord of the Rings, even if you said The Hobbit was better. He remembers now pulling up your name later that night, scrolling past mutual friends, and hovering for a second before clicking Add.
It was stupid. He hadn’t told anyone. And when you didn’t accept- especially after seeing him again, in person- he hoped you just weren’t into social media like that.
So he forgot all about it. But now, he feels his chest tighten. You accepted. Only like three minutes ago.
He tries to play it off.. “Probably mass accepting people. Clearing old requests. Didn’t even realize mine was in there.”
But the hope? It creeps in anyway.
Maybe you’re thinking about him. Not just about Halloween. The shouting, the fear of seeing him- or the way you left him the morning after you slept with him. Maybe you’re just thinking of him.
He sits up, clicks the phone locked and lets it fall on his lap- eyes staring at the wall. “Still counts,” he whispers.
Like if he says it out loud, it’ll be true.
———————————————————————————
You head to the living room and sink into the couch slowly, knees pulled up, sleeves still tugged over your hands. The TV buzzes in the background, a mindless sitcom you don’t bother paying attention to. Just noise.
Robin’s at the other end, curled up with a blanket and a soda, pretending to care about what’s on the screen- but her eyes flick toward you the second you settle.
“I saw the post,” you say softly.
Her head tilts. “Oh shit, you saw that too? From Hopper?”
You nod, eyes fixed on a spot just left of the TV. “And the comments. No one’s naming him. Not even the people who were there.”
Robin doesn’t say anything, but she reaches across the coffee table, wraps her hand over yours.
“They saw what happened,” you continue, voice quiet. “They saw why it happened.”
Robin squeezes gently. “And so did you.”
You swallow. “I think Hopper actually does know.”
Robin huffs a breath, shaking her head with a wry smile. “Of course he knows. Man’s probably already seen the footage twice and made popcorn.”
That almost makes you laugh- almost. But your chest still aches.
“I thought seeing it again would make everything worse.” You mutter.
Robin lowers her soda. “And?”
You blink, throat thick, eyes full but not falling. “It didn’t.”
There’s a beat of quiet before you add, barely above a whisper, “I accepted his friend request.”
Robin immediately straightens up. “Whose?”
“Eddie’s.”
Her whole face lights up with disbelief. “You what?”
You pull your sleeves down over your hands. “It’s not… it wasn’t… it’s not a big deal.”
Robin gapes. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
“It’s really not,” you insist. “It was old. From forever ago. Before we even really talked. I didn’t even realize he sent one.”
“But you accepted it,” Robin says, scooting in like this is breaking news. “Tonight. After everything.”
“I didn’t plan to,” you mumble. “I was just scrolling. And it was there. I don’t know. It felt… right. But I’m not ready to talk to him. I don’t even know if I ever will- I mean, I doubt he even wants me to. Not after all this..”
Robin holds up a hand. “Okay. Pause. You really think he doesn’t want to talk to you? Eddie Munson? The guy who ran through the streets like an unhinged romantic comedy slash horror lead? Who stood knuckles bleeding on our front porch, refusing to leave?” She continues, “And I don’t know what they said- but I assume those letters he sent weren’t, like, threat notes made out of cut up magazine letters, right?”
You huff. “No.”
“Exactly,” Robin says, softer now. “You don’t have to message him. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But don’t trick yourself into thinking he doesn’t care just because you’re scared.”
You nod slowly. Robin leans back into the couch, blanket bunched around her waist. “Also, accepting a friend request is, like today’s equivalent of writing someone’s name in a heart on your notebook.”
You groan. “Please stop.”
“I will not,” she grins. “That boy’s pacing around his apartment right now like he just got handed a handwritten note in homeroom, ‘I like you, do you like me? Circle yes or no’.”
“Robin.”
She smirks. “Let me have this.”
———————————————————————————
Eddie wakes up with a crick in his neck, blinking at the ceiling like it’s done something personal. He groans when he sits up, blanket tangled around one ankle, hoodie half off.
“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” He mutters under his breath.
His phone is buried underneath him, he finally finds it under his back, the screen almost stuck to the exposed skin. He stares at it for a second, chest heavy with something stupid and hopeful.
Swipes the screen to life. Opens Facebook.
You’re still there. His friend list hasn’t changed. Your name still sits right at the top, like it means something. Like last night wasn’t just a fluke.
He exhales through his nose, leans back, and mutters, “Okay. Okay. Not a dream. Not an overlooked acceptance. Still counts.”
He sets the phone down beside him, trying not to grin like an idiot. It starts going off, after one ding he groans. “If this is Steve with a TikTok of someone getting arrested in a Michael Myers mask, I swear to God—”
But then he continues to ding, and Steve’s contact lights up the screen.
Eddie answers, voice rough. “What?”
“Jesus,” Steve mutters. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
Eddie rubs his eyes. “It’s barely nine.”
“It’s eleven.”
“Same difference.”
There’s a pause. Then Steve asks, too casual, almost suspicious, “So… doing anything this weekend?”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “Why?”
“No reason. Just thinking- little hangout. My place. Dustin’s in, I think Mike or Lucas and Max are around. Robin said she’d come too. Thought you might wanna—”
Steve hesitates. Just barely. But Eddie hears it. “Might wanna what?” he says slowly.
Steve exhales. “…hang out.”
“Try again.”
Steve clears his throat. “There’s a chance- like, a chance- she might come too.”
Eddie goes still. “She?” he repeats.
Steve winces on the other end. “Yeah.”
“You told her I’d be there?”
“Sort of.”
“Steve.”
“I didn’t lie!”
Eddie sits forward, hand gripping the phone tighter. “You swear to me. You swear she knows I’ll be there one hundred percent. Not just like a chance it could happen or probably won’t.”
“I swear, man,” Steve says, voice insistent now. “I told Robin to make it clear. No surprises. We learned that lesson, okay?”
Eddie exhales slowly. Rubs the back of his neck.
“She didn’t block me,” he mutters.
“…Huh?”
“Last night,” Eddie says. “She accepted my friend request. One from, like, a couple months ago. I forgot I even sent it. She didn’t block me after. Didn’t unfriend me.”
Steve goes quiet, then says, “So you’re thinking maybe she wants to see you.”
“I’m thinking maybe she doesn’t hate me,” Eddie says. “Which, at this point, is enough to make me show up.”
“Then show up.”
Eddie stares down at the floor.
“You swear,” he says again, quieter now. “You swear we both know we’ll both be there. No more tricks. No more little master plans?”
“No more tricks,” “Promise.”
Eddie leans back into the couch and closes his eyes.
“Okay,” he breathes. “But if this turns into some group therapy trap where everyone suddenly wants to share their feelings in a circle, I’m walking straight into traffic.”
Steve snorts. “Good. I’ll make sure to hold your hand while you do it.”
Eddie groans. “Asshole.”
“Love you too, big guy.”
———————————————————————————
You’re standing in the kitchen, half dressed for work, nursing a mug of lukewarm coffee like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hair’s still damp- you can’t stop yawning.
Robin walks in, hoodie draped off one shoulder, holding a banana and two granola bars.
She eyes you for a moment. Then clears her throat. “So… Steve’s throwing a thing this weekend. Just a hangout. Mario Kart, pizza, Dustin being insufferable, that kind of thing.”
You glance at her warily. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”
Robin raises both hands. “It’s not. Swear. It’s just a chill night with the usual chaos.”
She shifts her weight. “You should come.”
You arch a brow, “I don’t know…”
“It’s not a setup,” she says quickly. “No pressure. No surprise guests. I wouldn’t do that to you. And neither would Steve. Not again.”
You stare into your coffee for a second. Then give the smallest nod. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Robin’s grin twitches like she’s holding back a “yes.”
You narrow your eyes. “What?”
She tries- and fails- to look casual. “Nothing.”
“Robin.”
She bites her lip. “Okay, fine. Eddie’s going.”
Your stomach dips. “Seriously?”
She winces. “Yes, seriously. But- but! You both know. No games. He knows you’ll actually be there. You know he’ll be there. We learned our lesson. Full transparency.”
You stare at her. “So we’re both walking into this with eyes wide open.”
“Exactly,” she says, tossing you one of the granola bars like it seals the deal. “Look, if you don’t have a good time, we leave. But I think you’ll want to stay.”
You don’t answer. You just hold the granola bar tight in your hand and nod once. Then twice.
Robin smiles, “This is growth.”
You mutter, “This is anxiety.”
She smiles even wider, “Same thing, basically.”
———————————————————————————
Eddie’s not pacing. He’s just… moving. A lot.
He’s pulled out probably half of his dresser at this point. Black shirt… or black shirt? One’s faded but soft, the other a little tighter in the sleeves. He stares between them like it’s a life or death decision before yanking the tighter one over his head muttering, “Whatever.”
His hair is still damp from the shower and he keeps running his hands through it like he’s trying to style the immense anxiety out of it. He opens the fridge, closes it. Chugs a glass of water. Stares at the clock. Sits. Stands. Doesn’t even remember grabbing his keys until he’s already locking the apartment door behind him.
He keeps telling himself, it’s just Steve’s. Just gonna be food, movies and video games, and probably Dustin talking too loud. It’s not a date. It’s not gonna be like The Hideout.
But the truth is- it’s you. And the very large possibility of seeing you again after everything. He doesn’t know if you’ll look at him. Doesn’t know if you’ll even stay. But he knows he’s not going to miss the chance to find out.
—————————
Eddie barely steps inside Steve’s and kicks his boots off before Dustin’s on him.
“Ghostface rises,” he announces from the couch, controller in hand, with a smug grin. “Back from the dead like every sequel.”
Eddie groans, shrugging out of his jacket. “You are way too excited about this.”
“I mean, come on. The video’s got, like, 5,000 views. You’re a local celebrity now.”
“I know,” Eddie mutters, flopping onto the edge of the couch. “Steve texted me the link.”
Dustin snorts. “You’re lucky Hopper didn’t print out a screenshot and staple it to your forehead.”
Eddie rubs his face. “Trust me, I’m already living the punishment.”
Dustin glances over again, this time with a more pointed look. “You nervous?”
Eddie looks up. “Why would I be nervous?”
“You know…” Dustin shrugs. “Seeing her tonight.”
Eddie’s jaw ticks. “What do you mean, seeing her?”
Steve, sitting nearby with a beer, immediately shoots Dustin a look. “Dude—”
“I didn’t say anything!” Dustin insists. “I just meant… I know she’s gonna be here. And I know you… fought some guy for her or whatever.”
Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. “You told him what the fight was about?”
Steve throws up a hand. “He wouldn’t shut up about the video, man. He kept pestering me! ‘Why’d Eddie go full WWE in the middle of The Hideout?’ he said he promised not to say anything if I gave him something.”
“Unbelievable,” Eddie mutters, standing up briefly like he might walk out, then sits back down. “What, you wanna leak my medical history too while you’re at it?”
“I didn’t give him the gritty details!” Steve says quickly. “I just said it involved someone you care about. That’s it.”
Dustin holds up his hands. “It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together.. but seriously, I don’t know anything else! Just that it was bad. And that you were, like, very intense about it.”
Max, still on her phone, mutters, “That’s putting it lightly.”
Eddie leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Well. It wasn’t nothing.”
Steve shoots him a glance,“You sure you’re good to be here?”
Eddie nods, slow. “She’s coming. I’m not gonna pretend that’s not messing with my head, but I’d rather be here in the same room with her than sit in my apartment wondering.”
Dustin grins. “You mean you’d rather make awkward small talk and sweat through your shirt in real time.”
Eddie flips him off. “Glad to know you’ve got my back, man.”
Steve stands. “Come on. Let him breathe. He already threatened to fake a work emergency if this turns weird.”
“Hey,” Eddie mutters. “I said I’d walked into traffic. It’s more believable.”
Lucas chuckles from the kitchen. “At least wait for the pizza to get here- don’t wanna go out like that on an empty stomach.”
———————————————————————————
Robin watches you from your bed, upside down, legs kicked up against the wall while you’re standing in front of your closet again, arms crossed, “I feel like I’ve seen this movie before.”
You don’t answer.
She sits up properly, tilting her head. “Let me guess. You’re trying to emotionally prepare yourself to be in the same room as the guy who threw a punch on your behalf, then bled all over our porch while Steve tried to drag him away?”
You throw a sock at her face.
Robin peels it off dramatically. “Wow. Brutal.” She softens. “Okay. Sorry. I know it’s not funny. It’s just- there’s no handbook for this. For him. For what happened. But you’ve already made it this far.”
You nod slowly and pull out the outfit you’d visioned in your head hours ago. Fitted black long sleeve shirt, your favorite worn Rolling Stones tee layered over it, black jeans, boots. Comfortable. A version of you that still feels like you.
Robin’s voice brings your focus back to her. “I know I told you everything about what he said that night, but he wasn’t just wrecked, he was scared. Because he hurt someone- not your ex, he doesn’t give a shit about that guy. But you. Even by accident, even if emotionally. That was the last thing he ever wanted.”
You pull your sleeves down over your palms and look down. “I know.”
Robin stands and crosses the room, grabs your coat. “You don’t owe anyone anything. Not tonight. But if you go, and he doesn’t bail, just… let it be what it is.”
And when you’re halfway out the door, she adds, “Also, just a reminder.. you accepted his friend request.”
You glare at her. “Robin—”
She grins. “I’m just saying. That boy probably cried a little. Happy tears. Minor panic attack.”
—————
The second Robin pulls up to Steve’s house, your pulse kicks into overdrive. Steve’s is familiar, comfortable, safe. But everything underneath your skin buzzes with nerves that feel like they’ve been waiting weeks for this exact moment.
Robin shoots you a glance across the car. “We don’t have to go in yet.”
You swallow, nod. “No, it’s okay.”
Your boots hit the driveway, your coat tugged tighter around you as you followed her up the path. Robin opens the door and steps in first. The second you follow in behind her, the energy shifts. Or maybe that’s just you..
He sees you before you can pretend to not see him.
Sitting on the couch, black shirt clinging to him like a second skin, hair half covering his face where it curls at his jaw. And when your eyes meet, his expression doesn’t crack. But his eyes go wide and soft all at once, like he wasn’t sure you’d actually show.
The whole room fades to static. Your heart jumps hard in your chest. Neither of you says anything. You just… look at each other. His lips part slightly. Like he might say something. Like maybe he forgot how to breathe for a second.
And you- you don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Robin nudges you forward with a warm hand on your back.
You feel Eddie’s eyes still on you. But you don’t dare look back.
———————————————————————————
He hears the door before he sees you.
The stupidly hopeful part of his brain pipes up immediately- it’s her.
And it is.
You step into the room- your hair is down and a bit wild, under your coat the most you outfit there is- a Stones shirt, black jeans, and your boots.. your twin boots.
Eddie goes still as your eyes look over the space, and something in his chest stutters.
You look good. Not just good- you look like you. Like the person who laid beside him in his bed once and traced the lines on his chest with your fingertips. The person he thought might never look at him the same way again.
But now you are. Looking at him.
Not the same way as that night together. But no walls up. No anger. Just something heavy and searching behind your eyes.
He forgets how to breathe for a second, and watches you hesitate at the edge of the room, Robin hovering protectively at your side, and then watches you as you make your way through the living room.
He wanted to say something. Anything. But instead, he stays quiet. Because he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.
But God, if you sit anywhere near him, he’s not going to survive it. And if you don’t- if you stay on the other side of the room the whole night- he’s not sure he’ll survive that either.
———————————————————————————
You follow Robin as she makes her way more into the house.
“Hey,” Steve says, brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen. His voice is comforting, “Glad you made it.”
You nod, managing a small smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
He returns it easily before plopping down in the recliner, gesturing to the kitchen with a casual, “We’ve got chips, drinks, and a pizza debate already in full swing.”
Before you can respond, Lucas is already crossing the room.
“Hey,” he says, almost a little nervous, but friendly. “I’m Lucas.”
You smile softly. “Y/n.”
He glances over his shoulder and gestures to the girl still texting behind him near the counter. “That’s Max. She’s cooler than the rest of us. Don’t let her know I said that.”
“Duly noted,” you say.
Max gives you a once over when she slides her phone into her back pocket. “So you’re the one,” she says simply.
Lucas groans. “Max!”
“What?” she shrugs, clearly unbothered. “I’m just saying. You walk into the room and lover boy over there turns into a statue.”
You don’t have to look to know she means Eddie. Your face warms, but you hold her gaze. “And you must be Max.”
Max smirks. “Takes guts to come back after all that. I like it.”
You glance to Lucas for backup. He gives a sheepish smile. “She means that in a good way.”
“I got that,” you say. For some reason, you really do.
Dustin gestures dramatically at the TV. “Alright, enough chit chat. We’re picking characters. Someone grab the other controller before Steve defaults to Toad again and ruins the whole match.”
“I stand by Toad supremacy!” Steve calls from the kitchen.
You move to sit on the far end of the couch from Eddie, so slowly like if you do, you’ll be invisible.
“Yeah, yeah,” Robin mutters, flopping onto the carpet in front of your legs with a slice of pizza. “Let’s see if you can actually drive straight this time.”
You feel a shift beside you, and Eddie is leaning back again from grabbing a soda from the coffee table. His fingers fiddling with the tab of the can. He’s pretending to be absorbed in the screen. But his knuckles are tight. His posture guarded.
Your eyes meet for half a second.
Then Robin nudges your knee, asking if you want some of her pizza. You shake your head, and your focus goes to Dustin as he starts narrating the first Mario Kart race like he’s a sports commentator. Lucas gets too competitive. Max trash talks Steve so hard he drops his controller.
It almost feels natural for a moment. Where nothing bad ever happened. But your eyes keep finding Eddie. And his keep finding you.
———————
After a few rounds of the game, Dustin’s now halfway sprawled across the rug, controller clutched like it’s a lifeline, yelling something incoherent at the screen. Lucas is sitting on his knees next to him, laser focused, tongue between his teeth as he drifts into a turn like his life depends on it. Max is now lounging back on the couch next to where Robin moved to, one knee propped up, eyes narrowed in quiet concentration.
You’re on the floor beside the coffee table since being convinced by Dustin to take Steve’s spot, a controller in your lap, crisscrossed. You’re not even doing well- Yoshi keeps getting yeeted off the edge of Rainbow Road- but you’re laughing. Really laughing. The kind that shakes your shoulders and steals your breath.
Eddie hasn't moved from his spot on the couch, but over the last half hour, he’s sunk lower into the cushions. His smile’s crooked but real. His fingers tap unconsciously against his knee, and every once in a while he sneaks a glance your way, like he still can’t quite believe you’re here. That you came.
After your second loss of the game, you toss your controller to Robin.
Eddie clears his throat suddenly, leaning in your direction. “You want another slice?” he says, voice softer than normal, motioning towards the kitchen where the open pizza boxes are on the counter.
You glance over to him, nod once. “Sure. Thanks.”
He hops up a little too fast, mumbling something about pepperoni and making his way to the kitchen. Steve, now leaning against the fridge about to grab another drink, just watches him go, brows raised.
“You really gonna pretend like you don’t care that she’s here?” Steve mutters as Eddie grabs two plates.
Eddie shoots him a glare but doesn’t answer. He makes his way back to the couch, handing a plate to you with a quiet, “Here ya go,” when he returns. Your hands brushing against each other for a second- you barely mumble out a ‘thank you.’
Dustin, naturally, is already making another announcement, “Alright, new rule! Losers have to eat pineapple pizza.”
“You mean your cursed order?” Max gags.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he says smugly, raising a slice like it’s sacrament.
Robin groans. “We’re about to lose friendships tonight.”
The night rolls on in bursts of laughter, arguments over controller sabotage, and at least one full blown debate about whether or not Rainbow Road was designed to ruin friendships. The TV glows across everyone’s faces, casting a warm flicker over the room.
Max ends up winning another round by a landslide.
“I swear to god,” Lucas mutters, flopping backward onto the rug. “You’re cheating somehow.”
Max just smirks, unbothered. “Or maybe I’m just better than you.”
“Impossible,” he grumbles, already reaching for another slice of pizza.
Next to you, Robin loudly whispers in your ear, “They flirt by competing. It’s a whole thing. We just let it happen.”
You grin into your drink. “I can tell.”
From the other side of Robin, Eddie’s pretending not to watch you. His thumb taps against the arm of the couch as he barely listens to Steve explain to Lucas how to drift around corners like a pro. But his gaze flicks your way again- and again- until finally, Robin tosses a balled up napkin at his chest.
“What?” he says, startled.
“You’re staring like you’re gonna write a poem about her ankle socks,” she says, grinning, talking through her teeth.
Eddie flushes, flicking the napkin back at her. “They’re not even ankle- forget it.”
Unintentionally, you catch the exchange and shake your head with a tiny smile.
Dustin stands and stretches, arms overhead. “Alright. Time for teams.”
“Absolutely not,” Max says flatly. “You and Steve cheat. Besides, making teams for this game makes no sense.”
“Do not,” Steve says, offended. “We’re just- strategically aligned- and being on a team just helps us figure out who to chuck shells at first.”
Lucas points at him. “That’s exactly what someone who cheats would say.”
The room breaks into more bickering and accusations as everyone starts rearranging for a team round. Robin moves to the recliner to watch it all go down, and Eddie moves a little closer to where you’re sitting- close enough that his knee brushes yours. He doesn’t apologize. You don’t move away.
The night stretches on in waves of glowing screens, crushed soda cans, and the rising decibels of Mario Kart induced mayhem.
“WHO hit me with the red shell?!”
“Technically,” Dustin says, shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth from the kitchen, smug as ever, “you hit yourself. Spiritually.”
Lucas throws a pillow across the room, missing Dustin’s head by an inch. “I hope Dry Bones loses his bones.”
“Wow,” Max says, casually flicking another banana peel onto the track. “That’s dark.”
You’re pressed comfortably between Steve and Eddie on the couch now, your knees pulled up as you grip the controller, jaw tense with determination.
“Why do I keep falling off?” you groan, watching your character yeet off the edge for the third time that lap.
“Because you’re not braking around the turns,” Eddie murmurs beside you, low enough that only you can hear. His voice is close, warm. “Here- watch my thumb.”
He lifts his own controller just enough to show you how he times the drift, his fingers quick and steady. You nod, trying to mimic it on the next curve. When you don’t completely fly off the track, you glance at him, surprised. His grin is soft, like he’s proud.
“See?” he says, bumping his shoulder gently into yours. “Total natural.”
“I’m still in last place,” you mutter.
“Yeah, but you’re falling more gracefully now,” he teases.
Eventually, the teams dissolve into a free for all. Controllers trade hands between rounds. You end up leaving the room for a while to clean up some empty pizza boxes in the kitchen with Robin- and Eddie shifts a little to make room for you again when you return, but his thigh stays close to yours. Not quite touching.
You end up playing again, ending in last place as always, but you don’t care. Because when Eddie’s kart bumps into yours near the finish line, he leans over just slightly and says, “Didn’t mean to sabotage ya.”
“You totally meant it,” you say back, smiling.
He shrugs, grinning his crooked smile. “Little bit.”
———————
The room quiets just a bit when the game finally ends, everyone relaxing again. Until everyone agrees to end the night watching The Goonies, tired and full.
The movie fills the room with warm, nostalgic noise- classic adventure music, and Dustin quoting along under his breath. You’re nestled between Robin and Eddie, your knee lightly brushing his again. You haven’t moved. Neither has he.
At some point, Robin leans in and mutters something about how Dustin tried to say he once found a treasure map when he was younger, only to be exposed when it ended up being the back of a cereal box. You laugh softly, and Eddie turns toward the sound. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that you feel his gaze in the side of your face for a beat longer than casual.
The light from the screen flickers across the room, casting soft shadows. Eddie doesn’t speak, but at one point his hand shifts- subtle, resting between you on the couch cushion. Not close enough to touch. You glance down once. Let your fingers settle a little closer. Just enough to graze his pinky and he doesn’t pull away.
Across the room, Lucas is dramatically reacting to certain scenes like he hasn’t seen the movie ten times. Max rolls her eyes but doesn’t call him out. Dustin starts doing impressions of Sloth and doesn’t even notice Steve throwing popcorn at him.
Eddie shifts slightly, leans back deeper into the couch like he’s finally let himself exhale. His arm brushes yours- barely-but it lingers. You sip from your drink. Pretend to focus on the screen. Then you feel the way his pinky curls, just slightly next to where your hands have remained. Like maybe he’s not thinking about it. Or maybe he is.
You don’t look at him. But you don’t move away either. Robin doesn’t say anything, but you catch her glancing once quickly. Like she’s clocking the whole thing and tucking it away just for herself. And even with the movie playing and the others laughing and the ghost of everything still unspoken…
…for now, it’s okay. You’re both here. Still sitting close. Still reaching, even in silence.
When the credits finally roll, someone groans- maybe Dustin- and mumbles something about one more round of Mario Kart. But no one moves. You risk a glance sideways. Eddie’s still watching the screen, but there’s something softer in the way he blinks, like he’s memorizing it just to keep from turning your way too fast.
Robin shifts next to you, stretching her arms overhead, then leans close and murmurs, “I’m gonna grab a soda. Want anything?”
You shake your head gently. She squeezes your arm once before slipping from the couch, her absence like air being let out of a sealed room. Now it’s just the two of you on this side of the couch.
Eddie’s quiet for a bit until you hear his voice low, a little scratchy, “The first time I watched this, I was convinced it was all real.”
You glance at him. He’s still not looking at you- not quite- but there’s the smallest pull at the corner of his mouth when he notices your movements.
“Young Eddie Munson,” you say, just above a whisper, “believer in pirates and treasure maps?”
He finally looks at you, eyes warm, smile lazy. “Believer in a lot of things.” You don’t ask what he means. You don’t have to.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” he says quietly.
Your breath hitches, and softly nod. “So am I.”
He doesn’t press. Doesn’t lean in or reach out. Just lets the moment sit there, balanced between you like something breakable.
But his voice drops lower when he adds, “Even if I was sweating bullets the first ten minutes.”
You almost scoff. “You were?”
He shrugs. “Well, yeah. It’s not every day the person you… really care about shows up after…” He trails off.
You don’t finish it for him. But your knee presses a little more solidly into his, just enough. He meets your eyes again, and this time he holds the look.
Before you can say anything, Dustin shifts upright with a stretch. “I’ll text my mom, let her know we’re ready to be picked up,” he mumbles, already digging into his pocket.
Steve’s voice cuts in, too fast. “Actually- she already texted me.”
Dustin freezes mid type. “What?”
“She said she was going to bed early,” Steve lies smoothly, standing and tossing his empty soda can into the trash. “Asked me to drive you all home.”
Lucas raises a brow. “Dustin’s mom texted you, instead of him?”
“Yeah, we’ve been texting a lot lately,” Steve says, completely deadpan. “She says I’m her favorite.”
Dustin groans. “Oh my god.”
Robin sits up straighter. “Well, if we’re playing chauffeur, I’ll come too. Help keep the peace in the car.”
She glances at you meaningfully, subtle but unmistakable. Her hand brushes your shoulder as she gets up.
Steve checks his keys, then looks between you and Eddie. “You two gonna be alright here for a bit?”
You nod once, shifting your legs under you on the couch. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Alright.” Steve claps his hands together. “Let’s roll, nerds.”
There’s the usual rustle and shuffle of shoes, bags, and wrappers. Max pulls on her hoodie, Lucas grabs a soda, and Dustin gives Eddie one last smirk before disappearing out the door with a half hearted, “Don’t do anything weird.”
Robin lingers for half a second near the entryway. She doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small, knowing smile and door clicks shut behind her leaving you and Eddie alone.
You stay where you are on the couch, curled slightly inward, sleeves tugged over your hands again. Eddie hasn’t moved either- still close, but elbows on his knees now, gaze fixed on the dark TV screen like there’s still something playing.
Eddie breaks the silence first- his voice low and hoarse, “That night at the Hideout… I didn’t know you’d actually be there.”
Your heart thuds. You look over at him, but he’s still staring ahead.
“I swear I didn’t.” He rubs a hand over his face, slow, like every word costs something. “I thought I was just showing up for dumb beer and some Halloween music.. maybe the chance to see you... I definitely didn’t know he’d be there either.”
Eddie leans back slightly and looks down at the faint bruises left on his right hand. Like shadows of someone he tried not to be. His fingers brush over them, fidgeting with his rings. He catches you looking as well.
“I lost it,” he admits. “Soon as I saw him touch you like that. The way you flinched.. I just… I wasn’t thinking.” His jaw tightens. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. I know it doesn’t make what I did okay.”
“I just needed him to get away from you.” He exhales, eyes dropping. “And then you looked at me like I was the monster.”
You feel yourself flinch so slightly. “That wasn’t at you,” you murmur. “The look… it wasn’t you I was afraid of. It was everything all at once.”
His head lifts a little, turning his head towards you.
You continue, voice quieter. “The kiss. The crowd. The blood. It felt like everything I thought I could handle was happening all at once, and my brain just… tapped out. I ran because I panicked. Not because of you.”
Eddie nods. But it’s slow, guarded. Like he wants to believe it but hasn’t let himself yet.
You swallow. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About how I left.” That gets his attention.
“Not just Halloween,” you continue, barely above a whisper. “That morning. After…”
You look down at your hands. “You were asleep. I got dressed in the bathroom. I couldn’t… I couldn’t face what I was feeling. I was scared, Eddie. Not of you. Of how much it meant. Of what I could ruin.”
“When I tried to stop you,” he says quietly, “That morning. I called after you. I pleaded for you to talk to me. But you kept running.”
Your throat goes tight. “I did.”
“Why wouldn’t you turn around, and give me something more than ‘I have to go’?”
You meet his eyes, and everything you’ve held back spills into your voice. “Because I didn’t trust that I deserved what it felt like. What you gave me. I knew if I faced you, I would’ve crumbled right there.”
He stares at you for a long time. Then he whispers, like he’s been holding it since that day, “You deserved it,” he says. “To feel okay, to feel safe. The way I know I look at you. The way I held you.”
You nod, slowly. “I know that now.”
Eddie runs a hand over his face again, slower this time. “I didn’t think I’d hear that from you. Ever.”
Your voice is soft. “Neither did I. For a while, I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance to say it.”
“The letters—“ you start, but Eddie stops you as he shifts slightly beside you, like just remembering writing them stirs something up inside of him. “I didn’t know if you’d want them. I just… I didn’t know how else to tell you I hadn’t given up.” He states.
“I read every word. Over and over.” You admit.
He nods again, quiet. “I wasn’t trying to push. Just… let you know I was still there. Just in case.”
You glance over at him, your voice even softer now. “The one you wrote ‘Sweetheart’ on the envelope. My heart pounded in my ears when I saw it.”
Eddie’s eyes lift, meeting yours for the first time in several minutes. There’s something behind them that looks like disbelief and hope. “Really?”
You nod. “It felt like you were still talking to me. Like you still saw me.”
“I never stopped seeing you,” he says, voice low. “Even when I couldn’t find you. I missed you so bad it made me sick.”
You glance down at your hands, fingers twisting in your sleeves. “I missed you too. I just didn’t know how to come back without feeling like I was gonna ruin it again.”
Eddie lifts his hand, but hesitates before it lands lightly on your knee. “You didn’t ruin it,” he murmurs.
You look up again, and this time, the weight of the day finally catches up to you. The ache behind your eyes. The way your chest has stayed tight for weeks. You let out a shaky breath, one hand brushing at your temple like it might push the feeling away. “I’m just so tired, Eddie.”
His thumb brushes once over your knee. “I know.”
You shift- angling your body a little more toward him. His hand stays where it is, grounding. “Can I…?” you murmur, already leaning just a little.
He doesn’t make you finish the sentence. Just opens his arm and lets you in. Your head rests gently against his chest under his shoulder. His shirt is soft beneath your cheek, his cologne comforting. The steady rhythm of his breathing settles something in you you didn’t realize was still buzzing.
And then, quietly- like the pressure finally breaks- you cry. Not loud. Not messy. Just soft, exhausted tears that slip from the corners of your eyes and dampen the fabric against your cheek. You don’t even mean to. You’re just so tired. Tired of carrying it, of running from it, of wondering if you broke something you couldn’t fix.
He leans back against the arm of the couch so you can lay flatter against him, holds you closer, and lets you cry. One hand rubs slow and steady along your back, the other curls protectively around your arm. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, eyes shut against the sting behind his own.
Because he feels it too. Your breathing starts to slow a little, the tears tapering off without fanfare. You don’t say anything. You just shift slightly, nuzzle your cheek deeper into his chest, and sigh.
And then you fall asleep.
Eddie stays still. Barely dares to breathe. He blinks up at the ceiling, jaw tight, one hand still smoothing over your spine in slow, repetitive passes.
You don’t see it- won’t know it- but his eyes glisten too. Not because he’s sad. Not really. Just overwhelmed by how close he came to losing this- something he didn’t get to have for long before it was gone. And how it feels to have you here again, curled against him.
He presses his face into your hair for a second. Breathes you in like he’s trying to hold onto this moment just a little longer. Quietly he whispers against your temple, “I’ve got you.”
———————
The front door opens with a soft click- Eddie quickly wipes his eyes, careful not to wake you.
Robin’s voice comes first, a little too loud, “—and then Max elbowed him in the ribs, which, honestly, he deserved—”
She stops mid sentence when she sees the two of you. Steve’s right behind her, shutting the door gently behind them. Both of them freeze in the entryway, eyebrows raised.
Robin blinks, then smiles softly, voice lowered as she nudges Steve. “Okay, that’s either really sweet or the coziest hostage situation I’ve ever seen.”
Steve clocks the way you’re nestled against Eddie’s side and whistles under his breath. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Eddie glares at him, mouthing, “Shut up.”
Robin raises both hands like she’s backing away from a crime scene. “We’re not here. We’re ghosts.”
Steve nods. “Extremely supportive ghosts.”
Without another word, the two of them tiptoe through the living room and into the kitchen, murmuring low as they can. Eddie exhales slowly, almost smiling, and his eyes drift back down to you. Still asleep. Still leaning into him. He shifts just enough to let his head rest gently against yours again, heart steady in his chest.
You shift slightly against his shoulder, a soft sound catching in your throat as you blink yourself awake. The room is dim now- only the kitchen light spills softly across the floor, casting long shadows that don’t quite reach the couch.
Eddie freezes at first, unsure if you’re really waking up or just adjusting in your sleep. But then your hand lifts from his chest, rubbing gently at one eye, and your voice is little raspy. “Did I fall asleep?”
Eddie looks down at you, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says softly. “For a while.”
You sit up just a bit, blinking again, like you’re trying to get your bearings. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “It was… nice.”
You’re close enough to feel the warmth that lingers between you. Close enough to remember the way the night felt when it got quiet, when nothing was broken open between you anymore.
You glance toward the kitchen, voices hushed behind the doorway. “Are they back?”
Eddie nods. “Yeah- got in maybe fifteen minutes ago. They’re hiding out in the kitchen.”
You huff a sleepy laugh. “Of course they are.”
“You okay?” He mutters.
Your gaze lingers on his for a moment- longer than before. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Eddie nods, and his eyes flicker. “Good.”
“I don’t want the night to end yet.” Eddie’s still watching you when he says it. Like he’s been waiting for the moment to say it. You look at him, eyes soft from sleep, a little surprised- but not in a bad way.
He’s not leaning in. Not pressing. Hands folded in his lap now, thumb grazing the edge of one ring like it calms him. “I mean- only if you don’t want it to either,” he adds quickly. “I’m not… I’m not trying to push anything.”
“I just…” He shrugs, quiet. “I like sitting next to you again. Being around you. I forgot what it felt like to not be holding my breath all the time. There’s more I wanna say too.”
He clears his throat. “We could go for a drive or something. Doesn’t have to be anything big. Maybe some music.”
You glance toward the kitchen, where Robin and Steve are still talking in low voices over the sink. Then back to Eddie. “I don’t want it to end yet either,” you say.
He lifts his eyes to meet yours, something soft and grateful flickering there. “Yeah?”
You nod once. “Yeah.”
Eddie grins, and stands and offers his hand. “C’mon, sweetheart.” And you take it without a second thought.
You overhear Robin as you walk to the kitchen, “Okay, if I whisper any longer, I’m gonna give myself vocal cord damage.”
Robin and Steve look up from their place in the kitchen as you step in, Eddie just behind you.
You clear your throat softly. “Hey- we’re gonna head out for a bit. Go for a drive.”
Robin tilts her head, eyes flicking between you and Eddie. “Yeah?” Her gaze softens. “All good?”
You nod. “Yeah. It’s good.”
She glances toward Steve, then back at you with the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Alright, then. Well, I’ll take off behind you guys. Just text me if you need a ride home later.”
Before you can say anything, Eddie speaks up. “I’ll drop her off.”
Robin raises a brow at that- surprised but not teasing. Steve throws a casual salute. “No crashing, no crying, and no weird playlists, Munson. Unless you both consent.”
Eddie puts a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
But he’s smiling as he holds the door open for you, the two of you stepping out. Eddie waits until you’re beside him before closing the door gently behind you. Then it’s just the two of you, stepping into the night together.
