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lesservillain · 5 months ago

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inmate!eddie munson x reader

cw: smut, pregnancy talks and all that come with it, mentions of nausea and vomiting, hospitalization, i think that's it?

wc: 19k

a/n: finally. it's finally here. this has been a two year in the making project for me and I am so happy to have this out. on the outside was my first ever fic and i can't believe i'm actually saying good bye to these characters. i hope you all enjoy.

“Eddieee?” You call out for your fiance from where you stand in front of your refrigerator.

You were about to change out the calendar for the new year, head pounding as if you had celebrated the New Year drinking with everyone else despite your sobriety. Eddie had only had a few beers, but he woke up this morning feeling fresh as a daisy in comparison to how sick you felt.

At first you were worried that maybe you had caught the flu. You hadn’t been feeling the best for a couple days, but chalked it up to how hard you had been working right before winter break to get all your students' grades in on time for the end of the semester. You’d also volunteered to chaperone the winter formal where, unfortunately, one of the students spiked the punch. Thankfully Eddie had been your chaperone date and handled the situation for you while you got sick in the bathroom hoping that you weren’t going to relapse after 18 months of sobriety.

But, now that you’re looking at the calendar all marked through, including the ones with a red dot for your expected period days and little pink hearts on the subsequent fertile days, you realize that those days came and passed without notice.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks as he pulls the new Iron Maiden hoodie you got him for the holiday over his head, curls bouncing as they are freed. Bear follows right behind him, coming up to you expectantly as he sees his box of treats sitting on top of the fridge.

“Babe, did I have a period this month?”

His head cocks to the side as he looks at you, eyes squinting and tongue poking out as he thinks about all the crazy shit that has happened this last month. With your crazy schedule and his extra hours at work, the two of you had barely had time to spend together, making it up to each other once your break had finally hit. But as he wracks his brain, he doesn’t recall you asking him to bring you home any sweets or crying any more than usual.

“Um, not that I can remember,” he says with a shake of his head. He watches as your eyes widen, a toothy smile spreading across your face before you cover it with your hands. It takes him a moment to figure out what has you all giddy, but when it hits him he’s flying to you, almost tripping over Bear as he wraps you up in a hug to spin you around. “Holy shit, please tell me you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me,” he says for lack of better words, brain short circuiting with excitement, placing you back down on your feet.

“I mean, I can’t make any promises until I take a test,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, not wanting to get your hopes up after having your heart broken so many times before.

“Can you take a test now?” Eddie asks with a childish excitement.

“I think so,” you say flipping between the calendar pages, now crushed from Eddie's embrace. Upon further inspection, you realize you’ve actually not had a period since October. It makes your head reel back, but you keep that information to yourself just in case. “Let-let me go take one,” you say shakily, nerves starting to get to you as you swiftly walk to the bathroom. The door barely closes before you’re digging under the sink for a test, cursing when the box you had under the sink comes up empty. “Shit,” you curse, throwing the box into the bathroom trash can with force.

“Are you okay?” you hear from the other side of the door, followed by a whine from your dog. You startle the both of them with the force you use to swing the door open.

“I took the last one already,” you say with frustration, “I’m all out!”

“Well, come on, lets go get your shoes on,” Eddie brushes your frustration to the side, grabbing your hand and leading you out to the couch. He grabs your boots for you, unlacing them so he can put them on your feet. You can’t even stay mad at your own shortcoming when he’s treating you so well.

“Eddie, I can put my own shoes on,” you say with a chuckle. His big brown eyes look up at you with faux offense, still grabbing your foot and slipping it into the boot.

“I don’t think so, princess,” he says with a playful sass that you’ve grown fond of, because it really only comes out when he’s in a giddy mood like this. “I can’t have you doing anything that may make the baby uncomfortable, like bending over or lifting a finger.”

Your breath hitches at his words. The baby. The one that may or may not be making a home inside of you right now. Eddie’s baby, with you.

Bile threatens to travel higher as you look at how he’s beaming in front of you. Eddie’s never known the heartbreak that you’ve known when it comes to these things; wanting something so bad and yet your body doesn’t comply. He’s been so patient and understanding since you’ve started trying. Everything that you wish you had all those years when you were with Henry, which only made you want to give him a baby more. Anyone so kind, caring, and self sacrificing as Eddie deserved everything he’s ever wanted and more.

Every month that you’ve sat silently sobbing as you stare at the one lonely line while he snores into his pillow none the wiser has been another twist of the guilt covered knife in your gut. He doesn’t ask about it, even if he sees the wrapper sticking out between the tissues you used to clean your tears. But he tends to you with acts of kindness and service, his love language with you.

The same love language he displayed as he put on your shoes. Same as when he went out to start the car for you, opening the door and fastening your seatbelt, making sure it’s not too snug across your lap. He let you grab your tests, meeting you at the front of the store with a bundle of flowers hidden poorly behind his back. He makes you walk in front of him so he can “surprise you�� when you get to the car.

Eddie practically jumps out of the car to help you out as you arrive back to your house. Bear jumps between the two of you as you two run back to the bathroom, letting out loud giggles and squeals as Eddie pretends to chase you into the bathroom. You close the door on him, catching your breath and wiping tears from your eyes as he bangs on the door for you to let him in. Bear barks at him and Eddie laughs calling him a traitor. When you hear them walk away, presumably so Eddie can let Bear out, you pull the box of tests out of the bag.

Taking a deep breath, your hands start to shake as you set everything up, reading over the instructions regardless of how many tests you’ve taken. You didn’t want to mess this up. Not this one. Every time someone told you that you would just know when you were pregnant, you thought you knew what they meant, only to be met with the negative test. This time felt different, though. Every tick of the clock was another butterfly in your stomach. And with the closing seconds, you felt your breathing pick up, chest tightening with anticipation. You stand up, hand hovering over the wrapper of the test. Counting one, two, three, before pulling the wrapper away.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, petting Bear on autopilot. He wasn’t sure how long these tests normally take, but after 10 minutes he was starting to get nervous. What if you were pregnant? It’s a good thing you found a house with a lot of space. He wondered what color you would want him to paint the nursery. Would you want to wait to find out what you’re having or would you want to find out as soon as possible? He would want to know right away, but would wait if you wanted him to. Is your car safe for a baby? He’ll just have to pick up some extra hours to get you a new one. Oh, god, would you want a minivan like Nancy and Jonathan…though, it does come in handy if you have multiple kids. Would you want more kids after this?

Bear’s ears perk up under Eddie’s touch as the door to the bathroom clicks, the door opening much more gracefully compared to before. He’s on his feet immediately, slightly shuffling as he waits for you to come out. Any thoughts he had before the door opened are immediately evacuated from his mind as he sees the vacant look on your face, the tears flowing freely down your cheeks being the only hint of emotion he can gauge from you.

His legs move on their own, pulling you into him as your knees buckle. He holds you up as the sobs shake your whole body in his grasp. Everything is automatic for him as your wails echo on the bathroom walls. Lowering you to the edge of the tub, he starts the shower, letting the water warm up as he undresses you, and then himself. He climbs into the tub, pulling you in with him so that the water hits the both of you as you continue to cry.

“Eddie!” Your voice is frantic as you call his name from the kitchen. You hear him running down the hall, a loud thump and a curse towards Bear as the two of them round the corner into the kitchen.

When you answered the phone, you assumed it was going to be Dustin telling you that he and his new girlfriend, Maggie, would be leaving soon for your double date that he and Eddie worked really hard to find reservations on Valentine’s day for. Instead, you were met with the urgent voice of Wayne’s boss, Bill, who informed you that Wayne had passed out on the line again.

Eddie folded where he stood, spiraling into old memories from close to a decade ago. Bear laid next to where he kneeled while you got the quick details from Bill before hanging up. Quickly, you lead Eddie to the couch so you could lace his converse, pull his Iron Maiden hoodie over his head, and get him out the door and buckled into the passenger seat.

About halfway to the hospital he finally breaks down, almost scaring you off the road when he cursed loudly, slamming his fist against the window. You let him get it out, offering your hand for him to take when he was ready, which he grabs almost immediately. Pulling your hand against his lips, he kisses your knuckles between sobs, eyes fixed out the side window.

As you pull into Hawkins General, you let Eddie out at the door so he can get inside as fast as possible. Soon after you park, you make your way up to the room that you were told Wayne was in. You were expecting to walk in and find Wayne still unconscious with Eddie a mess by his side.

Instead, you could hear the two of them bickering from the hallway. The sound was bittersweet, a smile on your face as you walk in and see a very exasperated Eddie pacing and a disgruntled Wayne sitting cross-armed in the hospital bed like a petulant child. You noticed the oxygen tubes in his nose, and he looked generally worse off than he did when you saw him two weeks ago for Sunday dinner.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me!” Eddie exclaims, not noticing that you’ve walked in the room yet.

“What did he not listen to this time?” You say jokingly as you walk to the other side of Wayne’s bed, leaning in to give him a hug that he returns with an old man grunt.

“Not just me,” Edde starts, “We both told him to go get that cough looked at and he never did. Well guess what? His stubborn ass has fucking pneumonia!”

“Wayne,” you look at him with concern. His eyes remain focused on the foot of the bed, ignoring that he’d been caught. “You’ve had that cough since Christmas. And I remember you promising me that you’d go and get checked out.”

The old man lets out a sigh that turns into a cough. You place a hand on his back and rub up and down, eliciting an eye roll from Eddie as he watches you baby his uncle.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to go, but I just haven’t had the time.”

“Oh, you have to be joking. You couldn’t find time between your shows to pick up the phone and call the doctor?”

“Eddie,” you give him a pointed look.

“You can’t be--”

Eddie’s words are cut off by the doctor pulling open the curtain to Wayne’s room. The balding, older man greets you all, confirming some information with Wayne before going over some more of his test results.

“Everything else came back fairly normal. Your blood pressure was a little high, but that’s to be expected. Just make sure you keep up on your blood pressure medication. Don’t want to have a stroke and a heart attack within a year, right?”

The doctor is the only one laughing at his joke. Eddie’s eyes snap to Wayne, who grumbles “shit” under his breath. But Eddie keeps his mouth shut, letting the doctor finish and leave before finally speaking.

“So, when the hell did you have another heart attack, Wayne?”

“Eddie,” Wayne rolls his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Eddie says, waving his hands in front of him, “I know that I don’t live with you anymore, but I think it’s only fair that you tell me if you have another fucking heart attack!”

“After what you did last time, you really think I’d tell you?”

“Damn it, Wayne! Don’t hold that shit above my head!”

“Okay, okay,” you move around the bed to stand between the two of them. “That’s enough, you two. Wayne, I get why you might be discouraged to tell Eddie that you had another heart attack, but you have to understand that things are different now. Shit, even I’m hurt that you didn’t say anything.” He looks up at you with a wounded expression.