He starts the engine, glancing over at you once before pulling onto the road. His fingers drum lightly against the wheel. Eddie’s voice goes soft as he glances at the road ahead. “Anywhere you wanna go?”
You shift slightly, the seatbelt snug across your chest. Then you look over at him, “It’s okay if we go back to your place.”
He glances at you, quick and uncertain, like he’s not sure he heard right. “You sure?”
You nod, slower this time. “Yeah. I am.”
Eddie exhales like he’s been holding that breath for days. He nods once, eyes flicking back to the road, and turns toward the familiar route. You don’t fill the quiet with anything else. You don’t have to.
———————
Eddie parks near the front of his building, and glances over at you, “I can still just bring you home if you want. Just say the word.”
You shake your head, “I wanted to come.”
He softly nods and rounds the van without a word, opening your door for you even though he doesn’t need to. Just another one of those small things he’ll always do.
As you both walk into his apartment, he locks the door behind you and tosses his keys onto the counter. You slip off your jacket and shoes as you take a look around. Everything feels normal and not at all normal at the same time. Then you catch through the patio sliding doors, both of the pumpkins. Caved in, you can’t even see the face details anymore.
Eddie notices, “I didn’t have the heart to toss them.” You look over at him, not sure what to say. Just with a sad gaze.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You hungry? I’ve got… off brand pop tarts. And very questionable leftovers.”
You hum. “Tempting. But I think I’m good.”
He nods, glancing at you again and gestures to the couch. “Wanna sit?”
You answer by making your way to the couch, sitting side by side. You tuck your knees under you, and Eddie’s arm is stretched out across the top of the couch.
Silence spreads between you, and when you glance over at him, you see his ringed fingers pressed to his mouth like he’s been holding in thoughts for hours. He hasn’t moved much since you sat down. Just small shifts, weightless ones. Like he’s afraid that moving too much might break whatever this is.
You take a deep breath. “What did you still want to tell me?”
Eddie doesn’t answer right away. He rubs his hands on his jeans, and exhales. “I never stopped waiting for you,” he says finally, voice steady. “Even when it hurt. Even when I was angry. I just… knew. You were scared. Not gone.” His gaze stuck on his jeans.
“And with tonight,” he adds, glancing over at you, “I don’t want to mess it up by pushing too soon. But I also can’t pretend like it didn’t wreck me. Not knowing if I’d get to say everything I was holding onto.”
You blink hard against the sudden tightness in your throat. “You don’t have to pretend.” Your voice barely above a whisper.
He nods. “I know. Not anymore.”
It’s quiet again for a moment, before he adds, “I really thought I scared you that night.”
You look up slowly, and shake your head once. “I told you… it wasn’t you I was scared of.”
“I know.” He drops his hand to his lap. “But it felt like it. You looked at me like I was something to run from. And I guess after everything… I started to believe maybe I was.” He doesn’t sound angry. Just tired.
“I wasn’t ready,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to hold what was happening. You protected me, and all I did was bolt.”
He nods. “You were overwhelmed.”
“So were you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be some hero,” he says. “I saw his hands on you and my brain just- snapped. I didn’t even think..”
You breathe in carefully. “He said some stuff to me right before you came over.”
Eddie’s head lifts, eyes sharp. But he doesn’t interrupt.
You trace the seam of the cushion with your thumb. “He told me he still loved me. That I’d never find anyone who’d deal with me. Said I was exhausting. Too much.”
“I froze when he kissed me. Not because I wanted it. Because I didn’t know how to move. I felt… powerless.”
Eddie’s jaw tightens as he leans forward, like he can’t not. His voice is low, rough. “You’re not too much. You were never too much.”
You swallow. “But I believed him. For a second. And then you were there. And it was too much to feel at once.”
He nods again, slow. “And the morning after we….”
“I panicked,” you whisper. “It meant too much. I thought if I stayed, it would confirm I’d let myself care, and I didn’t think I could take that risk.”
“That hurt,” he murmurs. “I kept thinking… if I’d just said something different. Done something different.”
You meet his eyes. “There’s nothing you could’ve said to make me stay. I wasn’t ready then. I just didn’t know how much I’d miss you afterward.”
His eyes flicker, full of something so raw it makes your chest ache.
“I missed you every single day,” you continue, voice breaking. “Even when I tried not to.”
Eddie leans back a little, as if the truth of that sinks deep enough to knock the wind out of him. And after a long silence, he says softly, “You’ve been through so much… and somehow you’re still this gentle.”
“I keep thinking about how lucky I am that I found you,” he says. “Like… how did that even happen?”
You manage a faint smile. “You’re the last of your kind, you know. And somehow I found you too.”
Eddie shifts, the space between you narrowing even more now. His voice dips lower. “I want to kiss you.”
“You let me,” he murmurs, like the memory has been haunting him. “That night. Over and over and over. And you kissed me back. Like it meant something.”
You reach for his hand across the couch. “It did.”
Eddie doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. His fingers curl tighter around yours, like he’s grounding himself, like your skin might vanish if he lets go. His voice is barely a whisper. “Then why did it feel like I made it up?”
You shake your head low. “You didn’t.”
And then he leans in. Not fast. Not hesitant either. Just full of that quiet, aching want that’s lived between you since that night. The need to close a space that never should’ve existed in the first place.
When his mouth meets yours, it’s not soft. It’s desperate.
The kind of kiss that holds everything- fear and guilt, relief and longing. His hand cups your jaw like you might break if he isn’t careful, but his mouth says otherwise. He kisses you like he’s drowning, like he’s been holding this in since the moment you walked out of his apartment three weeks ago. And you kiss him back like you never wanted to leave in the first place.
Your hand slides up his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you here.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, his voice cracked and hoarse. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you.”
“I know,” you whisper, heart thudding so loud it hurts. “Me too.”
His eyes close tight. “You let me,” he murmurs, like the memory still lives in his bones. “That night. You let me kiss you, hold you, touch you- over and over. And you kissed me back like- like it meant something.”
Your thumb softly traces his knuckles.
“It did,” you say again, voice steadier now. “It meant everything.”
Eddie makes a sound you’ve never heard before. Not a sob. Not a laugh. Something in between. His hands cup your face, and he kisses you again, more urgent this time. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops.
You kiss him like you’re choosing him. Like it’s not just forgiveness or comfort- but love in the waiting place between what was and what could still be. When you finally break apart again, you’re both breathless.
“I missed you,” he whispers, voice wrecked.
Your hand stays on his chest, where his heartbeat thrums hard under your palm. “I’m right here,” you breathe. “I’m not running this time.”
And Eddie just looks at you- really looks. Like he’s memorizing this. Every inch of your face. Every second of this moment. He pulls you back in, shifting you both to be laying on the couch, you halfway laying on him. Your arm draped over his waist, his arm around your back. Your breathing syncs with eachothers, and at some point you both fall asleep like this.
——————
Eddie stirs first.
His eyes blink open in the dark, fuzzy and unfocused, brain catching up slower than his pulse. For a second, he doesn’t move- just lies there, your weight warm against his side, your hand still resting over his chest like it never left. Then he shifts, just slightly, careful not to jostle you too much. He slides his phone out from his pocket to check the time,
3:02AM
“Shit,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything.
You shift against him with a soft sound, but don’t wake.
Eddie swallows. Guilt creeps in before he can stop it. He hadn’t meant to keep you this long. Hadn’t meant to let either of you fall asleep like this, tangled and draped together like something fragile and familiar.
He gently brushes your arm. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Hey.”
You hum sleepily, brows pulling just slightly as your eyes crack open. “Mm?”
“It’s late,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to- uh..I figured you’d wanna get home. I can take you.”
You don’t move at first. Just blink slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Your voice is soft, rough with sleep when it comes. “Can I stay?”
Eddie stills. “You sure?” he asks, voice lower now. “I don’t wanna assume—”
You shift just enough to curl back into his side, cheek brushing the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sure.”
Eddie exhales, long and quiet. The knot in his chest loosens. He leans his head against yours again, eyes fluttering shut. When he notices you blink up at him, he smiles softly. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you whisper, voice still dusted with sleep.
He hesitates, then shifts to sit up a little more, his hand trailing gently along your arm. “You should take the bed.”
You blink again. “What?”
“It’s more comfortable than this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can barely stretch out here. I’ll grab you something to wear.”
You sit up slowly as he stands, stretching just slightly with a quiet groan. He heads to his dresser and pulls out a pair of soft black boxers and a faded Metallica tee- worn at the collar- and offers them to you.
“I figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in jeans,” he mumbles.
You take the clothes with a soft smile. “Thanks.”
By the time you emerge from the bathroom- wrapped in his shirt that falls just past your waist, and his boxers hanging loosely at your hips- Eddie’s changed too. Only in his boxers. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, fussing with the comforter like he’s trying to make it look more presentable than it’s ever been.
He glances up when you step into the doorway- and freezes. For a second, he just stares, like you’ve knocked the air right out of him.
You look down instinctively. “Is it… too much?”
Eddie shakes his head a little too fast. “No. Shit. It’s just—” he rubs the back of his neck, flushed, voice quieter now. “Didn’t know that shirt could look like that on someone.”
You smile, biting your lip. “Like what?”
“Like…” His mouth opens, then shuts again. He exhales hard. “Forget it.”
You cross the room slowly, trying not to grin. He quickly turns his attention back to the bed, patting the blanket once like that’ll make him less flustered.
“Okay, uh.. bed’s all yours. I’ll crash on the couch.”
You frown. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ve passed out on worse.”
You glance at the bed- sheets freshly adjusted like he tried to make it not look like the ones you’d left behind weeks ago- and then back at him.
“Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re gonna sleep in here with me.”
His eyes lift to yours, cautious. “You sure?”
You nod. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
He hesitates, just a second longer, before his mouth lifts into a soft smile. “Okay.”
You climb in first, settling beneath the covers closer to the wall, and watch as slides in- slow, careful, like one wrong move might wake him from a dream. He lies on his back, arms at his sides, stiff as a board.
You turn toward him. “You don’t have to lie like a mannequin.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Damn. I was going for ‘respectfully frozen.’”
“Mission accomplished.”
After a moment, you shift closer- slow, cautious- and rest your head lightly against his shoulder. He breathes in, deep and steady, then slides his arm around you.
It’s quiet again. But it’s not uncomfortable. You feel his chest rise beneath your cheek. Warm. Familiar. And when your fingers graze gently across his stomach, just above the blanket, you hear him hum in content.
——————
It’s still dark out when Eddie suddenly wakes. The quiet kind of dark just before the sun rises, soft and still. He blinks slowly, not quite sure what woke him at first. Then he shifts- just slightly- and realizes.
Your back is now pressed flush to his chest. His arm is draped across your waist, hand resting gently just under the hem of the borrowed shirt. Your fingers are curled lightly around his wrist like you’d found him in your sleep and didn’t want to let go. That’s when he feels it. His whole body goes stiff. No pun intended.
Eddie freezes, eyes wide now, fully awake as he becomes very, very aware of his current state.
“Shit,” he whispers under his breath, barely audible.
Because yeah. He has morning wood. Of course he does. You’re soft and warm and breathing slow against him in the dim light, and your skin is right there, and his body is absolutely betraying him.
He doesn’t move. Barely breathes. Panic blooms low in his chest because the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable- especially after everything. His brain launches into a silent meltdown,
Okay. Okay, this is fine. This is normal. Biological. Totally unintentional. She’s asleep. Just don’t move. Or think. Or exist. Or breathe too loudly. Just—
You shift slightly in your sleep, and Eddie holds his breath like you’re a landmine he might set off just by blinking too hard.
Your hand on his wrist tightens instinctively, and your body settles again- closer, if that’s even possible. Like you’re trying to pull him nearer in your sleep.
His heart flips over. Because despite the chaos in his head, there’s something undeniably sweet about it. Intimate in the quietest, gentlest way.
Still- he knows he needs to get ahead of this.
So he carefully- so carefully - starts to inch back, just enough to put some space between you without waking you. But the second his arm starts to lift, you stir again, murmuring something incoherent and nuzzling back toward him.
Eddie goes still again. Half terrified. Half in awe. He’s never felt more like a twelve-year-old in his life. And yet… He exhales softly, forehead pressing against the back of your shoulder. His voice is barely a whisper,
“Please don’t wake up yet.”
Because he doesn’t wanna have to explain this. And selfishly, he doesn’t want to let go of this feeling either.
So he stays there, eyes shut, willing his brain to think of literally anything else. Trying not to think about it- about you- when he makes the executive decision to shift onto his back. Slowly. Carefully. Like he’s trying not to wake a baby deer.
He peels himself away from your warmth by inches, finally settling flat against the mattress, one arm stiff at his side, the other still under your body. Staring at the ceiling like it might offer divine intervention.
Just breathe. In, out. Focus. Think about baseball. Taxes. Hopper’s glare. That time in school the cafeteria served meatloaf and you swore it was moving—
But then, you move. Still half asleep, you roll instinctively toward him. One leg slides over his, warm and soft, and your hand drapes across his stomach- settling right above the waistband of his shirt boxers.
His breath catches like a misfired engine.
Oh, come on, he begs internally. This isn’t fair.
Because now you’re practically curled into him, your face tucked toward his shoulder, your breath warm against his chest. And your hand- god, your hand- resting so close it’s actually painful. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to completely lose it.
You shift again, just slightly. A sleepy sigh against his skin. He lets out the smallest, most strangled sound he’s ever made in his life and immediately claps his hand over his mouth like someone might hear.
His heart is going to explode. That’s it. He’s going to die here. This is how Eddie Munson goes out- not in a blaze of glory, not on stage in front of a crowd, but beneath the soft weight of the girl he’s head over heels for, having a full on physiological crisis at six in the morning.
He’s seconds from getting up and bolting to the bathroom when you suddenly murmur his name. Barely audible. Slurred with sleep. But real. Your fingers flex against his stomach, just slightly. And Eddie forgets how to breathe. Because it’s not just a reflex. It’s not an accident. It’s you, reaching for him even in your dreams.
And somehow, that’s what breaks him more than anything. His hand lifts from underneath you tentatively, and settles lightly on the curve of your hip. Not pulling you closer. Just holding. Like maybe if he stays still enough, the world won’t notice how fast his heart is beating.
And he’ll deal with the rest later. When the sun’s up. When you’re not asleep next to him.
——————
He tries to go back to sleep, but thirty minutes later- Eddie’s still wide awake.
Still very much struggling.
Your hand hasn’t moved. Neither has your leg. And his brain is a loop of panic and pleading- don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t think about her hand, her leg, her mouth, her breath, her voice, don’t think don’t think don’t—
You stir. Just slightly.
He freezes like a deer in headlights, eyes darting to your face. Your lashes flutter, brows pulling together the way they always do when you’re just waking up. A soft breath leaves your lips as your hand shifts lazily over his stomach, fingers brushing lower for just a second before settling back.
Then your eyes open slowly and meet his. Eddie’s throat bobs as he swallows. Hard.
“…Hey,” you whisper, voice rough with sleep.
“Hey,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
You shake your head gently, still blinking off sleep. But your hand doesn’t move. Eddie’s heart is pounding. You register it slowly- how rigid he is, how he’s staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him, the tension in every line of his body.
You shift a little. Glance down. Pause.
“Oh,” you say softly, and it’s not mocking or alarmed. Just… acknowledging. Eyes lifting to his again.
Eddie wants to melt through the bed, the floor, the building. “I swear I wasn’t trying to—” he blurts, voice wrecked. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- your leg- your hand- and I was trying to think about literally anything else, and—”
You cut him off by shifting again, gently laying your head back on his shoulder, your leg still draped over his. Your fingers curl slightly where they rest against his stomach.
“Eddie,” you say, voice low. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He blinks at the ceiling. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” You pause. “But you really suck at relaxing.”
A quiet, breathless laugh slips out of him, like he doesn’t believe this is real. “I didn’t want you to think I was… y’know. Taking advantage or something.”
You smile against his skin. “Kind of hard to take advantage of someone when you’re frozen like you just got turned to stone.”
Eddie groans softly and covers his face with one hand. “This is so embarrassing.”
You reach up and gently pull his hand down. Let your fingers tangle with his. “It’s not,” you whisper. “It’s just… human.”
His eyes finally meet yours again. Warmer now. Still shy, but melting.“You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs.
You nod. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
And he doesn’t say anything back. Just kisses your forehead, slow and reverent, his breath catching like he doesn’t quite believe you still are. But you are.
You shift slightly, tilting your head up just enough that your nose brushes the edge of Eddie’s jaw- skin warm beneath your touch. The arm draped around your waist tightens slightly, like he’s trying to keep himself still. Like he’s afraid even breathing too hard might break whatever this is.
“Eddie…” you whisper, voice still thick with sleep.
He hums low in his throat, but the sound’s strained- like even that small noise costs him something. His palm is steady against the small of your back, fingers twitching where they rest along your spine.
Your breath catches. You hesitate- only for a second. Then, quieter, “Will you kiss me?”
He goes completely still. The kind of still that has its own weight, like the moment is hanging on a thread between you. His eyes search yours in the near dark, lit faintly by the gray edges of early morning bleeding through the windows.
When he exhales, it’s shaky. “You don’t ever have to ask,” he murmurs.
His hand lifts from your waist- tracing a slow, careful path up your side, over your ribs, until it curls lightly around your jaw. His thumb brushes your cheek, then just under your lip. You feel his pulse in his fingertips.
“I’ve wanted to do this since you fell asleep on me,” he murmurs. “Maybe even when you first walked into Steve’s last night.”
Then he leans in- and his mouth meets yours. It’s soft at first. Careful. But only for a moment.
Then you press into him, fingers sliding up over his bare chest, and something in him slips- he groans, low and wrecked, and kisses you deeper. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His body’s warm and solid against yours, skin to skin in too many places now to pretend it doesn’t matter.
You gasp into his mouth, and he pulls back just enough to look at you- forehead resting against yours, breathing hard.
“I swear,” he pants, voice nearly breaking, “you’re not helping my current situation here.”
That makes your face heat up, and smile- but your hand slides down over his stomach anyway, teasing. “Is that right?” you murmur.
He lets out a strangled noise, like he’s about to combust.
But still, he stays close- forehead pressed to yours, his thumb stroking the edge of your jaw, softly even in his flustered state. Because this is still Eddie. Still soft beneath all that edge. Still aching for you in every way he can be. He kisses you again- rougher this time. Less careful. Like he’s done holding back.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling just slightly, and the sound that leaves his throat is half groan, half prayer. He rolls onto his side fully, pressing you beneath the weight of his body, one knee slipping between yours as his hand slides down to your hip, gripping tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again.
You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and the whimper that slips from your lips makes him freeze- just for a second.
Then something snaps inside him. His mouth moves to your neck, trailing heat down your skin, and you gasp- quiet but raw, fingers digging into his bare shoulders. He groans in response, low and wrecked, like your voice is doing something to him he can’t control.
You can feel him now- hard against your thigh, hot through the thin fabric of his boxers. It makes your breath catch- gasping, hips tilting toward him instinctively. The friction draws a strained, desperate sound from deep in Eddie’s chest, his grip tightening just slightly where he holds your waist.
You arch against him again, chasing more contact, and the movement earns you a bitten off groan, his hips involuntarily shifting into the space between you. The soft, broken sound that leaves you next- needy and involuntary- makes Eddie curse again, his forehead dropping against your shoulder.
“God, sweetheart…” he pants, breath hot against your throat. “You.. you can’t make those sounds, I’m not.. I’m not made for that kind of mercy.”
You lift your hand to his jaw, guiding him back up to kiss you again- and he goes willingly, hungrily, groaning into your mouth when your teeth scrape lightly against his lower lip. Every time you make a noise- every gasp, every sigh, every little hum- it’s like you’re unraveling him by thread.
And he lets you. Because there’s no place else he’d rather come undone. The heat builds between you- each kiss deeper, needier. His tongue drags over yours in a rhythm you feel in your spine, his breath hitching every time your hips shift beneath him.
Eddie’s hand rests on your stomach now, bare skin warm beneath his palm, just under the hem of your shirt and above the waistband of the boxers. He’s trembling slightly- trying to hold still, trying not to push, even as every inch of him screams to touch more, feel more.
You break the kiss for a breath, but your forehead stays against his. Eyes half lidded, your fingers drift down and find his hand where it’s splayed wide and hesitant. You curl your fingers around his wrist and gently guide him lower. Just a few inches. His breath catches hard in his throat. His whole body stills.
“Wait—” His voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and wrecked. “Sweetheart, is this… is this what you want?”
You nod, slow and certain, eyes searching his. “Yes...”
Eddie looks like you just tore open the sky. His lips part, stunned, gaze flicking between your face and where your hands are joined at your waist.
“But—” he starts, falters. “We.. we don’t have to. Not for me. Not after everything. I don’t want you to feel like you owe—”
You shake your head, silencing him. “I’m not doing this for you, Eddie. I want you.”
His jaw tightens like he’s trying not to lose it right there. Like he doesn’t trust himself to speak. You guide his hand the rest of the way, your breath trembling in your chest.
Eddie exhales, like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, voice cracked open. “Okay. Okay.”
He groans softly when his fingers slide past the fabric, fingers passing through your folds and discovers just how wet you are for him. His breath stutters at your ear. “Oh… fuck.”
You nod, your eyes closing, overwhelmed by the way his fingers move- tentative at first, then surer when you shift into the touch, your leg tightening around his.
He exhales a shaky laugh against your throat. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re- God, you’re soaked.”
Your answering whimper is all the permission he needs. The covers shift, a brush of cool air as he disappears beneath them. You feel your boxers slide slowly down your thighs- his mouth chasing the path his hands leave behind.
You reach for the edge of the blanket, clutching it to your chest, pulse roaring in your ears. And then his mouth is on you.
Your hips jerk up. “Shit,” you breathe, fingers twisting in the sheets.
Eddie groans, low and wrecked against your skin, his hands locking around your thighs to keep you steady.
“Never thought I’d get to taste you again,” he mumbles into you, voice lined with awe and hunger. “Didn’t think I’d get this back.”
You can barely think, barely speak- your voice catches on every inhale, every slow, deliberate press of his tongue on your clit.
And the sounds you make? They undo him. He grips harder, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Like if he lets go, you’ll disappear again. And your moan- broken and breathless- shatters the silence as your hips rise into him.
Eddie groans, one arm flinging over your stomach to hold you in place. “Please,” he pants. “Please let me keep going.”
You nod, breath catching. “Don’t stop. Please, Eddie.. don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. And the way you say his name? He’ll hear it in every dream for the rest of his life. Eddie moans into you, the sound vibrating through your thighs, your stomach, all the way to your chest. His hands are everywhere- anchoring you, worshipping you like he still can’t believe you’re here, that this is real.
His tongue moves with slow, devastating precision, lightly suctioning around your bud- until you’re gasping his name again, hands buried in the sheets.
Then you feel the shift. One of his hands slides up, trailing the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow, until his fingers tease just at the edge of where you need him most.
You’re already trembling when you feel one press in. Then two. You cry out softly, and Eddie groans like he felt it too.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers, voice muffled against your skin. “You feel… God, sweetheart, you’re perfect.”
His fingers move in time with his mouth- slowly, but insistent. Each curl of his fingers against that spongy spot has your hips stuttering, your hands gripping the blanket so tightly you think it might tear.
And through it all, he doesn’t stop murmuring softly against you- like he’s not just trying to make you feel good, he’s trying to make sure you never doubt it again.
“I’ve missed this,” he pants. “Missed you- missed the way you sound, the way you taste, the way you let me in.”
Your legs are shaking. Your head melts into the pillow, breath hitching on every exhale. The coil tightening deep inside you, you pant out, “I’m gonna—“
As you come undone, His name leaves your lips like a prayer. He holds you through it- his mouth still pressing gentle kisses against your inner thigh, his fingers slowing but never leaving, like he’s not ready to let go of you yet.
You’re still catching your breath, pulse thudding in your ears, when you feel him shift again. You reach for him- thinking he’s coming back up, that he’ll crawl over you now and kiss you dizzy with it- but he doesn’t.
Instead, Eddie groans softly against your thigh and murmurs, “One more.”
Your eyes flutter open. “Eddie—”
He presses a kiss just above your knee, like an apology. Like a promise.
“I can’t stop yet,” he says, voice hoarse. “Not when you’re still shaking. Not when you’re like this.”
His fingers haven’t left you. And now they’re moving again. Slow, deep, coaxing.
You gasp, hips jerking, legs already trembling from the last wave. “I don’t.. don’t know if I can—”
“Yes, you can,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re already there, honey. Let me take you again.”
The words hit somewhere low in your belly, heat curling tight again- faster than you thought possible.
His mouth joins his fingers once more, tongue moving with maddening care around your clit, syncing to the steady rhythm of his fingers inside you. Like he’s mapping your reactions. Like he wants to memorize what breaks you open.
Your moans and pants are spilling out of you, body tensing up. You don’t even realize you’re crying out his name again until his free hand slides up to hold yours- fingers interlacing.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes. “You’re doing so good. You’re- fuck.. you’re everything.”
The second release crashes over you harder than the first. It’s more intense- louder. Unraveled from somewhere deep inside you. You shudder under his mouth, every muscle tense and shaking as you cry out, hips bucking beneath him. And Eddie doesn’t stop until you’re sagging into the bed, lips parted, and chest heaving.
That’s when he finally eases his fingers out of your core, kisses your thigh once, twice, before crawling up to meet you. He’s flushed and breathless, curls wild, eyes heavy with something close to awe- wiping your slick away from his chin.
“You okay?” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face.
You nod, unable to form a word.
He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips- slow and tender, like he’s not trying to start something new, just let you feel him close.
“Didn’t mean to push,” he murmurs. “You just- you let me. And I…”
You shake your head, pulling him in tighter. “I wanted it.”
His smile is quiet.
You exhale shakily, heart pounding beneath your ribs as his arms wrap around you. Your head rests against his chest, still rising and falling faster than normal, your cheek pressed to the warmth of his skin- feeling his heartbeat under your palm, steady and hard like yours. His fingers trace gentle shapes along your back beneath his shirt you’re wearing.
But the quiet doesn’t last long. Not with the way your breath stutters when he shifts just slightly. Not with the way his hand smooths up your spine again, lingering between your shoulder blades. Not with the way your fingers curl into his ribs like you’re anchoring yourself.
You lean up to kiss him again- soft at first, just enough to find his mouth, to feel him exhale against your lips like it’s the only breath that matters. But then his hand tightens at your waist, his other sliding to cup the back of your neck, and the kiss deepens fast- no hesitation this time, no second guessing.
You make a sound in the back of your throat, quiet but aching, and Eddie swears it nearly knocks the breath out of him. He groans into your mouth, pulling you with him as he shifts onto his back, dragging you fully on top of him without a thought.
You follow willingly, straddling his hips, your knees bracketing him as you settle against his lower stomach, ass on his boxers, the hem of your shirt riding up just enough to expose the curve of your thighs.
He looks up at you like he’s never seen anything so unreal. His eyes are dark, lips swollen, chest rising fast beneath your palms.
“Fuck,” he breathes, hands gripping your waist now. “You’re.. Jesus, I swear you’re slowly killing me.”
You smirk through the haze. “That a complaint?”
He shakes his head, laughing once- breathless, “No. No, it’s just…” His voice falters as you shift your hips the slightest bit above him. He bites back another groan, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
You can feel him, hard beneath you, only his boxers separating skin from skin. The friction, even unintentional, is enough to draw another low sound from your throat. His hands move again- up your thighs, under the hem of the shirt, thumbs stroking circles that only make things worse. Or better. You’re not sure which anymore.
“You’re making those sounds,” he says, voice wrecked. “Like.. fuck, sweetheart. You gotta stop doing that unless you want—”
You roll your hips again, slower this time. His hands clutch you tighter.
“Okay,” he pants. “That’s still not helping.”
You dip forward, noses brushing. “Not trying to help. Or, maybe in a way I actually am..”
Eddie growls something under his breath that might be your name, or a curse, or both. His hands slip up your back again, sliding beneath the fabric, palms splayed against your skin. Pulling you down towards him, his lips crash into yours this time.
He pulls back just barely, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re unreal,” he whispers, voice rough and reverent. “I’m still trying to believe you’re here.”
You kiss him again, soft this time. “I’m here.”
Your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of your shirt, nerves sparking beneath your skin. You hesitate for a breath- then pull it up and over your head in one slow motion.
Eddie’s hands, which had been resting lightly on your waist, go still. His breath catches halfway through his chest as you peel the fabric up and over your head, baring yourself to him completely. For a moment, he doesn’t move. Just stares. Like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.
“Christ, sweetheart…” he breathes, the reverence in his voice hitting low in your belly. “You—”
He swallows whatever he was going to say. Closes his mouth, jaw flexing as his eyes trace over you like he’s not sure he’s allowed to look. Like you’re something he dreamt up and he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he blinks.
You move first- closer down to him, your hands on either side of his neck. Heat pulsing between you both like a live wire. Eddie’s hands rise slowly, one brushing up your bare side with almost agonizing care. His fingertips tremble slightly as they ghost across your ribs.
“You’re so…” he tries again, voice hoarse. “I don’t have the right words.”
“You don’t have to,” you whisper, and lean in.
The kiss starts slow- tender, open mouthed, the kind that doesn’t ask for permission because it’s already been given. It builds in quiet gasps and soft groans, the drag of your bare chest against his making him hiss through his teeth. His hips twitch beneath you, almost involuntarily, the tension in his body winding tighter with every roll of your hips.
And still, he holds back. But his voice breaks the space between you- low and wrecked, his mouth brushing your jaw. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You pull back just enough to look him in the eye. “I think I do,” you murmur.
You slide your hands down, along his chest. His body- so open beneath you, so real. You press your forehead to his, breath mingling.
“Will you touch me again, Eddie?”
His throat works on a swallow. “Y/n…”
You tilt your hips down against him, and his eyes squeeze shut. “Please?” you whisper.
It undoes him. He nods, just once. “Yeah. Yeah, honey.”
And with aching care, his hands return to your waist. Holding you like he’s never going to let go.
He kisses you like he’s starving. Like every second of the last three weeks is catching up to him all at once. His mouth finds yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, teeth grazing your lower lip before he sucks it in gently, pulling a soft sound from you that makes his grip tighten. He bucks up beneath and the friction sends a bolt of heat straight through you.
You rock down against him in reply, chasing that pressure again, and his head falls back with a strained laugh- like he can’t believe this is real. One hand clutching at your waist, the other now gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “Fuck. Sweetheart…”
His eyes squeeze shut, breath ragged. “You stay on top of me like this, I’m not gonna last.”
You move again, a slow grind that pulls another helpless sound from his throat.
His eyes snap open, wild with disbelief. “This is how it ends for me.”
You smile against his jaw, your breath warm on his skin. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Eddie’s laugh is breathless, wrecked. “Jesus Christ.” But he doesn’t stop you. He wouldn’t dare.
You don’t answer. You just kiss him harder, deeper- every part of you pulling closer, like if you could crawl into his skin, it still wouldn’t be enough.
His hands drift again, one splayed across your back, the other sliding slowly up your ribs, pausing just below your chest like he’s asking with the weight of his touch instead of words.
And you answer by arching into him, by dragging your nails gently down his shoulders and whispering, “Eddie…”
Your hands trail down his chest, feeling the heat of him under your palms, the way his muscles tense when you shift again. You sit back a bit and reach down, brushing over the waistband of his boxers- feeling how hard he is beneath them, how much he’s holding back.
Eddie curses softly and lets his head fall back against the pillow. “Fuck. I’ve missed you so much it physically hurts.”
“I’m right here,” you say, and your voice trembles with need. With everything that’s been burning under the surface for weeks.
His hands slide back up your sides. “You don’t know what that does to me. Hearing you say that.”
And then you reach down between you, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers- his whole body jerks beneath you, breath torn from his lungs.
“Fuck…. Y/n—”
“I want to,” you whisper. “Let me?”
Eddie nods frantically. “Yes. God, yes.”
You free him from the soft fabric, and the moment your hand wraps around him, his hips stutter up into your touch. “S’big, so perfect.” You moan out- His eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you stroke him slowly, deliberately, watching him fall apart beneath you.
You’ve never seen anything like this- Eddie underneath you, completely coming undone, his fingers twitching on your thighs like he’s holding back from worshipping every inch of you with his hands. And when you lift your hips just enough to settle back over him- your slick folds teasing against him, not quite taking him in- he chokes on a gasp.
“Sweetheart.. don’t.. if you do that I—” His voice breaks. “Tell me this is what you want.”
You meet his eyes, breath shaky, heart hammering. “It is. All of it. You.”
His hands finally rise, ghosting up your sides, sliding around to cradle your face like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
“Then take me,” he whispers. “Please.”
You lift your hips, and sink down slowly, inch by inch, and Eddie’s mouth falls open around a sound that’s nearly a prayer. His eyes are on you the whole time- like he’s watching something sacred.
Your hands brace against his chest, and his palms slide up your thighs, gripping gently as you take all of him. Neither of you speaks for a moment. The air between you is thick with heat and emotion, every breath shared.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, voice wrecked. “You feel- God, you feel so good.”
You shift your hips just slightly and he lets out a rough groan, head tipping back and squeezing his eyes shut, chest rising beneath your hands like he’s drowning.
“Look at me,” you whisper.
His eyes snap back to yours instantly, like he never wanted to look away. You move again- slow at first, testing the rhythm, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers flex against your skin like he’s barely holding it together.
“Can’t believe this is real,” he mutters, hands sliding up your back now. “You- on top of me like this.. letting me back in after everything. Sweetheart…”
Your name leaves his lips like it aches. And then your hips roll again, deeper this time, and the moan that rips out of him is pure surrender.
He grabs your waist tighter, like anchoring himself to you is the only thing keeping him here. You move with slow intensity, every shift your clit grazing against the base of him, every thrust met with his breathless praise.
“So beautiful like this,” he whispers. “You.. on me.. taking what you want. What you deserve.”
You lean forward, your forehead pressing against his as you keep moving, your breath catching with every grind of your hips. “I missed this,” you gasp. “I missed you.”
His hands slide up to cradle your face again, and he kisses you- all consuming, all tongue and teeth and aching devotion. You swallow his moans as your rhythm quickens and feel the tremble start in your legs first, heat coiling tighter with every movement, every low sound from his throat.
You’re close- and he can feel it in the way your rhythm stutters, the way your mouth parts in a soundless moan against his throat. His name slips out of you again, breathy and wrecked, and Eddie nearly loses it right there.
You tighten around him, your head falling down onto his chest. “Ah, ah.. fuck!”
“Yes cum around my cock.. fucking strangling me.” He curses as you fall apart on top of him, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m not gonna last,” he admits hoarsely. “Not with you like this- not when you’re…”
You barely manage to nod, arms tightening around his shoulders. “Don’t stop.. please—”
Eddie sits up against his headboard, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him, chest to chest. His mouth finds yours in a desperate, messy kiss as his hips snap up, over and over- fast and deep and relentless. You’re unraveling in his arms, your body shaking against his, clinging like you’ll fall apart if he lets go.
And he doesn’t. He holds you tighter. He groans into your neck, low and strained, as you fall apart,“Fuck- I’m g’na cum again..” you barely mutter out.
Your second orgasm rolls in like a wave that has you gasping for air. That’s all it takes. He bucks once, twice more- and then slips out, one hand fumbling between you as he finishes with a strangled groan, tucked tightly against your chest, his other arm still around your waist.
His forehead drops to your shoulder, his body shaking with the force of it, breath shuddering in and out like he’s trying to hold the world together with it.
Neither of you moves for a while. Just tangled limbs, heaving breath, both of you still riding the waves of it. Eddie’s arm is still wrapped tightly around your back, his other hand is still caught between your bodies, slick across his knuckles.
But he hasn’t moved. Hasn’t let go. Like if he does, whatever thread tethered you both together through all of this might snap.
“You okay?” he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough.
You nod, still catching your breath against his skin. “Yeah. Are you?”
He breathes a shaky laugh. “Yeah. That was…” He shifts just enough to look at you in a daze. “Sweetheart, that was everything.”
He shifts slightly, glancing down between your bodies, where the mess lingers between your stomachs and his hand.
“Damn,” he says, half laughing under his breath. “I should probably clean this up. Sorry.. that was… not exactly a discreet ending.”
You glance up at him, eyes heavy, and say quietly, “You don’t have to apologize. I liked all of it.”
Eddie groans, covering his face with his clean hand. “This is gonna haunt me.”
You grin, kiss the outside of his hand. “You’re so sweet when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” he insists, still not looking at you.
You tilt your head. “Eddie.”
He peeks through his fingers. “Okay. Maybe a little.” He laughs, and it rumbles through your chest where it’s pressed to his.
“I’ll be right back,” he says. But he hesitates first- his hand sliding up to your back, like he doesn’t want to move you off of him.