“And Eddie,” you place your hands gently on either cheek before tightening your grip, “You need to stop yelling before you get us kicked out.” His expression drops to annoyance, grabbing your wrists lightly and pulling your hands away. “Wayne only wants what’s best for you, just as you want what’s best for him. So…why don’t we talk about what we’ve discussed before.”

His eyes meet yours, mood shifting between you as he nods his head, reaching out to take your hand in his. When you turn around, Wayne is eyeing you both suspiciously, letting out another cough.

“Wayne,” Eddie starts, “When we got the house, the two of us sat down and talked about what we would do if you had another heart attack. Or if anything major happened to you again. And, um, we decided that we would want you to move in with us if--”

“No.”

“Wayne--”

“Nope.”

“Just hear us out,” you plead. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “Please?”

“...Fine,” he says with a huff.

Eddie smiles slyly at you, thankful that he has you around to be on his side.

“Uncle Wayne,” you start, hitting him in that soft spot when you call him uncle, “We would really like for you to move in with us. Not to take away any of your freedom or anything. Actually, you’d be more free…because we also want you to retire from the plant.”

Wayne’s brow raises at your suggestion.

“Eddie and I make enough money between us that you wouldn’t need to work unless you wanted to. You’d have all the free time to fish and hunt and watch your trash TV. Which, may I remind you, we have that big TV in the living room now. Plus, Bear would love to have someone at home with him all day.”

He grunts again. Bear loves Wayne, but Wayne is steadfast in his dislike for Bear, even though you’ve caught him giving him people food and the occasional scratch behind the ear.

“You sure y’all want me to move in? Won't get to have all your alone time together anymore,” he asks, seeking confirmation of your proposal.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, pops,” Eddie says with a smile, “We’ll figure that out ourselves.”

The next month weeks flew by for you and Eddie. You’d been busy prepping your sophomores for the upcoming state testing that takes place the week before Spring Break as well as running yard sales during the most uncharacteristically warm winter that Indiana was giving you to get rid of any of Wayne’s extra stuff. There was also the babysitting for Chrissy and Jason you’d been doing while they remodel their kitchen. And that was just your schedule, as Eddie had a slew of his own obligations on his end with work and prepping the house for Wayne to move in.

The two of you found it almost impossible to have any time together. Almost being the key word here, because Eddie could find time to bed you like it was his job. The week before Wayne finally made his big move, the two of you were on each other like rabbits at any given moment.

Now Wayne was fully moved in. He opted to rent the trailer out for cheap to a single mom who was looking around the park for something that she could afford for her and her son. He finished his last week at the plant, his boss and coworkers throwing him a surprise retirement party at the pool hall they like to frequent. Eddie and you decided to get a hold of his longtime friend down in Florida and sent him away for a week to have a buddies trip and to “get some more vitamin D in your system after working the night shift for so long” according to Eddie.

Eddie may or may not have purposely planned Wayne’s trip during the same time that you’d be off for spring break, but wouldn’t admit that to you. He just wanted to get you all to himself so bad, eating his words to Wayne about having alone time together. The only thing making him feel a little less crazy about the whole thing is your little remarks about how it would be even worse if it was a baby you were bringing home, and that at least the two of you are still getting a full night's sleep. So, he sucked it up until the day finally came that he was to take Wayne to the airport.

He quietly gave your sleeping form a peck on the cheek that morning before the two of them left, not wanting to wake you since you loved to sleep in on your days off. You’d been feeling sick again, similar to how you felt right before the winter break a few months back. Eddie was worried that they were putting too much responsibility on you by having you teach two grades at the same time, but you assured him that you could handle it, that once you were off for the summer that you’d feel better.

You woke up around 11 am with a headache so bad it made you sick to your stomach. You’d been having them off and on for about a week, barely able to stand the fluorescent lights of your classroom or the smell of the coffee pot in the break room. At least your sophomore students spent most of the morning testing, and by the end of the week you were playing a movie for all of your classes as an excuse to keep the lights off.

After puking up bile for 20 minutes, your stomach gave you a break so that you could make yourself look presentable enough for the doctor’s office. Eddie made you promise him that if you weren’t better by today that you would go and get checked out. So you shove some buttered toast into your mouth and cross your fingers in hopes that you’ll make it to the doctor without having to pull over and spill your guts.

Thankfully, the urgent care in town wasn’t busy and you were taken back to a room fairly quickly. The nurse asked you a slew of questions in a monotone voice as your mouth watered from the wave of nausea that hit you again. When you jumped up suddenly to wretch in the small trash can on the floor, you heard her say something about a pregnancy test in a passive manner.

“Pregnancy test?” You ask between heaving breaths.

“Yes, dear,’ she says nonchalantly as she continues to write on her stack of papers. A different feeling filled your stomach then, coating it with nerves that seemed to distract you long enough to get you off the floor.

Ever since the let down from New Years, you and Eddie hadn’t talked much about kids other than some off hand comments here and there. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to keep trying, but the two of you decided to go with the flow and let things happen if they happen.

At least that’s what you told anyone who asked.

In your head you’ve been beating yourself up all over again, just like you did for so many years, which is probably only making you more sick. You almost tell the nurse not to even bother with the test, but she seemed like she wasn’t having the best day so you just let her take your blood and be on her merry way.

When the doctor finally comes in, he gives you a quick look over and tells you to take some benadryl for your symptoms. It left you feeling annoyed, wishing you had just stayed home and done that yourself instead of wasting your time coming in.

As you leave he tells you he’ll call you later in the day with your test results and any other instructions that he seems necessary. It’s not exactly what you want to hear, but you didn’t protest as you signed some consent forms at check out, just wanting to get back to your bed.

When you woke up a little while later, you had to admit that you did feel much better than in the morning. Maybe you were just getting to an age where your allergies were getting more sensitive.

As you amble into the kitchen, the flashing light from your answering machine catches your eye. You press play as you open the door to let Bear out, listening to the machine play as you start to pull out everything to make a late lunch before Eddie gets home from his half day at work.

You have 3 new messages.

First new message.

Beep.

Hey guys, it’s Dustin. I was calling to see if we could get a game set up for Friday? The guys and Erica are going to be in town and we’ve been talking about playing a game with everyone together again. Will said he would DM if you didn’t want to, but we’d like to have you back in the throne if the missus could get us into the theater room. Give me a call back as soon as you can and let me know. Bye!

Beep.

Second message.

Hey, sweetheart. Just wanted to let you know I got to work okay. I’m gonna stop and pick up a pizza on the way home, so don’t worry about cooking dinner tonight. Want you to be as relaxed and rested as possible for what I got in store for you tonight. Love you, baby.

Beep.

Third message.

Hello, this is Dr. Mando calling for…in regards to her test results. Everything came back negative in regards to your flu and strep tests. Blood work wise the only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recommend you follow up with your OBGYN from this point on for any more treatment. If our results are needed for their records please have them fax a request form to-

[REWIND]

-ep tests. Blood work wise the only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recommend you follow up with your OBG-

[REWIND]

-only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We-

[REWIND]

-hich puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recom-

Bear scratching at the door pulled you from your trance as you played back the message over and over again. You didn’t want to walk away, afraid that if you left the machine that the message would somehow disappear. Or that if you played the message again the words would change. Or that you would wake up and realize that you’re having a benadryl induced dream while you’re still asleep in your bed. But the feeling of Bear’s fur brushing against your leg throttles you into reality.

You are awake right now.

And for the first time in your life you’ve been pregnant for more than 6 weeks.

With haste, you pick up the phone line and begin to dial the first person who you know can help you.

Keeping secrets from Eddie was a challenge. His intuition when it came to you was almost scary. At times it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Which, honestly, he might. But, it doesn’t help when he wants to be with you every waking second of the day. Something that you want, too, but every time you look at him you have to duck your head or avert your gaze to keep yourself from blurting out the news to him.

It’s also been incredibly hard to deny all of his advances.

He’s not pressured you to do anything with him, never has, but you can tell he’s letting your rejections get to him in a self doubting way. Even when you did give him head hoping it would be enough, his pouty lip almost got you when you told him not to return the favor.

You do feel for him. The two of you had been planning to have quite the week with Wayne being out of the house. But even if you could have sex with him, not wanting to risk anything with how rough he can get at times, you honestly weren’t in the mood anyway. Benadryl was the only thing helping with your nausea and headaches so you were constantly drowsy. And now you were getting terrible acid reflux on top of it, going through tums like candy.

When you told Eddie that you made an appointment with your primary doctor for Friday morning, he insisted that he take you in case there was anything he could do to help. You told him not to worry about it, keeping from him that the appointment was actually with your OB. You felt guilty when the ultrasound tech handed you the grainy pictures of your little baby because you know that Eddie would have wanted to be with you for this moment, but it would all be worth it tonight as long as everything went to plan.

When you and Eddie pulled into the closed high school later that day, you were greeted by the now familiar, smiling faces of your fiance’s long time friends. It wasn’t often that all of them could get together like this between work, school, and their own families. But even with all of their big ages, the atmosphere as they all embraced each other was of childlike giddiness. You were included in the rounds of hugs and pats on the back as you had been accepted so openly by everyone over the course of yours and Eddie’s relationship. The tightest hug was from Eddie’s best friend, Jeff, the two of you share a knowing look with one another as you part.

Once everyone files inside, they begin to work together to set the old theatre room set up like they had back in the day. It was funny to watch them move around each other out of muscle memory, with a few more grunts and groans than they likely let out all those years ago.

And as they start to play, the energy in the room becomes electrifying. There isn’t a single person sitting by their second hour in, voices talking over each other as the room is divided over combat choices. Even if you only had a basic understanding of what was happening, you were very much entertained where you sat next to Eddie at the end of the table.

It was a sight to see Eddie in his element up close. The passion he has for this game was on another level. There’s no way that it was anything less than cathartic for him to be in a state of power like this, playing every part as if he was performing for an audience, using his whole body and voice to play each character as if he was truly in the fantasy world he created.

It made you tear up a bit, having to discreetly wipe your eyes to hide the emotions so as not to make him worry or pull him out of his game. But the images in your head of him playing pretend in the backyard with your child has a lump sitting in your throat. The two of them with pillow cases as capes and sticks as swords slaying dragons (Bear) while you watch them from the kitchen window.

You end up having to excuse yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect yourself in your newly hormonal state. You barely make it into the hallway before the water works start, bee-lining for the closest restroom so you can let it out. Anyone passing by would probably think you were crying over some devastating news with the way you were blubbering and wailing.

You do your best to clean yourself up, but you know Eddie will be able to tell you’ve been crying. So instead of going straight to the drama room, you decide to go to your classroom and work on some assignments for your classes on Monday.

After a while, a knock on your door startles you, head whipping to see your man standing at the doorway to your classroom with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks as he takes a few steps to stand by you at your desk. “Were we boring you with our nerdy game?”

“No, not at all!” You stand from your desk with a shake of your head. “I just wasn’t feeling well and needed a little quiet, that’s all.” You give him a reassuring smile, taking his hand in yours. He raises it to his lips and kisses the knuckles, taking a moment to admire your ring before letting your hands fall, still clasped between the two of you.

“We’re taking a break right now,” he says with a suggestive tone you know all too well. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes as he glances up at the clock on the wall. “Need to be back in five minutes,” he leans into you, dipping his head to speak low in your ear, “Think that’s enough time for me to get you on your desk like last time?”

You feel the heat flush to your cheeks at the mentions of your previous inappropriate endeavors in this classroom. For a brief moment you consider his proposition, but ultimately you pull away with a sympathetic look.

“As fun as that sounds, you and I both know 5 minutes isn’t enough time for you,” you poke his chest and he gives you a shit eating grin, “And I would be mortified if any of your friends walked in on us because you took too long to come back to your game.”

“It might be too long for me,” he draws out the last word as he runs his hands up and down your sides, “but I think I could take care of you if you’ve got room for me under that desk.”

His brows move suggestively as he waits for your response, which is just a playful roll of the eye and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Eds, but I’m okay.”

“Well, alright,” he sighs heavily, his tone laced with faux disappointment, “I guess I’ll just starve.” You throw your head back with laughter at his dramatics, him joining you with a fit of giggles of his own.

You decided to return to the game with him, everyone getting swept up once again in the game's energy that Eddie puts out into the room. The enjoyment is clear with how engaged everyone is, jumping up and down or yelling out like a group of your students rather than a room full of adults.

Erica and Dustin get into it over a decision in game, and you get to witness Eddie’s potential Dad Mode as he defuses the situation with no one getting their feelings hurt. You can’t help it, but for the rest of the game you subconsciously note little things that he does that may be a preview for how he’s going to handle parenthood with you. And when the group wins against whatever big monster Eddie had them fighting against, you can feel the ache in your cheeks from all the smiling you’ve done while observing them.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this shit cleaned up,” he says as they start to tease him. He gives you a look that you can only interpret as “I totally let them win” before he starts putting away his things.

“Hey, look what I found,” Jeff suddenly speaks up from across the room. He’s holding up a box that you know has some of their club's shirts in them for the new members. You feel your heart drop into your ass.

Shit, it’s happening.

“Looks like they’re still using your old design, Eddie.” Jeff says as he plops the box down on the table. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you focus on not passing out.

“Guess you can’t fix perfection,” Eddie quips back, which elicits a few groans in response.

“Do you have a shirt?”

Your eyes flit to Will where he’s moved to stand next to you. You look at him for a moment before shaking your head, still unable to open your mouth.

“Oh, good idea, kid,” Eddie says as he places a hand on your shoulder. “You sat through a whole game, so that makes you an honorary member.”

You look over to Jeff, who gives you a subtle nod to signal that everything was good to go. It’s not exactly what the two of you had discussed, but this seemed a little more natural for the situation.

As you rise from your chair, you’re able to let out a small “okay” before walking to stand next to Jeff. You take a sharp inhale when you see it, the small bundle of material folded at the top of the other shirts.

All eyes are on you as you reach down into the box. You pretend to look through the pile before grabbing what you really want, pulling it out of the box and holding it up with both hands. It’s the first time you’re seeing it yourself, the small onesie version of the Hellfire shirt that Eddie made almost 15 years ago, black quarter sleeves and all. It’s exactly what you imagined, and you’re so, so thankful that Jeff was able to bring your vision to life.

“What do you think about this one, Eds?”

The words roll off your tongue without you thinking, your mouth moving on its own as it’s tired of waiting for your brain to catch up. Flipping the onesie around for the table to see, your eyes find Eddie’s. You watch in real time as the emotions come and go from his features; ignorant joy, confusion, and realization.

“No way!” You hear Dustin shout, too focused on Eddie to pay him any attention though.

“Dude holy shit!”

“Hell yeah man! It’s about time!”

“I call dibs on babysitting!”

“Are you serious?” His voice cracks, a loud sniffle escaping as his body starts to shake. Fat tears roll down his reddening cheeks that he tries to wipe with his sleeve. “Is this real?”

You nod, your own tears coming back once again. “Ten weeks,” you say as you exhale, doing your best to hold it together.

Eddie moves quickly to be by your side, taking your face in his hands and crashing his lips into yours. Collective oohs and awes swirl around you at the display of affection between you. When he pulls away he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes, letting out an airy chuckle.

You hold the onesie out for him to take, and he holds it in his hands with such delicacy, as if it's the baby itself.

“When did you find out?” He asks with a sniffle, not taking his eyes off the little article of clothing.

“On Monday, after my appointment.”

“You’ve known since Monday?” He almost seems upset, but there’s no way he could be mad at you right now. “Well, I guess that explains a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Eds. Trust me, it was really hard not to say anything. But, I feel like it finally paid off. All thanks to Jeff.”

You turn to gesture to him, and Jeff takes a small bow. “Happy to do my part for my future niece and or nephew. Just gotta let me know if I need to make another one in case it’s twins.”

“Twins?!” Eddie looks at you with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“It’s not twins. Here,” you walk over to your purse and pull the strip of pictures from your purse. “See for yourself.”

Eddie takes the picture from you and examines them. Excited laughter takes over him. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be dad!” The gang surrounds him, congratulating the both of you.

“What if he sees it and doesn’t get it?”

“Babe, the sign literally says ‘Welcome home Grandpa’. I know he’s old but I’m sure he’ll catch on pretty quickly.”

Eddie and you stand at the end of the gate in the Indianapolis airport waiting for Wayne to make his way down the tunnel. The two of you thought it would be fun to surprise him about his promotion when you pick him up, making a day out of it to find him a new mug to surprise him with as well. Eddie holds the gift bag in one hand while you hold the sign, both of you skimming the crowd of people for the balding Munson in the mix.

“There he is!” Eddie nudges you, pointing into the crowd, “Hold it up so he can see!”

You raise the sign above your head as Eddie waves to get Wayne’s attention. Even from where you’re standing you can see the old man smile, then quint to read your sign. He’s almost to you before the look on his face changes.

“What the--What the hell did y’all do while I was gone?” Wayne drops his bags and wraps his arms around the two of you.

“Technically it was before you left,” Eddie laughs, returning his uncles embrace.

“Is that why y’all sent me away then? Do I gotta move back out to make room in the house now?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, handing him the sign to look at.

“We’re not about to kick out Hawkin’s next great babysitter,” Eddie says as he puts a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. The older man huffs out a laugh, smile wide as he runs his fingers over the word grandpa.

“So that’s the real reason you wanted me to move in,” he says, looking at the two of you again. “I thought I was supposed to be retired?”

“Well, I hope your time off was enough because we’ll need you on duty in about 9 months.” Wayne shakes his head. Eddie hands Wayne the gift bag and he opens it to find the mug inside.

“I love my Grandpa,” Wayne reads from the mug, a hand going to his eyes as he wipes away tears. “Shit you guys. I’m so happy for ya.” Tears start to well up in your own eyes and you pull Wayne in for a side hug.

The three of you make your way home, discussing your future with the baby the whole way. Talks of all the diapers you’ll need to get, who will get up in the middle of the night to feed and change diapers, names and all the other fun parts that come with being a parent.

“So we gotta paint soon,” Wayne says from the passenger seat. “Do y’all have a colour picked out?”

“Since we won't know the gender for a while,” you say from the back seat, “we talked about painting the baby’s room a light green for now. We can always paint it again later down the road.”

“That sounds nice,” Wayne says with a nod. “We can pick some up this weekend and I’ll paint while the two of you are at work. It’s warm enough out that I can open the window so the smell won’t get to ya.”

“You sure you wanna do that by yourself?” Eddie asks, turning into the driveway.

“Sure, gives me a break from the couch. I know the two of you are gonna be busy so might as well make myself useful.”

“We would really appreciate that, Uncle Wayne,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turns back to look at you, resting his hand on yours.

“What’s wrong?” Robin says from her spot next to you at the bathroom sink. The two of you, plus Steve and Eddie, had decided to take a trip to the mall today. This was your third trip to the restroom since you’d been there and you could tell Robin was getting suspicious.

“If you have a UTI or something you definitely need to go to the doctor, you know?”

“I’m fine, Robin.” You dry your hands, tossing the paper towel in the trash. “I just had a lot of coffee this morning,” you lie.

The truth was that you were planning on surprising her and Steve today with a pit stop in the baby clothes store that Missy and Nancy had gone to when you went shopping with them a few months ago. It was a newer store and you knew that it would be fun little way to tell them your news.

“You have to lay off that stuff,” Robin voices her concern. “I’m pretty sure I heard it makes your boobs shrink.”

“I don’t think so Bobbie.”

The two of you reconvene back with Steve and Eddie who were waiting for you on a bench. Eddie looked like a real dad with sitting there with the shopping bags in his hands. You took a moment to admire how long his hair was starting to get before they noticed you.

“Ready for our last stop?” Eddie says, suddenly standing up. He’s had a nervous air about him this whole trip, and you don’t know why. Steve and Robin are going to be over the moon when you tell them, but you suppose it’s just because he’s excited.

“Yeah, where did you want to go?” Steve asks, looking between you two.

“Oh, just a shop over by where we parked.”

The four of you make your way toward the other side of the mall. Eddie and you both stop at in front of the Baby Gap, Robin and Steve pausing when they realize you’ve stopped.

“You good?” Steve asks.

“Yep, we just need to pop in here.”

Steve and Robin look up at the store and share a look.

“Does Nancy need stuff?” Robin asks quizzically.

“Nope, we just need to get some things for ourselves,” you say, staring at them hoping it will click.

“What do you guys need at Baby Gap?”

“Duh, what else do they sell here, Steve?” Robin nudges him. And then she looks at you with wide eyes. “Oh my god, you guys are buying baby clothes?”

Eddie and you both nod excitedly. Robin squeals, bouncing up and down. Steve still looks confused.

“Why are we excited?”

“They’re pregnant, dingus!”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look at you with saucers for eyes.

“Nuh-uh,” he says with a grin.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie nods, putting an arm around you.

Steve grabs Robins arm and shakes it, still looking at the two of you. “No way!” He says excitedly. “About damn time!”

“How far along are you? Do you know the gender yet?” Robin asks in quick succession.

“I’m about 12 weeks. We won't know the gender for a little while longer, but Wayne already picked out the nursery room color for us.”

“Oh I bet he was over the moon to find out,” Robin coos.

“He was. He’s very excited to be a grandpa.”

“Grandpa Wayne, oh my god.”