You kiss his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He disappears for only a minute- enough time to slide on his boxers, grab a warm washcloth and a towel from the bathroom- then climbs back into bed. You’re still where he left you, laying over the covers, watching him like you’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in just the hue of the lamp.
Eddie kneels beside you and brings the cloth to your stomach first, gently wiping you clean. His touch is careful..
He takes his time- like this is still part of it. Like this is what matters most. Every now and then, he’ll glance at you, hair falling into eyes as he murmurs, “Okay?” or “Still good?” and you nod each time, feeling more like yourself with every pass of his hand.
After he’s done, he quickly wipes his own skin, tosses the towel into the laundry hamper near the bathroom, then crawls back into bed.
You’re already leaning back into the pillows when he settles beside you. And then you reach for him pulling him close until his chest is against your back and his arms wrap securely around your waist. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, then rests his chin on your shoulder, exhaling slow and deep.
“You’re staying,” he murmurs, like he still needs to say it out loud.
You lace your fingers with his. “I’m staying.”
The room falls quiet again, his breath steady against the back of your neck, your body curved perfectly into his. The sheets are tangled, skin still warm from everything that came before, but your heart feels settled. Safe.
Eventually, wrapped in the heat of his arms and the soft hum of his fingertips still tracing shapes against your skin, you drift off together again.
The next time your eyes flutter open, the light coming through the blinds is different- brighter now. And Eddie’s not in the bed.
You sit up slowly, letting the sheets slip off your chest. Your body aches in all the right ways, and your heart swells even more when you catch sight of his folded Metallica shirt you wore last night on the edge of the bed- Eddie must’ve left it there for you.
You pull it on without a second thought. The smell hits you before the sound does- coffee and pancakes, something slightly burnt, and music playing softly from a speaker in the living room. And then you see him.
Eddie’s in the kitchen in nothing but his boxers still, hair a little wild, flipping a pancake with more focus than skill. His brow furrows when it sticks slightly, and he mutters something to himself, nudging it loose.
Your heart could literally burst. You lean against the counter, just watching him for a second- barefoot, backlit by morning, the windows throwing soft shadows across the tile. This is him. Unfiltered. Undone. Yours. You walk up behind him, arms looping around his waist.
“Hey,” he says, voice still scratchy from sleep but already smiling. “Hope you’re okay with breakfast that might be a little… extra crispy.”
You smirk against his back, “You mean burnt?”
“Artistically toasted,” he counters, flipping the pancake onto a growing pile with a flourish. “Come here.”
Eddie turns with you still wrapped around him. Pulls back a little and sees that you’re wearing nothing but his shirt, just barely covering where it matters. Bare legs. Bare feet. Barely holding it together under the weight of your sleepy, smirking gaze.
“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters, blinking like he’s not sure you’re real.
You arch an eyebrow, smug. “I couldn’t find the boxers I wore last night.”
He makes a strangled noise- somewhere between a laugh and a groan- then without warning, his hands land on your waist.
“Eddie!” you squeal as he lifts you clean off the floor.
“I promise I just cleaned the counter,” he says quickly, eyes wide and earnest as he sits you there, legs dangling over the edge.
You burst out laughing, “That’s not the part I’m worried about.”
He steps in close, bracketed between your knees, and his grin softens. “Then what are you worried about?”
You shake your head, looping your arms back around his neck. “Nothing anymore.”
And it’s true. Eddie’s standing there in front of you- messy hair, sleepy smile, hands still resting on your thighs like he never wants to let go.
He lingers between your knees, hands still resting at your waist, thumbs rubbing slow, absent circles into your skin through the hem of the shirt. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth, then back again, like he’s trying to memorize how you look in this soft morning light.
“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” he murmurs. Before you can answer, he leans in.
The kiss starts gentle- warm and unhurried, like he’s tasting a secret. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him, the counter pressing beneath you, his chest hot and bare against you.
You melt into him, fingers curling in the messy strands at the nape of his neck, returning the kiss with a slow intensity that makes the whole room tilt.
Eddie exhales against your mouth like he’s been holding his breath all morning. One hand cradles the side of your face now, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his voice is low, rough with affection.
“You wear my shirt better than I ever did.”
You huff a soft laugh, forehead resting against his. “You’re ridiculous.”
He groans playfully and backs away with effort, grabbing the spatula just in time to rescue the last pancake.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he tosses over his shoulder, eyes still heavy with desire.
You don’t move- can’t, really. Not with the way your heart’s thudding against your chest and your breath’s gone all uneven again.
Eddie flips off the stove with one hand, barely even looking. He’s already walking back to you, like he couldn’t stand the distance for more than a few seconds. And when he gets close, he steps right between your knees, palms warm on your thighs.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice low, rough with affection.
You smile. “Hi.”
He leans in, kisses you again- slowly but deeper- with none of the urgency from the night before but all of the emotion. Like every part of him is saying I missed you in a language only you can hear.
You wrap your arms around his neck again, fingers brushing through his curls. His hands slide up your thighs, over the hem of the shirt that’s now bunched around your hips. Then he pulls back just a little- just enough to look at you.
“You know,” he says, eyes dark, mouth twitching at the corners, “you made me burn those last few pancakes.”
You blink, “Wasn’t my fault you got distracted.”
Eddie’s grin turns crooked. “You show up in just this—” his hands tug playfully at the edge of the shirt, “—barely awake and already ruining me before I can finish one breakfast?”
Your laugh bubbles up, and you go to swat his shoulder, but he catches your wrist gently, gaze flickering back down. Your eyes go wide.
“I’m never going to be normal again.” His voice drops lower. “Due to the pancake casualties- I’m gonna have to have something else for breakfast.”
You let out a soft laugh, but it dies quickly when he sinks to his knees in front of you. “Eddie…”
He looks up at you, eyes blown wide and dark with need, voice low and serious. “Guess I’ll just have to improvise- most important meal of the day and all.”
You barely have time to respond before he’s hooking his fingers in the backs of your thighs and pulling you forward to the edge of the counter. Every inch of your skin is buzzing. And when he leans forward, pressing a slow kiss to the inside of your knee, you melt. Completely unraveling by the softness. The worship in it. The way he touches you like it’s his favorite ritual.
Your hands are gripping the edges of the counter as he kisses higher up your thighs. And higher. Then his mouth is on you. Hot and urgent, like he’s picking up right where he left off hours ago in his bed- only now he’s hungrier. The kind of hunger that comes from missing you for weeks. From holding back. From still not knowing if he’d ever get to do this again.
“Fuck,” he groans into you. “Still so sweet. How do you always taste this good?”
Your hands move and curl your fingers tight into his hair, a gasp slipping from your mouth as his tongue drags through your folds, slow now- like he’s savoring every second. You arch, whimpering as he locks his arms around your thighs to keep you steady, nose pressed right against you, groaning like this is the best thing he’s ever had.
He laps at you greedily, tongue curling, then flattening, then flicking against your bud. Until your thighs are shaking and your moans echo soft and breathy in the quiet kitchen.
“If this is how you eventually kill me,” he mutters against you, voice wrecked, eyes fluttering shut. “Then I’m gonna die fucking happy.”
You let out a broken cry, hips rocking into his mouth, every nerve lighting up under his touch. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps going- deeper, sloppier, tongue and lips working you open, devouring you like he’s starved.
Your stomach tightens, head tipping back. “Eddie—”
“Gonna make you cum right here. Gonna start my morning even better.” he says, voice low and thick.
With your fingers clutching his curls, your thighs trembling around his head, and his name pouring from your lips, you cry out, “Fffuckfuckfuck—“
Eddie groans when he feels you fall apart for him. Like he’s just been handed salvation. He stays there a second longer, soft kisses left on your bud and all over your inner thighs, like he can’t bear to leave yet.
He looks up towards you still on his knees, mouth covered in your slick, “Best breakfast I’ve ever had,” he whispers.
Eddie slowly stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breath still heavy, eyes dark and blown wide. His grin’s half cocked, so proud of what he can do to you- but it falters the second you tug him forward by the hem of his boxers.
Your mouth finds his in a hungry, open mouthed kiss- tongue sliding against his, fingers digging into the bare skin of his hips. He groans into you, stumbling a little forward, and you can feel him. Pressed right up in between your thighs now, hard, thick and twitching against your heat. You can’t help the sound you make- half whimper, half gasp- and it sends a full body shiver down Eddie’s spine.
“Shit,” he mutters, mouth breaking from yours only barely, lips still brushing as he pants. You grind into him, slow and deliberate, your arms looped around his neck.
“Sweetheart.” It’s a plea more than a warning.
His hands find your waist, grip tight- like he’s grounding himself before he completely unravels. “You can’t… I just had you on my tongue twice within the last.. four hours? Was deep inside you- and now you’re doing that again?”
You smile, eyes heavy, dragging your hips forward again. He stifles a groan against your jaw. “Well, what else am I supposed to do when I can feel how hard you are,” you whisper, nipping lightly at his neck.
“Yeah,” he huffs, jaw clenching. “No shit- I could get off just by doing that alone.”
His hands slide down your back, over your ass, fingers curling under your thighs. His voice is strained now, like every word’s getting harder to form. “Gettin’ real close to bending you over this counter, honey.”
Your breath catches. Eddie leans in, presses his forehead to yours. “Say the word,” he murmurs, voice like gravel and fire. “And I’m yours. Right here.”
His hips buck forward instinctively- just once, enough to make your legs tremble where they’re wrapped around him. You grip his shoulders, head spinning, body aching for more and swallow hard- lips barely parting. Your fingers curl tighter at the back of his neck, and your voice comes out quieter than intended, “What’s the word?”
Eddie stills. Like he wasn’t expecting that. Like the question cuts through him deeper than anything else tonight. He pulls back just enough to see your face- really see it. The flush on your cheeks, the glint of something nervous in your eyes beneath all the want.
His lips part, and for a second, he just breathes you in. Then, softly- almost in awe of you, “Mine.”
The word hangs there between you, delicately. Your breath hitches, chest pressing against his. “Yours.”
Eddie shudders, a low noise escaping from somewhere deep in his throat. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth- gentle at first. Then another, hungrier one against your lips. His hand curls under your thigh again, hitching you closer on the counter until your thighs are bracketing his hips.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice rough now, eyes locked on yours like he’s memorizing every shift in your expression.
You whisper, “Yours,” and watch him crumble.
Eddie groans deep, almost shaking, before claiming your mouth again. It’s intense. Starved. His hands splay wide across your back. Then he pulls back just slightly, eyes flicking between yours like he’s making sure.. double, triple checking for any sign to stop.
There’s none. So he exhales low, and his hands slide down to your hips. “C’mere,” he mutters, voice a little wrecked.
He lifts you effortlessly from the counter, your legs slipping down around him, your feet hitting the floor. Your knees are shaky beneath you. Still, you let him guide you, breath catching when he turns you gently, placing one palm between your shoulder blades leaning you over the counter, and the other curling around your hip.
You don’t resist. You brace yourself with both hands, heart hammering, cheek flushed with anticipation. You can hear him behind you, breathing just as unevenly as your own.
“Fuck,” Eddie murmurs. “Look at you.” His palm glides down your spine, softly squeezing your ass, not rushing- almost like he’s trting to calm himself.
He leans in, his chest against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I wasn’t bluffing, sweetheart. Said I was gettin’ real close to this. And now…?” He groans, rolling his hips against your ass, and you feel how hard he really is, thick and pulsing even through his boxers. “I’m barely holding it together.”
Your breath leaves you in a shiver. “Then don’t.”
Eddie can’t move fast enough after that. He pushes his boxers down just enough to free himself, groaning under his breath as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock- guiding himself right where you're already slick and wanting.
He doesn’t slide in yet. Just teases- slow drags against your folds, the head of him catching, brushing over your clit just enough to make your arms tremble as you grip the counter harder.
“Please,” you whisper, voice cracking with need.
He curses under his breath, hands tightening on your hips as he presses in slowly, until he’s seated all the way inside. You both gasp. He’s pulsing deep inside you, and it’s almost too much- but you arch back against him, craving more, and he gives it to you.
Eddie starts to move, hips snapping forward in slow, powerful thrusts. One hand stays gripped at your hip, the other sliding around your waist, holding you to him, keeping you grounded as he picks up pace.
“God- fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice breaking over your name. “So tight. So warm. You feel– fuck.. you feel like you were made for me.”
You whimper, pushing back into every thrust, dizzy from how full you feel, the stretch, the way he won’t stop praising you between broken curses and moans.
“Can’t believe you’re here,” he says into your shoulder, hips snapping harder now. “After everything… you’re here… and I’m inside you again.. Jesus—”
You cry out when he hits that perfect spot- again and again- and Eddie groans at the sound, like it undoes something in him.
“You’re gonna cum for me again?” he asks, panting against your back. “Tell me, honey. You that close already?”
You frantically nod your head, too gone for words.
Eddie curses under his breath, thrusts growing rougher, deeper. Then his hand slides between your thighs- fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, desperate circles in rhythm with every snap of his hips. It’s too much. It’s too perfect.
You unravel with a sharp cry, legs trembling, vision going white at the edges. Your muscles clench around him, and Eddie chokes on a sound- like he’s trying not to fall apart, but can’t stop it.
“Fuck- fuck, I’m gonna—”
He pulls out at the last second, just barely, and spills across the curve of your ass with a guttural moan, one hand braced on the counter, the other still wrapped tight around your waist.
The only sound for a beat is your breathing- rough and ragged- and Eddie’s soft curses as his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.
After a moment, he leans back just enough to look at you, catching his breath. “Good?” he asks, voice low and hoarse, still barely steady.
You nod, eyes fluttering closed. “Good,” you whisper.
Eddie huffs a breath, presses a kiss to the base of your neck. “I think I saw god.”
You manage a quiet laugh as he gently straightens you, hands careful as he pulls you back against his chest. “Stay right here,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
He disappears for a second to grab a warm towel from the bathroom, cleaning you up gently, without a word- like it matters to him. Like you matter to him.
When you turn around, he’s holding another clean pair of his boxers. “For you,” he says, voice low, smile crooked. “Again.”
You huff a soft laugh, taking them from him. “I’m gonna run you dry of any clean underwear”
“Worth it,” he says, a little too quickly. “They look better on you anyway.”
You pad to the bathroom, heart still thudding in your chest, legs shaky but steadier now. When you return a few minutes later- cleaned up, his boxers hanging loose on your hips- you find Eddie back in the kitchen, fussing with a fresh stack of pancakes, fork in one hand.
You linger in the doorway, a shy grin pulling at your mouth. “Hey,” you say, softly. “Can I still have some? Of the ones that survived?”
He turns to you- eyes sweeping over the sight of you in nothing but another pair of his boxers and that same rumpled Metallica shirt- and his face softens like it’s the first time- in a way that steals your breath all over again.
“Sweetheart,” he says, gesturing toward the plate like it’s sacred offering, “they’re yours.”
——————
You curl into the corner of Eddie’s couch, plate in your lap, coffee warm on the table in front of you. The morning light cuts softly through the blinds, casting lazy golden stripes across the floor. Eddie’s beside you, legs stretched out, a half eaten pancake on his plate, The Office humming low on the TV.
”Oh shit- I was supposed to text Robin last night!” You lean forward, swipe your phone off the table, where it was left forgotten about and the lock screen lights up- blinding after all the stillness.
7:32AM Robz🖤: are you alive
8:01AM Robz🖤: wait you’re still there aren’t you
8:04AM Robz🖤: you better be drinking coffee made by a shirtless metalhead right now
8:07AM Robz🖤: I am choosing to interpret your silence as bliss
You try not to laugh- but a grin cracks through anyway. You blink down at the screen and then glance over at Eddie, who’s now idly scrolling through his own phone. His brow lifts as he reads something, then scoffs.
8:10AM King Stevie: did she stay over?
8:12AM King Stevie: I’m not mad... I just wanna know she’s okay
8:14AM King Stevie: dude. answer your damn phone.
He looks over. “Steve’s convinced I’ve abducted you.”
You snort. “Same energy over here.”
He flashes you his screen, “He’s still going.”
8:15AM King Stevie: you said you’d drop her off at home after your ‘drive’ but Robin’s been texting me and now I’M spiraling. just tell me she’s good.
You tap out a quick reply to Robin:
8:17AM You: yes I stayed. yes I’m alive. yes there was coffee. yes he was shirtless. no I’m not elaborating. please pass a message along to Steve lol
She replies instantly:
8:18AM Robin: Steve has been alerted. I’m beaming. tell him his honorary lesbian points are stacking.
You toss the phone onto the couch with a smirk. Eddie nudges your leg with his. “What?”
“Just that you’ve apparently earned lesbian approval,” you murmur, sipping your coffee.
He raises both brows. “Damn. That’s gotta be the highest honor.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
—————
Hours pass like minutes- curled up with Eddie on his couch, your legs stretched across his lap, your hand idly tracing shapes on his forearm. The TV still runs through the background- episodes neither of you are really watching, and the leftover pancakes are long gone, coffee cups now cold on the table.
Eddie’s thumb strokes the side of your knee where it rests over his thigh, slow and absentminded, like he’s memorizing the shape of you without even realizing it.
But eventually, the peace gently breaks when you glance at the time on your phone and sigh. “Shit.”
Eddie’s eyes lift from your legs. “What?”
“I’ve got work at like eight tomorrow,” you murmur. “Need to be up at, like- well, just too early.”
He groans in sympathy. “Same. Got back to back oil changes and someone’s mystery engine rattle that’ll probably turn out to be a walnut from their own tree.”
You smile softly, reluctant. “I should head home.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Eddie nods, gives your leg a squeeze. “Alright. I’ll take you.”
“I could call Robin.. so you don’t have to leave.”
He’s already leaning forward to stretch and look for his keys. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk outta here after last night and this morning? Not happening.”
You bite back a grin. “Little possessive.”
He shoots you a crooked smile. “Only about the good stuff.”
You pull on your clothes from the night before and gather your things while he slips on a hoodie, keys already in hand. Then he glances back at you, a soft sort of look tugging at his mouth. “Hey. Before we head out…”
He shifts his weight, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “I never got to tell you… what you wore that night?”
You tilt your head.
“Halloween,” he clarifies, a little sheepish now. “That green dress? The circlet thing- even the ears? You looked—” He exhales, then smirks. “I mean, you always look good. But that night? He exhales out. “I was in shambles after everything happened.. and all I could think was how I didn’t even get to tell you how beautiful you looked. Like some kind of.. ethereal woodland goddess or something. I swear, the whole bar blurred out behind you when I finally saw you.”
Your breath catches, warm blooming in your ribs.
Then Eddie clears his throat, tries to play it off, muttering, “Of course, I got a little distracted by the part where your ex was all over you and I nearly committed second-degree battery, but…”
You snort despite yourself, bumping your shoulder against his.
He grins. “Still counts, right?”
You nod, the warmth behind your ribs spreading even deeper. “It counts.”
He exhales like he’s relieved, like saying it out loud helped settle something in his chest. Then a smirk tugs at the edge of his mouth. “So… total hypothetical.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“If the night hadn’t gone to complete shit- y’know, no exes, no punching, no panic- do you think… the Ghostface thing would’ve done anything for you?”
You laugh, eyes narrowing. “You mean the all black attire and plastic knife?”
“And the mask,” he adds quickly, like that’s the most important part. “Don’t forget the mask.”
You tilt your head, feigning deep thought. “Hmm. Hard to say. Now that I know it was you I saw before everything, you were kind of lurking in corners like a haunted raccoon.”
He gasps, hand to his chest. “Wow. Just absolutely gut me, why don’t you.”
You step in closer, the edge of a grin playing at your lips. “Would’ve maybe done something for me if I hadn’t been too busy watching you nearly break someone’s jaw.”
Eddie mock bows. “Chivalry’s not dead.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers. “Let’s go, dramatic ghost man.”
He opens the door for you with a sweeping gesture. “After you, elven royalty.”
—————
Pulling up to the curb of your house, Eddie throws the van into park, fingers tightening briefly on the wheel before he shuts it off. The headlights dim, leaving the street outside your place washed in quiet, early evening dark.
He doesn’t say anything right away. Just glances at you sideways, a half smile playing at the edge of his mouth like he doesn’t quite trust himself to say the right thing. You’re warm beside him, knees angled toward the dash, hands in your lap.
“I’ll walk you up,” he says finally, already reaching for the door handle.
You blink. “It’s really okay if—”
“Humor me,” he says cutting you off, grinning. “Plus, I need the dramatic ending.”
You huff a small laugh and climb out with him. You walk up side by side, boots brushing in rhythm. Your porch light flicks on as you approach- suddenly throwing the two of you into soft yellow glow, like a stage light.
You shift your weight. He rocks on his heels. And then he steps just a little closer. “Can I…” he starts, trailing off.
You nod before he finishes. His lips find yours, soft and gentle. The kiss isn’t long, but it lands deep. A press of understanding. A promise without a time stamp.
When he pulls back, his breath fans your lips. “Go,” he whispers, thumb brushing your jaw. “Before I start listing reasons for you to come back to the van.”
You smile, flustered. “Don’t tempt me.”
He laughs, backing down one step, then another. “Night, sweetheart.”
“Night, Eddie.”
You’re about to open the door when you hear him jog back up the steps behind you.
“Wait, Y/n?”
You turn just as he gently catches your arm, and your eyes go wide. “Yeah?”
He looks like he’s about to say something important- then immediately fumbles it. He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.
“I just…” He gestures vaguely between you two. “I didn’t wanna assume, or like… jinx anything, but I figured I should probably just ask instead of… overthinking it until I short circuit.”
You blink. “Ask what?”
Eddie exhales hard, like he’s bracing for impact. Then he says, in one rush of breath, “Are you- are we- like, are you my girlfriend now? Because if you’re not, that’s totally fine, and I’ll just.. crawl into my van and scream into the upholstery or something, but if you are, I’d like to know. Officially. You know. For labeling purposes.”
Your lips twitch. “Labeling purposes?”
He nods solemnly. “You know.. so I don't have to call you my ‘incredibly beautiful, emotionally complex situation’ when Dustin eventually asks- and then won’t stop asking.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Yes, Eddie. I’ll be your girlfriend.”
His whole face lights up- equal parts boyish relief and triumph. “Cool,” he says, grinning like he just won the lottery. “Coolcoolcool. Just checking.”
He backs up again, but not before leaning in to kiss you one more time- quick and giddy. “Now go inside,” he says, pointing gently at your door, the pad of his finger brushing your arm. “Before I forget how to be chill about this and say something way too intense for a porch.”
You smile, cheeks warm. “You? Chill?”
He grins. “Exactly. It’s a slippery slope.”
You giggle softly. “Night, boyfriend.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, flushed and beaming as he heads back down the steps. “That sounds dangerously good.”
The van still smells like you.
It hits him the second he shuts the door behind him, the engine ticking as it cools in the quiet. The warmth of your perfume lingering in the seat beside him, the ghost of your laugh bouncing around the cabin, still fresh enough to feel like it’s stitched into the fabric.
He rests his hands on the wheel for a moment, just breathing. Not ready to get out. Not ready to be away from you again.
The porch light at your place is still glowing when he glances in the rearview mirror. You’re probably getting ready for bed, maybe still smiling. He hopes so. God, he hopes so.
Because he is. Smiling like an idiot. Grinning like he just got kissed for the first time at age sixteen, not like he just spent the last twelve hours being thoroughly, irrevocably wrecked by you in every possible way.
And now you’re his girlfriend.
His girlfriend.
He runs a hand down his face, exhaling hard, like he’s trying to shake off the high of it- but it’s not going anywhere. You’re everywhere. On his skin, in his sheets, tangled in his hair and curled up somewhere deep in his ribs.
When he makes it home, he eventually climbs out of the van and trudges up to his apartment, steps a little lighter than they should be for someone who barely slept.
The couch is still rumpled from where you curled into him. The mugs from this morning are still on the coffee table. He glances over at his counter, the way you were sat up there half naked?
Burned into his brain. He huffs a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh, and heads straight to the bedroom- boots still on, brain replaying every moment with you.
Eddie flops facedown onto the bed like he’s been shot, arms spread wide in utter defeat.
“Alas,” he groans into the mattress, “abandon all hope, ye who enter the heartbreak chamber of this sad, sad man.”
He lifts his head slightly, just enough to throw a dramatic glance at the ceiling.
“She was here, and now she is gone. And I—” he pauses to clutch his chest, “—am but a hollow shell of a man who once knew joy.”
He pauses, “…Also I’m starving. Wonder if I have any pizza rolls left.”
Ty @strangergraphics @cyberangel-graphics @thecutestgrotto & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🖤
Sometimes paternal abuse doesn’t look like a storm. Sometimes it looks like a sky you were taught to navigate by a map that was never drawn for you.
And that’s the confusing part — when the person who was supposed to be your North Star becomes the fog you keep walking through. When love and fear get braided together so tightly you forget they were ever meant to be separate threads.
If this is you, hear this clearly: Your confusion is not a flaw. It’s evidence of how deeply you tried to make sense of the senseless.
You are not broken. You are not late. You are not lost.
You are wandering — yes — but wandering is not the same as failing. Wandering is what we do when the path we were given was never safe to walk.
So if you feel like Van Gogh searching for color in a world that taught you to dim your own light… If you feel like Neptune — distant, misunderstood, orbiting in a place no one bothered to learn the temperature of…
I see you.
And you deserve a life where your voice isn’t an echo, your worth isn’t conditional, and your existence isn’t something you have to justify.
BTW Where is Ban Gogh? Where is Neptune?
— in every survivor who is learning to paint again, breathe again, and name their own sky.
Keep going. Your clarity is coming. Your orbit is your own now.
Question for you: How do we know Dante is the main character in The Divine Comedy?
When you were reading through the Divine Comedy, did you notice anything missing? That missing element is the key to understanding both Inferno and Purgatorio. Without this piece, Paradisio is almost meaningless...
Dante is led to Beatrice. Illuminated manuscript. Used under Creative Commons.
And no, you may not answer with “it’s obvious” or “everybody knows.”
How do we know? Dante’s name only appears in Inferno on the title page, nowhere else. It could be anybody who gets lost in the Dark Wood. It could be anybody who cried out to Virgil in fear of the three beasts. You or I could even be the main…
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Series CW: modern au/ angst/ eventual smut/ fluff/ toxic relationship behaviors/ starting a new life/ healing/ unexpected romance/ trust issues/ trauma/ low self esteem/ slow burn/ hateful words/ parent loss/ swearing/ yelling/
Series Pairing: Eddie Munson X (f) Reader
WC: 28k (Ireally suck at pacing out chapters apparently)
Summary: You and Eddie are official now! What could go wrong?
Chapter CW: /fluff/angst/smut/pinv(eddie’s pull out game still strong)/oral (f receiving)/fingering/multiple orgasms/talk of cum/manipulation/toxic ex/trust issues/voyeurism/female masturbation/past trauma/crying/sexualizing reader/sad eddie/eddie raises his voice/waynes wisdom/talk of physical violence/think that’s it??
A/N: I had to sprinkle a little angst into this… sorry… also sorry this is so late. Tumblr kept cutting me off, and well personal issues arose. Just one more chapter left yall- thank you for all your support on this 🖤
You barely make it in the house and close the door behind you before Robin barrels around the corner at full speed. “I know you said you weren’t going to elaborate,” she says, hands flailing dramatically, “but tough shit, because I need details.”
You blink at her, still in an Eddie daze- heart thudding from the past twenty four hours.
She’s practically vibrating. “You stayed the night,” she says, ticking off on her fingers, “there was coffee, he was shirtless, you were alive enough to text me.. but that is bare minimum survival reporting, y/n. I need real intel.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you kick off your boots next to the door. “Pretty sure I covered the important stuff.”
Robin gasps dramatically, “The important stuff?! You think that’s enough to survive on?! I need context, I need start to end, I need a full play by play!”
You drop your head down, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide as you pad toward the kitchen. Robin is hot on your heels, practically buzzing.
“So?” she demands, planting her hands on the counter. “Was it… y’know… good?”
You crack open the fridge, grab two sodas, and toss her one without answering. Robin catches it, barely, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re stalling,” she accuses.
“I’m thirsty,” you shrug, popping your can open.
“You’re giddy stalling,” she counters, pointing an accusing finger. “There’s a difference.”
You roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Robin sees it immediately and lets out a victorious sound.
“You have the glow,” she says triumphantly. “Oh my god. He wrecked you, didn’t he?”
You almost choke on your sip of soda. “Robin,” you hiss, but you’re laughing, cheeks already heating.
“I knew it,” she crows, throwing her hands up. “I knew he had it in him!”
You shake your head, still grinning, and sink into one of the kitchen chairs. “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m drinking something!”
Robin follows, cracking open her own soda like she just won an award. She sits across from you, speaking softer now, “But seriously. You okay? Like the whole emotional feelings part? Like, really?”
You meet her eyes, and it hits you all over again- how different you feel today. How okay you really are. “Yeah,” you say smiling, “I’m okay.”
Robin exhales like she’s been holding it since yesterday. “Good.” She smiles wide enough to crinkle her nose. “You deserve to be okay.”
You softly nod. “And,” you add, suddenly feeling the bubble of nerves flutter back into your chest, “he, uh… asked me something before I came inside.”
Robin’s eyes go wide instantly. “What. WHAT.”
You rub the back of your neck, cheeks burning. “If… I was his girlfriend now.”
Robin actually squeals, causing you to wince. “You said yes, right?!”
You nod. “Yeah. He asked.. for labeling purposes? It was very cute.”
She spins in a slow circle like she physically cannot contain the energy. “I knew it. I knew it was happening. I’m a genius. I’m psychic. I’m—” she freezes, squints at you, “does this mean you’re gonna tell me exactly everything that happened after you two left Steve’s?”
You shrug, eyes gleaming. “Some things are mine for now.”
Robin sighs dramatically and leans back in her chair. “For now,” she agrees. “But just know… I’m collecting emotional interest.”
——————————
The following Monday morning, Eddie can’t get you out of his mind. He’s hesitant to text, doesn’t wanna bother you. But fuck it, you’re his girlfriend now. The wrench clatters out of his hand and onto the floor with a loud clang, but he barely even notices. He wipes his hands off on his coveralls and pulls his phone from his pocket again, thumbing out a quick text. Just something short. Nothing crazy.
Okay, maybe a little stupid and soft.. but after everything, he doesn’t give a shit. He sends it before he can overthink it, shoving the phone back into his pocket like it’s burning a hole there.
Across the shop, Jerry whistles low. “Jesus, Munson. You get laid or fall in love this weekend?”
Eddie snorts, bending to pick up the wrench. “Mind your business, old man.”
Marcus, half buried under a hood, calls out, grinning, “C’mon, dude’s been walking around here like a kicked puppy for weeks. Let him have his Romeo and Juliet moment.”
Another guy tosses in from the tire rack, “You’re practically glowing, Munson. It’s disgusting.”
Eddie laughs under his breath, flipping them all off with one hand as he goes back to tightening the bolts. “Sorry I’m not miserable like the rest of you sorry bastards.”
Marcus calls out again, laughing, “Yeah, yeah- don’t get soft on us, Romeo.”
“At least pretend you’re dead inside like the rest of us.” Jerry grumbles.
Eddie just shakes his head, the grin tugging at his mouth impossible to fight.
Let them talk. Let them roast him. He didn’t care.
Not when he swore he could still feel your hand laying across his chest in his sleep last night. Not when he could still hear your laugh in his head, or smell your perfume in his sheets.
—————
Later that evening, Eddie makes his way back to his apartment, the door closing softly behind him. He drags a hand through his messy hair, still stiff with sweat and grease from work, boots kicked off at the door.
He barely makes it five steps into the living room when there’s a loud, impatient knock at the door. One that it is way too familiar.
“Munson!” Steve’s voice calls. “Open up. I just need to know—”
Eddie exhales, already moving and pulling the door open and Steve’s standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight like he’s been waiting for hours for him to let him in. He steps inside immediately without waiting, eyes scanning Eddie head to toe like he’s checking for visible damage.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Steve says, voice low. “You dropped her off that night- then radio silence. Robin won’t give me any details.”
Eddie shuts the door with a huff, leaning back against it, hands shoved into the jean pockets. “Relax, Harrington. We’re good.”
Steve’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Good like… you’re actually good? Or good like, you’re both pretending you didn’t rip each other’s hearts out again?”
Eddie smirks, can’t help it, can’t stop the way it pulls too big across his mouth. “We’re together, man. Officially.”
Steve just stares. Then he lets out a long, slow breath and drags a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head. “About fucking time.” And he can’t hold back his smile either.
Eddie chuckles under his breath, pushing off the door. “Yeah, yeah. You and Robin can throw a party later. C’mon.”
Steve follows, muttering, “We will. I’ll get matching t-shirts and everything- maybe a piñata of you.”
Eddie ducks into the kitchen, cracks open the fridge, grabs two beers, and tosses one over without looking. Steve catches it easily, leaning back against the counter.
“Doesn’t that mean you guys would be technically hitting me with a stick—“ he starts to say as he closes the fridge and turns around- but he sees where Steve’s leaning- and his body freezes.
Because Steve’s leaning, one hand bracing on it behind him- on that counter- your counter now, apparently- exactly where Eddie had you yesterday morning. Sitting there in his Metallica shirt, nothing else, skin warm under his palms, legs wrapped around him. Where he dropped to his knees and—
The memory punches Eddie so hard he almost drops his beer. He fumbles the bottle cap off, trying to play it cool- but the beer foams up immediately, spilling everywhere.
Steve jump back. “Jesus, man! You good!?”
“I’m fine!” Eddie blurts, way too fast, mopping up the beer on the counter quickly with the sleeve of his hoodie.
Steve squints at him like he’s witnessing a live meltdown. “You’re sweating.”
“I’m not sweating!” Eddie insists, wiping harder like the mess might erase the memory seared into his brain. “I just- shit got a little… intense yesterday.”
Steve raises a slow eyebrow. “Intense? You just said everything was good?”
Eddie winces at himself. “I mean- not bad intense. Just… you know. It was chaotic.”
“Chaotic?” Steve repeats, smirking now. “Munson. What the hell happened in here?”
Eddie twists his rings on his fingers, preventing himself from making eye contact. “We just… got a little… distracted.”
Steve’s whole face lights up. “Distracted, huh?”
Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face then glances at the counter again. “It’s not what it sounds like.”
Steve glances down at where his palms were on the counter, then back up at Eddie’s bright red face.
“Oh my god,” Steve says, realization dawning slow and wicked. “Ohhh my god.”
“There’s nothing on the counter!” Eddie yells preemptively, defensive as hell.
Steve shoves off the counter with an exaggerated gasp, wiping his hands on his jeans. “What’s that supposed to mean?! It sounds like I just touched a crime scene!”
Eddie groans into both hands. “It’s clean, jackass!”
“SPIRITUALLY, it’s not!” Steve fires back, laughing so hard he nearly drops his beer. “I’ve been tainted.”
“You’re such a fucking drama queen,” Eddie grumbles, but he’s laughing too now, shoulders shaking, face on fire.
Steve claps him on the back, still cackling. “Yeah, well, I’m a drama queen who knew you two would get your shit together eventually. Even if it meant sacrificing my soul to your sinful countertop.”
Eddie flips him off but can’t stop grinning. Especially when he leans back against the fridge, staring at the counter. Remembering you. The taste of you. Yeah. No amount of soap is ever scrubbing that memory away. Not that he’d even want to.
They both eventually collapse onto the couch, still chuckling under their breath. Steve taps the neck of his beer against his knee, looking at Eddie in a way that’s all brotherly affection but also protective rolled into one.
“I haven’t seen her yet,” Steve says, almost hesitant. “Robin wouldn’t say much. Which is surprising.. Just that you brought her home… and that she seemed good.”
Eddie nods, chest already tightening at the memory of you- your sleepy smile, the way you kissed him on your porch. “She is good,” Eddie says quietly. “We’re good.”
Steve leans forward, turning towards Eddie, elbows braced on his knees, studying him. “You sure?”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Steve’s mouth tugs into a small, crooked smile- but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look, man… you know how much she’s been through and everything that’s gone on the past few weeks. I just needed to hear it from you. That she’s okay. That you’re—” he gestures vaguely between them, “—doing right by her.”
Eddie leans forward too, resting his forearms on his knees, serious now. “She’s it for me, man,” he says, voice low. “I’m not gonna mess it up.”
Steve freezes for a second- like he wasn’t expecting that level of certainty. His eyebrows lift a little, stunned, but something settles behind his eyes too- like he’s turning it over, and the more he does, the more it makes sense.
“Shit,” Steve breathes, shaking his head with a small, crooked grin. “Never thought I’d see the day Munson gets this serious about someone. I mean I knew you were pretty crazy about her—“ He leans back again, a little awed, a little teasing. “But… after everything? Yeah. Makes sense. If it was ever gonna happen, it was gonna end with her.”
Eddie huffs a quiet, breathless laugh- a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Steve finally exhales, like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. “Good,” he mutters, smirking faintly. “Because if you do mess it up, Robin would kill you first, but I’d make sure there wasn’t enough left to bury.”