“Do you have any names picked out?” Steve asks.

“We don’t have any names yet,” you say, looking up at Eddie, “But we’re open to ideas.”

“Well, Steve is a good name—Ow!”

“They’re not naming their baby after you Steve.”

“It was just a suggestion!”

“Besides, Robin is more gender neutral anyway.”

“Eddie.”

Brown eyes dart from the TV and over to where you stand in the doorway. Eddie shifts and stands, walking over to you with urgency.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” He asks with concern.

You sniffle, looking up at him through your lashes. “We don’t have any pickles…”

Eddie sighs in relief, glad that your tone wasn’t due to something serious.

“We don’t,” he confirms, looking down at you. “But I’m guessing we need to remedy that?”

You nod, and Eddie can’t help but giggle. The stage of weird cravings had started a week ago and you’d been asking him to buy you the most random foods. Bananas and hot sauce, sour cream that you ate from the tub, and now pickles.

“Can you get strawberry ice cream, too?” You ask sheepishly.

“Of course,” he assures you. “Anything for my babies.”

Your emotions get to you with that, and you can’t help but cry. Eddie would be concerned if this hadn’t become a semi-regular occurrence for you now. He simply pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head.

Bear makes his way over to you, looking up as the two of you embrace. You’re both sure he knows something is up, because he’s been by you constantly since you found out you were pregnant. It's almost like he’s standing guard to make sure no one gets near you.

“I’m okay, Bear,” you say, dropping down to squat at his level. He pants as you give him ear scritches, enjoying every second of it. Eddie takes the opportunity to grab his shoes and put them on.

“Anything else you might want me to grab while I’m out?”

“More milk? And probably more cereal for you and Wayne. I think I ate the last of it earlier.”

“I’ll get you your own box.”

Bear rested at your feet as you graded papers at the dining room table. It was getting close to the end of the school year and you didn’t want to let being pregnant put you behind.

Most of your kids were passing, which was a relief to you. It was a hard year but teaching two grades was an experience that you were glad you got to have. Thankfully the school was able to find a replacement teacher for your sophomore class next year, thanks to a recommendation by yours truly.

“It’ll be so nice for you to have someone like Will teaching with you,” Eddie says as he finishes making you lunch.

“It's going to be a big change from middle school, though,” you say as you set down your grading marker. “It was for me at least.”

“Will’s smart, he can manage. Plus he’ll have you for support.”

“Only for the first few months. Then I’ll be gone for most of the year.”

You had an appointment a few weeks back to find out you were due around Halloween. The irony of it all was that you probably got pregnant right after you had taken the test back in January. Life works in mysterious ways you thought.

“True, but he can always call here if he needs something. Plus, I’m sure the other teachers are going to love him.”

“Oh they will. I just hope they don’t treat him too much like a kid.”

Eddie puts a plate in front of you and takes a seat. “He is still young,” he says before he takes a bite of his sandwich. “Buy that will probably make him more relatable to the kids, ya know?”

You nod, taking a bite of your own food. The nausea has started to subside now that you were in your second trimester, which made it easier to eat foods that you weren’t necessarily craving. Still, you took your time eating so not to trigger anything.

“Are you excited for tonight?” Eddie asks, taking a chip from your plate and popping it in his mouth.

“Yes, I can’t wait to see their faces.”

Eddie and you finally decided to start telling more people about your pregnancy now that you were in the second trimester. Chrissy had been begging you for a double date for weeks now and you’d been putting her off so that you wouldn’t spill the beans too soon. So tonight was going to be the big reveal.

Chrissy had become a really good friend ever since she sold you the house. She was a busy mom and successful realtor but she always made time to call and check in on you. It honestly was hard not to tell her when you’ve told your other friends, but you wanted to be sure you’d make it to the second trimester before telling too many people per the doctor's suggestion.

So when you and Eddie arrived at the Golden Lamb, you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach. Thankfully you were too soon to be showing so they wouldn't know right away.

“I honestly thought it would be hard with a fifth, but Chrissy has been nothing but a superstar about it all,” Jason says as you all share an appetizer. You were barely talking because the food was so good you just kept eating it.

“Awe, so have you!” Chrissy says, beaming at the praise. “Jason’s been doing great making sure the boys are on their best behavior while I’ve been recovering.”

“How is that? The recovery, that is.”

You look up at Eddie when he asks the question.

“It’s hard, I’m not going to lie. But when you’ve done it before it definitely helps to know what to expect. You guys will know one day.” Chrissy winks at you.

“Yeah, about that..”

“You’re pregnant.”

You freeze at her words. Chrissy brings her hands to her mouth and gasps.

“H-how did you know?” You ask bewildered.

“I knew it! I could just tell when I saw you!”

“Woah, congratulations, man!” Jason reaches his hand across the table for Eddie to shake, which he does.

“Oh I can’t wait! Our kids are going to be best little friends!”

That made you happy to hear. Chrissy’s youngest and even Nancy’s youngest baby weren’t going to be too much older than yours. He or she already has friends waiting for them, and that made you feel a sense of joy in your heart.

“Do you know the gender yet?” Jason asks.

“We find out in a couple weeks,” Eddie says proudly.

“Are you hoping for anything or just feeling blessed regardless?”

Truth is you’d gone back and forth or whether or not you wanted a boy or girl. You’d be happy with either, but the idea of a little girl to dress up would be fun. You know Eddie wants a boy, but has also expressed that he’s just happy to have a baby with you.

“I’m just happy to be this far,” you finally say. “Although I think a girl would be fun.” You add that last part in without looking at Eddie.

“Oh a little girl!” Chrissy squeals. “I always wanted a daughter but I’m happy with my little team of boys. But if you have a girl I will be living vicariously through you.”

“Hey, we can always try again.” Jason says, giving Chrissy a little nudge. She rolls her eyes at him. You know she would be happy to have more kids, though.

“I personally want a boy,” Eddie announces, looking at you.

“Oh, man, boys are so fun. Our house is like a madhouse, but it’s totally worth it.”

“Which reminds me,” Chrissy chimes in, “Jacob wants to learn guitar. I was wondering if we paid you if you wouldn’t mind giving him lessons?”

Eddie is taken aback at this request. A Carver kid wants to play guitar?

“Y-yeah, sure. That’s your second oldest, right?”

You were pleasantly surprised that Eddie remembered, even after all the times you’ve drilled the names and ages of their kids into his head.

“Yep! Little Jacob wants to be a rockstar someday,” Jason adds.

“Hell yeah, that’s awesome,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “Just let me know when works for you guys.”

“We were thinking about dropping him off after church on Sundays? Maybe he can spend an hour or so with you?”

“That would be perfect,” you say, nodding to Eddie.

“Obviously not when you have the baby, we can wait until after that if you want. “

“No, it should be fine,” you say, “Bring him over whenever. It will probably be easier to start now before the baby anyway.”

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” Jason nods to Eddie. “By the way, have you ever heard of a band called Stryper?”

“Eddie! Quick!”

Eddie looks over at you as you come darting to him. He watches as you take his free hand and spin him around, toothbrush still in his mouth as he was getting ready for work.

“Wha es et?” He asks through a mouth full of toothpaste.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and place it on the side of your bump. The both of you are still as you wait for something to happen. After a few beats, you start to feel disappointed.

“I swear I felt them kicking,” you say dejectedly, letting go of Eddie’s hand.

“What, really?” He asks after spitting the toothpaste out of his mouth.

“Try again and maybe press down some?”

“Will that hurt it?”

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe agitate them a bit.”

Eddie puts his hand back on your barely there bump and presses down on it. It’s still for a few moments, and nothing happens. You let out a frustrated huff and cross your arms defeated.

“I really did feel them.”

“I believe you, sweetheart. That’s so exciting,” Eddie says rubbing your arms with his thumbs,

Then you feel it again.

You gasp, grabbing his hand again and moving it to the spot where you felt the movement. Eddie’s hand rested there and you waited another moment. Nothing.

“Damn it--”

Then it happened again. Eddie’s jaw dropped as he felt it that time, too stunned to speak.

“Wooooah,” he finally says, looking up at you.

“I know, right? Isn’t it crazy?”

Eddie puts both hands on your stomach and rubs it, kneeling down to be eye level with it.

“Hey there,” he says, eyes focused on your belly, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m your dad and I think it’s really cool that you have such strong legs. Maybe you’ll be a drummer like your Uncle Garreth. That would be super bad ass. Especially if you’re a girl. Girl drummers are awesome.”

“What if they’re a boy?” You ask him. “Then you’ll be a kick ass boy drummer for all I care. I really want you to play guitar, though. Gonna teach you that as soon as you can hold your head up. Babe, should be make him a battle jacket?”

“If we make him one now he won’t fit in it for very long. We should probably wait until he’s older.”

“Damn, oh well.” Eddie sighs as he straightens up. His arms wrap around you and pull you in close, letting his chin rest on the top of your head.

“You have no fucking clue how excited I am.”

“I think I can take a guess.”

The room is quiet, dimly lit with the soft glow of the low lights and the monitor that sits next to your seat. Your feet wiggle back and forth, a nervous movement as you sit and wait for the ultrasound technician to enter the room. Eddie was sitting beside you, his own leg bouncing in anticipation.

Today you would find out the gender of your baby. The excitement was enough to keep the two of you up late into the night talking about what it will be like to have a baby boy or girl running around the house. All the baby proofing you would have to do was enough to make you feel like your house might actually be a deathtrap, even when Eddie assured you it wasn’t that bad.

A gentle knock on the door had both of your heads turning to it. “Come in,” you say, and the door opens moments later. The same technician from your last appointment walks in and you’re relieved to see a familiar face.

“Good morning,” she says as she closes the door behind her. “Are we ready to find out what you’re having?”

You and Eddie nod, a fresh batch of goosebumps rising on your skin. The technician moves around the room and does whatever she needs to do to get the monitor ready.

“Go ahead and lay back, and lift your shirt just over your belly,” she says as she pulls a bottle from the counter. As you lean back, she shakes it upside down a bit and squirts some on her finger, wiping it off on the paper towel sitting on the counter.

“Now, this may be little cold at first, but it will warm up as I move the wand, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, a nervous smile on your face.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Eddie asks, grabbing your hand.

“No, not at all. I’m just going to put a little of this jelly on her stomach and press this wand to it so we can see the baby. You ready?”

You nod and the cold jell hits your stomach with a sound from the bottle.

“Now here comes the wand…” She places the ultrasound wand on your stomach with a light pressure. The screen of the ultrasound machine starts to blur as she moves the jelly around on your stomach. Once she slows down, you’re able to get a more clear picture of the baby growing inside your belly.

It looked weird. Like a baby, but not at the same time. But when you saw it’s little arms moving it made a lump form in your throat.

“Awe, they’re waving at you,” the technician says, holding the wand still.