“Not gonna give either of you a reason to,” he promises.
Steve tips his beer up in a loose salute. “To surviving emotional constipation and terrible life choices.”
Eddie clinks his bottle against Steve’s, grinning crookedly. “And to never letting you lean on that counter again.”
Steve immediately shudders, wiping his palm down his jeans. “Dead serious, man.. I’m spiritually unclean now. First the van, and my jeans! Now this.”
Steve drains the last of his beer, standing with a groan like he’s aged fifty years in the last ten minutes. He tosses the empty bottle toward Eddie’s trash can- misses horribly- but doesn’t even pretend to care.
“Alright,” Steve says, stretching his arms overhead. “My work here is done. You’re disgustingly happy, your kitchen counter’s forever cursed, and I’m gonna have to compare notes with Robin later about all this.”
Eddie raises a hand, already herding him toward the door. “Out. Go. Before you traumatize yourself any further.”
Steve snickers, grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door. “Tell y/n I said hey. Y’know, after you send her one of your sad, lovesick texts or whatever.”
Eddie rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head. “Get out, Harrington.”
Steve just laughs, slapping Eddie’s shoulder affectionately as he steps outside. “Night, Munson. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Real short list, man,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door behind him and the second the latch clicks, the whole apartment feels quieter. Like it’s exhaled with him.
Eddie doesn’t even pretend to clean up the beer bottles right away. He just falls back onto the couch, hair still a mess from work, hoodie riding up over his stomach, and digs his phone out of the pocket of his jeans.
——————
You’re curled up in bed, hair still damp from a shower, wearing one of Robin’s oversized sweatshirts- you definitely didn’t steal from her- slung loose around your frame. A half finished book lies forgotten beside you, the words becoming a blur because your brain’s still stuck somewhere else- somewhere softer, somewhere Eddie shaped.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, lighting up the room with a soft glow. Your heart jumps immediately. You scramble for it, flipping it over- and sure enough, it’s him.
9:13PM Eddie: Hey sweetheart. Made it through Harrington's full interrogation without dying.. barely. Hope your day went alright. Thinking about you. Call me if you want.
You stare at the screen for a second, the smile pulling at your mouth too big, too full to fight. You don’t even think twice. The dial tone barely rings once before he answers- voice low, a little breathless like he wasn’t expecting you to call so fast.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
You smile into the dark. “Hey.”
The sound of his voice, even through the tiny speaker, settles something inside you. You curl tighter under the blanket, tucking the phone closer to your ear like it might bring him closer too.
“Were you asleep?” you whisper.
“Nah,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Been waiting for you.”
Your cheeks warm. Your heart feels like it’s trying to break your ribs. As the conversation drifts easy and aimless between you- about nothing and everything- you realize.. This. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
The following day, Robin’s already sprawled on the couch when you get home from work, a suspiciously bright grin on her face.
You kick your shoes off, tossing your bag on the recliner. “What’s with the look?”
She sits up straighter, clutching her phone to her chest like it’s holding government secrets. “Oh, nothing,” she says nonchalantly. “Just that I scored tickets for Steve and I to the best concert of the year.”
You narrow your eyes. “Define ‘best.’”
Robin leans in, stage whispering dramatically, “Billie Eilish. In Indianapolis. This Friday.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping face first onto the couch. “You’re gonna ugly cry and Steve’s gonna pretend he doesn’t know all the words.”
Robin beams like you just blessed her. “Absolutely. It’s tradition.”
You lift your head to squint at her. “Steve excited?”
Robin cackles. “He said he’s only coming to ‘keep me safe,’ but he’s the one who knew every single word to ‘Happier Than Ever’ last time and screamed it louder than anyone.”
You snort. “That tracks. I don’t even know the words. But I’m also not as big of a fan as Stevie.”
“He air drummed during the bridge in the car one day while I was driving,” Robin adds, deadly serious. “Like full on emotional drum solo. I thought he was gonna break the dashboard.”
You bury your face in a pillow, laughing so hard you almost can’t breathe.
Robin leans back with a victorious sigh. “Anyway, don’t wait up for us. We’re staying overnight- hotel’s already booked.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Whole weekend adventure, huh?”
“We’ll be back Saturday, but yeah. Road trip snacks, forcing Steve to drive the entire time, inevitable emotional collapse during the encore- the essentials,” Robin says, counting them off on her fingers like it’s gospel.
You shake your head, still grinning- but your mind’s already racing ahead. Because Friday night? House to yourself. Just you. Unless…
—————
It takes you a few hours to work up the nerve. You spend most of the evening trying to act casual- cleaning your room a little, half watching some old movie Robin left on the TV- but your mind keeps drifting. Back to Eddie.
You’re curled up on your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, when the thought hits you again- harder this time. You chew on your lip, fingers hovering over the screen, debating. Then, before you can overthink it too much, you hit ‘Call’. It only rings twice before he picks up, voice warm and scratchy.
“Hey, sweetheart. You good?”
You smile, sinking deeper into your pillow. “Yeah. Are you busy?”
“For you? Never.” You can hear the grin in his voice. “What’s up?”
Your stomach flips a little, but you push through, voice a little nervous. “So, uh… Robin and Steve are going to Indianapolis on Friday. Overnight. They’re staying through Saturday.”
“Yeah?” Eddie says, curious.
You fiddle with the bottom of your sleeve. “So I’ll be home alone.. And I was thinking… if you wanted… you could stay over? Here? Friday night?”
There’s a tiny beat of silence- a breath held across the line. “Are you serious?” His voice comes low, a little stunned.
You laugh under your breath, heart hammering. “Yeah. If you want to. No pressure. I’d just… like it.”
Another short pause- then a sound you love, his soft, disbelieving laugh. “Sweetheart,” he says with a lopsided grin, “just so you know, inviting me over might result in me never wanting to leave.”
Then, after a long pause, “…Shit, that sounded a lot less clingy in my head.”
Your face heats up, and you start tugging your sleeve, heart hammering. “You, um… you should probably be careful. I fall kinda fast when someone makes me laugh and doesn’t suck.”
There’s a second of static silence, almost like the line dropped, and then a choked sound, maybe a laugh, “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, voice higher than usual, “what the fuck was that?”
You stay quiet, just smiling to yourself, wicked and warm.
“Did you just casually threaten me with affection?” he demands, still flustered. “Was that a romantic warning?”
You hum. “Maybe.”
“Oh my god,” he groans. “No. No, you don’t get to just say that and then breathe normally afterward. I’m not okay.”
You’re giggling now while he’s spiraling. “I make you laugh and I don’t suck?” he repeats, like quoting it back might help him cope. “Sweetheart, do you realize what that does to me? That’s like.. peak boyfriend propaganda.”
You laugh harder, biting your lip.
“I’m serious,” he insists. “That’s some dangerously effective branding. You’re out here pitching me like I’m a limited edition vinyl or something.”
You hum, teasing. “Might be.”
Eddie groans. “You cannot just say that and expect me not to imprint on you like a baby duck.”
The line settles into a quiet warmth after that, both of you grinning, breathing a little unsteady, hearts not quite sure how to keep up.
“I want to,” he says, earnest. “So bad. I do gotta warn you though, I have work Saturday morning. Boss overbooked us. I’d have to leave kinda early that day.”
You breathe out a shaky little laugh of relief. “I don’t mind. I still want you to.”
He exhales, a low, warm sound. “God, I can’t fucking wait.”
You bite your lip, sinking deeper into the bed, heart pounding.
“Friday can’t come soon enough,” he murmurs.
You close your eyes, smiling into the quiet. “Yeah,” you whisper back. “It really can’t.”
Eddie finally chuckles under his breath. “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
“Night, Eddie.”
“Night, honey.”
You hang up, staring at the ceiling, warm all the way to your fingertips. Friday can’t come soon enough.
——————
The knock on the door of your room rattles the whole frame.
You’re already halfway lacing up your boots when Robin’s loud voice comes through, “Steeeve’s here! And he’s being a little bitch about traffic!”
You snort under your breath, finishing the last knot and heading to the living room. But Robin swings the front door open before you even reach it, grinning at you like she’s about to be let loose out in the world for the first time.
Behind her, Steve leans dramatically against his car like the long suffering chauffeur he thinks he is, sunglasses perched on his nose, mouthing ‘hurry up’ at both of you.
Robin swings her bag over one shoulder, bouncing a little on her toes. “You ready for your big romantic night, lover girl?”
You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “Shouldn’t I be asking if you and Steve are ready for your guy’s big date with Billie Eilish?”
“Excuse you,” Robin says, mock offended. “This is not a date. This is a lesbian’s rite of passage and a reluctant straight man’s musical awakening.”
Steve honks the horn once- unnecessarily and Robin flips him off without looking. You laugh, tugging your jacket on tighter as you both step onto the porch. It’s cold- that clear kind of November cold that cuts straight through your sleeves- but it doesn’t touch the heat buzzing under your skin. Because today’s not just any Friday.
Today’s the first time you’re seeing Eddie again since Sunday night- since he asked you to be his girlfriend- and the thought alone is enough to make your stomach somersault. Robin bumps your shoulder with hers as you lock the door behind you,
“Seriously though. You good?”
You glance at her, smiling without thinking. “I’m good.”
And you are. Better than good. The whole week, you and Eddie had kept in touch- a few texts, a couple late night phone calls where you both ended up half asleep on the line- but it wasn’t the same as being near him.
“Alright, lady,“ She hands you her car keys, “go float off to work before you start drooling over whatever you’re thinking about.”
You laugh, flipping her off as you hop down the last step. “Have fun tonight, Robin. Don’t let Steve cry if Billie sings What Was I Made For.”
“I won’t!” Robin yells back gleefully.
Steve shouts from the car without missing a beat, “I don’t even know what song that is!”
You snort, watching him dramatically fiddle with the radio like he’s trying to erase all evidence he’s ever heard a Billie Eilish song in his life. Robin just smirks wider and leans in conspiratorially. “He totally knows every word.”
——————
The garage already smells like oil and burnt rubber when Eddie pulls in, parking crooked in the back lot like always. His duffle bag- packed last night with way too much nervous energy- stays tucked in the back of the van. He’s not staying at work longer than he has to today. Not when he’s supposed to see you. The thought alone has him practically vibrating.
He tries to play it cool when he steps into the shop- tossing a lazy wave at Marcus and the new kid, Tommy, where they’re already elbow deep in someone’s busted Ford. But he knows he’s not subtle. He’s been buzzing since he woke up. It must be obvious, because Marcus clocks him instantly, raising a grease stained brow.
“Jesus, Munson,” he calls over the noise. “You were bad enough Monday.”
Eddie shrugs, grabbing a pair of gloves from the workbench. “What can I say? Life’s good, man.”
Tommy smirks, “You keep acting like that, we’re gonna start charging you happiness tax.”
Eddie just grins, tugging on his coveralls. “Better start a tab then, boys. ‘Cause I ain’t planning on being miserable anytime soon.”
That earns a few exaggerated gagging noises from across the shop. He ducks his head, trying to shake off the stupid grin, and gets to work. He powers through a stack of oil changes, a tire rotation that turns into a full brake job, and a radiator flush that soaks through the front of his coveralls- but none of it sticks.
None of it even touches the high he’s riding. Because tonight he’ll be with you. You text him on his break- a simple:
Can’t wait to see you later, Eds.
And he just about falls to the fucking ground reading it. He tucks the phone away after rereading it three times, heart hammering like he’s sixteen again. He makes it through most of the day riding that feeling- until his phone buzzes again around midafternoon. He’s laughing at something Marcus just said about Tommy’s terrible taste in music when he pulls it out of his pocket.
Incoming Call: Wayne (Don’t Ignore)
Eddie stops everything he’s doing. Because Wayne never calls during work unless it’s serious.
He ducks out to the edge of the loading bay, voice low. “Wayne? Everything okay?”
There’s a loud rush of water on the other end, and Wayne’s voice, tight with frustration:
“Ed, I hate to do this, but I got a busted water valve under the trailer. It’s floodin’ bad. I can’t get it shut off, company won’t come out ‘til tomorrow.”
“Shit,” Eddie breathes, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. I just gotta finish one thing here. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
Wayne sighs heavy with relief. “Knew I could count on ya, boy.”
They hang up, and Eddie’s already moving- stripping off his coveralls, letting his boss know he’s gotta head out for a family emergency- adrenaline already kicking in.
But something heavy settles in his gut as he pulls his phone out again, his thumb hovering over your messages. This wasn’t supposed to happen tonight. Not when you invited him. Not when he packed a bag like a fucking dork. Still, he types it out, jaw tight,
Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Wayne’s got an emergency. Busted water valve at his place, it’s flooding bad. I have to help him patch it until a plumber can get out tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll make it tonight. I hate this. I was looking forward to seeing you so damn much.
He hits send before he can second guess it. Way too long of a minute passes until his phone buzzes, and his chest aches even before he reads it.
It’s okay, Eds. Really. I understand. I hope it gets resolved. Be safe. Text me later if you can.
Eddie drags his hand down his face, exhaling hard. He stares at your reply for a long second- rereading it, tracing every word with his eyes like it’ll make him feel less like he’s letting you down.
He tosses his jacket on, jogs out to the van- where his duffle still sitting in the backseat, that’ll remain untouched- and fires up the engine, tires screeching a little too loud against the gravel. The sun’s lower now, dipping toward the horizon. The time he should’ve been pulling up to your place. Arms full of you. Not crawling under a leaking trailer.
Closes his eyes for a second at a red light. Imagines your smile. Your voice calling him Eds. He’ll make it up to you. Somehow. He swears it.
———————
The door clicks shut behind you, a little louder than you meant for it to. The house feels quieter than usual- like it knows tonight was supposed to be different. Supposed to be full of Eddie’s voice, Eddie’s laugh, Eddie’s hands. You kick your shoes off half heartedly, drop the keys in the little bowl by the door, and try not to feel too disappointed.
It’s not his fault. You know that. And you do get it- Wayne needed him. Eddie will always show up for the people he cared about. Still… The emptiness settles in as you drift around the house, trying to stay busy.
Half watching TV. Half heartedly doom scrolling. Nothing sticks. Your mind just keeps slipping back to him.
You even try to sleep. You really do, thinking it’ll help pass time, not let you dwell on it. You toss. Turn. Fluff the pillow. Stare at the ceiling, try to count sheep. But it’s no good. All you can think about is him.
The way he looked last weekend- shirtless and flushed above you before sliding under the covers. The way his hands shook when he touched you like you were something sacred.
You peel off your underwear- a heat pooling low in your belly before you can talk yourself out of it and close your eyes. You picture his mouth- hot and heavy on your neck. The feel of his hands gripping your hips. The rough sound he makes when he can’t hold back.
You gasp softly when your fingers lower, finding the dampness already waiting between your folds. You’re not usually like this. Not needy. Not desperate. But Eddie… Eddie changed something in you.
Your hand moves slower at first- two fingers circling your clit, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. You picture his mouth there instead. His hair spilling over your thighs. His low voice and desperate, “Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”
You whimper, biting your lip to stifle the sound even if alone. You’re so caught up you don’t hear the door creak. Don’t hear the soft thud of boots getting kicked off against the floor. You only realize when you hear it..
A thud.
You jump, gasping, head whipping up from the pillow- just in time to see Eddie on his knees at the doorway, his mouth slightly open in pure, wrecked awe. You freeze. Still half hidden by your shirt. Still caught with your hand between your thighs.
“Eddie?” you breathe, cheeks flaming hot. “I—”
But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even blink. He just stays kneeling there, chest rising and falling fast, eyes wide and dark and full of something you’ve never seen before.
———————
The last clamp on Wayne’s busted valve finally clicks into place. Eddie exhales a sharp breath, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Wayne claps a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezes,
“Thank you, son,” Wayne says gruffly but grateful. “I would’ve been screwed without you.”
Eddie musters a tired smile, closing up the toolbox. “Always got you, old man,” he says, voice a little rougher than normal.
Wayne squints at him and smirks a little. “You’re a good kid.”
Eddie nods, chest tightening faintly- but he’s already glancing at his phone, 9:03PM. He can still salvage tonight. If he hurries. He claps Wayne’s shoulder once, and heads toward the van without even bothering to clean up properly. His brain’s moving faster than his feet.
Grab pizza. Show up at your door. Hope you don’t mind him looking like a goddamn mess.
He calls in the order on his way to the place, running in and drumming his fingers against their counter, come on, come on, come on- once they hand him the box, he sprints back out to the van, and it hits the passenger seat with a thud.
Eddie’s still grinning when he parks outside your place, the rush of getting done early still buzzing through him. He strips out of his now muddy work jeans in the back of the van- cursing when his boot gets stuck halfway- and tugs on clean sweats and a loose hoodie from the duffel, then scrubs his hands and face clean with baby wipes he now thanks himself for storing in here ever since his first day at the shop.
When he heads up to your porch, the house looks dark- he knocks softly once, no answer. He goes for the knob and realizes it’s unlocked. He hates to think you forgot to lock your front door knowing you’d be home alone tonight- so he steps in carefully, not wanting to startle you. “Sweetheart?” he calls softly, but you don’t answer.
He frowns, kicking his boots off. The kitchen is empty, so he sets the pizza down on the counter for now. He starts towards the hallway, and that’s when he hears something- A soft moan. A broken gasp.
From your room.
He doesn’t think. Doesn’t breathe. He just follows the sound- the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.. a sound that’s been on loop on his head since your first night together- until he’s standing in your doorway. And he sees you.
Lit only by the string lights around your room- shirt pushed up, legs spread with your hand between your thighs, moving slowly over yourself, lips parted, eyes closed in pure, helpless need.
“Eddie—“ the soft moan of his name from your mouth causes his knees to give out without permission. He crumples onto the floor, breath leaving him in one harsh, aching rush.
Because nothing could’ve prepared him for this. For you, beautiful and desperate, moaning his name even when you thought you were alone. The fact that even when you thought he wasn’t coming over anymore, you still wanted him like this. He’s so caught up, so broken open by the sight of you, he almost forgets how to move. But then you lift your head, eyes wide and glassy, and you see him.
Eddie feels like his ribs might shatter from the way his heart is pounding inside of him. He shakes his head, hand outstretched slightly- voice cracking like it physically hurts him, “Don’t stop.”
Your eyes widen even more. He scrambles back up to his feet slowly, almost like you’re a frightened animal he doesn’t want to spook.
He steps into your room, one hand braced against the doorframe, voice rough and pleading, “Door was open.. I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear, sweetheart- I just… got done earlier than I thought.. and I needed to see you.”
You’re breathing hard, while clutching the sheets with one hand and blinking like you don’t believe he’s real.
“You’re… you’re really here?” you whisper.
Eddie slowly nods, “Yeah. I’m here.”
He crosses the last few feet to your bed, sitting carefully onto the bottom at your feet, his hand ghosting up your shin, so light it’s barely a touch.
“Couldn’t stay away from you,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “Even if I wanted to.”
His eyes lift to yours, they’re dark and filled with need. “Can I touch you?” he breathes.
You nod so fast your vision goes blurry. His hands are careful- first on your ankle, your calf, your thigh- steady and shaking all at once. Then he sinks lower onto his knees between your legs, looking up at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed. “Show me, sweetheart,” he says, voice thick. “Show me how you were touching yourself.”
You freeze, forgetting how to breathe.
He leans in closer, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. “Please,” he barely whispers. “I need to see.”
Your whole body tightens- a shiver running from your toes up your spine. He’s not touching you. He’s not even reaching for you. He’s just watching. Eyes blown wide, jaw slack, hair curling around his face in messy shadows.
You hesitate for a heartbeat- your hand trembling slightly where it’s still resting between your thighs- but the look on his face… It knocks the breath right out of you. Like you’re something he’s only ever dreamed of. So you slowly move again. Your fingers stroke through your folds, gathering your slick before making your way back up to your clit as a soft gasp slips out of you.
Eddie makes a broken sound- a whimper that tears itself free of his throat before he can stop it. He drops his head onto your inner thigh, a soft curse falling from his lips.
Like he’s praying. “Fuck, honey,” he chokes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
You softly moan when you brush your clit, your hips rocking up into your own touch without meaning to. Eddie shudders, lifting his hand slightly like he wants so badly to reach for you. But he doesn’t. He holds himself back. Lets you keep touching yourself, lets you show him how you fall apart on your own. You circle your clit again, pressure growing sharper, your thighs tensing on either side of him.
“Fuck,” Eddie pants, barely breathing. “You’re gonna make me lose it. Please—”
He’s pleading now, voice wrecked. Not asking to touch you. Not asking for anything but this. To see you. To be here for it. Your fingers slip lower again, gathering more slick, and you whimper when you tease your entrance- one finger pressing in slowly, dragging the sound from your throat without warning.
Eddie whines low in his chest, his head falling from your thigh and thudding lightly against the bed. Physically trembling from holding himself back.
“You’re perfect,” he mumbles, almost like he doesn’t know he’s saying it aloud. “So fucking perfect, sweetheart. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Your hips stutter, your breath catching, as you move faster, chasing the feeling curling tighter in your stomach. And Eddie watches all of it- wide eyed, like every second burns itself into his soul.
You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as your body tenses tighter, pleasure flickering hotter through your belly. You whimper his name, your breath hitching- causing Eddie to groan raggedly, his fingers digging into the mattress.
You glance down at him through your lashes and see the way he’s unraveling in front of you, and the sight of him like this, on his knees for you, worshiping you with nothing but his voice and his eyes—
It tips you over the edge. Your back arches, and your toes curl. A soft, shuddering cry tears from your throat as you cum hard under Eddie’s gaze, thighs trembling, hand working you through the spasms until you finally sag back against the mattress.
You're trying to regain your thoughts, and blink hazily down at him- his cheeks flushed and chest heaving- and see the raw, overwhelmed look still carved into his face. Slowly, Eddie lifts a hand and runs the back of his fingers so gently up the outside of your thigh that it makes you shiver again.
Then he practically growls, and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away. “No more,” he pants, his voice hoarse and trembling. “You’re mine now.”
Before you can fully process it, he leans forward and licks a long, slow stripe through your folds- one firm pass of his tongue that has your hips jerking instantly. He groans out, guttural and wrecked, like the taste of you just fried whatever control he had left.
But then, he pulls away and flops onto his back beside you with a grunt, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a mile.
You blink. “What… what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. He just sits up with sudden force, grabs you by the waist with both hands, and shifts backward on the bed, hauling you with him like he’s decided you’re coming whether you understand or not. It’s only when he lays flat again, his shoulders hitting the pillows, arms tugging you higher- that you realize what he’s doing.
Your knees land on either side of his head. You hover awkwardly, thighs tense, trying to hold yourself up. “Eddie.. wait. I’ve never… done this before.” Your voice is quiet. You feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can barely meet his eyes.
“I don’t wanna… do it wrong. Or crush you.”
Eddie stills, his hands still resting at your waist, and slowly he tilts his head back to look up at you, expression shifting. “Oh, honey…” His voice is low, fond, like he’s already aching with how much he wants you but somehow even more with how much he cares. “There’s no wrong way to do this. Not with me.”
You blink, and his hands slide up your thighs gently, grounding.
“You’re not gonna crush me,” he says firmly. “You could sit on my face every damn day for the rest of my life, and I’d thank you for the honor. But if I die this way, I will go out the happiest man on earth.”
You huff out a nervous laugh, but before you can say anything else, he tightens his grip on your hips. “And besides,” he adds with a crooked grin, desperate again now, voice roughening as his eyes go dark, “If this is your first time riding someone’s face, then fuck- please let me be the one, sweetheart. Let me show you how good it can feel.”
You bite your lip.
“Please,” he breathes, almost hoarse. “Don’t make me beg while you’re already this close to sitting on my fuckin’ mouth.”
Eddie grips your waist tighter and drags you down another inch, groaning like he’s dying beneath the weight of not having you fully. His voice is rough, cracking when he speaks.
“You think I don’t wanna be smothered by you?” His tone is bordering on appalled now, desperate as his hands slide from your waist to the backs of your thighs. “You really think I didn’t lose my fuckin’ mind watching you touch yourself for me? That I didn’t just get harder watching you cum without me even laying a finger on you?”
Then he yanks you the rest of the way down and moans like he’s never tasted anything so good in his life. His mouth is already open, tongue dragging through you like he’s desperate to chase what he saw you give yourself. His grip on your thighs is firm but careful, keeping you steady as he eats like a man with no concept of restraint. Every gasp from your lips only spurs him on. Every twitch of your hips makes him groan into you.
You try to stay lifted, to be gentle, but the moment your weight shifts fully down, his entire body reacts. Arms locking around your thighs and his hips buck slightly below. He hums, eyes fluttering shut. Like this is his heaven. And then he says it, low, ragged between strokes of his tongue.
“Use me.”
It shatters something inside you. You cry out, arching your back, your hands fisting in the sheets behind you as you give in and grind down into his mouth, and Eddie groans like you just gave him purpose.
His hands grip your thighs tighter, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you without pushing or guiding- he lets you move, lets you take what you want from him. But the second your hips start to roll, his mouth matches you stroke for stroke. Tongue moving in deep, filthy drags, lips latching onto you like he can’t get enough. Like he wants to memorize every shudder, every taste, every breathy noise you make.
And you can’t stop making them. Your head tips back, lips parting in a soft moan as your thighs begin to tremble again, already so sensitive and worked up from before. You feel like you’re burning- too much, too soon, too perfect- and he’s not letting up.
He hums again, low and pleased, the sound vibrating through your entire core. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working between your legs only makes the coil in your stomach tighten faster. His nose brushes your clit every time he tilts his head just right, and you swear he does it on purpose- sensing exactly what you need and giving it without hesitation.
You try to lift again, try to pull away for just a second, breath stuttering out of you. “Eds.. Eddie- wait.. s’too much—”
You feel his voice more than hear it when he groans against you, “Stay right here, sweetheart- don’t you dare pull away.”
It’s wrecked. Raw. A plea twisted with need, like he’ll fall apart if you leave his mouth for even a second. He tilts his head just enough to mouth at your clit, sucking it between his lips before flattening his tongue over it, causing your whole body to seize.
“Oh my… fuck, Eddie—”
He groans like he’s the one unraveling. Like your pleasure is his own. You’re shaking now, thighs threatening to give out, and he feels it. One arm slides up, anchoring across your lower back to keep you upright while his other hand cups your ass and pushes you down just enough for him to keep going.
His eyes open, they’re dark, glassy, and almost look feral- and meet yours from below. And the look in them wrecks you. Pride. Awe. Hunger. Devotion. All in one.
You’re not even sure what breaks first- your voice, your body, your mind- but it all blurs into that same sharp, helpless cry as your second orgasm hits like a freight train. Your hips stutter, and your whole body locks up.
Eddie groans into the peak of it, never stopping, licking you through every wave, every flutter, until your thighs are shaking and your hands are scrabbling at the sheets like you’re drowning and he’s the current pulling you under.
You collapse forward, arms trembling as your hands reach above his head, gripping the pillow and the headboard for support- and even then.. he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. Not until you’re a boneless mess above him, sobbing as you try to lift off.
You’re gasping, shaking, hands lost in the sheets- and Eddie is starving beneath you, licking you through it with a kind of awe that borders on desperate. When you whimper his name, he pulls back for a second, just long enough to mutter out, “You’re not done yet.”
You barely manage a sound- but he just grins against your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds again.
“I’ll stop when you stop twitchin’,” he mutters. “And sweetheart… you’re still fuckin’ twitchin’.”
You sob out something that’s not even a word- just a ragged breath- and he groans like it’s music, like your body begging for mercy is the only thing he needs to hear.
His mouth is on you again in an instant. Messy. Intent. Tongue dragging slow and deliberate through your soaked folds, his nose brushing your clit as he sucks and licks like he needs every last drop of you.
And he’s right, you are still twitching. Your thighs are shaking violently now, your hands clawing at the sheets above his head as your vision starts to blur. “Eddie- Eddie- I—” you gasp, voice high and splintering, “I can’t- please—”
“Gimme it,” he groans, voice muffled against your skin. “C’mon, baby, just one more. You can do that for me- can’t you?”
His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you down to grind against his mouth. His tongue finds your clit again, flicking in tight circles, and your head drops back as your entire body locks up.
It hits harder than anything else you’ve felt, almost sharp, searing and endless. You cry out loudly- your hips jerking, your whole body unraveling all over again. It’s too much. You’re sobbing through it, boneless and trembling and unable to move as the orgasm rolls through you like a wave too big to survive.
Eddie groans like you’re feeding him life itself, licking you through every ripple, every aftershock, until finally- you collapse forward, too weak to hold yourself up anymore. Your body slides off him, half sprawled across the bed, face buried in the pillow as you try to catch your breath.
Your legs are still shaking. Your lips are parted, but no sound comes out yet. And then you feel him. Eddie crawls up slowly, gently, dragging his hands up your thighs and sides like he’s afraid you might shatter if he touches you too quickly. He settles beside you on his side, face flushed, lips slick, pupils still blown wide from what he just did to you.
His voice is raw when he speaks. “Talk to me, sweetheart…” His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together carefully. “You still with me?”
“You okay?” he adds, voice hoarse.
You can’t even speak yet. Just nod, eyes wide.
Eddie grins, “Good,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “Because that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.”
You choke on a breathy laugh, still trying to come down from it all. He grins wickedly, “I’d spend the rest of my life under you, sweetheart. Face first, mouth open, beggin’ like a fuckin’ sinner.”
He kisses you like he’s drowning. Like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. You taste yourself on his lips, and it only makes you whimper against him, hips lifting into his instinctively. He lifts your shirt up, and over your head, then his hands roam everywhere, your thighs, your waist and breasts- fingers digging in like he can’t believe you’re real.
When you gasp into his mouth- he groans, dropping his forehead to yours. Eddie’s thumb strokes your cheek once, twice- slow enough to make your chest ache.
“You really alright?” he breathes, voice rough, forehead still resting against yours.
You nod shakily, hands sliding up under his sweatshirt, feeling the tense flex of muscle under your palms. “Yeah,” you whisper, voice still broken from how hard you came. “Eddie… I need you.”
His whole body shudders. “Christ, honey,” he groans. His hand slides down your body again, mapping every inch like he can’t stop touching you. “You’re gonna fuckin’ wreck me.”
You breathe out a shaky laugh while tugging at the bottom of his sweatshirt. “Off,” you whisper.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He peels it over his head and tosses it blindly somewhere across the room. Your eyes rake down the length of him- messy hair, flushed chest, the black ink on his chest, the trail of hair leading lower- and you whimper when you see how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.
You can’t help it- your hands drift down his sides, greedy now, and Eddie just watches you with blown pupils, breathing hard. He sees the way you look at him- all wide eyed, almost overwhelmed- and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a second to keep it together.
“You want me, sweetheart?” he pants, reaching down to shove the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers together low, the fabric pooling at his knees, before kicking them off onto the floor. Then he’s just kneeling in front of you on the bed naked, wrecked, cock hard and heavy, leaking precum.
You nod, biting your lip, hips shifting restlessly.
He grins. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not gonna last long if you keep looking at me like that.”
You reach for him without thinking, and the moan that rips from his throat when your fingers wrap around him is enough to make your knees press together.
“Fuck, honey,” he gasps, hips twitching into your hand. “Hand’s so soft.”
You stroke him slow, just once, feeling how hot and thick he is- and Eddie swears under his breath, grabbing your wrist gently to still you.
“Stop,” he pants. “If you keep doing that, it’s gonna be over before it even starts.”
You let out a soft laugh- and Eddie leans down, catching your mouth in a kiss that’s deeper, hungrier now. His hand finds the back of your thigh, hitching it up over his hip, slotting himself between your legs. His cock brushes against your soaked entrance, and he swears again, forehead falling to your shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, grinding against you once, twice, like he can’t help himself. “You’re gonna take me so good, sweetheart. Gonna let me in, yeah?”
You whimper and nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders. Eddie braces one hand beside your head, the other guiding himself- and then he’s pushing in slow, the stretch so perfect it makes you both gasp in unison.
“Jesus,” he hisses, barely holding himself still. “You feel like heaven, honey. So fuckin’ tight… so fuckin’ perfect.”
You clutch at him, legs tightening around his waist, and Eddie groans a low, broken sound- before he starts moving. The first thrusts are slow, deep, like he’s trying to savor every second. His forehead presses to yours again, and his breath fans across your mouth, ragged and hot.
“Feels good?” he murmurs hoarsely.
You nod, gasping out, “So good, Eddie… you feel so good—” Then your voice turns shaky, desperate. “Harder…”
Eddie’s breath hitches. He groans, hips snapping a little deeper, and you moan in response.
“More,” you gasp. “Please, Eddie- harder.”
He pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes wide and dark. “Sweetheart—” he pants, his rhythm faltering “You’ve gotta still be sensitive, I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“You won’t,” you breathe, hands cupping his face. “Please.”
“You’re so fuckin’ soft right now- so perfect underneath me,” he whispers. “Tell me you’re sure. Please. I need to hear it.”
You gasp, fingers tangling in his damp curls. “I’m sure, Eddie.. please.. don’t hold back—”
And he just breaks. His hips slam forward with a deep, guttural groan, and his mouth crashes to yours like he can’t stand another second without it.
“God help me,” he growls against your lips, “I’m not stopping this time.”
Something in him snaps. He groans out a guttural, almost pained sound, “Jesus Christ,” he rasps. “You want it that bad? Want me that deep?”
You don’t even have time to react before Eddie’s hips roll once, dragging his cock deeper- so deep you both cry out. His hands lock around the backs of your thighs, holding your knees up tight against your stomach, keeping you folded in half beneath him. He groans low in his throat, rocking deeper, the new angle making your back arch and your hands dig into the sheets.
“Fuck- look at you,” he breathes, voice gone ragged. “So fuckin’ deep like this. You feel that, honey?”
He huffs a broken laugh, hair falling into his face as he drives his hips into you harder, rougher now. “I wasn’t gonna,” he growls. “Not when you’re beggin’ like that.”
You’re so close again- you can feel it, that coil tightening low in your belly, your hips chasing every thrust.
“God, listen to you,” he pants, snapping his hips into you faster, harder, every thrust punching soft, desperate sounds from your throat. “You sound so fuckin’ pretty takin’ me like this.”
“Eddie,” you gasp, legs trembling where they’re still pinned against your chest.
He groans, head dropping forward, his hair falling like a curtain as he braces his weight above you. “I know, honey,” he pants. “I got you. I got you.”
His grip shifts just slightly- one hand still holding your legs back, the other slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He rubs rough, desperate circles, never letting up the brutal rhythm of his hips.
“You’re takin’ it so good,” he pants, voice strained. “So fuckin’ good for me- God, y/n, just hold on, yeah? Let me fuck you through it—”
Your vision goes white as your whole body feels like it’s on fire- your orgasm crashes over you, tearing a scream of his name from your throat. Your body locks up, clenching tight around him, and Eddie groans deep, his hips stuttering as you squeeze around him.
“F-fuck.. Sweetheart—” His voice is strained and wrecked, but his hips still move, slower now, but just as deep. He tries to hold back- tries- but you’re pulsing around him, still twitching, still fluttering, and it’s driving him insane.
You whimper beneath him, body trembling, and Eddie keeps thrusting, head hanging low, his breath ragged as he pushes through the overwhelming pressure building in his spine.
“Can’t- fuck.. I can’t stop—” he grits out, his hand gripping your thigh tighter, pushing your leg back further to go deeper, his cock dragging through your soaked heat again and again.
You moan, still dazed, overstimulated, and he loses it- his hips snapping faster, harder, as his jaw clenches and his whole body tightens.
“Oh my God- gonna cum- gonna fuckin’ cum—” he gasps, pulling out at the last second with a strangled groan. But he doesn’t get far.
Your legs are still pressed up, thighs pinned tight to your chest, and he’s still crowding your body- so when he lets go, it’s messy, hot spurts spilling mostly across your folds, your inner thighs, the slick heat of you already glistening as his release paints over it.
“God- fuckin’ hell,” Eddie pants, still twitching as he strokes through it with a few frantic pumps of his fist. His cock jerks with every breath, dripping over you as he collapses forward on shaking arms, his head hanging low, hair clinging to his face.
Your body twitches under the heat of it- the feeling of him all over you, the evidence of just how wrecked he is, how hard he tried to hold back for you.
He doesn’t even realize he’s still moaning your name until his forehead finally lowers to your calf, lips parted, breath hot against your skin. His hands stay where they are- one braced beside your hip, the other still clutching behind your knee, holding you open even now. He hasn’t let go. Hasn’t moved. Just shaking slightly, chest rising and falling in broken, stuttered breaths.
The heat of him is still settling across your folds, sticky and warm, dripping slowly from your inner thighs- but he doesn’t seem to notice yet. Like his body’s still catching up to what just happened. And then you hear it. A ragged whisper, barely a breath. “Look what you do to me…”
You blink, vision still hazy, heart thudding so hard it echoes in your ears. Eddie lifts his head just enough to look at you- curls stuck to his temples, eyes dazed and blown wide, pupils nearly black. His mouth is parted like he’s still stunned. Still trying to process that you’re here, like this, with him.
You offer the faintest smile, lips swollen and face flushed. “You okay?”
He lets out the ghost of a laugh. “You- Jesus, y/n- fuck, pretty sure I just transcended. Like, spiritually.”
You giggle, breath shaky. He finally shifts, hands loosening their grip as he gently lowers your legs from where he had them pinned. You flinch slightly at the stretch, still tender, and Eddie’s hands immediately go soft on your thighs.
“Shit.. sorry,” he murmurs, eyes flicking over your body with something close to admiration. “Didn’t mean to keep you folded up like that. Just- fuck, you asked for it, and I…”
“I wanted it,” you whisper, voice still breathless.
That does something to him. He lets out a strangled groan, drops a kiss to your thigh, then slowly pulls himself back far enough to see the mess he left between your legs- thick and sticky, most of it coating your folds, shining in the low light.
Eddie’s eyes go glassy again. “I… should probably clean you up,” he murmurs, like it just occurred to him. Like he can’t believe he hasn’t moved yet. But still, he doesn’t stand. He just stares a moment longer, thumb brushing reverently along the outside of your thigh.
“You’re unreal,” he mutters under his breath. “I mean it.”
You can’t help it, your hand reaches down and brushes through his hair, slow and lazy, like it’s second nature now. He leans into the touch immediately.
“I’ll go grab a towel,” he finally mumbles, dragging himself upright with the stiffness of someone who just had the soul sucked out of him. “But if I collapse halfway there, just.. tell people I died happy, okay?”
You snort a laugh into the pillow, and Eddie grins all flushed, and breathless. Still completely in awe of you.
You’re still catching your breath when you hear the soft sound of his footsteps returning, the creak of the floorboard just outside your bedroom door. A second later, Eddie reappears, hair damp at the ends from where he must’ve splashed water on his face, towel in one hand, the other gripping the doorframe like he’s pretending he didn’t almost fall over on the way back.
He looks at you all sprawled out, legs parted, skin glistening in the low light and makes a soft, strangled sound that might’ve once been a word.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I leave the room for two minutes and you’re still the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
You let out a lazy laugh, barely managing to lift your head from the pillow. “You say that like it’s not your fault.”
Eddie grins, flushed and boyish, as he climbs onto the bed beside you again, towel unfolded now in his hands. “You saying I did this to you?”
You hum, stretching beneath him. “You gonna fix it?”
His eyes flick down to your thighs, to the mess he left and something creeps back into his expression.
“Oh, I’m gonna fix it,” he murmurs, voice dropping low as he brings the warm towel between your legs. “Gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart.”
You flinch slightly at the first touch, you’re still sensitive, still tender and Eddie immediately slows down, his brows knitting with concern.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, voice soft. “I’ll be gentle.”
And he is. He moves slow, wiping away the sticky mess across your folds and thighs with careful, steady hands. His free hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles into your skin. Every time your breath catches or your muscles twitch, he pulls back just a little, giving you a second before continuing.
You watch him in the silence, the furrow between his brows, the way his jaw ticks like he’s still replaying the sound of your moans, the way his throat bobs when he swallows hard. He finally leans back with a soft sigh, tossing the towel aside and settling next to you again. “There,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Perfect again.”
You snort. “You’re such a sap.”
“I am not a sap,” he argues. “I’m rugged and filthy and mean.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You begged me to sit on your face and then called me perfect while cleaning my thighs with a warm towel.”
Eddie opens his mouth and immediately closes it. “…Okay, fine. But like. A metal sap.”
You laugh again, softer this time, a sleepy warmth spreading through your chest. He rolls onto his side, arm draping over your waist, tugging you close so your head rests against his shoulder.
His voice is quieter now when he speaks. “You really okay?”
You nod, lips brushing the skin just beneath his collarbone. “Yeah. Really.”
Eddie lets out a quiet breath. His nose brushes your hair, and his hand drifts up your back, slow and aimless.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want you.”
Your breath stutters a little, but you don’t say anything. You just curl closer, your fingers brushing lightly against the base of his throat, feeling the way his pulse skips. He feels it too. But he doesn’t pull away. He just holds you tighter.
You immediately shift into him without hesitation, curling into his side, your head tucked beneath his jaw. He wraps his arms around you tight, one hand rubbing lazy, soothing circles into your back. You’re halfway to drifting off when suddenly Eddie stiffens a little under you.
“Oh shit,” he blurts out.
You lift your head, blinking sleepily at him. “What?”
He shifts under you, looking both sheepish and slightly panicked. “I, uh… I brought a pizza from that place down the road. I was gonna surprise you.”
You blink again, and then light up, a small excited sound catching in your throat. “You brought pizza?”
He nods quickly. “Yeah. Like.. had a full plan in my head. Show up with food, maybe we’d watch a movie, totally sweep you off your feet.”
He pauses, grinning now. “Instead I walk in and get ambushed by the best fuckin’ sight of my entire life.”
You feel yourself flush all the way to your ears, and he laughs softly, “You stay right here, and I’ll grab it. Don’t move.”
You watch, heart thudding helplessly, as he stands- his hair still a wild mess, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and heads for the door.
Eddie disappears into the hallway. You hear him in the kitchen a few seconds later- the shuffle of him grabbing the pizza box, cabinet doors opening and closing. Then the fridge opening and closing. He mutters something under his breath you can’t quite catch, but it sounds suspiciously like “best night ever.”
You bite your lip, smiling into the pillow. A few minutes later, Eddie reappears- balancing a pizza box in one hand, two plates tucked awkwardly under his arm, and a couple of sodas gripped in his free hand.
He kicks the door shut with his heel, proud and messy and completely Eddie. “You,” he says, making his way back to the bed, “are about to be wined and dined, sweetheart.”
You sit up slowly, tugging the sheet higher against your chest, and Eddie immediately sets everything down on the nightstand, adjusting the plates like he’s setting up some gourmet feast. You tilt your head, a lazy, teasing smile tugging at your mouth.
“Isn’t the guy supposed to wine and dine the girl before he fucks her?”
Eddie freezes for half a second, hand hovering awkwardly over the soda cans, and whips his head toward you, like you just accused him of a crime.
“What—? No—! I mean.. shit, sweetheart—” he stammers, raking a hand through his curls, flushing pink across his cheeks. “You think I was gonna walk in, see you like that, touching yourself, and be like, ‘hold up, lemme grab a slice first’?’”
You laugh hard, and Eddie just groans, half exasperated, half smitten, dropping to his knees by the side of the bed. “I was gonna do this whole cute thing, I swear,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “but you fucked up my brain the second I walked in, honey. Not my fault.”
You giggle, shoulders shaking a little under the sheet, and reach down to card your fingers lazily through his messy curls. “Eddie,” you say, voice warm, “I’m just messing with you.”
He pulls back, squinting up at you with a wounded, over the top expression, clutching his chest like you mortally offended him. “You.. you dare mock my noble intentions?” he gasps dramatically.
You just laugh harder, watching as he drags himself upright with a long suffering sigh, snatching a slice of pizza from the box with unnecessary flair.
“You get one slice,” he says solemnly, tossing it onto your plate with a theatrical thud, “for cruel and unusual teasing.”
You huff a laugh, reaching for it- only for him to shove a can of soda into your other hand before flopping down onto the bed next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.
Pretending to pout, you glance over at him and smile helplessly. He peeks sideways at you, trying to hold the grumpy act, but the second you giggle again under your breath, he breaks- a crooked grin pulling at his mouth.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart,” Eddie mutters, chewing exaggeratedly.
You shift closer to him, pretending to study your own slice, pretending to be casual- but the gleam in your eyes gives you away. “Lucky?” you echo.
You take a slow, deliberate bite of your pizza, licking sauce off your finger before adding lightly, “Eds, you just rearranged my internal organs. And I’m sitting here naked eating pizza with you. Pretty sure you’re the one who’s lucky.”
Eddie just about drops his plate. He coughs, chokes slightly, thumps his chest once like he can physically restart his heart. His face goes scarlet. And then he lets out a choked laugh and practically tackles you sideways onto the mattress.
“That’s it, you’re dead,” he mutters against your skin, laughing as he pins you under him, tossing your plates haphazardly onto the nightstand. “Can’t just say shit like that, sweetheart, and expect me to behave—”
You squirm, laughing breathlessly as he pretends to menace you, nuzzling your neck, tickling your sides until you’re squealing and half wrestling him off.
“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!” you gasp through giggles, pushing weakly at his shoulders.
“I was,” Eddie pants, grinning against your throat. “And then you opened your mouth and ruined my life.”
He finally slows down, just barely- but stays draped over you, his nose nudging along your jawline, his hair falling into your face, both of you still shaking with leftover laughter and heat. He lets you catch your breath- chest rising and falling fast under him- but he doesn’t pull away completely.
Instead, Eddie stays there, braced over you on his elbows, moves his head to get a good look at you, how you’re still giggling, and he just stares. Completely useless. Like his brain just shut off trying to take you in- all flushed cheeks, lips swollen from his kisses, messy hair spread across the pillow. Still smiling at him like he didn’t just nearly combust a minute ago.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, almost to himself.
You blink, still smiling, and tilt your head like you’re about to ask what’s wrong- but Eddie doesn’t let you. He dives down, hands cradling your face like you’re something sacred, kissing you hard- groaning low in his throat like he still can’t believe you’re real.
Like if he stops kissing you for even a second, he’ll wake up and it would have all been a dream. You squeak into his mouth- laughing and gasping at the same time- your hands fly up to clutch at his shoulders.
“Eds—!” you try to gasp out.
“You—” Eddie gasps, breaking apart only barely, just enough to breath, eyes squeezing shut like he’s fighting for control, “—you don’t even know how fuckin’ beautiful you are, do you?”
His thumb brushes slowly across your jaw, softly, trembling slightly. “You’re… the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he breathes, his voice rough.
It slips out so quietly, like he barely realizes he said it so raw and unpolished it punches the air from your lungs. The weight of it hangs there between you heavy- until Eddie abruptly, without warning, shifts.
No dramatic announcement. No lingering look. He just grunts a little- like the moment never happened- pushes off the mattress, leans over you with a casual stretch, and snags both your abandoned plates from the nightstand. Balancing one precariously in each hand, he flops back down beside you, legs splayed out, handing you your plate and then grabbing another slice for himself.
“So anyway,” he says around a mouthful, like he hadn’t just threatened to worship the ground you walk on two seconds ago, “you better not hog all the pepperoni slices, sweetheart. That’s a felony.”
He bites into the pizza again without looking at you, completely nonchalant- except for the way the tips of his ears are still burning red. You just blink at him, dumbfounded, lips parted like you’re still catching up to the emotional whiplash.
And Eddie? Eddie pretends not to notice- but the little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away.
———————
Eventually, between laughter, teasing, and stealing bites off each other’s plates, the pizza’s gone- the sodas half empty. You yawn behind your hand, stretching lazily as you get up, throwing on a shirt and panties, then start gathering the plates and empty cans. Eddie reaches for them too, but you swat his hand away, laughing softly when he pouts.
“I’ll clean up,” you murmur, “You’re the guest.”
He mutters something about “domestic goddess” under his breath and flops back against the pillows dramatically, arms thrown wide like he’s exhausted from how hard he’s fallen for you tonight. You just shake your head, smiling to yourself as you carry the dishes to the kitchen. But when you start your way back to your room, Eddie’s shoving his boots on haphazardly, only wearing his sweatpants still.
“What are you doing?” you ask, amused.
“Forgot my bag,” he grumbles, already halfway out the door. “Left it in the van like a dumbass.”
You snort as the door clicks shut behind him and head back to your room. A few minutes later, you hear him clomping back inside, cursing softly about how cold it is, his duffel slung over one shoulder. When he reappears, he’s puffing warm air into his hands, grinning sheepishly like he didn’t just sprint across the yard in untied boots with no shirt on.
You just laugh while he rummages through his stuff for clean boxers. By the time you’re both ready for bed, teeth brushed, faces washed, it’s creeping past one in the morning.
Eddie drops onto the bed with a heavy groan, arms splayed out- only to suddenly jolt upright, swearing under his breath. “Shit! My alarms!”
You watch, amused, as he scrambles for his phone and taps furiously, muttering to himself while setting not one, not two, but at least eight alarms- all spaced about five minutes apart, like he’s preparing for battle.
Finally, he tosses the phone onto the nightstand and flops back down with a dramatic sigh. “There,” Eddie says, nodding like he’s totally got it handled. “Eight alarms, three different ringtones, one mission: don’t lose my job ’cause I can’t tear myself away from you.”
You snort, tugging the blanket up higher. “Very responsible of you, Eds.”
Eddie chuckles under his breath, already scooting closer across the mattress, curls flopping into his eyes. “Hey, I’m a man of priorities,” he says, slipping one arm around your waist and tugging you in like you weigh nothing at all.
You breathe a quiet laugh, curling instinctively against his chest. Your legs tangle easily, your nose bumping into his skin. He settles around you like a shield- one hand tucked protectively against the curve of your spine, his breath warm in your hair. For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The heater hums. The world outside feels a million miles away. Then Eddie’s voice breaks the stillness, so low, like he almost hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“Can’t believe I get to do this,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting up and down your back, barely there.
Your chest squeezes painfully tight at the softness in his voice. You shift slightly, tilting your head up, catching him blinking down at you- so unguarded it makes your breath hitch.
“Get to do what?” you whisper.
He smiles small, almost shy. “This,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s everything.
Your heart stutters, burning hot under your skin. You nuzzle closer instinctively, closing your eyes, voice muffled in his chest when you mutter, “Guess I’ll let you stick around, then.”
Eddie huffs a breathless laugh and kisses your hair once, twice. “You’re real generous, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Real fuckin’ generous.”
You fall asleep to the feel of him,warm and solid around you, arm heavy at your waist. But he stays awake just a few minutes longer. Just long enough to trace another slow, invisible pattern into your back and whisper, so soft it barely makes a sound, “Best fuckin’ Friday night of my life.”
———————
The next thing Eddie knows, there’s a faint ringing somewhere near his head. And then another.
And another.
He groans into the pillow, blindly slapping a hand toward the nightstand. The ringing mercifully stops- for about five seconds before another alarm kicks in. Eddie squints one eye open at the blinding screen.
6:35AM
He bolts upright, “Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, glancing down at you- still tucked against the pillows, curled under the covers. You murmur something unintelligible and shift slightly, but don’t wake.
Eddie breathes out in relief. His heart’s pounding in his chest- adrenaline already flooding his system- but he moves carefully, gently untangling himself from the sheets. He hits the floor barefoot, tiptoeing around like a burglar in his own damn life, grabbing his duffle from the floor where he dumped it last night.
The bathroom door clicks softly behind him, and he immediately turns the water on for the shower. His brain’s a scrambled mess of shit, shit, shit and don’t wake her, don’t wake her, don’t wake her.
He strips quickly, stepping under the shower head- only to realize halfway through that he never packed his own body wash or shampoo.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters.
Left with no other option, Eddie grabs the first bottle he sees on your shower rack- something floral and sweet- and lathers up in record time. He’s in and out in under three minutes, water still dripping down his back as he yanks a towel off the hook.
He pulls on the jeans with a thin shirt underneath a hoodie, and socks from his bag- hopping into his boots while huffing out a breath when one of them fights him getting it on. Finally, Eddie creeps back into your room, heart hammering against his ribs. You’re half asleep- blinking slowly at him from the bed.
He crouches down by the mattress, brushing his fingers lightly along your cheek. “Gotta go, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice rough. “Didn’t wanna leave without saying bye.”
You hum something sleepy, a soft, almost questioning noise, and Eddie smiles helplessly.
“Just go back to sleep and relax, okay?” he says softly, squeezing your hand once.
You mumble something that sounds suspiciously like ’kay, your eyes already fluttering closed again.
He’s still grinning like an idiot when he slips out the front door, pulling it shut carefully behind him.
Eddie bursts through the side door of the garage, hair still damp, boots scuffing against the floor, his undershirt clinging to his back from the rushed, half assessed shower. He glances up at the wall clock,
7:03AM
Three minutes late. He winces, tugging his hoodie up like it might make him less noticeable- but it’s a losing battle the second he steps into the main bay.
He’s barely keeping it together and fakes digging through his toolbox like he’s not still dizzy from the night before. Not like his brain is completely short circuiting with the memory of your naked body tangled with his last night. Like he didn’t spend half of last night inside you. Like your fucking laugh isn’t still echoing in his head.
A few hours later, the garage heater’s blasting full tilt- filling the place with the thick, sweaty smell of too many men in close quarters and motor oil. Eddie’s half out of his coveralls, the top half tied around his waist, working in just his black undershirt now, cheeks flushed pink from the heat. He’s leaning over an open hood, elbow deep in an engine, cursing under his breath when there’s a knock at the side door.
Not a slam. Not a shove. Just a soft knock.
Everyone freezes for a second, because no one ever knocks at the garage. Marcus wipes his hands on a rag and heads over, frowning. He swings the door open, and there you are- bouncing slightly on your toes from the cold, arms full. A glass tray wrapped in foil, a brown paper bag balanced on top, and a water bottle tucked under your arm.
Marcus blinks. “Uh. Think you might be lost, pretty thing.”
You glance up, cheeks pink from the cold. “Oh.. um, I was actually looking for Eddie?”
A beat of silence. Then all hell breaks loose.
Tommy lets out a low whistle. “No fuckin’ way.”
Jerry leans sideways to get a better look. “Munson’s got someone this pretty lookin’ for him?”
“Must be a dare,” one of the younger guys mutters, and another snorts.
Meanwhile, Eddie- who is completely oblivious, still bent under the hood- finally hears the commotion and squints toward the noise.
“The hell’s going on?” he calls.
“Your girlfriend’s here, Romeo!” Marcus hollers.
Eddie frowns, wiping sweat from his temple with the back of his hand, but the second he looks up and sees you standing there at the door, cold and flushed and here- he jolts upright so fast he smacks his head on the hood.
“Fuck! Shit! Ow!—” he grits out, wrench slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. He stumbles back a step, boots nearly tripping him, but he doesn’t stop- already making his way across the shop in quick, uneven strides, curls bouncing, grease smudged on his cheek, mouth falling open.
The guys lose it- hooting, catcalls, whistling. “Go get her, Munson!”
Eddie doesn’t even hear them. Not really. His eyes are locked on you like he can’t quite believe it. Like you’re a goddamn mirage in the middle of grease stained concrete and engine smoke. He reaches you, breathless and smiling. “Hey,” he says, voice low, but in awe. “What… what are you doing here?”
You shift the tray in your arms, cheeks still pink, and shrug. “I brought you lunch.”
Eddie blinks. You nod toward the tray. “Peanut butter and jelly. Chips. A water bottle so you don’t pass out. And…” You glance down, a little shy. “There’s brownies too. Figured you might share. Oh, and I packed two sandwiches. Just to make sure you didn’t go hungry.”
Behind you, someone lets out a dramatic oh my goddd groan.
“Marry her!” Tommy cackles from somewhere near the tire rack.
“I’ll marry her if he doesn’t,” another guy calls.
Eddie glares back at them, eyes already darting back to you. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “They’ve all taken too many exhaust fumes to the brain.”
You can’t help but laugh, handing the tray over into his grease smudged hands. His fingers brush yours, rough, warm, trembling slightly.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he murmurs. “I mean… shit. You packed me two sandwiches?”
“Can’t have you keeling over on the job,” you say, a little more softly.
He looks at the tray like it’s a gift from another world. Then he glances around, and takes in the guys still staring, the noise, and jerks his chin toward the far corner of the shop. “C’mon.”
You follow him past the workbenches and tool carts, weaving between bays until he leads you behind a tall stack of tires and a covered engine block. Just far enough from the others to be out of sight, tucked in the dim space between two shelves of old parts.
Eddie sets the food down gently on a covered crate and turns to face you again. His voice is quieter now, “Seriously. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”
You reach out without thinking, brushing your thumb lightly along the edge of a grease smudge on his jaw. “Maybe don’t question it too hard.”
He gives you the faintest smile and then leans in- the kiss is warm and quick-his hands gentle at your sides, mouth soft on yours, like he’s trying to say thank you without words. It’s over almost as soon as it begins, but the heat of it lingers on your lips, in your chest, everywhere.
When he pulls back, you both stay there for a second- close, quiet, and your noses nearly brushing. “I should let you get back to work,” you whisper, but not really moving yet.
Eddie’s smile falters just slightly, eyes flicking between yours. “Wish you didn’t have to.”
You nod in agreement, then slowly pull back. Your fingers brush against his one last time before you step out from behind the shelving. By the time you reach the side door, the noise picks up again.
Tommy’s the first to spot you. “Hey! Later, lunch lady!”
Jerry grins, leaning against a workbench. “Thanks for raising the bar, by the way. Now we gotta bring Munson snacks to keep up.”
Marcus offers a quick salute. “Take care, pretty thing.”
You laugh as you walk out into the cold, cheeks warm, but your heart warmer. Behind you, Eddie lingers in that tucked away corner a few moments longer. His hands in his pockets, lips parted like he’s still tasting that kiss. And even as the shop noise swells around him again, everything feels just a little quieter without you in it.
——————
You’re curled up on the couch hours later in a worn sweatshirt and leggings, a blanket over your lap, when the rumble of Steve’s car out front makes you glance up. The door bangs open a second later and Robin practically explodes inside- bag bouncing against the hip, sneakers squeaking across the floor.
“Billie was a religious experience,” she announces dramatically, tossing her stuff down like it personally wronged her.
Steve follows behind her at a much slower, more casual pace- his sunglasses still on even though the sun’s almost set- dragging his own bag one handed and mumbling around a mouthful of gummy worms,
“She cried. Multiple times.”
Robin spins to glare at him. “You cried too, Harrington.”
Steve scoffs immediately, waving a hand. “I did not cry to ‘What Was I Made For.’”
Robin blinks slowly and an evil grin appears. “I never said what song you cried to.”
You bite your lip, fighting laughter as Steve freezes and his face flushes bright red.
“I mean- whatever.. it’s a sad song, anyone would’ve teared up,” he grumbles, heading to the kitchen and yanking open the fridge like it personally betrayed him.
Robin throws herself onto the couch beside you, howling, “You SOBBED, Harrington! I had to give you the sleeve of my shirt!”
Steve shouts back from the kitchen, “I only teared up! There’s a difference!”
You and Robin just cackle harder, Robin clutching her side as you shake your head. Steve grumbles under his breath, raiding the kitchen for snacks.
Robin finally collapses onto the couch beside you, huffing out a dramatic breath. “Anyway. It was life changing. All the emotions. Ten out of ten, would cry again.”
You grin, nudging her with your elbow. “So you two didn’t get kicked out?”
Steve shouts from the kitchen, “Only because I hid her behind the merch booth during her existential meltdown!”
Robin sticks her tongue out in his direction, then turns to you, wiggling her eyebrows. “But what about you? Any emotional meltdowns here?”
You snort, curling your legs under yourself. “No emotional breakdown. Eddie just came over last night.”
Robin raises both brows meaningfully. Steve peeks around the corner like a nosy raccoon.
Robin nudges you with her knee. “We knew that… but what else? Spill?”
You shrug, biting back a shy smile. “We just hung out.”
Robin smirks. “Hung out, huh?”
Steve throws a chip at your head from across the room. “Translation: Munson did not return to his apartment last night.”
You roll your eyes, laughing, but warmth creeps up your neck anyway.
Robin leans back with a satisfied sigh. “God, we leave for one night and everyone gets laid without us.”
Steve chokes on his gummy worms, “I didn’t need to hear it phrased like that!”
——————
It’s just a little after four when your phone buzzes while at work the following Monday.
4:15PM Eddie: I’ll be outside waiting by the time you’re off at 5, okay sweetheart?
4:16PM You: Okay :)
You smile at the screen, tucking your phone back into your pocket, heart giving a little happy flutter. Eddie had asked you to stay the night at his place tonight - and you don’t have to work tomorrow. You couldn’t be any happier. You continue tidying up your work area, shelving the last few carts- while a few quiet patrons wander the rows of shelves.
At five, you clock out and slip your overnight bag over your shoulder and step outside- the glass doors swinging closed behind you with a soft hiss. It’s colder than you expected. The November air nips sharp at your sleeves, your breath curling faintly in the air. You scan the parking lot.
No Eddie. Grabbing your phone out again, it lights up with no new messages. You chew your lip, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Maybe he just got stuck with something at work. Maybe he’s just down the road.
You’re halfway through turning back toward the library to wait for him when you hear it.
——————
The ratchet slips from Eddie’s hand with a loud clatter, skidding across the shop floor. “Motherfucker—” he hisses, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.
This damn transmission that was supposed to be a quick look over turned into a full on shitshow. Stripped bolts. Leaking seals.
And now he’s the last asshole left in the shop- everyone else having clocked out on time while he stayed late, trying to fix it enough to keep the customer from exploding tomorrow morning. He scrubs a hand down his face, muttering curses under his breath, checking the wall clock.
5:17PM
His heart lurches.
You’re probably already outside waiting. Probably thinking he ditched you or forgot about you. Probably freezing your ass off while he’s elbow deep in a car, smelling like motor oil and broken promises. He grabs his phone with grease slick fingers, fumbling to unlock it- but it slips from his hands and clatters under the workbench.
“Fuck,” Eddie snarls, dropping to his knees to scrabble after it.
He snatches it up- but the screen is still dark. Dead battery. He must have forgotten to plug it in last night. Didn’t even think about it. Eddie curses again, grabbing his keys and bolting towards the side doors- heart hammering painfully hard against his ribs.
You’re waiting. He’s late. And he has no way to tell you why.
——————
“Hey.”
You freeze. A voice that makes your skin crawl, too familiar. You turn around reluctantly, and there he is- Jeremy. Leaning against the side of a parked car, arms folded, like he’s been waiting for you. Like this is a normal occurrence.
Your heart jumps but you try to keep your face neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He pushes off the car slowly, still favoring one of his sides- still nursing the ribs Eddie possibly cracked weeks ago. “Damn,” he mutters, trying for a smile. “Not even a hi?”
You don’t answer.
Jeremy tries again. “Came out here to talk. Figured I owed you that much.”
You lift your brows like that’s supposed to impress you. “You drove all the way out here to feel better about yourself?”
His mouth twitches. “Jess dumped me. After the fight. Left while I was still black and blue.”
“Maybe she saw you for who you were,” you say.
That rattles him, and he straightens. “Look, I know I messed up—”
“I’m not interested,” you cut in.
Jeremy just blinks dumbfounded.
“I don’t care what you have to say,” you continue calmly but razor sharp. “Not anymore. Not after everything.”
“I—” He swallows. “I was trying. I was trying to make it work. You know that, right? I fucked up, but—”
“You didn’t fuck up like it was because you cared too much,” you say, voice low. “You fucked up because you needed control. Because you needed me small and scared to feel like you were enough.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.
“You convinced me I was the problem. Every time I stood up for myself, you twisted it. You isolated me. Made me feel crazy for wanting space. For needing friends. For saying no.”
Your arms are still folded. Your tone doesn’t change. But it lands. “You don’t get to rewrite that,” you say. “Not now. Not ever.”
For a second, he just stares at you. Then his expression twists when he glances behind you and he freezes- his face drains of color so fast it’s like he’s seen a ghost. You don’t turn right away, but your breath catches. The air around you shifts.
Someone’s there.
Then slowly, you turn. And your heart stumbles in your chest. Because just a few feet away, standing dead still on the edge of the lot, is Eddie. In his black jeans. Leather jacket. Hands in his pockets. Curls tousled from the wind. His expression carved from stone.
His eyes? Locked on Jeremy. Not moving a muscle- but watching. Like a storm just barely being held at bay. Like he’s not sure if he needs to step in yet- but will if you need him to. You don’t know how long he’s been there. How much he's heard. But Jeremy clearly recognizes him.
Because now he’s shifting his weight, throat working, a bitter edge creeping into his voice as he mutters low, “Oh,” he sneers, nodding toward Eddie. “What, he your bodyguard now?”
You don’t flinch. Jeremy laughs humorlessly, bitter and mean. “Or are you really dating the guy who beat the shit outta me?”
You don’t respond. You just stare. At Eddie. At the way he hasn’t moved. And then back at the way Jeremy is fighting looking like he regrets ever showing up.
Jeremy shifts, sees the way you don’t deny it, and whatever false bravado he scraped together crumbles fast. His face pales, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket like maybe it’ll shield him. “You know what?” he mutters, backing away a step.
But before he can fully retreat- he sneers under his breath, loud enough for you and Eddie to hear, “Hope she at least puts out for you, man. Barely ever let me touch her.”
Eddie tilts his head, curls dripping into his eyes, that vicious grin starting. He lets out a low, dangerous laugh. “You serious?” he says, voice dark and edged. “Buddy, she’s loud for me. Every. Fucking. Time.”
He steps forward, voice dropping lower, almost gentle. “Moans my name like it’s a fucking prayer. Shakes like I rewired her nervous system. And you’re out here whining ’she barely let you touch her’?”
He tsks. “Maybe she just didn’t wanna fake it anymore.”
Jeremy scoffs. “Or she’s just better at faking it now.”
The words barely leave his mouth before Eddie moves slow, and deliberately. The air goes electric. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to.
That grin sharpens into something cold. “Brave words,” he murmurs. “Especially standing in front of the guy who left you bleeding on the floor.”
His head tips slightly. Smile still razor sharp. “You really wanna test what I’d do if you gave me another reason?”
Jeremy stiffens, and acts like he’s gonna say something but nothing comes out. He falters. Shoulders twitch like he wants to push back, but the memory of fists and blood and a concrete floor flickers across his face. He turns on his heel to leave- not quite a run, but only because he’s trying too hard not to look like he’s fleeing.
Eddie lifts his chin and calls after him, calm but vicious, “That limp’s lookin’ better. Proud of you, man.”
Then you can hear Jeremy mutter out faintly, “Fuckin’ psycho…”
Eddie watches him go just for another second before he turns to you. And the moment his eyes meet yours, the tension in his chest shifts. Softens. Like all of that- all of him- switches off, the second you’re the one he’s looking at. He crosses to you in two long strides. Says nothing at first and reaches for your hand.
His fingers wrap around yours gently, carefully, like he’s scared he might be too much after all that. But his hand is warm, grounding- and when you squeeze back, his shoulders dip like he’s finally letting out the breath he’d been holding since he first saw Jeremy’s face.
“Come on,” he murmurs. Voice hoarse and quiet now. “Let’s get you outta here.” You nod, wordless, letting him lead you down the parking spaces.
Eddie doesn’t let go the whole walk back to the van- not even when he unlocks the passenger door, not even when you’re sliding inside. His grip just shifts, his thumb rubbing slow over the back of your hand like he needs the contact as much as you do. Only letting go to move to the drivers side, and even then clutches your hand again once he’s seated.
He keeps his hand on yours a second longer, just watching the way your fingers look curled against his like he’s memorizing the shape of them. Then he exhales a long, uneven breath- and lets go just enough to shift into drive, eyes locked forward as he pulls out the spot and down the road.
The van rumbles beneath you. The heater hums low. And the silence stretches. You glance over at him- at the tightness in his jaw, the way his knee’s bouncing like it wants to punch through the floor of the van. His knuckles tighten on the wheel. The road glides by in silence, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. Not with the way Eddie’s jaw ticks. Not with the way his fingers twitch against the leather. Not with the way his breathing keeps hitching, like he’s barely containing whatever’s boiling just beneath the surface.
You glance over. He hasn’t looked at you since you got in the van. Not once. “Eddie,” you say softly.
Nothing. Your voice dips lower. Gentler. “Hey.”
He exhales like it hurts. His fingers curl tighter on the wheel. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters, barely audible over the hum of the heater.
You blink. “What?”
“Back there,” he says. “With Jeremy.”
Your chest tightens. “You were defending me—”
“No,” he cuts in, voice strained. “No, I was angry. And I… Fuck.” His hand leaves the wheel just long enough to rake through his hair. “I let him pull me down to his level. I talked about you like- like you were something to win. A fuckin’ trophy. I used your body to humiliate him, and that’s not—” His voice cracks. “That’s not who I ever wanna be.”
You’re silent. Watching the side of his face as it crumples.
His next words are hoarse. “I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about you like that. Not ever. Especially not in front of people like him.” He finally glances at you, just a flicker, but it’s enough to see the shame in his eyes. “You’re more than what I said. You deserve more than that.”
Your heart stutters. You reach across the console, fingers finding his again. “I know why you did it,” you say softly. “And it doesn’t make me feel less.”
Eddie shakes his head. “It makes me feel like shit. Doesn’t matter what he said. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve heard how he would twist you around just to feel like he had power. I still shouldn’t have made you part of the punchline.”
You squeeze his hand, and he finally breathes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s quiet. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart.”
The van’s in park now- engine still running. His hand slips away from the gearshift, curls in his lap like he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Your heart aches so hard it knocks the breath out of you. You don’t even realize yet that Eddie drove you to your house instead of his apartment.
You rub your thumb over the back of his hand, quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, “I get why you responded the way you did.”
Eddie flinches like he’s about to interrupt, but you keep going, “It wasn’t great,” you admit softly. “But you apologized. That’s more than he ever did. Ever would.”
He doesn’t speak. Just stares straight ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“You lost your temper,” you say. “But you didn’t lose me.”
He exhales like it physically hurts to hear that. You glance around, and only then realize the van has slowed to a stop. Realizing you’re parked in front of your house.
You blink. “Wait.. why are we here?”
Eddie cuts the engine, jaw tight. “I figured… after everything, you’d wanna be home.”
Your stomach twists, something delicate catching in your throat, and turn to him slowly. “Do you want me to stay home?”
That finally gets him to look at you. Really look. His eyes are wide, a little stunned, like the question knocked the air out of him. “No,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “No. God, fuck no. I just thought…”
He trails off, “I thought I fucked it up. That you’d need space. That you’d look at me different now.”
You stare at him a second longer, heart cracking and swelling all at once. Then you unbuckle, lean in closer across the console, and cup his cheek in your hand. “I still want to be with you tonight, Eddie.”
His breath leaves him all at once, like you’ve just cut the cord around his chest. “I want to go home with you.”
And you feel it, his hand covering yours, holding on like it’s the only thing anchoring him. His forehead dips to rest against yours, his eyes fluttering shut. Then, with a rough breath, he turns the key again, and reaches to shift the van back into drive.
——————
The van rumbles to a stop outside Eddie’s apartment, headlights cutting through the early evening dark. Neither of you rushes to move at first, but then Eddie squeezes your hand once more, like a nudge back to solid ground, grabs your bag for you and climbs out.
You follow a few steps behind as he leads you up the walk, and when he fumbles with his keys at the door- swearing softly under his breath- you can’t help it. You giggle. And the sound of it? The sound of you laughing after everything?
It loosens something in Eddie’s chest that’s been coiled too tight for too long. He finally gets the door open- tossing your bag onto the couch, and tugs you inside.
“Before anything else,” he says, voice a little rough. He meets your eyes, then softens. “I wanna tell you something.”
You straighten, caught off guard by the way his expression shifts- something heavier behind it now, something like awe.
“At the library,” he starts, stepping closer, “I didn’t hear everything, but I heard enough.”
You blink, caught between surprise and a tight knot in your throat.
Eddie’s voice drops, quiet but firm. “The way you stood up to him, y/n?”
He shakes his head a little, like he still can’t quite believe it. “You didn’t back down. You didn’t let him twist your words or make you feel small. You—”
His jaw flexes, but it’s pride now, not anger. “You were fucking brilliant.”
You try to smile, but it wobbles, the rush of his words crashing into you before you can brace for them.
Eddie sees it and steps forward again, hands gentle as they settle on your hips. “I know that couldn’t have been easy,” he murmurs, ducking slightly to catch your gaze. “I know what that took. And I just… I need you to know how proud I am of you.”
Your throat tightens, but you manage a whisper. “I didn’t even know you were there for that.”
Eddie exhales slowly, eyes flicking toward the floor for a beat before meeting yours again. “I ended up getting stuck at work, and my phone died- so I was rushing over,” he says quietly. “Figured you were inside, probably waiting for me since I was late. I was headed to the front doors when I saw him.”
His jaw clenches, voice dipping lower. “Saw how he was standing there. How close he was.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Was gonna step in. Thought I might have to. But then I heard you.”
You blink, heart skipping.
“Heard what you said to him,” Eddie continues. “The way you stood up for yourself. The way you didn’t even flinch.”
His hand finds yours again, thumb brushing over your knuckles like it steadies him too. “I didn’t move after that,” he says, a little breathless. “Didn’t wanna interrupt it. Just… stood there, listening. You didn’t need anyone saving you.”
He smiles, something soft and aching tugging at his mouth. “You handled it. All of it.”
“Thank you,” you say quietly. “For telling me that.”
He lifts a hand from your waist to brush your hair behind your ear before he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.