“Where?” Eddie asks, a clear look of confusion on his face. “I can’t read any of this.”

“See this right here, that’s the head,” the technician points to the large orb on the screen. “This is it’s spine, and this is it’s legs. Right here are it’s little arms.”

“Woah,” Eddie says with a smile as wide as Texas. “Hi little guy.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“What, I want to be polite!”

“Everything is looking good and they seem to be measuring on time, but I can’t say for certain until the doctor checks everything out. I’m going to take a few pictures and then we can check the gender, okay?”

You nod and let her do her thing. She moves the wand and pushes a few buttons on the keyboard, over and over, until she finally moves the wand to where it looks like the baby’s butt would be. A hot wave crashes over you as you realize that this is it.

“Okay, baby is not cross legged so I can see perfectly. Are you ready to know?”

Eddie turns to look at you for your approval. He nods, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes, we’re ready.”

“How was the appointment?” Wayne says as the two of you walk in the door, Bear relaxing over his feet.

“It went really well. We got some new pictures to show you.” Eddie walks over to Wayne and hands him the small print out of pictures the technician gave you to bring home. Wayne grabs his glasses and puts them on, still holding the small prints close to his face.

“Wow, this really looks like a baby now, huh?” He says, looking over to you. Your hand rubs your bump, now starting to show a bit. You’re happy it didn’t come in until after your school year ended, lest the students ask you a million questions.

“What else do you see?” Eddie asks the older man. Wayne looks over the pictures again, eyeing them up and down.

“What’s this last picture?”

“That is your grandson’s little Munson.”

Wayne looks up at Eddie, then over to you. As it all starts to make sense to him, he suddenly jumps up from his chair and jumps around.

“‘T’s a lil boy?! Hot dog, I got myself a new fishin’ buddy?!” His arms wrap around Eddie in a surprise hug as he jumps up and down more, rocking Eddie in the process.

“We had a feeling that you’d say that, so we went and got this.” You pull a bag from behind your back and present it to him, a very obvious smaller version of a fishing pole sticking out of it. It was made for kids, but you’re sure it would work when the baby is big enough.

“I can’t believe this,” Wayne says wiping tears from his eyes. “I would have been this happy if it was a girl, too. But it just feels so--”

“Real?” Eddie says.

“Yeah. I just can’t--I mean, damn it’s really happening.”

“Eddie started crying when she told us,” you say as you lean into him.

“How could I not? I’m gonna have a mini me running around the house!”

“Don’t I know it. I’m putting all this work in for 9 months and I know he’s going to come out looking exactly like you.”

“Hopefully he’s more tame than Eddie was,” Wayne adds, shaking his head. “Eddie used’aa bounce off the walls when he was a toddler.”

“Oh, great, can’t wait for that,” you say with a smile. You truly didn’t care what the baby was going to be like. You hoped he was just like Eddie, in every way.

“Ugh, it’s so hot,” you say as you fan yourself. Even with the shade of your front porch you were still sweating in the unrelenting July heat. It was the hottest summer Hawkins had felt in a while and of course you just had to be almost 30 weeks pregnant right now.

“We can go inside,” Eddie says from the chair next to you, flipping through a mechanics magazine.

“No, the fresh air will be good for the baby.”

“Not if you’re frying in the process. Come on, we can wait for them inside.”

As if right on que, the familiar red beater truck pulled up behind yours in the driveway.

“Hey, the party is here!” Grant shouted from the driver side window.

“Lets get this shit built!” Garreth yells as he pops out of the passenger side, Jeff following after him.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?” Jeff says as Garreth and Grant start to unload the back of the truck of the boxes that were in the bed.

“I was expecting you all to do the heavy lifting. We are pregnant afterall.” Eddie says as he places his lemonade down, standing up from the chair. Jeff pshes him, slapping a hand on his back before the two of them start moving boxes inside.

The boys had all agreed to help put together furniture as long as they could drink and listen to rock music the whole time, neither of which you minded but you appreciated them asking. You’d been craving some wine during your pregnancy but had been good enough to not indulge yourself, especially after you’d done so well with your sobriety.

“You boys needa hand?” Wayne asks from the front door.

“Naw, we got it pepaw,” Garreth calls, holding the other and of a large box that him and Jeff are carefully maneuvering between the cars in the driveway. You held the door open for them as they entered into the house, stopping to kick their shoes off per your house rule of no shoes in the baby’s room.

Once the boys got everything inside, they immediately plugged in the stereo system and began to fill your house with Pearl Jam’s “Ten” album. Eddie Vedder’s vocals made good background noise as you cleaned up the house. Well to the best of your ability.

Your bump had grown big enough that it was starting to become more difficult to do certain things, like bending over and squatting. But you could still handle most of the chores with out much of Eddie’s help. It was working with chemical cleaners that worried you the most, so you looked into some more natural cleaning remedies and hoped that they were doing what they were supposed to do.

“Anyone ready for lunch? I’ll order some pizzas if you want--Wow, look at you guys go!”

The room was already starting to come together as the furniture was being built. It looked like Eddie and Jeff had the crib almost put together as Grant and Garreth tackled the dresser. You thought this was going to be an all day endeavor but they may get it all done in a few hours.

“You guys are some pretty good handymen!”

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie says as he holds a couple pieces together for Jeff to screw in. “Once we get these big pieces put together we’ll work on getting the shelves up.

“Were you saying something about pizza?” Garreth asks with nails between his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll go ahead and order some. Any special requests?”

“Can you get some cheesy bread, too?” Grant asks.

“Absolutely. Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“Love you, babe!”

You say a quick love you back before waddling down the hall to the kitchen.

After a quick pizza break and some trash TV with Wayne, the boys all erupted into hoots and hollers from the baby’s room.

“What’s all the commotion?” You ask walking into the room.

“I think we’re done!”

You look around the room and really take it in. It looks pretty much complete, sans some decorations and the things you plan to get from your baby shower. It hits you that you’re going to have a baby in this room with you in just a few short months.

“Awe, babe, don’t cry.” Eddie walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you back and forth.

“It just looks so nice. Thank you guys so much,” you say through sniffles.

“Of course, momma,” Jeff says, patting your shoulder.

“Anything for the newest member of Hellfire,” Grant adds.

“And the future frontman of Corroded Coffin 2.0,” Garreth says.

Eddie backs away from you and you take the opportunity to wipe away the tears from your eyes. It was so nice knowing that your baby was already so loved.

“Oh, yes! Just like that!” You moan out into your bedroom, your cries bouncing off of the walls and straight into Eddie’s ears.

He has you just how he likes you; on your back and with your legs spread wide for him. Either of your legs in his grasp to hold up so you don’t have to. Your pretty little head is resting on the pillow while he does all the work of making you squirm under him. Your hands hold your large stomach as his hips crash into yours with each thrust.

He’s doing his damndest not to be rough, but he can’t help that you look so pretty when he fucks you hard. The way you talk so dirty when no one’s around gets him going in a way he can’t even describe other than feral. Each call of his name by you sounds like music to his ears that he wants to play on repeat.

“Fuck, baby, look so good like that,” Eddie groans, watching your swollen tits bounce. “My beautiful girl, all big and round for me.”

“Yes, just for you, Eddie,” you say, your hands flying to the pillow to grip it as he picks up his pace. Eddie takes your leg and rests it on his shoulder, guiding his free hand to your stomach to hold it in place while he fucks you into the mattress. Something about you being pregnant with his child was turning him on to no end. Just the thought of his baby being inside of you drove him crazy.

“Oh, shit I’m gonna--”

“Do it, baby. Cum for me.” Eddie brought his thumb to your sensitive clit and started rubbing sloppy circles in it. Everything with you was so much more sensitive since you’d gotten pregnant, and Eddie loved to take advantage of that whenever he could.

Eddie felt it in your body as you came, the way you clenched around him, legs shaking, eyes rolling into the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture to keep forever. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Eddie says suddenly, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reached his peak. You watch as he comes undone inside of you, filling you up with his spend.

“Oh my god,” Eddie stutters out, head thrown back as he recovers from his orgasm. “That was insane.”

“Come’er,” you reach your hands out for him. He obliges, sliding out of you slowly and plopping down next to you in the bed. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hand landing on your stomach.

“Mhmm,” you hum, catching your breath.

“I still can’t believe it. That we’re going to be parents.”

You place your hand on top of Eddie’s and rub your thumb into the back of it. It’s quiet for a moment, but then the two of you feel the baby moving inside of you and laugh.

“Guess he didn’t like all that movement,” you say, watching the way your stomach is pressed from the baby inside you.

“Sorry, bub,” Eddie says with a laugh, “Can’t help that your mom is hot.”

“Hey, thank you for coming!” You wrap your arms around Claudia and Dustin as they exit your house from the back door.

Today is the day of your baby shower and the backyard was already full of guests as they all pile in. Eddie was manning the grill, your brother and his wife talking him up as he cooked the dogs and burgers for everyone. Elanor and your nephews are running around with Bear while Nancy and Robin catch up. Steve and Mike were talking about cars the last you checked in on them. Max, Jane, Lucas and Will are helping set up some last minute decorations. And the band boys were chatting while they set the fire pit up for s’mores later.

“Thank you for inviting us. Here, I made these myself for the little one. There’s something in there for you, too.”

“Awe, thank you, Claudia. That’s so sweet.”

“I’ll take that,” Wayne says as he takes the bag from Mrs. Henderson.

“I helped pick out the colors, by the way,” Dustin says before he leaves to go join the boys at the fire pit.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Claudia asks.

“I feel surprisingly great. Other than my feet swelling in this heat, I don’t think I can complain. Well, besides the nightly gymnastics routine this one seems to want to do whenever I go to bed.”

Claudia laughs, “Yes, Dustin was the same way. It’s like they know when you’re trying to rest.”

“It really does!”

“Mrs. Henderson!” Steve calls out to her and Claudia excuses herself.

Wayne makes his way over to you. “Got an awfully full table of gifts over there,” he says.

“I know, I’m in shock. I knew people would get us stuff, but I didn’t think it would be so much. Hopefully we have room for everything.”

“We’ll make it fit, I promise ya that,” Wayne says with a chuckle.

He looks at you for a moment before leaning in.

“Can I tell ya a secret?”

You whip your head around, shocked to hear that Wayne wants to gossip with you.

“Uh, duh. Lay it on me.”

“Okay,” he starts, “See that girl your brother brought with him. I think you said that’s his wife’s sister?”

“Oh, Tenisha? Yeah she was one of my best friends growing up. She’s just really shy.”

“I can see that by the way she’s been keeping to herself. But, I’ve been watching everyone here, right? Well I think she’s been boring a hole into Harrington since he walked in the door.”

This revelation sparks your interest. Tenisha had a hard time branching out due to her introverted nature, so she didn’t have many boyfriends growing up. For a while you thought maybe she didn’t even like other people all that much.

But, this news was something you could work with.

“Good to know,” you say with coy smile, brain wracking with ways to introduce them.

The rest of the party showed up as time went on. Chrissy and Jason came with their kids, and you got to hold baby Jeremy while she talked your ear off. She even brought you a whole trunk load of old clothes from her boys that you’d be able to use for your baby.

Missy even showed up with her baby, little Henry junior. He looked a lot like Henry, so much that it was almost off putting to you, but you reminded yourself that this party was the celebrate your own baby with the man who loves you now.

“This is a really nice house,” Erica says to Eddie as you help pass out food and refreshments.

“Thanks, man. We’ve really put our all in making it our home these last few months.”

“I’m willing to bet that the missus did most of the decorating,” Jason chimes in.

“Obviously,” you say with a sarcastic tone. “I think the place would be covered with band posters and guitars if Eddie was in charge.”

“Hey, a few decorative guitars wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Grants says in Eddie’s defence.

“Thank you, Grant.”

“It’s going to feel even more like a home once the baby comes,” your brother says. “Don’t you think, Nish?”

Tenisha looks up from her plate like a deer caught in headlights. You want to scold your brother for calling her out, but you know he’s doing it because you told him about her eyes for Steve.

“Y-yes,” she says, voice small, and you’re proud that she was even able to get that much out. She stands still for a moment before suddenly beelining it for you.

“Where’s your bathroom?” She whispers to you. Just as you look toward the house, you notice Steve is heading in that same direction.

“Hey, Steve!”

He stops and looks around to where he heard his name being called, landing on you.

“Can you show Tenisha where the bathroom is?”

Tenisha’s eyes go wide, but you ignore it when Steve agrees and beckons her over. You watch as she wordlessly makes her way over to him.

“Hi, I’m Steve. I don’t think we’ve met,” he says as he follows behind her into the house.

You look around for Wayne to see if he saw your quick move and you found him already looking your way, giving you a thumbs up.

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Games were played, all the gifts were opened, and you even got to have some cake that Eddie had custom made for the occasion. And, much to your delight, Steve essentially stuck by Tenisha’s side the rest of the night, talking to her about god knows what. She seemed not to mind though, a smile on her face the whole time.

You felt like you were about to burst. People had been chatting you up for over an hour at this point and you were starting to have to go every 30 minutes or so it seemed. When you finally had the chance to excuse yourself, you all but sprinted to the rest room.

Once you relieved yourself, you went to wipe, but thought you felt a strange texture when you did. You decided to check the toilet paper, only to be met with the sight of bright red blood.

Your heart sank at the sight. Getting up you checked your underwear and found nothing there, so it hadn’t been bad enough to spread. But still, you were only 36 weeks at this point, still a whole month out from when the baby was supposed to come. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Eddie,” you say out of instinct. “Eddie!”

You run out to the backyard and find your husband talking with his uncle by the fire. He looks over at you and waves, unable to see you clearly from where you were at the back door.

“Eddie!” The urgency in your voice caught his attention and he immediately popped up from his chair and came trotting to you.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, I’m bleeding.”

“W-what? That’s not supposed to happen now is it?”

You shook your head and Eddie immediately started to panic.

“Uncle Wayne!”

Wayne jumped up from his chair and ran over to where you two were standing.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“She’s bleeding.”

“Bleedin’! Well that doesn’t sound right. You oughta go to the emergency room. Now. I’ll get everyone going.”

You both nod and Eddie takes you by the hand, grabbing his keys off the counter as you enter the house. He barely lets you grab your purse before he’s pulling you into the car and peeling out of the driveway.

Once you get to the hospital, they take you back right away and get you hooked up to a monitor to listen to your baby’s heart beat. There was a sigh of relief when it was strong enough that it could be easily found by the nurse helping you. They ran some tests on you and did a quick check to see if you were dilated at all.

“Nothing yet,” the doctor says. “Not abnormal for you to not be dilated at this point. Have you had any contractions?”

“No, not yet. Should I be?” You ask with concern.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes women experience what feel like contractions at this point, but you’ll know the real thing when the time comes.”

“Why would she be bleeding right now if the baby wasn’t coming?” Eddie asks, hand clasped with yours.

“Well,” the doctor starts, “There are several possibilities, but it’s hard to say for sure. We’ll probably keep you here for monitoring for a few days just to make sure we don’t need to start the delivery process early.”

“Start it early? Will that hurt the baby?” You ask.

“Not at this point. We consider the baby developed enough at this point that delivery is a safe enough option for you. We would just give you a shot of steroids before hand to help with the development of the baby’s lungs before hand. But, for now, we think that you should get some rest.”

The doctor leaves the room and you and Eddie are left there to listen to the sound of your baby’s heart beating. Eddie’s grasp on your hand tightens, and for a moment you think that he might have started crying. You look up at him and are surprised to find that he’s actually laughing.

“Why are you laughing right now?”

“Because,” he raises his head to look at you, “Only my kid would try and pull something like this the day of his party. I always used to ruin my birthday parties because I would get so excited to get gifts.”

That did make you laugh. Which apparently made your son mad because you felt him kicking you, leaving you to sigh in relief. At least he wasn’t in any immediate danger. Though, you were not looking forward to staying in the hospital for a couple days.

“Do you think I’ll be out in time for Monday?”

Eddie looks at you in disbelief. “I don’t think your students are going to mind a substitute for a couple days while you’re in here.”

“I know, I just don’t want to leave them with a bunch of work to do. I’ve been slacking a bit these last couple weeks.”

“I’ll grade the damn papers myself if it means you’ll relax for a couple days,”

“Oh, god, we wouldn’t want that,” you laugh.

You got to go home on Tuesday. It felt cooler out compared to Saturday, so Eddie brought you a sweater to the hospital to keep you warm. The fabric was tight over your large stomach as you walked out into the late September air.

The bleeding eventually stopped on its own and the doctors decided it would be best to let you go home and finish out the rest of your pregnancy. Which you were relieved to hear because that bed was super uncomfortable.

“I just want to go home and take a nice long shower,” you say from the passenger seat. “Then maybe a good nap.”

“Whatever you need, princess. I know that was rough on you,” Eddie says with a hand in yours as he drives.

“It was rough on you, too. I know you were mad they wouldn’t let you stay.”

“They better let me stay when the baby is born. I’ll stand outside the hospital all night if they don’t.”

“They will, Eddie. We already asked, remember?”

“I know. But what if they find out I’m a felon and change their minds?” You can hear the concern in his voice.

“Eddie, they don’t care. Just don’t do anything stupid and there won’t be a problem.”

Eddie scoffs, “You think I would do something stupid?”

“Of course not,” you laugh, “I’m just saying is all.”

Eddie turns into the drive way and cuts the engine. He hops out from the driver side and runs around the car to open your door for you, lending you a hand to help you out of the car.

The two of you enter the house and you immediately head to your baby’s room. It’s filled to the brim with all the gifts you received still needing to be put away from your shower. The need to nest kicks in and you enter the room.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Eddie says, watching you as you start to fold some of the baby clothes.

“It’s a mess in here,” you say, placing a blue nighty into the dresser drawer. “We need to clean up.”

“We can do that later.” Eddie wraps his arms around you from behind and you let out a whine.

“But what if the baby comes tomorrow? He’s going to think we’re slobs!”

Eddie turns you around to face him, holding you with a hand on each arm.

“Later, sweetheart. Let’s get you in the shower and down for a nap first.”

You let out a sigh but ultimately give in.

“Aren’t you due today?” Will suddenly says between bites of his salad. The two of you had a shared lunch and had been spending it together since the beginning of the school year.

“Technically I was due Tuesday,” you say after a long chug of water, “But he doesn’t seem to be ready to come out yet.”

“Have you been feeling anything yet? Like the labor pains?” He asks.

“I’ve had a few contractions but nothing too major. The doctor said it’s normal for babies not to come on their due dates, but I’m ready for him to be out of me now.”

You rub your huge bump. It didn’t seem possible that you were this pregnant. You hadn’t seen your feet properly in weeks, but you certainly can feel them aching. The back pain was out of this world, and all you wanted to do was sit down. But at this paint sitting didn’t seem to be much relief either.

“I’m sure you are. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like.”

“It feels like I’m carrying a 30 pound boulder in my stomach is what it feels like,” you laugh.

But the laugh is cut short by a sharp pain in your lower stomach. Another contraction was hitting you today and this one took your breath away. You hiss, bending slightly as you try your best to work through it. But this one was lasting a lot longer than the others.

Will jumps up from his seat. “Are you okay?” He asks as he hovers over you, hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, just,” you blow out air from your mouth, “This one just really hurts.”

“Shit, is it time?”

“I…I don’t know.”

You couldn’t say no for sure with how this one was feeling. Was it time?

“Do you want me to call Eddie?” Will says before walking over to the phone.

“No, no it’s starting to stop now,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll keep an eye on the time and if it gets worse then I’ll call him.”

“Maybe you should go home, just in case,” Will says with concern.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

But you were not okay. After the third contraction, you decided to call Principal Higgins and let him know what was going on. He told you he would take over your class and that you should go home for the day.

“Hawkin’s Auto Body, this is Sarah speaking.”

“Hi Sarah, is Eddie available?”

“Oh, hey! Yeah, let me go get him!” The receptionist put you on hold and you felt another contraction hit. They were starting to become close together, around 8 minutes apart.

“Babe?” You hear from the other side of the line.

“Eddie, I think it’s time,” you say through gritted teeth.

“What? Really? Where are you?” His tone is frantic and you hear some crashing noises.

“I’m at work. I’m having contractions.” You whine as the feeling grows stronger in your pelvis.

“Oh my god, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll take your car, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

After you hung up with Eddie, you braced the cold October air and made your way to your car. You turned it on and sat in the passenger seat while you waited.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you can see the car seat installed in the back seat for this exact occasion. Eddie was smart to put it back there in case the baby came earlier. Ever since your hospital trip, he’d been on top of everything when it came to the baby’s arrival. He helped you decorate, took you shopping for any last minute items you needed, and even prepared a hospital bag for you that sat in your trunk.

It didn’t take long for Eddie you whip into the school parking lot. He found your car and made quick effort to find the nearest spot to park. After he killed the engine, he booked it to your car and hopped in the driver seat.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked before buckling his seatbelt.

“At the moment, yeah. But the contractions are getting closer and closer together as time goes by. I’m due for another any minute.”

“Well, lets’s get going then, momma,” he says, shifting into gear and pulling away.

Eddie got you to the hospital in record time. They wheeled you in, mid contraction as they took you immediately to a laboring room. Everything was a blur as they got you in a gown and prepped you to be checked. When the doctor came in, the first thing he did was check to see how dilated you were.