“You don’t owe me a thank you,” he whispers. “I’m just proud. And I needed you to know that.”
He gives you one more soft kiss on the lips, then disappears into the tiny kitchen for a minute, tossing his keys on the counter and rummaging through cabinets.
You trail after him, hovering shyly in the doorway.
“You hungry, sweetheart?” he calls over his shoulder.
You shrug, smiling a little. “Kinda.”
He turns around, brandishing a crinkled pack of ramen noodles like it’s a gourmet offering. “Allow me to dazzle you with my culinary genius.”
You laugh- a soft, relieved sound that makes Eddie’s heart ache in the best way. He taps his fingers impatiently on the counter while the water boils, then throws two packs in. You perch on a stool nearby, swinging your legs slightly, stealing little glances at him when you think he’s not looking. But he catches you every time. And every time, he blushes.
Once the ramen’s ready, steaming in two soup mugs- you both collapse onto the couch, bowls balanced precariously in your laps. Eddie flips on the TV, scrolling mindlessly for a second before you nudge him with your foot.
“What about An Unexpected Journey?” you offer, shyly. “So I can explain in detail how it’s better than starting with Fellowship?”
Eddie smirks around a mouthful of noodles, exaggeratedly offended.
“Better? Blasphemy.” But he doesn’t argue. He just starts it up with a theatrical sigh, mumbling something about being “a very generous boyfriend,” and you giggle, curling your legs up under you.
Halfway through, your bowls are abandoned on the coffee table and Eddie’s arm is slung lazily around your shoulders, pulling you in tight against his side. The weight of him is grounding. The heat of him, steady. The way he absentmindedly traces his thumb over your arm? Dangerous in the best way.
Eventually, you try to stop a yawn, and Eddie smiles against your temple. “You falling asleep on me, sweetheart?” he murmurs.
You hum a little noise and nuzzle closer. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, murmuring, “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”
You both move through the nighttime routine quietly, sleepily. Brushing teeth side by side at the bathroom sink. Bumping shoulders lazily. Stealing glances at each other in the mirror. At one point, you about lose it when Eddie tries- and fails- to spit toothpaste into the sink and misses somehow.
“Shut up,” he grumbles through a mouthful of foam, glaring at you playfully. You just bump his hip with yours, grinning.
Back in the bedroom, Eddie strips off his jeans and tosses them blindly toward the corner before tugging off his shirt too, leaving him in nothing but boxers. You catch yourself watching him- his broad shoulders, the tattoos covering his body, the soft trail of hair down his stomach - and you’re still staring when he straightens up again, stretching his arms behind his head with a content little groan.
You’ve just finished tucking your toothbrush and face wash into the little pouch you brought, and when you turn around, you find him watching you now- catching your expression in full.
Wide eyes. A little hesitant. Like you’re thinking about something and not sure if you’re allowed to ask.
“…What?” he asks, head tilting slightly, his voice gentler now.
You twist your fingers in front of you, trying to sound casual. “Can I… have some pajamas?”
Eddie blinks. “Didn’t you bring your own? I thought that was the point of actually bringing a bag.”
You nod, then shrug, voice softer now. “I did. I just… I’ve noticed I sleep better in your shirts.”
That tiny pause- just a beat- makes the air feel thinner. Eddie softens immediately.
“Oh,” he says. Then his whole face changes, a crooked smile breaking slowly across his lips as he crosses to the dresser again. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”
He grabs a soft old band tee that’s faded black- the band name unrecognizable, sleeves a little too big, collar a little stretched, and tosses it to you gently.
“You want a pair of my boxers too?”
You shake your head as you start pulling the shirt over your head. “Nah.”
Eddie tilts his head, pausing mid motion. “What about your bottoms?”
You blink at him, cheeks warming slightly. “I’m… still wearing my underwear? Is that okay?”
He stares at you for a second like you just slapped him with a pillow made of pure lust. Then he groans dramatically, and drops to his knees like that answer physically took him out.
“You’ve always stolen a pair of my boxers when you’re here,” he mutters into the floor, sounding personally betrayed. “They cover more. They hide things. I could manage.”
You step over him and climb into bed, clearly unbothered. “So this is worse?”
“This is ten times worse,” he groans, crawling up beside you with a hand over his eyes. “You in just my shirt and your panties? In my bed? That’s torture.”
You grin. “Eddie, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in this exact outfit minus your shirt when you slept over on Friday.”
He freezes. “That was different.”
You raise an eyebrow. “How?”
“Because that was post sex, and I was so emotionally and physically wrecked I didn’t even get to enjoy it. You were practically curled up on top of me, while I was wondering if my heart was still beating.”
You snort, trying to muffle your laugh with the blanket.
He sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side to face you. “Why not the boxers tonight, though? Really?”
You shrug, nestling closer under the blanket. “I dunno. I just… tend to get a bit tangled in them when I sleep. Wake up with ’em all twisted around my hips. Figured I’d sleep better in just these.”
Eddie groans like you just personally ruined him all over again. “You chose comfort over mercy.”
“You’ll survive.”
He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him, muttering into your shoulder, “I’m not so sure I will.”
You hum contentedly, your fingers brushing his wrist where it rests against your stomach. “You love it.”
His breath is already slowing. “Yeah,” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of your jaw. “I really fuckin’ do.”
The silence stretches, filled only with the quiet rhythm of his breathing against your back.
After a bit, you murmur softly into the pillow, “Hey, um… if you want… you can take me home before you go to work tomorrow.” Eddie’s hand stills.
You hesitate, then add in a quieter voice, “I didn’t know if you’d want me hanging out here… you know, while you’re not around.”
He tightens his hold on you a little, gently, like he wants to pull you even closer. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with sleep, “you don’t have to ask that.”
“You’re always welcome here. I mean it.” His lips brush your shoulder again. “But… if you do want to go home, I can take you before I leave. Whatever makes you feel good, okay?”
You’re already shaking your head before he finishes speaking. “No,” you whisper. “It’s okay. I’ll stay.”
Eddie lets out a relieved breath and leans in closer, pressing a kiss just behind your ear.
“Good,” he mutters against your skin, “’Cause I want you here when I get home.”
Your heart skips so hard it’s all you can do to nod, your voice barely above a breath. “Okay.”
He exhales again, soft and slow, and you feel him smile against your shoulder. His hand finds yours beneath the blanket, fingers lacing easily with yours, and neither of you says another word.
——————
You wake with a soft blink- the room is still dark, but it could be early with the late sunrises. Eddie’s still dead asleep beside you- one arm flung over your waist, his breath slow and even against the back of your neck as you’ve flipped in your sleep.
You glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand.
5:15AM
Almost an hour before Eddie has to get up for work. You could try to go back to sleep. But you feel a little grimy from yesterday- the hours at the library, being in Jeremy’s presence, the way you curled up on Eddie’s couch afterwards- and your body aches a little from how tightly you’d clung to him through the night.
So, quietly and so carefully, you slip out from under the covers. Eddie mumbles something sleep slurred but doesn’t stir. You smile faintly, grabbing your toiletry bag and tiptoeing into the bathroom. You close the door softly, and turn the shower on- letting the hot steam start to fill the little room.
Fifteen minutes later, Eddie blinks awake. Vision blurry and disoriented- until he realizes his arm is stretched across empty sheets. His heart spikes. He bolts upright so fast it sends a jolt through his spine- head snapping around the room.
No sign of you. Just messy blankets and the faint indentation where your body had been tucked against his all night. Panic flashes hot through his chest. For a second- a gut wrenching second- it’s like he’s back there again.
That awful morning. The hollow pit in his stomach when he woke up alone after everything. The way he’d scrambled, begged- just talk to me, please!
But then he sees it- your bag, still slumped by the dresser and opened. And the faint sound of the shower running. Eddie scrubs a shaky hand over his face, breathing out a tight, broken laugh.
“You’ve gotta fucking relax, Munson,” he mutters under his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Still, he pads toward the bathroom anyway, needing to see you, to know. He knocks once- soft against the door. “Sweetheart?” he calls, voice hoarse from sleep. “You in there?”
There’s a beat of surprise on the other side- a soft rustle- and then your voice, muffled but clear, “Yeah! Sorry- didn’t mean to wake you.”
Relief punches the air from his lungs. He leans his forehead against the door for a second, relaxing.
“Nah, s’okay,” he says, voice low and rough. “Can I.. can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course! One sec- I think I locked it out of habit—”
But Eddie’s already reaching for the knob, his hand closing around it just as your words register. Click. Locked. He lets out a low huff of a laugh under his breath, mouth tugging sideways.
“Yeah,” he mutters, amused now. “Yeah, you did.”
He leans in, thumb pressing to the base of the knob, twisting it with the kind of easy confidence that says he’s absolutely done this before. The lock gives with a soft click, the door easing open a crack. The bathroom’s warm and humid, the mirror fogged over, your silhouette blurry behind the curtain.
You make a startled sound from the shower. “What the- how did you—?”
He presses a hand to his heart. “I’ve got many skills, sweetheart. But I promise, I only use my powers for good.”
You giggle softly. “Hi,” you say shyly, finally peeking around the shower liner, water still cascading down your shoulders. Eddie’s whole body melts at the sight. The tension drains out of him so fast it makes his knees weak.
He grins slowly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hi.”
You laugh a little under your breath, shy but beaming- and Eddie’s heart fucking explodes. He moves in further, closing the door behind him and rests his hands lightly against the edge of the sink, eyes never leaving yours.
“You scared the shit outta me, honey,” he admits, voice soft.
You blink. “I did?”
He laughs to himself, and shrugs one shoulder. “Woke up, you weren’t in bed… just—” He trails off, shaking his head, curls falling into his eyes. “Old ghost, I guess.”
Your face crumples a little into something soft and guilty. You push the curtain aside a little more, steam curling around you, and hold your hand out toward him. Eddie steps forward instantly, lacing your wet fingers through his like it’s the only thing keeping him standing.
“I’m not leaving, Eds,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Just needed a shower.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to your damp knuckles. “I know,” he whispers against your skin.
You tug his hand gently, invitation clear in your eyes. “Wanna join me?” you ask, voice soft.
Eddie’s smile goes crooked, breath stuttering- even as he huffs a wrecked little laugh. “Sweetheart…” he says, voice rough with longing, “you’re gonna make me late for work—”
But even as he says it, he’s already kicking off his socks and stepping out of his boxers, flushed from the heat, from you. You barely have a second to giggle- biting your lip at how fast he’s moving- before he’s pulling the shower curtain wider, crowding into the tiny stall with you.
The moment the water hits his skin, Eddie lets out a soft, guttural sound- half a groan, half a sigh- and then he’s on you. Not rough. Not fast. Just everywhere.
His hands find your face first, cradling you like you’re something precious. He kisses you like it’ll be the last time- slow and deep, mouths slipping wetly together under the rush of hot water. You clutch at his bare shoulders, slick and trembling, your laugh dissolving into a whimper against his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss down your jaw, your neck.
His hands roam- sliding down the wet curve of your back, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him- already hard, thick against your stomach causing you to gasp and clutch at him instinctively.
Eddie chuckles low, chest vibrating against yours, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind before breakfast, sweetheart,” he rasps, biting down gently on your lobe.
You whimper so softly and grind your hips up instinctively, and that’s it. Something in him snaps. With a growl low in his throat, Eddie grabs you- hands sliding down to grip your thighs- and lifts you up effortlessly.
Your back thuds lightly against the slick shower wall, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a plea- arms tightening around Eddie’s shoulders as he pins you there with the weight of his body.
He’s panting against your throat, teeth grazing your skin, every inch of him hot and hard and trembling with restraint. You feel him line himself up- the blunt head of his cock dragging through your slick folds, teasing- and instinctively, your head falls back against the tile, eyes fluttering shut, a broken sound slipping from your lips.
But Eddie’s hand catches your jaw firmly, almost trembling- thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, dragging your chin up to him.
“Look at me,” he pants, voice cracking, breathless. “Wanna see you, honey. Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you—”
You force your heavy eyelids open, meeting his gaze through the mist and the water- and fuck, the look on his face nearly undoes you right there. Eddie’s staring at you like you’re a miracle he can’t believe he gets to touch- like he’s memorizing you, frame by frame, burning you into every part of him.
And then he slowly pushes into you, deep. You sob a moan as your head tips forward a bit- clinging to him as best as you can. Eddie groans, forehead dropping against yours as he sinks to the hilt, hips grinding up into you.
“Fuck, honey,” he rasps, teeth gritted. “You were made for me. Feel so fuckin’ good- so goddamn perfect wrapped around me—”
You whine, head spinning, pleasure crackling just under your skin. Desperate and aching, you slip a shaky hand between your bodies- fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight little circles, chasing the wave building so fast it nearly scares you. Eddie watches- eyes blowing wide, pupils dark- and completely fucking loses it.
His thrusts get rougher- hips slamming into yours with messy, hungry sounds- the water splashing harder around you. He can’t help himself, he looks back down in between your bodies watching himself disappear into you now, again and again.
His breath catches. Eyes blown, mouth parted. “Holy fuck,” he groans. “I swear to God- I can see me in your fuckin’ stomach.. look at that.. fuck—”
His grip tightens, hips slamming up harder. “So deep inside you- and fuck, you’re takin’ all of it—”
You cry out, legs tightening around his waist, grinding back against every filthy, perfect thrust.
“I know you’re close, sweets,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth gently, hand sliding down to cup your ass, dragging you harder against him. “Fuck, feel you squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good—”
You nod frantically, can’t even form words while your fingers moving faster, rougher, pleasure clawing up your spine.
“That’s it- just like that,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice trembling. “You’re so good for me. Always so fuckin’ good to me.”
Your whole body seizes- a sob tearing from your throat as you shatter around him, clenching down so hard Eddie nearly drops you.
“Holy fuck—” he gasps, thrusting through it- feeling you milk him, pulling him deeper- and he barely manages to pull out, spilling hot across your stomach with a feral, broken sound.
His forehead collapses against your shoulder- both of you gasping, trembling, clinging to each other under the shower head. The water pounds around you, the only other sound besides your few heartbeats, until Eddie finally lifts his head. Messy curls dripping into his flushed, wrecked face. Eyes dark and stunned and worshipful.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes hoarsely, laughing under his breath. “You’re fuckin’ lethal, you know that?”
You just whimper a soft laugh as you bury your face in his shoulder- he kisses the side of your head, squeezing you so tight you squeak. You trail your fingers lightly up his spine and feel him shiver under your touch, a broken little exhale slipping out against your skin. Eventually, Eddie lifts his head- brushing your wet hair back from your face, studying you like you hung the goddamn moon.
“You okay, honey?” his voice low.
You nod, blinking up at him through the mist, still dazed, still floating. A crooked, exhausted smile pulls at Eddie’s mouth- boyish and wrecked and completely gone for you. He presses a kiss to your forehead and lingers for a second- then another to your nose, and another just above your eyebrow.
“Good,” he whispers. He shifts his grip carefully, sliding you down until your feet hit the tile again, though he keeps one big hand wrapped protectively around your hip, steadying you when your knees threaten to give out. You laugh breathlessly, sagging against his chest- and Eddie chuckles too, the sound rumbling warm and sleepy between your bodies.
Neither of you says much after that. There’s no need. He just stays close- moving slowly, helping you rinse off, fingers brushing your arms, your back, your hips in soft, worshipful strokes.
Not because he needs to but because he wants to. Because he can’t not touch you now that he’s allowed. You help him too- smoothing shampoo through his curls, trailing your nails gently along his scalp- and Eddie practically melts under the attention, groaning quietly against your shoulder like it’s turning his brain to mush.
By the time you both step out of the shower- towels wrapped haphazardly around yourselves- you’re barely standing upright, bodies heavy with exhaustion and aftershocks. Eddie catches your eye as he towels off his hair all wild and dripping everywhere- and his smile softens even more.
You’re the first to move, slipping into the bedroom while Eddie finishes drying off in the bathroom. You open his dresser and pause, because on top of the pile of just plain black shirts, there’s one that makes you smile.
An old Corroded Coffin tee. Soft, faded black, the white logo cracked and peeling across the chest. It’s clearly been through hell and back, maybe even one of the first ones ever made.
You tug it out carefully, fingers brushing over the worn letters for a second. With a small grin, you pull it on. It hangs just at the start of your thighs, clinging to your still damp skin in places. Then, almost as an afterthought, you shimmy into a pair of his clean boxers from the drawer. The cotton rides low on your hips, the waistband slouchy, and you don’t even think about how much trouble you’re probably asking for.
By the time Eddie walks out of the bathroom, towel still ruffling through his hair, the sight of you sitting on the edge of his bed- barefoot, flushed from the warm shower, wearing his old band shirt and his boxers- hits him like a damn freight train. He stops cold in the doorway, towel dropping over his shoulder, eyes dragging over you in utter disbelief.
“…You didn’t.”
You glance up at him, all faux innocence. “Didn’t what?”
His voice drops, half-groaned. “That shirt. That one’s, like- Jesus. I haven’t even worn that thing in years.”
You look down, fingers tugging the hem. “It was on top in your dresser.”
Eddie groans, tossing the towel dramatically toward the hamper. “You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”
You grin, legs swinging lazily. “I have some idea.”
He crosses the room slowly, grabbing his jeans, a clean Henley, and thick socks- but not without giving you the look as he passes.
“And you turned down the boxers last night,” he adds, exasperated as he pulls on his jeans. “You said they got tangled. You said you sleep better without them. And now I walk out and you’re in that shirt and my boxers—”
“I changed my mind,” you say sweetly.
He groans again. “You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.”
You stretch slowly, just to make it worse. “You’ll survive.”
He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like questionable, then crosses the room, grabbing jeans, a clean Henley, and thick socks. You watch him get dressed through heavy lidded eyes, curled up against his pillows with your legs tucked under you, heart stuttering every time his back flexes or his hair falls in his face.
Eddie fumbles with his belt, half laughing under his breath. “You’re not helping, sweetheart,” he mutters, tossing a look over his shoulder- the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world he sees.
You just smile sleepily, hugging one of his pillows to your chest. He pulls his boots on, hopping a little on one foot when the laces fight him, and checks the clock. Still early. You waking up when you did probably saved his ass from running late again.
He grabs his wallet and shoves it into his back pocket, then crouches down by the bed- one knee digging into the mattress- and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.
“You stay here, honey,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along your jaw. He hesitates for a second, his cheeks pinking a little- then rambles quickly,
“If you get bored or whatever, uh- help yourself. To, like, anything. TV. Kitchen. Shower. Bedroom. Whatever. I mean- shit, you could sell the couch if you wanted, I’d still be good with it.”
You laugh, biting your lip, and he ducks his head sheepishly. “I’m serious,” he mutters, voice rough with how much he means it. “Anything you need, it’s yours.”
Your heart squeezes almost painfully. You nod, smiling warm and sleepy up at him. “Thanks Eddie, I’ll be here.”
He leans in and presses a long, slow kiss to your mouth, making you sigh into him. When he finally pulls back, he bumps his forehead lightly against yours, laughing a little under his breath.
“Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he teases, trying to keep it light even though he looks like he doesn’t really want to leave at all.
You grin, whispering back, “I’ll try my best.”
He kisses you once more quickly before finally grabbing his jacket off the chair. And when he heads for the door, glancing back one last time to see you curled up in his bed- wearing his clothes, hair a mess, looking like you belong there — He feels something in his chest shift. Something terrifying. Something good. Something he doesn’t even know how to name yet.
—————
You don’t even realize how much time has passed after falling back to sleep when Eddie left until you glance at your phone. Almost noon. You stretch out, yawn, and shuffle out to his kitchen. It’s cluttered- coffee mugs balanced precariously near the sink, a couple dishes left on the counter.
You smile to yourself and start tidying automatically- rinsing the dishes, wiping down the counters, placing the silverware back in the drawer.You find a basket of clean laundry sitting by the couch and because you can’t help it, you fold it neatly.
Later, you’re just bringing the handful of guitar picks from the coffee table, back to where you’ve seen them before- scattered across Eddie’s desk, usually around his amp cables or just crumpled sheets of paper.
You nudge the door open carefully with your hip, balancing the picks in your hand and head to the desk- cluttered, a little chaotic, but his- and reach to set the picks down when you see it.
Not hidden. Not stuffed away. Just sitting there. A folded sheet of lined notebook paper. Old, frayed at the edges. Like it’s been handled a lot. Your heart stutters when you see your name written across the front in Eddie’s familiar messy scrawl.
No date. Just your name. You can only assume that it’s a letter like he wrote to you after Halloween- maybe one he messed too much on. You glance toward the door, even though you’re alone, and then carefully unfold it.
The paper is soft from being folded and refolded. The ink smudged slightly in spots, like maybe he’d pressed the pen too hard or gone back over certain words. You start to read, and every word punches the air from your lungs:
Sweetheart,
You left this morning. I asked you to talk to me.. begged you.. and all you gave me was “I have to go.”
You didn’t even shut the door all the way. You just… disappeared. Like whatever we were.. whatever that was… meant nothing the second it got quiet. The second I wasn’t touching you.
I’ve been sitting with that sentence ever since. Turning it over. And over and over. Trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong. What changed in the few hours between you falling asleep on my chest and you walking out the door like you couldn’t bear to be there another second.
Something in your face when you looked at me infront of the bathroom… I can’t stop seeing it.
It was like I’d become someone else. Someone you didn’t trust. And I don’t know why. Maybe I said too much. Maybe I touched too much.
Maybe I let myself believe.. for one goddamn second.. that I meant something more to you than whatever that night was. But you didn’t even give me the chance to figure it out.
You ran. And fuck, I ran after you. I tripped half naked over the doorway like some desperate idiot. Gave the neighbor a front-row seat. Practically slammed my hand into the fucking wall. You didn’t look back.
But I would’ve followed you down that street half naked if I thought it would’ve mattered.
Still, I didn’t stop you. Because I didn’t want to make it worse. Because the look on your face already felt like the end. And because I was scared. Scared that if I said one more word, you’d never come back.
Maybe you still won’t. Maybe I’m not the guy people choose. Maybe I’m the guy people let hold them for a night.. and leave without a word the next morning.
Maybe that’s what I get for hoping. But for the record… You didn’t ruin anything.
You couldn’t.
If anything, you gave me something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. You made me feel like something real was possible again. Even if it was just for a few hours. Even if I never get it back.
And if you ever want to come back… If you ever want to stay.. really stay.. I’ll be here. Still waiting. Still yours.
In all the ways I’m too scared to say out loud.
—Eddie
By the end, you’re crying- not hard, not loud, just slow and quiet, the kind of heartbreak that pools and pulses and keeps your lungs tight. You’ve talked about that morning. The way you left. The panic in your chest, the guilt in your gut, how Eddie followed- how he didn’t stop you, but called after you. The texts. The call to Robin. How he waited. How you both hurt.
But this? This was hours later. The same day. Before the dust even settled. And he still wasn’t angry. Not really. Not even then. Just confused. Still offering to wait for you. Your fingers tremble where they clutch the edge of the page.
Because maybe.. maybe if he’d given you this. Maybe if he’d come to the house, even after Robin said you weren’t ready. Maybe if he’d just dropped this letter at the door, said fuck it, and knocked anyway—
Maybe you wouldn’t have lost all those weeks.
You sniff hard and wipe at your face with the heel of your palm, but the tears don’t stop. Not really. Because you know now. You know what he felt that same day, what he fought, what he feared. Not just after the fact when you guys finally talked about it.
And you know how much of it mirrored what was crashing through you, too. All that time you both spent in silence.. bleeding out in different rooms, breathing the same pain. And it’s too late to undo that part of it. But it still hurts like it’s fresh.
You whisper to no one, “You should’ve just brought it. I would’ve read it.” You fold the letter again, hands still shaking, and place it gently back on his desk exactly how you found it.
Then you curl up in his bed, in the exact spot he fell asleep last night, that still smells like him, and let yourself cry for a little while longer. Not for what you have now. But for everything you almost didn’t.
——————
Eddie’s keys rattle in the lock, the door creaking open a second later. He steps inside with a low grunt, toeing his boots off and shrugging his jacket off.
“Sweetheart?” he calls gently, craning his neck as he shuts the door behind him. “I brought food- it’s just chinese, I didn’t know what your order was and wanted to surprise you.. so I kinda panicked and got, like… everything.”
He pauses as he walks into the living room, glancing toward the couch. Blanket folded, coffee table cleared, and his laundry folded even. The kitchen, too- cleaned up, dishes put away. His smile falters just a little. Not in a bad way. Just softer now. He calls out again, gentler.
“Hey. You awake?”
He makes it to the bedroom and stops cold. You’re curled in the middle of his bed, half wrapped in the blanket, your face pressed into one of his pillows. Your knees are drawn to your chest, shoulders tight, like something caved inward and never reset. You’re asleep. Barely. Because your lashes are still wet, and your eyelids look puffy. His heart lurches into his throat- panic blooming up too fast, too hard- and he takes a step closer.
That’s when he sees it. The letter. Not hidden. Just sitting there- looks like it’s been opened.. on top of the desk. His own handwriting staring back at him. Eddie’s stomach turns.
Fuck.
He blinks hard, crossing slowly to the desk like it might blow away if he moves too fast. One glance is all it takes- he knows that paper like a scar. The smudge where his hand dragged through the ink. The torn corner from when he almost crumpled it and didn’t. He forgot to put it away. Took it out last week digging for a charger or guitar picks or whatever, left it there without thinking- And now..
He turns back toward the bed, throat closing tight. Your tear streaked face. The way you’re curled around his pillow like it’s the only thing holding you together. The pillowcase beneath your cheek is a little damp where it caught the worst of it.
“Shit,” he breathes out, hoarse.
He crosses the room in three steps, drops to his knees beside the bed like his legs won’t hold him anymore. One hand reaches out before he can stop it- hovering, trembling, an inch from your arm.
“Sweetheart…” His voice breaks.
You stir slightly but don’t wake. So he stays there. Kneeling beside the bed, eyes glassy, hand half extended toward you like he’s afraid to touch you. Like he already broke something and can’t figure out how to unbreak it.
He bites down hard on his bottom lip- clenching his jaw. “I didn’t mean for you to see it like that,” he whispers to no one. “Not alone. Not like this.”
Eddie lowers his forehead to the mattress beside you, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t know what hurts worse. That you read it. Or that you read it and cried.
Because even if the letter was weeks old- even if he’d meant every word of it back then- he would’ve burned it before ever letting it make you feel like this. And now all he can do is stay close, brush his fingers lightly across the curve of your arm, and whisper the one thing he will can’t take back- “I never stopped waiting.”
After a bit, you stir slowly, lashes fluttering. Your body shifts. You rub your eyes and take a moment to register the low light, the room, and the way Eddie is knelt there beside you like he’s been sitting in that same spot since the world fell out from under him.
You don’t say anything. Your eyes flick toward the desk. Then back to him. And the silence is loud. Everything you didn’t say that day. Everything he never asked. Everything the letter screamed.
Eddie’s voice is the first to cut through it, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean for you to find that.”
Your throat works. You sit up a little, dragging the blanket tighter around your body. “You left it out.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says quickly. “I was looking for something a few days ago, I must’ve…” He trails off. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”
“But you still wrote it,” you say, not accusing. Just quiet. “That same day.”
Eddie nods. “Right after you left.” His voice catches. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
You glance back toward the desk, then down at your lap. “You didn’t try to give it to me.”
“I wanted to,” he says, his voice fraying. “But you didn’t answer my texts. And when I called Robin, she said you weren’t ready to talk.”
“I wasn’t,” you whisper. “I guess part of me thought maybe… maybe you’d try anyway.”
Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw hard. “I was scared,” he says. “That I’d push you farther away. That if I showed up, you’d… I don’t know. Shut the door in my face. Or look at me like you did that morning. Like I’d ruined something just by caring too much.”
That hits something deep. You look up sharply. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t feel like that, standing in that hallway. Watching you leave.”
You’re both quiet again. The kind of quiet that hurts. You stare at your hands. Then at him.
“It killed me to leave,” you say, voice shaking. “And when I read that letter… it was like watching it happen through your eyes. Watching myself walk away all over again. And it—”
Your voice breaks. “I knew it hurt you. I did. But reading it.. God, Eddie, it made me feel like maybe I really ruined something we’ll never get back.”
“You didn’t,” he says immediately. “I swear to God, you didn’t.”
You look at him… and you’re not angry. Just tired. “You should’ve left the letter,” you whisper. “Or knocked anyway. Or tried again the next day. And maybe we wouldn’t have lost those weeks.”
Eddie’s eyes soften, but look dark. And when he speaks, his voice is low and tight, like it costs him something. “I didn’t think I could,” he says, his fingers curl into fists. “You wouldn’t even look at me as you ran. You left like I didn’t matter. Like that night meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”
His voice rises, not yelling- just in pain. “I was standing there with my heart in my fucking throat, and you didn’t even say goodbye.”
You blink, your mouth parting slightly. But you don’t interrupt. Because he’s unraveling now. “I didn’t knock because I thought I’d already ruined it just by hoping. Because the last thing I saw on your face was fear. And I thought if I pushed any harder, you’d never want to see me again.”
His chest heaves. And the silence that follows is sharp. You’re staring at him, heart pounding- you’re not angry, but because you get it. And it hurts anyway.
“I think I wanna go home,” you whisper.
The words land like a blow. Eddie stiffens, like his breath got punched out of him. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. He just stands there, blinking hard, chest rising too fast.
And then, softly, his voice breaking, “Wait- no. Please… just, wait.”
You pause, frozen in place. You still haven’t looked at him. Still haven’t moved toward your bag or the clothes you folded over the back of the chair.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he says, voice cracking. “I didn’t even know I was still carrying all that around until it started pouring out of me.”
He swallows, jaw clenched. “We had talked about it all- that day. I thought I’d let it go. I told myself I had. That it didn’t still… sit in my chest like that.”
A sharp breath. His hand curls into a fist at his side. “But then you said maybe we could’ve had those weeks back, and it just—” he shakes his head, eyes glassy, “—it split something open in me. I think I’ve been trying to be okay with almost losing you. I’ve been trying so fucking hard to act like I wasn’t scared every second that it could happen again.”
“And I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I made it about me. That I hurt you instead of holding you.”
You stare at him for a long moment, that silence stretching wide and full. Then you glance down at your hands. “I still think I wanna go.”
Eddie nods like his lungs are collapsing. But then he steps forward, no panic now, just gentle devastation. “Okay,” he murmurs. “But let me take you.”
“I don’t want you walking out like that,” he adds. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you and have to wonder if you made it home okay.”
You meet his eyes again. And all that storm you’ve been holding sits there in his too. Finally, you nod. You move quietly toward the chair, and you can feel it, the weight of his eyes on you.
You slide out of his old Corroded Coffin shirt, fold it with trembling hands. Slip out of the boxers he gave you. And even with your back to him, you can feel the ache in his gaze- it’s not lust, just longing. Guilt. That soft devastation of someone watching a memory fall apart in real time. You pull on your jeans, hoodie, and socks. Everything suddenly heavier than it was yesterday. And only then do you pick up your bag.
Eddie hasn’t moved. But when you turn to him again, he just nods. Shoulders tight, eyes low. “I’ll grab my keys.”
The keys jingle faintly in Eddie’s hand as he grabs them from the hook. He doesn’t look at you as he pulls on his hoodie- just tosses it over his head in one smooth motion, jaw tight. Like if he lets any part of himself slip, the rest will unravel. You follow him to the door. Neither of you says anything.
Eddie unlocks the van and reaches for your door first, opening it for you like he always does. You climb in without a word. He closes it gently behind you, rounds to the driver’s side, and gets in. The engine starts, but the radio doesn’t come on. He doesn’t even reach for it.
The heater kicks in with a low hum. The van fills with that familiar blend of warmth and road noise and tension you can’t quite look at directly. Eddie’s hands stay locked on the wheel. His knuckles pale against the leather. His jaw ticks once, then again.
The drive itself is short. Too short. The kind of stretch of road you’ve both driven too many times to count, but now, it feels foreign. Like something sacred has gone quiet inside it. You stare out the window, one hand resting on your bag in your lap. Your fingers trace the edge of the strap. Over and over. Eddie’s eyes stay fixed on the road. Like he needs to focus on this one thing so he doesn’t fall apart again.
The turn signal clicks as he pulls into your neighborhood. It’s the only sound besides the soft rush of the heater. When he finally parks in front of your house, the porch light is still on. Robin’s silhouette walking in the living room behind the curtains.
You reach for the door handle, fingers brushing the cold metal. But before you open it, you pause. Just for a second. Your voice is barely above a whisper, “Thanks for the ride.”
Eddie barely nods once. His voice is low, almost a rasp. “Yeah. ‘Course.”
The van’s headlights cut across the road like they’re carving a line between past and present, but all Eddie can think about is what you said. The silence. The way your voice broke. The way you looked at him like you were still unraveling but couldn’t bear to do it in front of him anymore.
He grips the wheel tighter. Shifts lanes too fast. Curses under his breath when the van hits a pothole and jolts him forward. He’s not even halfway back to his apartment yet when it all starts to cave in. That breath he’s been holding since the door shut behind you? It finally breaks.
“Fuck,” he chokes, slamming the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He pulls over without thinking. Not quite the shoulder. Just enough room to stop. The van rocks slightly under the weight of the motion. He drops his head forward, forehead resting against the coolness of his rings still holding onto the stirring wheel. Your voice echoes back again.
You should’ve left the letter. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost those weeks.
His eyes burn, shaking his head. What was he supposed to do? Push harder? Risk losing you completely?
He thought he’d been doing the right thing. He thought waiting was what you needed. But now all he can think is.. what if he waited too long again?
He pulls back onto the road. Doesn’t head toward the apartment. He takes the right instead. The old road that leads to the trailer park. He doesn’t even fully register the decision until he’s pulling into the gravel drive and killing the headlights. The porch light’s still on. Wayne always leaves it on.
Eddie throws the van into park. Sits there for a beat, staring at the door. Then mutters under his breath, “Yeah. Fuck it.”
He walks up the front steps slowly, and knocks once on the screen door, then twice more- like always. Wayne opens it almost immediately, wearing a thermal shirt and old flannel pants, his face lined with sleep and concern.
“Jesus, boy,” Wayne mutters, stepping back. “You in trouble?”
“No.”
“You sick?”
“No.”
Wayne frowns deeper. “You high?”
Eddie shakes his head, “No.”
Wayne squints at him. “Alright. How ‘bout we talk out here, think I’m gonna need a smoke for this one.”
Both seated in the old lawn chairs. A pack of cigarettes sits between them on the small outdoor table. Wayne lights one. Offers the other. Eddie takes it but just rolls it between his fingers, nervous energy bleeding out through the motion.
He’s quiet a long time before saying, “There’s this girl.”
“We went to school together,” Eddie says. “Didn’t ever talk back then, didn’t really know eachother- I mean, she only hung out with Harrington and Buckley.”
Wayne lets out a soft grunt. “You and Harrington never got along.”
Eddie huffs. “Eh, he can still get on my nerves. But he’s different now. They’re all different. Turns out Steve’s always been like a brother to her. Robin is her best friend. And when she moved in with her, back after—” He cuts himself off. “After a shitty breakup, she started hanging around with everyone. With me.”
Wayne nods but says nothing, letting him keep going.
Eddie’s voice drops. “We got close. I don’t know how it happened. It just… did. Like one day I blinked and she was everywhere. And it felt good. It felt real.” He laughs under his breath. “It felt like home, somehow..”
Wayne’s expression shifts, subtle but soft.
“We spent a night together,” Eddie says carefully, respectful but honest. “And the next morning, she left. Didn’t explain, just…” He snaps his fingers. “Gone. Like I’d done something wrong without even realizing it.”
“I wrote a letter,” Eddie adds. “Poured everything into it. All the shit I couldn’t say out loud. I never gave it to her.”
“Why not?”
“She wasn’t ready to talk,” Eddie says. “And I was afraid that if I tried, I’d only make it worse.”
Wayne leans back, exhales smoke. “So what brought you here tonight?”
“She found it,” Eddie murmurs. “Today. I forgot I left it out on my desk. She read the whole damn thing while I was at work.”
Wayne’s jaw tightens slightly. “She upset?”
Eddie nods slowly. “Yeah. Not angry, just… hurt. Said maybe if I’d given it to her back then, we wouldn’t have lost all those weeks. And I… I got defensive. Said too much. Too fast. Too loud.” His voice thins. “She asked to go home.”
Wayne is quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Eddie glances up, confused. “Tell her what?”
“That you love her.”
The words knock the wind out of him. He opens his mouth and immediately closes it. Blinks like maybe he misheard.
Wayne shrugs. “It’s all over your face, son. Has been since you stepped out of that van.”
Eddie’s throat works. He tries to speak but fails. His hands curl into fists against his thighs.
Wayne takes another drag of his cigarette. “You can run from it. Or you can face it. But either way, it’s already there.”
Eddie’s voice cracks when it finally comes. “I don’t know how to say it.”
“Then don’t,” Wayne says plainly. “Not until you’re ready. But if it’s real.. and it sounds like it is- don’t sit on it. Don’t wait for the perfect time. It doesn’t exist.”
They sit in silence for a moment. Then Wayne adds, “You gonna stay, or are you gonna fix it?”
Eddie’s already on his feet. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. Wayne just gives him a look like half exasperated, half proud, and waves him towards the van.
“Go get your girl, son.”
And Eddie’s gone before he even finishes the sentence.
The street’s quiet when he pulls up. He cuts the engine and just sits there for a second, staring at the front door. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel. The words still echo in his head. Don’t wait for the perfect time. It doesn’t exist.
He exhales hard through his nose, grabs the keys, and gets out of the van. The gravel crunches under his boots. The November air bites at his cheeks. His heart thuds like it might wear itself out before he makes it to the porch. But he makes it. One step. Then another. He lifts a hand to knock, hesitatIng for a second- then knocks once, twice. He can hear footsteps, then the door opens.
Robin stands there, her eyes widen slightly when she sees him. “Hey,” she says, voice guarded but not unkind.
Eddie’s breath fogs in the air. “She still here?”
Robin nods slowly. “She’s in her room. She’s not crying anymore, if that’s what you’re wondering. But she’s been curled up like someone knocked the wind out of her.”
Eddie shifts from one foot to the other. “Can I—?”
Eddie flinches, causing Robin to sigh and opens the door a little wider. “You can go back, but I swear to God, Munson, if you’re gonna make it worse—”
“I’m not,” he says quickly. “I promise.”
She watches him for a minute but steps aside and lets him pass.
You don’t hear your door open, but you feel him. Like some part of your chest just knows the second he’s there.
Eddie steps in slowly. The door clicks shut behind him. And even though you’re still curled on your side, facing the wall, you already know it’s him. He lingers for a second. Then finally musters out, “Hey.”
His voice is soft and hesitant. “Can we talk?”
But before he can say another word, you’re already cutting in, still not looking over at him. Your voice is quieter than his, but steadier than you expected it to be.
“If you came here to end things…” You swallow. “If you decided it’s too much, or that I’m too much… that it’s better to stop this before I hurt you again—” You pause, forcing air through your lungs. “I’ll understand.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, big you can hear the deep breaths he takes, “I didn’t come here to leave you.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t come here to give up, or get the last word, or tell you I’m done. Because I’m not.” He exhales. “God, I’m so far from done.”
“I came because I couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in my bed, reading that letter. Crying alone. And all I could think was- why the hell wasn’t I there? Why did I have to be at work during that?” He runs a hand over his face, like the words are burning their way out of him.
“I’ve been walking around with that day sitting in my ribs for weeks. Telling myself we talked it through. That we were past it. That we moved on. But I don’t think I ever really let it go.” He laughs, but it’s bitter, sad. “Because some stupid part of me thought maybe if I kept it all in, I could protect you from it. From me.”
You turn your head slightly- not all the way, but enough to see the way he’s standing, fingers curled into the hem of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him together.
He swallows hard, chest rising unevenly. “I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. Never needed someone the way I need you. And it fucking terrifies me. Because it’s real. Because you see me.. all of me.. and I’m not used to that. I’m not used to being the one who gets chosen.”
“I kept thinking- what if I say too much? What if I give her all of me and it’s still not enough?” His voice drops to a whisper. “But then I remember how you looked at me the first time you let me touch you. The way you trusted me. The way you held on when I felt like I was breaking.”
You blink fast, trying to stay still, trying to breathe.
“I don’t want to be safe,” he says. “I want to be yours. Even if I fuck it up. Even if I bleed for it.”
His eyes shine when he finally looks up at you. “I came here because even if you can’t promise me anything yet… I’ll still wait. Because I’d rather hurt beside you than feel nothing without you.”
Silence follows, so quiet you can hear the clock ticking all the way in the kitchen. You stand slowly. The blanket slips off your lap. Your legs are unsteady but you cross the room anyway, until you’re standing right in front of him- then your forehead slowly drops to his chest. Eddie freezes, then exhales, and it’s the shakiest sound you’ve ever heard from him. His arms come around you instantly, gently, wrapping around your back like you’re something he’s terrified of letting go.
His cheek presses to the top of your head. Neither of you says anything else. He just holds you tightly. Like he’s afraid that if he breathes too deep, you’ll vanish. And you just let him. Your fists curl lightly in the hem of his hoodie. Your eyes slip shut.
Just the sound of Eddie’s uneven breathing above you and the quiet press of his arms around your back, like he’s trying to memorize the weight of you in them. His thumb moves slowly against your spine, barely there. Then slowly, you lift your head. Your chin drags lightly against the front of his chest as you tilt your gaze up to meet his. His eyes are already on you. His lashes are clumped from whatever tears haven’t fallen yet. His mouth is slightly parted, and when your eyes meet, he goes utterly still.
His hands rise slowly, cupping your jaw with the kind of care that makes your chest ache. Thumbs brushing the sides of your cheeks, cradling your face like you’re something precious- like if he lets go, he’ll never forgive himself.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers. It’s all he says. Just that. And then he leans in. The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s soft and slow. Like he’s still trying to apologize. Like he’s still asking if you’re sure- if this is really okay- even though your arms are already sliding up around his waist to pull him in closer.
His lips are warm. A little chapped. He kisses you like he’s breathing again for the first time in weeks. Like he’s trying not to fall apart. Your fingers curl in the hem of his hoodie. You sigh into his mouth. When he pulls back, it’s only a few inches- just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“You scare the hell out of me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your skin. “And I don’t care. I’ll take all of it. If it means I get to be here. Like this.”
You can only nod, slow, your nose brushing his. You stay wrapped up in each other, until his shoulders slowly start to drop. Until the tremble leaves your fingers. Your eyes burn. The weight of everything has settled in all over again, just heavy. Like grief and relief both decided to lie down inside you at once. Eddie feels it too. You can tell by the way he shifts just a little, like he’s bracing to move, even though he doesn’t want to let go.
“C’mon,” he says softly. His voice is still hoarse. “Let’s get in bed.”
You barely nod as he tugs back the blanket with one hand and gently guides you into bed. You go willingly. No hesitations. You’re exhausted, and not just from the day. From everything. Eddie crawls in behind you and lies on his back, the mattress dipping beneath him. And the second he’s settled, you move without thinking - shifting closer, curling against his side, your head tucking just beneath his jaw again like it’s the only place it fits.
His arm comes around you instinctively. You’re breathing the same air. Your fingers brush his chest. His hand rubs a slow line up and down your spine, steady, steady, steady- until your breathing matches his. And when your hand finally rests over his heart, you feel his lips graze your hair, and the silence between you softens enough to let sleep take you both.
'Cause somehow I can't believe that anything should happen
Series Masterlist- Finding Yourself Again
Series CW: modern au/ angst/ eventual smut/ fluff/ toxic relationship behaviors/ starting a new life/ healing/ unexpected romance/ trust issues/ trauma/ low self esteem/ slow burn/ hateful words/ parent loss/ swearing/ yelling/
Series Pairing: Eddie Munson X (f) Reader
WC: 5.9k
Summary: First date with Eddie and Steve & Robin?
Chapter CW: /anxiety/talk of blood & gore (all fake)/making out/fingering/dry humping/grinding/cumming in pants/premature ejaculation/praise kink/ think that’s it?
A/N: I’ve been so excited to get this chapter out, I’ve been working on it nonstop and rewrote it like five times by now. So I hope y’all love it!! ok I may or may not have a praise kink and part of this chapter is super self indulgent…(any photos in the collage is not reader specific, just for outfit details) thank you @roseareeh & @punkrockmlchael for the idea for the haunted house date 😌
Robin sat cross-legged on your bed, watching as you paced back and forth across your room. “You guys really did something right when you told Eddie not to call that night at the bar a date. Because now? I’m freaking out, Robin. I’m freaking out!”
She stood and crossed the room to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders to stop your pacing. “Okay, take a breath. It’s just a word. That’s all it is. You’re gonna be fine.”
You let out a shaky exhale. “How can I make out with the guy but get this nervous about eating dinner with him?”
Robin headed over to your closet, flipping through hangers. “Probably because there’s no eye contact during making out. And if there was, that’d be super creepy.”
You tried not to laugh. “I hate when you’re right, so I won’t say it.”
She smirked over her shoulder. “Uh, huh. Anyway- how about this?” She held up a black babydoll dress and a thick burnt orange cardigan.
You tilted your head, reaching for them. “Not bad, actually.”
Robin turned around to give you privacy while you changed, launching into a ramble about how Steve wanted to dress up for the haunted house, even though they hadn’t settled on a costume yet.
“All good,” you said a moment later.
You paired the dress and cardigan with sheer tights dotted with tiny velvet polka dots and laced up your Doc Martens.
Robin spun to face you, dancing in place with a squeal. “Oh my god! You look so pretty!”
You waved her off with a shy laugh. “Oh, stop! I still have to finish my makeup!”
About thirty minutes later, you were grabbing your purse and an extra jacket just in case when a knock sounded at the door.
Robin raised her brows. “Showtime!”
You shot her a glare but made your way to the door and opened it.
Eddie stood there, head down, fidgeting with his rings. He wore a dark green flannel over a black shirt, his leather jacket on top, and- surprisingly- unripped black jeans.
His curls were tamed, framing his face in a way that made your stomach flip.
When he finally looked up, Eddie forgot how to function for a full three seconds.
His brain just… short circuited.
Boots. Dress. Tights. You.
He fumbled with the rings on his fingers like that could somehow ground him, but it was no use- he was already toast.
Somewhere in the scrambled mess of his mind, he knew he should say something cool, something normal- but all he could think was holy shit, holy shit, holy shit on a loop.
And then you smiled- and he was done for.
His gaze swept over you slowly, from your boots to your dress, lingering just a second too long on your tights before finally meeting your eyes.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You… wow. You look…”
You smiled, a little shy but clearly pleased. “Look?”
Eddie exhaled a soft laugh, his eyes warm and locked on you.
“You look…” He trailed off, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Like the kind of girl songs get written about. Like I shouldn’t even be allowed to look at you.”
Your heart pounded as you stepped out the door and toward him, close enough to brush his arm.
“I like when you look at me,” you said softly.
That made him smile- big, goofy, honest- the kind of smile that started in his eyes and spread like wildfire.
Behind you, Robin coughed loudly. “And on that note, I’m gonna go pretend I’m not gagging in the living room.”
You fought a laugh as you closed the door behind you, and Eddie laced his fingers through yours while you walked toward his van.
He opened the passenger door with a dramatic bow. “M’lady.”
Once you were buckled in, a warm, nervous energy settled between you like dust.
The van smelled like him- cologne, leather, spearmint gum.
At every stoplight, he kept glancing at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real, like if he looked too long you might vanish.
———————————————————————————
When you arrived at the restaurant, Eddie was quick to run around to your side, opening the door and offering his hand to help you down. As you walked up to the entrance, his arm slipped around your waist, squeezing you just a little, like he couldn’t help it.
He had picked a cozy little Italian place just outside of town- dim lighting, red leather booths, soft music, and a quiet so intimate it felt like your own little world.
Sliding into the booth across from you, Eddie was still a little jittery at first- tapping his rings against his glass of water, asking if you were warm enough, if the music was too loud, if you wanted to leave. Like he couldn’t help trying to make sure you were okay.
But once the drinks arrived and the food was ordered, the conversation came easier.
Little by little, you both relaxed.
He kept looking at you like he still couldn’t quite believe you were there, laughing at his dumb impressions of the server, asking about the ridiculous names he gave his D&D characters when you found out he was thinking of starting up Hellfire Club again.
He listened to your work stories, encouraged your tangents and current hyperfixations, and the way he listened- really listened- made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.
At one point, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes soft and amused.
“You know,” he said, almost smiling, “I was a wreck picking you up tonight. Sweaty palms, checking my breath constantly, running through a million things I was scared I’d screw up.”
He shook his head, looking at you like you were something rare.
“But sitting here with you? It’s… it’s better than anything I let myself hope for.”
You smiled into your drink, feeling warm from more than just the wine he insisted you order after you said it was too expensive.
“It is,” you agreed quietly. “Better than I imagined too.”
After the waiter came back with the check and Eddie’s debit card, he slid out of the booth and reached his hand out to you, helping you out of your seat.
The ride to HellsGate was quieter, but not in a bad way. Eddie’s hand rested on the gearshift, his pinky grazing your knee whenever he changed gears. He kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking- like he still couldn’t quite believe he was the one who got to be here with you tonight.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, voice rough and sincere. “I know I kinda already said that when I picked you up, but… I mean it.”
Your lips curved as you looked over at him. “Robin helped. She actually picked the outfit.”
“Remind me to thank her,” he laughed softly, glancing over at your sheer tights and the way your cardigan draped over the babydoll dress.
You gave him a teasing look. “For dressing me?”
“For convincing you to still come out with me tonight.”
The way he said it wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t even hopeful. It was grateful. Quiet and real, like it meant something to him that you’d let him take you to dinner at all. You reached over and slid your hand over his on the gearshift, squeezing gently.
“Thank you for asking me.”
The van rolled into the HellsGate lot, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, jack-o’-lanterns flickering along the edges of the road in a haze of fog. The scent of bonfire smoke and candy apples drifted through the open windows. As Eddie pulled into a spot, his face shifted.
Not nervous exactly- but like bracing for impact.
“You okay?” you asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just… prepping myself.”
“For the haunted house?”
“For the Scooby-Doo duo,” he muttered. “I love them, I do, but I just know they’re gonna hover like parents on prom night.”
You grinned. “You knew they were gonna be here.”
“I knew. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He leaned back, letting out a slow breath, then shot a glance your way. “I was kinda hoping I’d be the one to protect you from all the creepy shit tonight. Not, y’know, compete with the Harrington-Buckley tag team.”
“They’re not here to compete,” you said gently. “They’re just… invested.”
Eddie smiled, “Yeah, I know. They’re both very protective of you- always looking out for you and your best interest. Steve way more than Robin- but he’s a good guy.”
You raised a brow, “I still don’t understand how you two became friends all of a sudden this last year- you never were around each other in school- nor would I think you’d come across each other afterwards.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got Dustin to thank for that- I did not like Steve in school, but it was mostly due to his whole basketball squad” Eddie said instantly, grinning. “Still remind him of it sometimes, too. But he’s… grown on me. Like a golden retriever with hair spray.”
As you both made it out of the van, and started your way towards the front of the place, that was when Robin spotted you from the entrance line and waved both hands like she was flagging a plane. She elbowed Steve, who turned and gave a small wave. His eyes tracked Eddie with a protective squint, but there wasn’t tension- just a sort of silent acknowledgement.
Eddie slung an arm over your shoulders as you walked toward them. “So. Think they’re gonna interrogate me about dinner?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, first date and all,” you said, bumping his hip.
“Exactly,” he muttered. “My date. And now I’ve gotta share you with the peanut gallery.”
“You like the peanut gallery.”
“I tolerate the peanut gallery,” he said, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a smile.
As you met up with Steve and Robin at the entrance, Eddie immediately pulled out his wallet and paid for both your tickets without a second thought, giving you a bashful grin when you tried to argue.
The haunted trail started off deceptively calm- just a winding dirt path through thick woods, lined with flickering lanterns and fake fog creeping along the ground. The air smelled like wet leaves, bonfire smoke, and faintly of caramel from the food booths nearby.
A guide dressed in a tattered cloak, face painted pale with hollow black eyes, beckoned you forward with a raspy whisper:
“If you dare…”
Eddie, sticking close at your side, brushed his fingers against yours - hesitant, tentative- but still didn’t quite take your hand yet.
Robin leaned in as you walked, voice low. “God, it’s so cheesy. I love it.”
Just then, someone dressed like a blood soaked butcher lunged out from behind a fake barrel with a roar.
You snorted, barely even flinching. “Is that supposed to be pig intestines? Eh. Not bad.”
Robin cackled under her breath.
Steve, a few steps behind, yelped as a cloaked figure dropped from a hidden panel, landing with a heavy thud right beside him.
“Jesus- okay, okay, that one was decent,” he admitted, shaking his head.
You were loving it.
Eddie… was struggling.
He jumped at every movement, every low groan from the shadows, every fake chain rattle.
When a guy in a pig mask charged out from a false wall, Eddie nearly tripped over his own boots, letting out a startled curse.
“I swear to God,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his racing heart as you guided him forward, “they wait until my back’s turned.”
You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. “I thought you were gonna protect me.”
“I was! I am!” he insisted, voice pitching slightly higher as another actor brushed past his shoulder. “You’re just too busy leading us through a goddamn death maze, sweetheart, to notice me risking my life over here.”
He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering after you like he was seconds from a heart attack.
You just laughed, threading your fingers through his for a second before letting go, teasing, “You’re doing great, hero.”
Steve snorted behind you. “Real knight in shining armor we got here.”
“Hey, you screamed too, Harrington!” Eddie shot back without missing a beat, pointing an accusing finger.
They were still bickering playfully when the group rounded a sharp corner inside the house, stepping into a pitch black hallway lined with mirrors.
Your reflection twisted and warped under the dim, pulsing red lights- and just when Eddie turned his head to check on you, a figure smashed against one of the mirrors from the other side, making him physically recoil.
“Fucking hell!” Eddie hissed, grabbing your arm instinctively.
You turned, fighting a grin. “You okay there?”
“Peachy,” Eddie said with a grin, the sarcasm clear but his eyes still scanning the shadows. “Totally what I expected. Couldn’t be more fun if I tried.”
Even through his obvious nerves, Eddie kept glancing at you- stealing little looks whenever he thought you weren’t paying attention.
At one point, as you leaned forward to examine a “corpse” laid out on a bloodstained table, Eddie’s gaze slid shamelessly down your legs, lingering just a little too long on the sheer black tights under your dress.
Unfortunately for him, Steve caught it.
Steve sidled up next to him, keeping his voice low enough that you wouldn’t hear.
“Dude,” Steve muttered, nudging him with an elbow, “Eyes up.”
Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping his gaze away like he’d been caught stealing.
“I know,” he mumbled immediately, flushing deep red. “I wasn’t- I mean- I wasn’t trying to—”
Steve just smirked, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Relax, Munson. You’re good.”
Eddie still looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he quickly focused on literally anything except you for the next few minutes- earning a knowing look from Steve and a suspicious glance from Robin.
By the time you stumbled out the back of the house into open air again, Eddie looked ready to kiss the ground.
He let out a shaky exhale, dragging a hand through his hair while Steve smacked his back with a laugh.
The four of you spilled out into a clearing lit by a roaring bonfire, surrounded by picnic tables and booths offering hot cider, caramel apples, popcorn, and photos with life-size skeletons dressed like pirates.
Robin immediately dragged Steve toward the food stands, both of them distracted by the smell of cinnamon sugar and the lure of a skeleton photo booth.
You and Eddie lingered back at the edge of the trail, the sounds of the woods and laughter wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.
Eddie shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, finally relaxing a little, rocking on his heels beside you.
“You survived,” you teased.
“Barely.” He gave you a sideways glance, his smile tugging wider. “But, you know. Worth it.”
You nudged him with your shoulder, playful. “Even with all the trauma?”
He laughed, the sound low and warm. “Especially with all the trauma. Would’ve been way less fun without you there to, y’know, bravely lead me to my death.”
You bumped his side again, and this time, he caught your hand before you could pull away.
Eddie leaned in, voice low near your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart. Before they remember they’re supposed to be chaperoning us.”
He took your hand and led you off the path, toward the van tucked beneath a cluster of trees. You walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the crowd growing faint behind you, string lights glowing in the distance.
———————————————————————————
When you reached the van, Eddie popped the back doors open and helped you inside, his hands lingering at your waist just a moment longer than necessary. The night air was cool, but inside the van it felt warmer somehow.
He flicked on a small battery operated lantern in the corner, casting a soft yellow glow over the space. Blankets were spread out across the floor, pillows piled in the corners, and a stray amp sat off to the side.
He sank down against the wall of the van, and you plopped down beside him.
“Wanted to have at least a little time alone with you tonight, if that’s alright,” he said softly.
You nodded. “Definitely alright.”
He hesitated, like he was giving you a last chance to stop this. Then his hand came up, cradling your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone so gently it made your breath catch. You turned into his touch, letting your eyes flutter closed, and when he kissed you- soft and certain- it felt like falling into something you didn’t even know you were ready for.
He pulled back a little, searching your face. Like he needed to make sure. Like he needed you to want him the way he already so clearly wanted you.
Then you leaned in first this time- and he melted. His mouth claimed yours, still tender but hungrier now, pulling a low groan from deep in his chest when your hands tangled in his curls, tugging lightly.
You shifted without thinking, needing to be closer, to feel more. Eddie noticed immediately, hands settling at your hips, guiding you gently until you straddled him, thighs bracketing his lap.
The flow of your dress slid up your legs, bunching at your hips, your tights rubbing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction made you shiver, and when you rolled your hips- just slightly- Eddie’s breath caught, his fingers flexing into your skin.
“Holy shit,” he breathed against your mouth. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”
You whimpered into his mouth, pressing closer, chasing every little sound he made.
He groaned, a real, broken sound torn from his chest, hands tightening.
But even half drunk on you, Eddie still stilled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.
You smiled at him, tugging at the hem of his shirt. But his hands slid down to your thighs, firm and careful.
“Wait,” he murmured. “Hey- look at me. Are you okay?”
You blinked, breathless, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“No, I mean… really.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, voice softer now. “This okay? We can stop, just lay here together.”
Your heart stuttered. The question wasn’t just about now. It was about everything- your past, the weight you were still carrying, the fear that the intimate touch could turn sour.
Your hands rested against his chest, feeling the hard thud of his heart.
“I’m not ready for all of it,” you said honestly. “But this? This feels good. You feel good.”
Then you rolled your hips over him again.
“God, okay,” he panted. “You’re killin’ me. Fuck- look at you. So pretty in my lap, grinding on me like that. You feel so good.”
A broken sound escaped his throat. He cupped your face and kissed you again- hotter now, needier. Like he meant every second of it. Like it was something sacred.
In a breath, his restraint snapped. He kissed you hard, hands skimming your sides, guiding your movements. You rocked against him, slow and deliberate, pulling another groan from deep in his chest.
“Christ,” he whispered, breaking apart to look at you. “You look like a dream, sweetheart. An actual fuckin’ dream I never thought I’d get to touch.”
You rolled your hips again, and the sound he made nearly undid you. His fingers dug in, tilting his hips to meet yours.
The thick bulge in his jeans pressed right against your core, and you moaned against his mouth.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Use me, sweetheart. Whatever you need. M’right here.”
You ground down again, the delicious pressure making you whimper, and Eddie cursed under his breath.
“Fuck, honey, the sounds you make—”
He kissed down your jaw, open mouthed and desperate. “Sound so pretty. So fuckin’ sweet for me.”
His lips found that tender spot under your ear, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl, soothing it with his tongue. Heat pooled low in your belly, thighs trembling around him.
You whimpered, grinding against him faster, the hard bulge in his jeans growing more insistent. Eddie’s breath hitched, his hips jerking up to meet you. His head tipped back slightly, jaw tight.
“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart. Fuck- you feel amazing. Like you were made to fit right here.” His rings were cool against your skin as he slid his hands higher up your thighs, kneading softly over the sheer fabric of your tights.
His fingers toyed with the waistband of your tights. He looked at you. “Can I?”
Your breath caught. You nodded.
But he didn’t move yet. His other hand cradled your cheek. “I need you to say it. Please. I’m not doing anything unless you want it. Promise me.”
“I promise,” you whispered. “I want you.”
Something inside him broke open at that - pure, unfiltered worship in his eyes as he pulled your tights down your thighs, moving your panties to the side with trembling hands.
When his fingers slid through your folds, the noise he made was obscene, low and awestruck.
“Jeesuz Christ, sweetheart,” he gasped. “You’re so wet for me. So fuckin’ soft…” he kissed you, slow and deep, punctuating every murmur with the press of his mouth. “All for me?”
You nodded, burying your face in his neck, whimpering when he brushed over your clit.
The way he touched you was reverent, almost careful, like you were something sacred. His thumb found a rhythm that made you gasp against his skin, hips rocking instinctively into his hand.
“Shit, this is unreal,” he crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”
Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your body already trembling as he moved with such gentle precision, every touch a promise he wasn’t going to hurt you, wasn’t going to rush you.
“You’re so soft,” he mumbled between leaving kisses up your neck, “So fuckin’ perfect. Can’t believe you’re letting me- fuck, I’m so lucky, sweetheart, you have no idea.”
He moved slow, circling your clit with the lightest pressure, reading every twitch, every gasp, every little stutter in your breath.
It wasn’t just a hook up to him.
It was devotion.
Every little thing you gave him- every moan, every whimper, every little grind of your hips- made him want to weep with how good it felt to be trusted.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispered thickly, thumb moving in slow circles. “You’re so beautiful like this. So good. So sweet.”
You gasped, hips rocking harder against his hand, chasing the pleasure that was coiling tight inside you.
Eddie couldn’t stop touching you now- couldn’t stop whispering, praising, worshiping.
“You’re makin’ the prettiest sounds, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ lucky just to be here. Just to touch you.”
He slid two fingers inside you, slow and careful, groaning as your walls fluttered around him as he curled them just right. His palm bumped your clit with every stroke, pleasure building fast and hot, coiling in your belly.
“Shit, you’re so tight,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “C’mon, honey. Wanna feel you fall apart.”
“Ah, fffuck, Eddie—” you gasped, grinding down, breath catching in your chest.
Everything felt so intense, you trembled, thighs tightening, your dress bunched at your waist. Still grinding down against the thick outline of him in his jeans, while his fingers drove you toward the edge.
“That’s it,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got ya. Let go for me. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this. So fuckin’ beautiful. Let me see you fall apart.”
“Ah- I’m g’na cum—”
The pleasure broke over you like a wave, crashing so hard you cried out against his mouth. He kissed you through it, whispering praise against your skin- “That’s it, that’s it, you’re incredible, you’re perfect, you’re everything. Did so good- did so good for me, sweetheart–“ until you collapsed against him, boneless and trembling.
And when you shifted just slightly, grinding down instinctively on the hard bulge in his jeans-
Eddie whimpered, shuddering.
And before he could stop himself- before he could even think- “Fffuck—” he gasped, fingers slipping free from your core, his body tensing and hips jerking once against you.
You felt it- the sudden heat, the tension breaking and blinked up at him, wide eyed.
He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Holy shit, I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I just- fuck, it’s been a while, and you’re- God, you’re so hot, I couldn’t—”
You kissed him before he could spiral further.
“I didn’t mean to get carried away,” he said, breath still shaky. “You just… I couldn’t help it.”
“I liked it,” you said softly. “All of it.”
That stopped him. He groaned, sinking down against the blankets as you still straddled him, hand over his face.
“I swear I’m usually more composed than this.”
You laughed gently. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”
He peeked at you. “You’re serious?”
You leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Means you really liked it.”
“Liked it way too much, apparently.”
He smiled crookedly and tugged you down beside him. Allowing you to pull your tights back up.
For a moment, you just laid there, tangled up, the van warm and quiet. Then Eddie sat up with a groan, rummaging under the front seat and pulling out a pair of black sweatpants.
“I keep spare clothes in here,” he muttered, already undoing his belt. “For emergencies. This… counts, right?”
You laughed, still breathless.
“Don’t look!” he teased as he shimmied out of his jeans.
You rolled onto your stomach, hands over your face, giggling.
You could hear the struggle, the rustle of denim and the tug of fabric. Then he flopped down beside you, letting out a dramatic sigh and covering his face with his arm.
You turned toward him again.
“Don’t you dare tell Harrington,” he said.
“Not a word,” you promised, curling into his side.
You sat together in the dim, private pocket of Eddie’s van, hearts still hammering, breath still slowing.
Eddie nudged his forehead against yours, smiling so softly it made your chest ache.
“We should probably head back to the bonfire before they realize we’re missing,” he murmured.
You let out a reluctant sigh.
“Ugh, you’re right. I just don’t wanna move.”
He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead like it might give him strength.
“Come on, sweetheart. If we don’t show up soon, Steve’s gonna send out a search party. Or worse, Robin’s gonna start yelling things.”
You laughed, and that finally got both of you moving.
You both climbed out of the back of the van- faces still flushed, clothes rumpled, windows fogged up- only to freeze mid-step.
Steve and Robin were standing about ten feet away.
Just… staring.
Like they had been for a while. Like they’d heard things.
Robin squinted. “Okay. One of you better be injured, because we’ve been standing out here like idiots for ten minutes. Steve threatened to start pounding on the windows.”
Steve nodded solemnly. “I was about to give you the full dad treatment. Like it was prom night.”
You blinked. “We were just—”
“—talking,” Eddie cut in, too fast, way too guilty.
Robin’s eyes narrowed. “In the van. In the dark. With the doors locked?”
“And the windows steamed up like a guy’s locker room,” Steve added.
“We needed privacy!” Eddie argued, then winced. “I mean… quiet. Like, for conversation.”
Robin tilted her head. “Cool. Love that for you. So… when did talking start requiring a wardrobe change?”
Your stomach dropped.
Steve frowned. “Wait. Weren’t you wearing black jeans earlier?”
Robin gasped, her whole face lighting up. “Oh my god. He changed pants entirely.”
Eddie instinctively shielded his sweatpants with his hands. “No I didn’t.”
Steve pointed accusingly. “Dude. I let you borrow those jeans for tonight because all yours had holes in the knees!”
“I had a backup outfit in the van,” Eddie said, voice cracking. “It’s called being prepared.”
Robin covered her mouth, already laughing. “Prepared… for what? A sudden flood? Of bodily regret?!”
“N-no! Nothing like that!” Eddie stammered, his voice shooting up embarrassingly high. “We were just… talking! Hanging out! Very PG! Rated G! Fuckin’ Disney shit!”
You smacked a hand over your face. “Can we not do this right now?”
Steve was still staring at Eddie like he was solving a murder. “Why were you prepared for a wardrobe malfunction during a haunted house?”
Eddie mumbled something neither of you caught.
“What was that?” Robin asked sweetly.
Eddie groaned, defeated. “Because sometimes things happen when you’re making out with someone you really, really like, and you don’t want to sit around in your own—” He cut himself off, visibly dying inside.
Steve recoiled, horrified. “Jesus Christ. We’re standing three feet from your sin van, dude. Three feet.”
Robin just wheezed. “You’re telling me he busted a nut and busted out emergency sweatpants like it was a fire drill?”
“I didn’t plan to!” Eddie shot back.
“Oh, I believe you,” Robin said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Your face screams ‘accidental climax.’ Loudly.”
You grabbed Eddie’s hand, dragging him toward the bonfire. “Okay! Great talk! We’re gonna go… not be perceived!”
Steve called after you. “Hey! What happens in the van does not stay in the van! That thing’s got the acoustics of a church basement!”
Robin elbowed Steve. “So, you wanna grab your jeans back?”
Realization hit Steve like a truck.
He grimaced. “Just burn them.”
The van hummed softly beneath you as Eddie drove, the dark road winding past in a blur of streetlights and sleepy neighborhoods.
The adrenaline from the haunted house had long since faded, and the weight of the night was finally settling in your bones.
Somewhere between the third song on his playlist and Eddie murmuring, “Almost home, sweetheart,” your head tilted against the window and your breathing slowed.
Quiet. Peaceful.
Eddie glanced over and smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting in awe.
“Unreal,” he whispered.
Your lips were parted slightly, one arm curled against your chest, your legs stretched awkwardly across the bench seat- tights still askew from earlier.
You looked warm, and soft, and impossibly real.
Even though you were clearly out cold, Eddie still reached over gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he whispered, eyes tracing your face. “But I swear I’ll never take a second of it for granted.”
The porch light was already on when he pulled up outside your place. Steve’s car sat parked nearby.
Great.
The parental units had returned.
Eddie shut off the engine and sat for a second, watching you.
You hadn’t stirred. Not even a twitch.
“…Alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Guess we’re doing this the dramatic way.”
He climbed out, came around, and opened your door.
You didn’t move.
“Last chance,” he murmured, tapping your cheek. “If you don’t wake up, I’m gonna have to carry you. It’ll be very romantic and heroic, and my back might never recover. But if you can somehow hear me- that’s not like, a bad thing. I’ve just never carried a body before.”
Nothing.
So he did it.
With more care than he thought he was capable of, Eddie leaned in, slid one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back, and lifted you into his arms.
You made the smallest sleepy sound against his chest, snuggling into the warmth of his flannel, still miles away from consciousness.
Robin met him at the front door, pajama-clad and holding a mug of tea like someone’s sitcom wife.
“She asleep?”
“She’s hibernating,” Eddie whispered.
He nodded toward the kitchen, where Steve hovered, watching like a hawk.
“Did Steve see?”
Robin smirked. “Yeah. He watched you carry her up from the window. Said if you dropped her, he’s filing a lawsuit in her name and representing himself.”
“Cool. Maybe he can leave me a Yelp review too: ‘Would trust this guy to carry me again.’”
She stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, making way for Eddie like he was some kind of bedtime prince.
As he passed, she clutched her mug and whispered, “This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered, cheeks pink. “I’m still metal.”
But he wasn’t fooling anyone- not even himself.
Eddie set you down on the bed carefully, like even the mattress might wake you.
He slid off your boots, slow and gentle, and leaned down to adjust the blanket over you.
Your eyes fluttered open- barely.
“Hey,” you rasped, voice scratchy with sleep.
Eddie froze, halfway leaning over you, his breath catching.
“Hey,” he whispered back, softer than ever.
You blinked up at him, still dazed, and gave him a sleepy smile.
Eddie reached down, cupping your cheek, and kissed you- gentle, barely there, but full of something he didn’t have a name for yet.
When he pulled back, his voice cracked a little.
“Thank you… for trusting me tonight,” he said. “For letting me have that with you. I know you don’t hand that out easy. I don’t take it lightly. Not for a second.”
Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, tugging him down into the warmth of your bed.
You didn’t have all the words yet either, but what came out was honest.
“I didn’t feel scared,” you whispered. “With you, I didn’t feel scared.”
He closed his eyes, just for a second, and kissed your forehead like a vow.
“I’ll keep it that way.”
You were already slipping back under by the time he pulled away and slipped out the door.
———————————————————————————
Eddie made quick work of saying goodnight to Robin and Steve before either of them could make more comments about the sweatpants, the van, or you.
But when he slid behind the wheel of his van, it hit him how empty it felt without you there.
He sat for a long moment, staring at your porch like you might suddenly come back out and ask him to stay.
His fingers tightened around the wheel, the memory of you- warm and soft against him- still buzzing through his skin.
He’d never had this before.
Not like this.
Not where it felt fragile and whole at the same time- like holding a candle in the wind and realizing, somehow, it’s still burning.
You trusted him.
Really trusted him.
And that terrified him.
But it also gave him something stronger than fear: a purpose.
A responsibility.
A want that went deeper than sex or romance or anything he used to think love was supposed to be.
He wanted to deserve it.
By the time he got home, the quiet had settled heavy in his chest.
His jacket still smelled like your perfume.
His skin still tingled where you touched him.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, elbows on his knees.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, still feeling your touch like a ghost on his skin.
“Don’t fuck this up, Munson,” he muttered out loud, just to anchor the thought.
Then he dropped his head into his hands, voice so low it was almost a prayer.
“But if this is what it feels like to be trusted…
I’d do anything to keep it.”
Ty @strangergraphics @cyberangel-graphics @thecutestgrotto & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🖤
Series CW: modern au/ angst/ eventual smut/ fluff/ toxic relationship behaviors/ starting a new life/ healing/ unexpected romance/ trust issues/ trauma/ low self esteem/ slow burn/ hateful words/ parent loss/ swearing/ yelling/
Series Pairing: Eddie Munson X (f) Reader
WC: 8.2k
Summary: Eddie doing everything he can to see you- ending with a pumpkin carving date.. and more 😈
Chapter CW: /talks of toxic relationship/making out/grinding/nipple play/fingering/oral sex(f receiving)/oral sex (m receiving)/PinV(unprotected but pull out game strong)/aftercare/use of knives on pumpkins/ …. Think that’s it
A/N: ….. I truly didn’t think I’d get this done so quickly but yall can thank my feral self during my period for getting it done. I’m pretty sure this is my longest chapter yet and like more than half of it is just pure smut. I hope yall enjoy- I appreciate all the support on this!! Highly recommend this song as well- one of my favorites, and the lyrics are used in this as well.
The morning sun creeps slowly through your window, casting a soft glow over everything. You stir, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, stretching with a yawn. Your limbs feel heavy, your mind still hazy- until your eyes flutter open and everything from last night rushes back in an instant.
The haunted house.
The van.
Eddie’s hands on your hips.
His voice in your ear.
The way he touched you- gentle, softly- like you were something both fragile and precious.
The way his fingers made their into your leggings, plunging inside—
You bury your face into the pillow, groaning quietly as warmth blooms in your chest. It was good- more than good- but now you can’t stop thinking about the gaps in your memory. The ride home is a blur. You vaguely recall the sensation of being lifted, carried.