“You’re already at 4 centimeters,” he said as he pulled his hand away. “I’m surprised you hadn’t come in sooner.”

“She was being stubborn,” Eddie said. He was upset that you had gone on having contractions for so long without calling him sooner.

“I was at work. I didn’t know it was going to get this bad--ooooh!” Another contraction.

“Well good news is that once you get to 5 centimeters things tend to go faster, so you shouldn’t be in labor for too much longer. Did you want to get an epidural?”

“God, anything to help with these pains,” you moan as the contraction wracks through your body. It felt like all your muscles from the waist down were tightening all at once. You were starting to sweat from the pain.

“That looks like fun,” Eddie says as he sips from his little cup of water.

You were bouncing on the exercise ball that the hospital provided for you to try and speed up the labor. The epidural kicked in and though your legs felt funny, the pain had subsided greatly. You still felt the contractions but they weren’t nearly as debilitating as they had been all day.

“It feels like a work out, but I think it’s helping.”

“I’m so excited,” Eddie says before walking over to you, both his hands out for you to take. You place your hands in his and do your best to stand, stepping closer to him until your belly touched his. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I am, too. Insanely nervous, but excited.”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain between your legs. The sound of water hitting the floor took you by surprise. You felt like you needed to sit down so you reached back for the bed and sat on the edge.

“Shit, babe, I think your water broke!” Eddie ran to the door and yelled out for a nurse to come to your room.

Shit, was this really happening?

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. The nurses and doctor entered the room and it was clear that it was go time. They got you in position on the bed and you could feel something happening between your legs.

“I see the head!” One of the nurses shouted.

“Push, momma push!”

“Oh my god.”

Eddie was shaking beside you. You could feel the trembling in his hand as he held yours. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as you put all your effort into pushing.

You squeezed his hand tight as you did your best to push, feeling the pressure building as you do.

“Yes, keep going! He’s starting to come out!”

“You got this, sweetheart,” you hear Eddie say shakily.

“One more good push!”

You put all your strength into pushing. It was the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. There was so much pressure building up and then—

The sound of cries.

You opened your eyes and he was there. The nurses held him as the little baby covered in goo and fluids…was crying.

“It’s a healthy baby boy!”

“Hellooo!”

The sound of Wayne’s voice echoed in the room. He took a step in and Eddie waved him inside.

“Come on in, Grandpa,” Eddie says from his seat next to you. Wayne mozies into the room, a vase full of flowers in hand.

“I brought these for the lovely new momma,” he says, setting them down on your bedside table.

“Thank you, Uncle Wayne,” you say, admiring the flowers.

“Is that my little man over there?” He asks, moving closer to the bed.

You take the bundle in your arms and turn him to face Wayne. “Oh my god,” Wayne’s hand comes to his mouth as he cracks the widest smile.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask, lifting your son a bit towards him.

“Can I?” Wayne asks, stretching his arms out. You make the slow exchange and Wayne just absolutely lights up. “Wow, I can’t believe it.”

“I know, it’s crazy isn’t it?” Eddie says, standing up to walk over to them.

“I’m sorry ta break it to ya, sweet girl, but this boy is all his daddy,” Wayne says with a chuckle.

“Wait until you see his hair,” Eddie says, gently pulling the little cap off of his sons head to reveal small poodle like curls underneath.

“Oh boy, we’re really gonna be in for it with you, ain’t we?” Wayne asks your son. “Your daddy’s gonna get all the karma from how he was as a kid.”

“All I know is he’s going to get away with murder when it comes to her.” Eddie says nodding to you.

“Is that so? That in love already, huh?”

You nod your head. It was true. As soon as the nurses laid him against your chest you felt that immediately wave of love come over you for your little one. He might as well have hung the moon and stars because he was perfect in your eyes. You weren’t even mad he looked exactly like Eddie. Quite the opposite. Your head swirled with all the trouble that the two of them were going to get to. And they would get away with it by batting their big brown eyes at you.

“Did ya come up with a name for him yet?”

This question made you look to Eddie. You’d been telling everyone that you weren’t sure what name you were going to come up with, but the truth was that you had a name for the baby all along.

“As a matter of fact, we did,” Eddie says walking over to the bed side bassinet. He pushed it over to Wayne, turning it so that the name card was visible to him.

Wayne stepped closer, leaning in to see the name without his glasses.

“Wayne…Wayne Lee Munson. Well…that,” Wayne’s body shook with a sob, “that’s my name.”

“And we thought it would be the perfect name for the next Munson.”

“Ed…” Wayne started to cry. He held your son close and wept. “Little Wayne Munson. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Well look at that little man there. He looks jus like you, don’t he?” Al Munson’s voice rang through the other side of the phone’s receiver. It wasn’t how you wanted to meet your future father in law, but you knew this visit meant a lot to Eddie so you went along with it.

He told you his dad wasn’t a violent man, but he sure looked like it. Eddie looked so much like him, down to the way they both hunched over a bit when they sit. It was almost scary to think about what Eddie could have become if he hadn’t gotten out of prison when he did.

“I’m glad you guys came out,” Al says, “Was worried I wouldn’t get to see ‘em til he’s ten.”

“We’re glad to be able to make it. I’m sure you’re excited to meet him.”

“And the misses, too. Eddie’s told me a lot about you in his letters.”

“Hopefully all good things,” you say into the receiver that’s between yours and Eddie’s head. Al laughs, and it sounds like a raspier version of Eddie’s.

“Oh, yeah. You’re gonna make a great Munson. Wish I could be there to see it.”

“I wish you could, too, dad.”

“We’ll make sure you get lots of pictures.”

“I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” Al says, leaning into the glass. “Lemme get a better look at’em.”

Eddie moved the phone to his ear as you reposition, standing slightly so you can show off your baby. You watch as his lips move but can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I feel bad for her because you know how I was as a kid…Yep, Wayne said the same thing.”

Al’s hand touches the glass near where you’re son is. It makes you feel for him. A man stuck in a cage, just outside of reach of what he wants.

“Okay, old on,” Eddie says holding the phone out to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, really? Okay.” You swap with Eddie, handing Wayne to him and taking the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, darlin’,” Wayne says. “Just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

You felt your stomach turn. Was he going to grill you on if you were good enough for his son?

“Now, I won’t say anything, and you can give me simple answers if you want. But I want you to answer truthfully.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, is my boy treating you right? He’s not been hittin’ on you or anything?”

The line of questioning took you by total surprise.

“Oh my god, no,” you say shaking your head. “Eddie is the sweetest man I’ve ever met in my life.”

Al smiles the same as Eddie.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, he’s been pullin’ his weight around the house, too, right?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him.

“Good, good. Been helpin’ with the little one?”

“Yes, more than I ever could have asked for.”

Eddie was made for fatherhood. Even at his most tired, he still does whatever he can with Wayne. Changes him, helps bathe him, cleans up so you can feed him. He cooks and cleans. Any little thing you ask he does without a single complaint.

“Wonderful. Eddie’s a tough one, so but I’m glad to see he has a soft side to ‘em. If he ever gets outta line, you just go ahead and give me a call, got it? I got some people on the outside who will set him straight for ya.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to, but I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Alright, darlin’, go ahead and give me back to Ed.”

You hand the phone back over to Eddie and do another swap with Wayne.

“What the hell did you ask her, old man?”

Al laughs on the other side of the glass. You let the two of them talk it out for the rest of the visit. You weren’t sure the next time you three would be able to make it out to see him, so you made sure to say your goodbyes before leaving.

The house is warm and filled with the smell of food cooking from the kitchen. As you do your best to prep, Eddie is sitting snugly on the couch holding baby Wayne in his arms. They’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on the tv; well, Eddie is narrating everything for Wayne. But Wayne seems to love listening to Eddie talk, starting up at him with those big brown eyes that you love so much.

“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched,” Eddie says to Wayne, pointing at you.

“I can’t help it, you guys are just so cute.”

You’re about to check on the food again when you hear a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Eddie shouts from the couch.

The door opens and begins to fill with familiar faces. Dustin and Lucas enter first, bickering about god knows what, followed by Mike, Jane, Max and Will who look fed up at the former two.

“Hey guys!” You say as you approach, offering to take coats as they come in. Eddie stands up from the couch and walks over to Dustin and Lucas.

“Whatever you guys are going on about can end now,” Eddie says as he hands the baby to Lucas, “and you can hold this one while I go take a piss.”

“I’ll take that, thank you,” Max says as she slips between Dustin and Lucas, taking your son in her arms and walking away. “Awe aren’t you just the cutest!”

“Hey, he was handing him to me,” Lucas says with a scoff.

“You’ll have your turn later, Auntie Max needs her baby time now.”

Lucas pauses for a moment before leaning into Dustin.

“She looks pretty cute with a baby, doesn’t she?”

Dustin elbows Lucas, “Make your own then, sheesh.”

“Can I see him?” Jane says as she walks up to Max, who shows him off to her.

“He seriously is so cute.” Max says, lightly bouncing Wayne in her arms.

“Thanks, I think so, too,” you chuckle.

Another knock at the door takes your attention away from the girls for a moment. You shout for them to come in and the door opens to reveal Steve and Robin with two handfuls of gifts.

“Oh my god, let me take those,” you say rushing over to them. “What is all this stuff?”

“It’s for the baby, duh,” Robin says, handing you some of the stuff from her hands.

“All of this is for Wayne?”

“Not all of it,” Steve says, making his way to your tree to set his gifts down. “There’s more in the car.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head.

“Woah, Santa came early,” Eddie says as he rounds the corner. He walks over to Robin to take the rest of the gifts and joins Steve by the tree.

“We said we were going to spoil him,” Robin says with a shrug.

Suddenly something small runs into the house, past you and onto Mike’s leg.

“Woah!”

“Uncwel Mikey!” Elanor squeals.

“Is this where the party is?” Jonathan says as he enters the house, followed by Nancy and baby Amelia.

“It smells so good in here,” Nancy says as she gives you a side hug.

“Thank you! You guys didn’t have to bring anything,” you say, eyeing the tin of cookies that Jonathan was holding.

“It was nothing. I was in a baking mood, so those aren’t the actual cookies that are in there.”

“Well come on in and set them in the kitchen. I need to check on everything anyway.”

Nancy and the baby follow you inside to the kitchen, Jonathan hot on her heels. “I’ll be back for you,” she says when she passes Max holding baby Wayne.

As you enter the kitchen, the timer for the turkey goes off. You grab your oven mitts and pull it out of the oven, prepping the thermometer to check that it’s cooked all the way.

“Wow, you made a whole turkey?” Nancy says impressed.

“I wanted there to be enough for everyone” you say, reading the temperature, “and it was cheaper than a ham. Got it on sale actually!”

“Looks good!” Jonathan says, setting the cookies on the table.

“Holy shit, Steve she made a turkey!” Robin yells from the kitchen doorway.

“I thought she didn’t know how to cook?!” Steve shouts from the living room.

“I’ve picked up a few things being a housewife, Steve!” You shout back at him.

“Hows motherhood treating you?” Nancy asks, moving to stand next to you.

“Honestly,” you start, “it’s been a crazy ride.” You pause for a moment, thinking about all the sleepless nights and endless feedings. But you think about your sweet baby and the man who has been helping you make it all possible and sigh. “But, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“I know what you mean,” she says bouncing Amelia on her hip. “It’ll get harder when you have another, but it really is worth it.”

Another? You hadn’t really thought about having another baby just yet. You were still in the throws of first time motherhood that you barely had time to think about anything else. But, who knows, maybe you’ll have another. One day at a time.

You hear a commotion from the living room and assume the rest of the boys have arrived when you hear their collective voices.

“There’s my man,” you hear Jeff say.

“God, he looks just like you, Eddie,” Grant says, making you smile.

“Yeah, I apologize to her for it every day,” Eddie says with a laugh.

Nancy and Robin help you finish everything up in the kitchen while the rest of the party is entertained by your son in the living room. They all take their turns holding him until he ultimately started crying and needed his momma.

“Alright, dinner is ready, everyone,” you say from the doorway. Walking over to Steve, who was currently holding Wayne, you extend your hands to take the crying baby.

“Shh, it’s alright, mommy is here,” he says, gently bouncing Wayne in his arms.

“Damn, you’re a natural, Steve,” you say as you take Wayne from him.

“You think so,” he says standing up from the couch. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” you say with a sly smile, “How are things going with Tenisha?”

“Great!” He says, clapping his hands together excitedly. “The long distance sucks, but Robin and I are going to drive out to see her for new years.”

“That sounds like it’ll be a good time!” You say and he nods. Wayne lets out another cry and you’re reminded that it’s time to feed him. “Go and get some food, I gotta feed the little one.”

You walk back into the bedroom and let Wayne nurse for a bit, calming him down instantly. A few minutes go by and you hear a knock on the door.

“I’m not decent,” you shout to the door.

“It’s just me,” you hear Eddie say as the door begins to open, him shuffling inside with a plate in his hand. “I brought you something to snack on while you’re in here.” It was more than just a snack. Eddie had made you a whole plate and brought it to you.

“Awe, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did,” he says with a chuckle. “Or else there might not have been anything left for you by the time you were done.”

“So everyone likes the food?” You ask with a bit of hope in your voice. Eddie nods, and you sigh with relief. “Thank god.”

“It’s honestly really good,” Eddie says bringing a roll to your mouth. You take a bite and had to admit he was right.

“Eddie,” you say in a wobbly tone, feeling tears starting to well in your eyes.

“Yes, my love?” He says turning to look at you.

“Thank you so much,” you say with a sniffle.

“The roll was that good?” He asks with a laugh.

You shake your head, “No, no, I mean…Just thank you. For everything. I’ve never felt so complete in my whole life and it’s all thanks to you.”

Eddie goes to open his mouth to say something, but closes it. He suddenly sits up from the bed, walking over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulls out a piece of paper and looks it over before holding it to his chest.

Walking back, he plops back on the bed and clears his throat. “Um, this is something I’ve been working on for a while,” he says fidgeting with the paper. You look at it, then back to him. It was covered in his sloppy hand writing and you were instantly brought back to all the letters you’ve shared between the two of you. The ones that brought you together.

“It was originally going to be my wedding vows to you, but it’s gotten so long that I don’t think anyone is going to want to sit and listen to me while I talk on and on. So I just…I guess I’m ready to share it with you now.”

“Okay,” you say barely above a whisper, extremely intrigued as to what he has to say.

“Alright, here it goes,” Eddie says clearing his throat again.

“To my future wife,

It’s always going to be hard to put into words exactly how you make me feel. I could write poetry, could write you a song, could buy a plane and fly the words across the sky. But none of that will ever be enough. So I’ll do what I do best and write you this letter.

Not a day has gone by since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I was still locked up, the thought of you played on my mind a lot. To me, I felt an instant connection with you. It might not have been love at first, but I knew that you were going to mean something to me. With every passing letter that turned into phone calls, that turned into us meeting for the first time, I only realized that you were put into my life for a reason. And that reason has become clearer with every day that I get to spend waking up next to you and being blessed by a God I don’t believe in with the grace of your smile.

Now that I have you in my life, I don’t think I can ever imagine a life without you in it. I want to spend every possible moment with you that I can, even the bad ones. I can’t wait until the day we’re old and grey and sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch while we watch the sun go down. Because then I’ll know that I have lived a full, one by your side.

Now that we’re going to be parents, which I still can’t believe, I want to make sure that I’m there for you no matter what. We probably won’t get married until after the baby is born, but I hope you know that we don’t have to do things the traditional way. I’ve never been normal, but I think you know that by now. So lets just do things how we want to from here on out.”

“This last part I wrote recently,” he says, pointing at the paper, avoiding looking at you.

“Wow, I really can’t believe we’ve earned the title of mom and dad already. Nothing could have prepared me for first time parenthood, but I’m glad I have you by my side to go through it. You’ve been nothing short of amazing as a mom and I couldn’t be more proud of you. I think Wayne has been the missing puzzle piece that we didn’t even know we needed in our lives. He rounds out our family in such a positive way that I sometimes feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s how too good to be true my life with you feels. I don’t know what the future holds, but no matter what happens, I know that you and I will be able to work it together as a team.

I guess I should wrap this up and give it to you before Wayne goes to college. Just know I love you so much and I always will. Never forget that, my love.”

Eddie turned to look at you, not even surprised to see the mess you’d become. Tears streaked your cheeks and you were holding in a sob that kept trying to escape.

“E-Eddie…” you say, leaning into him, finally letting it out with a little cry. “That was so sweet. I don’t even know what to say.”

Eddie kisses the crown of your head before resting his cheek against it.

“You don’t have to say anything. I already know how you feel. You make sure I know it every day. This is just my own way of saying thank you.”

You held your baby tight in your arms, suddenly overwhelmed at the life you’d been given. The man next to you loved you and you loved him. You were going to get married and spend the rest of your days together. As a family.

thank you all so much for reading!

#eddie munson #on the outside #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things

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bansurii · 1 year ago

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Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent.

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box.

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home.

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift.

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease.

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…”

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you.

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become.

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth.

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion.

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity.

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach.

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position.

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest.

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane.

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies.

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously.

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure.

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

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user00003123 · 2 years ago

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NOW LIVE: BUILDING A BOND feat. t. fushiguro

SUMMARY: when your parents get you a job as a psychologist at the prison, you don't expect to take such an interest in one of the inmates.

CONTENT WARNINGS: inmate! toji! x psychologist! fem! reader, smut, mdni, modern prison au, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, clit play, fingering, finger sucking, nipple sucking, slight choking, toji is kind of degrading, oral (f. & m. receiving), p in v, cow girl, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), panty stealing, nicknames (Doc, slut, dirty girl, nasty girl, good girl) wc: 4,117

"I'm sorry—what?"

"Look sweetie, you said it yourself. You went to school so that you could help people, and what's more helpful than being a psychologist for the prison, hm?" your mother sat next to you on the couch one arm around your shoulders and the other holding your hand.

"Your mother is right sweetie, this has been your dream since you were a little girl," your father speaks up from his desk.

"Working at a prison was not my dream," your arms are folded across your chest. "When I got my degree, I was thinking more of a cute office where I talk to children and teens to help them. Not grown men who did who knows what to get themselves in a prison," you slightly yell getting off the couch and standing in front of your father's desk.

"I get it sweetie, but if I didn't think you were the right one for this position, I wouldn't have volunteered you," your father gets up from his desk and walks over to you. He places his hands on both your shoulders, sighing, "You are the smartest, most compassionate young woman I've ever met. I know it's not the job you wanted, but maybe it's the job you needed."

Maybe he was right, I mean these men weren't emotionally stable and it could benefit them to talk to you.

The next day you were dressed in a black pantsuit with black flats, making sure to not have any flashy jewelry on. When arriving you had to go through extensive security, to make sure you didn't have any contraband, or anything harmful that could be used against you.

"You're the new psychologist aren't you?" A tall man with white hair asks you as you're leaving the security office. He was also dressed in all black, but with a vest that had police stitched on it in white.

"What gave it away?" you ask with a raised eyebrow. He tilts his head eyeing your outfit.

"You're cheerful being here," he laughs, hands now on the vest with the many pockets, and you notice the gun on his hip.

"I'm just trying to be hopeful that I can help these men in some way," you say running your hands down your shirt.

"I admire that, hope is not something that people have in here. Maybe you'll change that," you give him a small smile. "I'm Gojo, by the way. I'll be your security guard for the day."

"Just the day?" you follow him down a long hallway.

"Like me already?" you roll your eyes with a light laugh. "I'm messing with ya' sweetheart. Each day every guard has a different place we'll be in the prison. Mine is sadly guarding solitary the next couple days."

You hum in response and continue to follow him until you're in the medical bay. You meet the nurses, desk attendants, and other guards before Gojo takes you to your office. You give him a thanks as you put you're bag down looking around the room.

Empty white walls, a two-person cream-colored sofa, and a white desk with a matching chair. Very bland, but anything else added and it could've been used against you. Sitting at the desk you start to take a look at the files of the patients who would be visiting you. Some have a tragic back story, other don't, and you started to feel a bit overwhelmed. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself down just as a knock was heard on the door.

"Come in!" Gojo comes in with a long black-haired inmate who has an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"Cuffs on or off?" Gojo questions. You think on it for a second then tell him off. Letting the inmates not have their cuffs on shows you have some type of trust in them and helps build the bond for them to trust you.

"Behave yourself, Geto," Gojo starts to walk out of the office before turning to you again. "Remember, just yell or push the panic button and I'll come right in."

"Thanks," you smile at him before motioning for Geto to have a seat on your couch. He does and the two of you talk, he opens up quite a bit about how he feels about him being in here and why he's even in here in the first place. It's a great start to your day and every patient after Geto is pretty up or down. Either they wanna talk or they give you a hard time, but it's only the first day.

Your last patient comes in while you're fixing all the files on your desk, clearing his throat to let you know of his presence. You're eyes trailed up his body, black uniform pants, black wife-beater, his big beefy arms decorated in black ink, and a cocky little smirk plastered on his face. You look down at your schedule to see his name and you give him a smile then tell Gojo it's okay to take off his cuffs.

"You sure sweetheart, I'm a dangerous man," his eyes are staring right into yours, his smirk never leaving his face. Gojo leaves when you give him a nod and you gesture to the sofa for the new patient to sit down.

"