No way. There’s no way he actually carried you in here.
But as you look around, you notice you’re tucked in so neatly, like you barely moved all night. Your boots are placed neatly beside your bed. You’re still in the same clothes from the night before.
Throwing back the blanket, you change into an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts, then shuffle toward the kitchen, hoping Robin’s still asleep.
She’s not.
She’s perched on the counter, legs swinging, spoon in hand, eating straight from a pint of ice cream like it’s not eight in the morning. Her head snaps up when you walk in- and instantly, she’s grinning. That too knowing, too pleased look that always spells trouble.
You freeze. “What.”
Robin’s grin only widens as she hops off the counter and saunters over, a bounce in her step. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
You narrow your eyes. “It never ends well when you call me that. Why are you so happy?”
She shrugs, way too nonchalant. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because last night I witnessed the softest thing I’ve ever seen in my life?”
You stare. “Robin—”
“Eddie carried you to bed.”
You groan, hands flying up to your face. “Oh my God.”
“Like full on, straight out of a movie carried you,” she says, absolutely delighted. “He was so careful, too. All slow and gentle, like he thought you might break.”
“Stop.”
She doesn’t stop, “Steve and I had just gotten back. I was in the kitchen making tea, minding my own business when Steve mentions you guys were here, so I go to the door and boom- there he is, holding you like some kind of princess, muttering about how he’s ‘still metal,’ but blushing so hard he looked like a tomato.”
You drop your head onto the counter with a thud, voice muffled against the wood. “This is so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s adorable,” she corrects, nudging your arm. “And don’t worry, I already gave him plenty of shit for it. Steve too. We had a great time.”
You groan again, sitting up. “I can’t even begin to process this right now.”
Robin chuckles. “Coffee?”
You hum. “Nah, pass me that ice cream.”
She nods approvingly. “Ah yes, welcome to the dark side.”
Grabbing a spoon and taking a bite, you say, “I need to grab some lunch stuff for work this week, and I really don’t wanna go on a Sunday.. Wanna come?”
“Hmm, nope, I’m good. Just take my car. I work at two, so as long as you’re back before then.” She tosses you the keys.
You smile. “Thank you kindly. I’ll snag us more of this,” you say, gesturing to the ice cream.
———————————————————————————
Walking into the grocery store, it’s pretty quiet for a Saturday morning. Just a few families with carts and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. You grab a small cart, and make your way through the aisles.
You’re in no rush, leaving yourself plenty of time before Robin needs to head to work. Aimlessly tossing snacks into the cart, and a few essentials of course. Some stuff you don’t even realize you’re grabbing as your mind drifts back to lastnight- again.
It’s still all a little unreal.
You stop in the frozen section, fingers trailing the glass door as you eye the same pint of ice cream you and Robin were eating from earlier. The cold air rushes out when you crack it open, but before you can grab the container, a familiar voice slides up behind you.
“Didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to see you again this soon.”
You turn, heart flipping in your chest. Eddie.
He’s standing there in a faded hoodie, the hood down, hair still a little messy like he hadn’t been up for long. His eyes light up as soon as you meet them, and your breath catches in your throat.
“Eddie.” You blink, caught off guard. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He grins, stepping closer, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying not to seem too eager. “Fancy meeting you here.”
You laugh softly, your nerves easing a little. “Just grabbing some stuff for the week.”
“Same. Mostly snacks. And coffee.” He holds up a bag, like he needs to show proof. “I was gonna text you, but I didn’t wanna mistakenly wake you up too early.”
Your heart flutters, remembering the way Robin said he carried you in last night. The way he must’ve looked at you, asleep in his arms. “I’ve been up for a little while, actually.”
He gives you a look- knowing, but still sweet. “How’re you feeling?”
You hesitate, not because you don’t know what to say, but because there’s still that soft buzz under your skin from last night. The way he touched you. The way he saw you.
“I’m good,” you say, voice low. “Better now.”
Eddie’s smile grows, something a little more tender in his eyes now. “Yeah?”
You nod, instinctively grabbing the cart's handle, “What about you?”
He huffs a small laugh, glancing at his feet. “Didn’t get much sleep.”
You raise a brow, teasing. “Regret carrying me inside?”
“Not for a second.” He meets your gaze again, and it’s honest, no trace of hesitation. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Heat rises in your chest, and you have to look away for a moment, pretending to focus on the ice cream. You grab a pint, tossing it into your basket just to do something with your hands.
Eddie steps beside you, nudging your elbow gently. “I was thinking…” he starts, voice softer now. “If you’re not busy later, maybe I could come by? We could hang out, nothing crazy. Or we could go somewhere, whatever you want.”
You glance up at him, his expression hopeful but careful, like he’s giving you all the space you need to say no.
But you don’t want to.
“Come by,” you say, smiling. “I’d like that.”
His face lights up, like it’s the only thing he needed to hear. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You feel that flutter again, softer this time. Steady.
“Cool,” he says, trying to play it off, but his grin’s giving him away. “I’ll text you when I’m done here?”
“Okay.”
You both linger for a moment, not quite ready to move on, until someone brushes past with a cart and breaks the moment.
Eddie backs up slowly, walking backwards down the aisle. “See you in a bit, sweetheart.”
You watch him go, the warmth in your chest spreading all the way down to your fingertips.
———————————————————————————
About an hour later, Eddie is on his way over. Robin left a little while ago for work, earlier than expected as she needed to stop at Steve’s first- shooting you a grin on her way out like she knew exactly who’d be showing up.
The knock is soft, almost like he’s not sure if he should be here yet.
You open the door, and Eddie’s standing there, plastic bag in hand, but his smile is smaller now. A little uncertain. Like he’s still testing the waters, still wondering if this- if you- are okay with more.
“Hey,” you say, stepping back to let him in.
“Hey.” Eddie slips off his boots, setting the bag on the coffee table. “I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I just grabbed a bunch of random snacks.”
You sit beside him on the couch, close but not quite touching yet. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I wanted to.” He shrugs, a little shy now, like he’s not sure what the rules are anymore after last night.
You both sit on the couch, neither of you reaching for each other just yet. It’s not awkward, but it’s quieter than you expected. Like you’re both still feeling out the edges of what last night meant.
The TV plays something neither of you are really watching, just a background hum while you both sit there, close but not touching.
Eddie clears his throat, glancing over at you. “You sure this is okay? Me being here?”
You look at him, surprised. “Of course it is.”
His gaze flickers down, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I just… I don’t wanna crowd you. After last night. I don’t want you to think I’m—”
“You’re not,” you cut in gently, your voice soft. “You’re not pushing me.”
He nods, but the worry’s still there in his eyes. “I don’t ever wanna make you feel like you have to give me something you’re not ready for.”
Your chest tightens, because that- that’s what makes him different.
“I don’t,” you say quietly. “I wanted last night. I want you here. But it’s… nerve wrecking sometimes.”
Eddie’s eyes meet yours, something tender pulling at his features. “It’s kind of scary for me too, you know.”
You tilt your head, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not exactly great at this. The whole… being good for someone thing. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t wanna mess you up.”
You shift closer without thinking, your hand finding his where it rests on his knee. “You’re not messing anything up.”
He looks down at your hands, flipping his palm side over, intertwining them together- his thumb brushing over yours. “I’ve just never wanted to get it right so bad before.”
Your heart stumbles at that.
“You don’t have to try so hard,” you whisper. “Just being here- being you- is enough.”
Eddie’s eyes lift to yours again, and this time he closes the space between you, but it’s slow- like he’s giving you a chance to pull back. When you don’t, his lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, steady, nothing like the desperate heat of last night.
This is careful. Intentional.
When you break apart, you rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling.
“I like this,” you murmur. “Just… being close.”
He nods, his fingers still tangled with yours. “Me too.”
You settle into him then, curling up against his side. His arm wraps around you slowly, and it feels safe, grounding. His hand rubs slow circles along your back, and for a while, neither of you say anything at all.
But it’s not silence. It’s comfort.
After a while, Eddie speaks again, his voice low. “I should probably go soon.”
You shift, just enough to look at him. “Already?”
He sighs, like he doesn’t want to either. “Got called into work tomorrow. One of the other guys called in sick, so they’re offering me overtime for it. So I gotta be up earlier than expected now.”
You nod, even though you hate the thought of him leaving. “I understand.”
He hesitates, then, like he’s weighing something. “But… if you’re working Monday, maybe I could pick you up? Drive you there?”
Your heart lifts a little. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Eddie smiles, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay? Just to check in.”
“Okay.”
He leans in, pressing one last kiss to your temple before standing.
You walk him to the door again, still feeling that warmth in your chest, even through the nerves.
He lingers, like he always does. “You’ll tell me if this ever feels like too much?”
You nod, voice quiet. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.” He smiles, softer now. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
The door closes softly behind him, but the weight of his presence lingers. The room still feels like him- warm, a little heavy, but in a way that’s hard to explain. You stand there for a moment, unsure what to do with yourself now.
You wanted him to stay. Part of you wishes you had asked him to. But the other part- the one that still flinches at the idea of getting too close- it’s probably for the best.
It’s just… it’s been so long since someone looked at you like that.
Like you weren’t broken. Like you weren’t a project. Like you were just you, and that was enough.
You press your back against the door, staring at the spot where he stood just minutes ago, heart still thudding softly in your chest.
You close your eyes, trying to slow your breathing. He sees you in a way no one else has in a long time. And it’s terrifying. Something you’re now trying to get used to.
———————————————————————————-
The drive home is quiet. Eddie keeps the radio off, windows cracked just enough for the cool air to remind him that he’s awake. He doesn’t want to drown out his thoughts- not tonight.
His hands grip the wheel a little tighter than usual, and he keeps replaying the way you looked at him. The way your hand found his, the way your voice softened when you told him he wasn’t pushing.
He never wanted to move too fast. Never wanted to take something you weren’t ready to give. And still, when you kissed him like that- slow, trusting- he almost lost it. Not in a lustful way, but in that overwhelming holy shit she wants me kind of way.
Eddie pulls into his apartment lot, cutting the engine and just sitting there for a minute. The van ticks quietly as it cools.
She’s nervous. You can’t fuck this up.
He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back in the seat. He’d never forgive himself if he did. Because this isn’t just a fling to him. It never was. It’s you, and that means something.
It means everything.
The following night, you laid in bed, rewatching Brooklyn 99 for the third time trying to get yourself to fall asleep when your phone vibrates.
8:23PM Eddie: Hey, sweetheart. Just checking in. How was your day?
You stare at the screen for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s such a simple message, but it warms you from the inside out.
8:25PM You: It was good- quiet. I missed you a little though.
Your finger hovers, wondering if that’s too much- but you hit send anyway.
The reply comes faster than you expect.
8:25PM Eddie: Missed you more. I kept thinking about you all day.
You exhale, heart doing that soft, fluttery thing again.
8:26PM Eddie: Still good to pick you up in the morning?
8:27PM You: Yeah, still good with me.
8:28PM Eddie: What time works?
8:29PM You: 8?
8:29PM Eddie: I’ll be there. Sweet dreams, y/n.
8:30PM You: You too, Eddie.
You set the phone down, staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep comes, mind buzzing with everything you’re starting to want and the fear that it could all be too much.
But there’s a sliver of hope there too.
———————————————————————————
Eddie’s leaning against his van, tapping his fingers lightly against the metal, watching your front door like it might disappear if he blinks. His heart’s already racing, and it’s not from the coffee he drank too fast before heading over.
He almost texted you again last night, just to say something- anything- but he held back. Chill out, Munson. Don’t smother her.
Now he’s standing here, stupidly early, because he couldn’t sit still at home. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how it felt to have you curled up next to him yesterday, the way you sighed into his side as he rubbed your back, your hand in his.
She doesn’t regret it. That’s what you said.
But still, he keeps second guessing. Keeps wondering if maybe he said too much, if maybe the way he kissed you, the way he wanted to stay- if that was too much for you.
Then your front door opens, and you step out, and everything in his chest just… settles.
You’re here. You’re smiling. And you’re so fucking pretty.
“Morning,” he says, and it comes out quieter than he meant it, but you don’t seem to mind.
He opens the door for you, heart skipping when your fingers brush his as you climb in. He’s trying not to read into every tiny thing, but it’s hard.
The coffee was a risk- he wasn’t sure if you’d hate what he ordered or just think he was plain weird for offering. But when you take the cup, “Thanks Eddie, you didn’t have to do this.” And when you smile at him like that, something in him breathes easier.
He pulls onto the road, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, in between shifting gears- fingers twitching because he wants to reach for yours. Wants that connection again.
“You doing okay this morning?” he asks, glancing at you, needing to know.
You nod, and your voice is soft. “Mhm.. It’s nice- having you here.”
He swears he could float right off the seat.
She wants me here.
He can’t stop the grin that pulls at his lips, not even if he tried. “Yeah. Feels good to see you first thing.”
When your hand finds his, rests over his knuckles, he freezes for half a second.
It’s not much. But it’s everything.
He turns his hand over and curls his fingers around yours, holding on just enough, not too tight. Like he’s afraid to let himself want more, but can’t help it anyway.
Eddie’s been thinking about you all damn day. Every day.
It’s not new, not really. You’ve been on his mind since that first night you asked to come over, trusted him enough to let out your thoughts, and fell asleep in his bed. But after this past week, week and a half? After kissing you, touching you. It’s worse. Or better. He hasn’t decided yet.
He hasn’t seen you since Monday morning- wants to see you again, but he hasn’t pushed. He doesn’t want to come off like some needy asshole, always asking for your time. But holy hell, if he doesn’t want your time.
So when he’s sitting at the shop Thursday afternoon, waiting for the clock to hit three so he can get the hell outta there, he pulls out his phone- thumb hovering over your name before he scrolls to Robin’s instead.
Hey. You know when she’s off work today?
Just a minute passes,
Robin: Uh, think she’s closing up tonight, so like 7ish? Why? You planning something?
Maybe.
Another pause.
Robin: Don’t make her cry or I will cut off those curly locks while you’re sleeping.
Eddie runs a hand through his hair, “What the hell did I do?”
Jesus, Buckley. I’m just thinking of picking her up. Chill.
Robin: Chill?? You literally carried her to bed like some Disney prince last week.
Robin: I don’t think “chill” is in your vocabulary.
Okay fair.. just don’t say anything.
Robin: I won’t. But she’s gonna love that.
Robin: Just don’t fuck it up, Munson.
He groans, stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his coveralls, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He hopes she’s right.
———————————————————————————
Finishing your last task of the night, you quickly clock out and step out of the building. The cool October air biting at your cheeks immediately and you’re already half zoning out replaying your shift in your head- making sure you didn’t miss anything- when you see it.
Eddie’s van.
And.
Eddie.
Your heart jumps, just a little.
He’s leaning there, just like Monday morning. Hands in his pockets, that soft grin on his face like he’s been waiting all day just to see you.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, walking up, caught between surprise and something warmer.
Eddie shrugs, stepping closer. “Wanted to give you a ride. Maybe steal a few minutes with you.”
You stop in front of him, eyes searching his face. “How’d you know when I got off? You texted Robin, didn’t you?”
He grins, not even pretending to deny it. “Guilty.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“You say that a lot.. Didn’t have to.” He opens the door for you, waiting until you’re settled, “But I wanted to.” Closing the door for you and making his way to the driver’s side.
The van’s warm, smelling faintly like old leather and something familiar that you can’t quite place- but it’s him.
“So,” he says, once you’re driving, voice a little more casual now, “you working tomorrow night? Or Saturday?”
You shake your head. “Off early tomorrow, and off Saturday.”
His grip on the wheel relaxes, like that was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Good. I was thinking… maybe you could come over? We could carve some pumpkins. Watch stupid Halloween movies. Something easy, only a couple weeks till Halloween.”
You glance at him, heart lifting. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”
Eddie smiles, eyes still on the road, but his fingers twitch on the wheel like he’s holding back from reaching for you. “I’ll pick you up around six Friday.”
The drive from the library to your house isn’t long, but neither of you are in a hurry. There’s this calm between you, the kind that wasn’t there before. You can feel the difference- how it’s settled into something softer, more familiar, but still fragile in a way.
You glance over at him, catching the way his jaw shifts like he’s working through something in his head.
“What?” you ask, nudging his arm lightly with yours.
He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
Eddie exhales through his nose, eyes flicking to you briefly. “About how I used to see you briefly around town, back during high school. How I always thought you seemed too good for this place.”
You raise a brow, surprised. “Too good?”
“Yeah,” he says, focusing on the road again. “Like… I know we never talked or anything.. but you seemed untouchable, you know? Not in a bad way. Just- someone like me didn’t stand a chance.”
Your heart squeezes, and you hesitate to reach for his hand, but decide against it.
“You’re not just someone, Eddie,” you say softly. “You never were.”
He glances at you, the weight of your words sinking in, and for a second, the van feels like the only place in the world.
“I’m glad I saw you tonight,” you add, voice just as soft, turning your eyes back to the window even though you can feel him still looking over.
There’s a beat of silence before he answers, like he needs a second to find the right words.
“Me too,” he says finally, voice rougher now, almost like a secret. “More than you know.”
———————————————————————————
You only had a couple of hours after work Friday before Eddie was set to pick you up, and with Robin still at work herself, you were left alone with your nerves.
Since tonight seemed like it would be a messy, comfy kind of date, you opted for black leggings and a loose fitting hoodie.
It was barely six when you heard the familiar rumble of Eddie’s van pulling up out front. Surprisingly, he wasn’t waiting outside- and the second you climb into the van, you can tell something’s different.
There’s music playing- low and steady, some kind of Halloween classical music, softer than his usual metal- and there’s this buzz coming off him, barely contained excitement like he’s been waiting all day for this.
“You ready?” he asks, looking at you like this is the best part of his week.
“Ready for what?”
He grins, slipping the van into gear. “You’ll see.”
At his apartment, Eddie is practically vibrating with energy, holding himself back from sprinting up the steps. You follow, smiling suspiciously as he glances back, urging you to hurry.
When you step inside, you have to bite back a laugh.
Halloween decorations- if you can call them that- are scattered everywhere. A string of orange lights half hangs from the ceiling. A few plastic skeletons are perched crookedly near the TV. Small battery operated candles flicker softly, giving off a warm, uneven glow.
It’s messy.
It’s crooked.
It’s completely Eddie.
“You decorated?” you tease, stepping further in.
Eddie shuts the door behind you, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Yeah, well… figured I should at least try to be festive. It’s not great, but…”
“I love it,” you cut in- and you mean it.
Your eyes drift toward the small kitchen table off to the side, where two pumpkins sit waiting alongside a big metal bowl and a couple of kitchen knives- rather than those crappy carving kits.
“I picked us out some good ones,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag off the counter. “Got snacks too. Popcorn, candy, the works.”
You follow him, a warmth blooming in your chest. “You really went all out, huh?”
He shrugs, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. “Just wanted it to be fun.”
You pull out a chair at the table, running your hands over the smooth surface of a pumpkin. “This is perfect.”
Eddie quickly lights a brand new candle- clearly picked out just for tonight- the label showing cinnamon donuts. The scent drifts through the air as he joins you, handing over a dry erase marker.
“Use this- easier to wipe off if you mess up. Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, Picasso.”
You laugh, and for a while, the world shrinks to the sound of knives scraping through pumpkin flesh, the smell of candle wax and cinnamon filling the room, and Eddie’s laughter as he tries- and fails- to carve smooth curves into his pumpkin.
You sneak glances at him as he works, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up, his tongue poking out in concentration, brows furrowed like it’s the most important thing in the world.
More than once, you catch him doing the same- stealing little glances at you when he thinks you won’t notice.
And you can’t help but wonder if he has any idea how easy he’s making it to not overthink being here with him.
At one point, he leans back, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “So… mine’s definitely haunted.”
You look over and burst out laughing. “What is that?”
“It’s a ghoul, thank you very much,” he says, pretending to be offended.
You nudge his arm, your fingers lingering. “It’s terrifying.”
“You love it.”
You meet his eyes, something quieter settling in between you. “I do.”
He steps behind you then, leaning close to peek at your pumpkin, classic jack-o’-lantern face, big ol’ crooked smile.
You can feel the heat of him standing just a little closer than he had to.
His voice softens. “I like it. Very cute.”
You smile to yourself, but before you can respond, he keeps going.
“Just like its creator.”
Your stomach flips. “You like me?”
He moves around the table to grab the bowl of pumpkin guts, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I do.”
Your whole face heats up, and you catch Eddie swallowing hard, glancing at you. That same nervous energy from before creeps back in. Catching the way his fingers drum lightly against the side of the bowl, like he’s working up the nerve to say something more.
Instead, he shifts, clearing his throat lightly. “You wanna watch something?” he asks finally, coming back from the kitchen sink. “I’ve got, like, every bad horror movie ever made.”
“Sounds perfect.”
You end up curled on his couch, legs tangled together, the orange lights casting a soft glow around the room. The pumpkins sit out on his patio, their crooked smiles flickering in the night.
As the movie plays, Eddie’s hand finds yours again- slow, careful- like he’s still asking permission.
You give it freely.
The credits for Killer Klowns from Outer Space roll across the screen, but the movie’s long forgotten. Neither of you moves to turn it off.
You’re tucked into Eddie’s side, a blanket draped across your legs, his hand resting lightly on your hip- the weight of it grounding you, making you feel safe.
You feel him shift beside you, feel the slight hitch in his breath, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you closer.
Your heart pounds, nerves buzzing just beneath your skin, but you don’t move away.
You want to be close to him- more than you’ve wanted anything in a long time.
You tilt your head up slightly- and he’s already looking at you.
Those big brown eyes are soft but burning, like you’re something he’s been afraid to want, but can’t stop needing.
“Eddie,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re asking for.
He shifts, turning you both slightly, his fingers brushing along your jaw- so lightly it’s almost a feather’s touch. Testing.
You lean into him.
That’s all it takes.
His mouth finds yours- tentative at first, a slow, searching kiss that tastes like popcorn and something sweeter- whatever candy he’d been snacking on.
He kisses you like he’s learning you. Memorizing you.
Soft, slow, reverent.
You sigh against him, and his hand slides up your side, careful, never demanding. His thumb brushes lightly under your breast through your hoodie- but he doesn’t push, doesn’t grip- just feels you.
You gasp softly into his mouth- and that tiny sound shatters whatever shaky restraint he was clinging to.
The kiss deepens- his tongue stroking against yours, savoring. His body shifts, turning fully toward you, pulling you into his lap with a low, desperate noise that vibrates through your chest.
You straddle him without a second thought, hands finding the back of his neck, feeling the hard line of him already pressing against his jeans. Eddie groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under your hoodie, brushing the curve of your waist- his rings cold against your skin.
When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
You smile, breathless, and tug at the hem of his hoodie.
He pulls back just enough to yank it over his head, leaving his hair wild and his body bathed in the dim, flickering orange light.
You trace your fingers down his chest, feeling the lean muscle under his thin black t-shirt, and he shivers at your touch.
“You sure?” he murmurs, voice hoarse.
You nod, pulling him back into you.
You kiss for what feels like forever- slow, open mouthed, messy kisses, hands wandering, discovering.
When his hands slip under your hoodie again and you lift your arms to help him pull it off, Eddie’s breath catches hard.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, staring at you like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.
You’re left in your simple bralette and leggings, and even though nerves flutter inside you, the way he looks at you makes you feel beautiful. Wanted.
His mouth trails down your throat, your collarbone, sucking a deep mark just below your shoulder.
You’re dizzy from it- from the slow, aching way he’s devouring you, like he’s starving but still holding himself back.
His hands skim down your sides, almost reverent, thumbs brushing just under the band of your bra.
“You tell me to stop,” he rasps, voice rough with emotion, “and I stop. Okay?”
You whimper softly at the rawness in his tone, at the way he holds you like he’s terrified to let go.
“Okay,” you whisper.
He kisses you again- softer this time, dragging it out, letting you set the pace.
His hands continue exploring your body, cradling your thighs, your hips, your waist.
Slowly. Carefully.
“Eddie…” Your voice cracks on his name.
He lifts you easily, standing with you clinging to him, your face tucked into his neck, breathing him in.
The room blurs around you as he carries you down the short hallway, kicking the bedroom door closed behind him.
He lays you down like you’re something precious.
“I could’ve walked,” you tease, breathless.
“Didn’t wanna let you go,” he murmurs,“Wanted to feel you. All of you.”
The air between you hums- thick, electric- the kind of tension that winds tight beneath your skin and pulls at something deep in your chest.
Eddie’s eyes roam over you like he can’t believe you’re real as he climbs onto the bed in front of you.
His hands find your thighs, fingers kneading gently, thumbs brushing back and forth as he leans in, kissing you again- slower now, deeper- like he’s savoring every second.
You reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he breaks away just long enough for you to pull it over his head.
Your breath catches.
Pale skin stretched over lean muscle, a trail of hair disappearing beneath his jeans, tattoos inked across his ribs.
You reach out, tracing the one on his chest with your fingers, and watch the way his breath hitches at your touch.
“You’re… fuck, you’re killin’ me,” he mutters, voice low and dark.
His hands slide up your sides with careful reverence. Every touch sets your nerves alight, every pass of his thumbs over your skin leaving a trail of heat.
You arch into him instinctively as his hands move to your back, fumbling slightly in his eagerness as he unhooks your bra.
When it falls away, he freezes- just staring.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
His mouth finds your collarbone, lips warm and open, moving lower, trailing wet kisses across your skin until he captures your nipple between his lips, sucking gently.
You gasp, your back arching off the bed, and his hands tighten on your waist, holding you steady.
“Feels good,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” he murmurs against your skin. “Tell me, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”
“So good, Eddie. Please… don’t stop.”
He groans, switching sides, his tongue flicking and teasing, driving you higher with every stroke.
But when his hand slides lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your leggings, something tightens in your chest.
You grab his wrist, breath catching. “Wait.”
Eddie freezes instantly.
“Hey, hey… look at me.” His voice is low and steady as he pulls back, giving you space. “What’s wrong?”
You sit up slightly, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to steady your breathing. “I want this. I do. It’s just… my ex… it wasn’t like this. At the end, he only acted like he cared when he wanted this. Always rushing through it.”
Eddie’s jaw tightens, his hands flexing on his thighs before he forces himself to relax.
“I’m not him,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t owe me this. Not tonight. Not ever.”
“I know,” you whisper. “That’s why this scares me.”
He moves slowly, deliberately, until he’s kneeling between your legs again, hands resting gently on your knees.
“I don’t want anything you’re not ready to give,” he says, voice soft but certain. “Not your body. Not your trust. Just… you. Whatever you want to give me. And if it’s this—“ his eyes darken, hungry but still careful—“then fuck, sweetheart… let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”
You stare at him- at this boy who’s been nothing but patient, nothing but careful- and your heart cracks open a little wider.
You sit up, threading your fingers through his messy hair, tugging gently until he leans in again.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And he does- slower than before, deeper, cautious.
His hands slide up your thighs, slipping under the waistband, dragging your leggings and panties down inch by inch without ever breaking the kiss.
His mouth trails along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone- soft, open mouthed kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“My hands,” he murmurs against your skin, voice shaking slightly, “are not worthy of you.”
You gasp, nails digging lightly into his shoulders.
“You are,” you breathe, needing him to know. “You are.”
He groans, wrecked, and you feel the slight tremble in his hands as he carefully pulls the rest of the leggings off, leaving you bare under him.
He pauses- just looking at you- breathless, like he’s memorizing you.
His voice drops to a whisper. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”
You nod, unable to get any words out.
Eddie lowers himself between your thighs, kissing the inside of your knee, your inner thigh, working closer, slower- until you’re writhing beneath him.
And then finally- finally- his mouth finds you.
The first sweep of his tongue over your clit is slow and deliberate, pulling a sob of his name from your lips.
He groans against you, like the taste of you is undoing him.
He slides his tongue through your folds- slow, teasing- and you cry out, hips bucking.
One hand holds your thigh open, the other steadies your hip.
“You taste like new flesh,” he murmurs against you, almost to himself. “Like something I’ve never had but always fuckin’ needed.”
You whimper, body jolting with every movement, hands fisting in his hair.
He moans low and desperate, his hand moving from your thigh to between your legs, teasing your entrance with slow, careful strokes.
He slides one finger inside you, and you cry out, overwhelmed by how close you already feel.
“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, working you open with slow, steady thrusts.
He adds a second finger, stretching you wider, and your back arches off the bed- his free hand gripping your hip where it might leave bruises.
Eddie’s mouth never leaves you, his tongue flicking and stroking over your clit in time with the rhythm of his fingers, pushing you higher and higher until you’re trembling around him.
“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, voice wrecked against your skin. “So fucking good.”
He curves his fingers up, finding that sweet spot inside you- where no one else ever has.
The coil inside you tightens with every thrust of his fingers.
“Eddie, f-fuck… feels so good—”
“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he breathes, speeding up his movements. “Cum for me—”
You feel your whole body tense- and then you’re cumming with a shattered cry, thighs clamping around his head as he groans against you, licking you through every pulse and tremor.
He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping for air, weakly pushing at his shoulders.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is wet with your slick, his eyes glazed with pure, unfiltered worship.
“You’re unbelievable,” he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you- messy, desperate- letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
You’re still floating- breathless and boneless- but you want more.
You want him.
Your hands find his belt, fumbling with the buckle until Eddie chuckles and helps you, sliding his jeans down and kicking them off.
Your fingers toy with the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down.
He hisses as his cock springs free- long and thick, flushed, leaking precum.
You gaze down between your bodies, biting your lip at the sight- intimidated, but aching to touch him.
He catches the look you give him and smiles crookedly.
You wrap your hand around him- and god, he’s heavy in your palm- Eddie lets out a strangled moan, hips twitching into your fist.
“Sweetheart,” he gasps, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck, sweets… touching me like that, you’re gonna kill me.”
You release him with a teasing squeeze and lightly push at his chest.
He moves easily, letting you guide him onto his back.
You settle between his legs, holding him at the base and placing soft kisses up his length before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.
He cries out- a broken, desperate sound- fisting the sheets beneath him.
You take him deeper, working your hand at the base, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting the saltiness of him.
“You’re so good,” he groans, voice cracking. “So fucking good, sweetheart… you feel- Jesus Christ—”
The sound of his praises makes you moan around him, the vibrations ripping through his body, making his hips jerk.
“Fuck… I’m not gonna last if you keep that up—” he pants, breathless.
You pull off with a soft pop, smiling up at him, flushed and breathless.
He’s trembling- completely undone by you.
Eddie leans forward, dragging you into a fierce kiss, his hand sliding between your thighs, causing you to fall back against the bed- bringing him down on top of you as you spread your legs without hesitation, your heart pounding.
“You sure?” he whispers against your mouth.
“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Eddie.”
“Holy shit, okay- I’ll go slow. Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you properly- really see you- his brown eyes wide and full of awe.
He grips his cock at the base, guiding himself to your entrance, sliding the tip through your soaked folds.
When he pushes in- slow, careful- your breath catches.
He’s thick, stretching you, almost too much at first.
Eddie grits his teeth, every muscle in his body trembling with restraint.
“Fuck,” he groans, barely able to breathe. “You’re… you’re so tight… shit, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t bottom out all at once.
He inches in slowly- shallow thrusts- giving you time to adjust, letting you feel every thick, veined inch of him.
You clutch at his shoulders, whimpering, hips lifting instinctively to meet him.
“You’re doing so good,” he pants, voice rough and breaking. “Taking me so fucking well.”
You whimper again, tilting your hips, feeling him sink even deeper.
You’re shaking, clenching around him, overwhelmed by the way he stretches and fills you- how perfectly he fits.
“God, you’re amazing,” he rasps, his mouth brushing over your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “So good, sweetheart. So fucking good.”
He rocks into you- slow, deep thrusts- dragging the thick head of his cock along your walls, making you gasp and arch up against him.
Every movement feels amplified. Every drag, every push, every pull.
He braces one hand beside your head, the other cradling the back of your neck, keeping your foreheads pressed together as he fucks you- deep, slow, achingly close.
You sob his name—“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie”—broken and desperate.
“Say it again,” he begs, thrusting harder, slower. “Say my name again—”
“Eddie,” you whimper, body clenching tight around him.
He moans- low and wrecked- hips stuttering before he regains his rhythm, grinding deep and deliberate, hitting that devastating spot inside you over and over.
You dig your nails into his back, gasping, overwhelmed by the feel of him- skin to skin, nothing between you- every inch of you connected, tangled, held.
“You feel so good,” you cry out, voice shaking. “So full… so deep… oh my God…”
“You’re perfect,” he groans against your neck. “So wet for me. Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart.”
You nod, dizzy, lost in him, letting him pull you closer to the edge.
His breath is hot against your ear, his voice rough and pleading.
“Please—” he pants. “Wanna feel you come around me. Wanna feel you fall apart.”
You’re so close- teetering on the edge- when he shifts his hips just right, grinding the base of his cock against your clit with every deep, slow thrust.
That’s all it takes.
You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing stars, and cry out- nails scraping down his back.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let go for me. Let go.”
You shatter around him- moaning his name, body clenching so hard it punches a strangled moan from his chest.
You’re gasping, trembling, clinging to him- barely aware of anything but the feeling of him inside you, the way he’s holding you together while you fall apart.
Eddie doesn’t last much longer.
His thrusts grow frantic, messy, his breathing ragged.
“Gonna… fuck…, where—”
You manage to gasp, “Anywhere on me—”
With a broken, desperate cry, he pulls out just in time, groaning deep in his chest as he spills across your folds, and your stomach- hot and thick.
You feel the heat of it on your skin, feel the way his whole body shudders as he chokes out your name—
“Holy fuck, y/n!”—as he comes undone above you.
He collapses onto his forearms, bracing himself above you, still trembling from the force of it.
You lie there together- panting, gasping, sweaty and spent- the room filled only with the sound of your breathing.
Slowly, Eddie leans down again, pressing soft kisses to your lips, your cheek, your jaw.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers between kisses. “So fucking beautiful. You don’t even know.”
You blink up at him- dazed, wrecked, glowing from the inside out.
“You too,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.
Eddie smiles- small, almost shy- and trails his fingers gently over the mess on your stomach, tracing invisible patterns like he can’t bear to stop touching you.
He presses a soft kiss just above your belly button, his hair brushing against your skin.
And for the first time in longer than you can remember..
You don’t feel used.
You don’t feel taken from.
You feel cherished.
Chosen.
Wanted.
Exactly as you are.
———
Eddie’s hand cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin so lightly it’s barely a touch at all.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice rough and threaded with worry, even though he’s still trembling from the aftermath.
You nod, eyes heavy, heart so full you feel like you might sink into the bed.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Better than okay.”
Relief floods his face. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a long moment.
“You stay here,” he says- low and commanding, like you’re something precious he refuses to let out of his sight even for a second. “I’ll be right back.”
You hum a soft sound- half contentment, half protest- but you let him go.
Through heavy lidded eyes, you watch him move off the bed, tugging his boxers back on before grabbing a small towel from the dresser and slipping into the bathroom.
When he comes back, he’s careful, gentle- kneeling between your legs, wiping you clean with the warm cloth.
He works in slow, soothing motions, murmuring soft apologies whenever you flinch from the sensitivity.
“There we go,” he whispers. “That’s it, sweetheart. Got you.”
When he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and leans over you again.
“You wanna get comfy?” he murmurs, brushing hair back from your forehead.
You nod sleepily, completely wrung out in the best possible way.
Eddie stands, digging through his drawers until he finds the perfect shirt for you- one so soft and worn it looks like it’s been washed a hundred times- and a pair of black boxers.
He dresses you slowly, carefully, pulling the shirt over your head first.
The fabric slides down your skin, swallowing you whole, and it smells like him- soap, leather, and something sharper underneath.
He kneels again, guiding your legs through the boxers, pulling them up carefully over your hips.
When he’s finished, he just looks at you for a moment- wrecked and soft and wearing his clothes.
Something almost painful flickers across his face- like he still can’t quite believe you’re really here.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
You reach for him, eyes heavy but pleading.
Without hesitation, Eddie climbs into bed beside you, pulling the covers up over both of you and tugging you against his bare chest.
You nuzzle under his chin, breathing him in- warm skin, musk, Eddie.
His arms wrap around you tightly, one hand splayed low across your back, the other buried in your hair.
For a long time, neither of you says anything.
You just breathe together, your heartbeats syncing, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding you.
“You’re okay?” he asks again, voice so low you almost miss it.
You nod against him. “Yeah. Are you?”
He lets out a shaky laugh, pressing another kiss to your forehead.
“Better than I’ve ever been,” he says, the words rumbling through his chest, anchoring you there.
You fall asleep like that- wrapped in Eddie’s arms, your body still humming with everything he gave you, everything you gave him- warm, safe, wanted.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t dream of your past.
Ty @strangergraphics @cyberangel-graphics @thecutestgrotto & @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🖤
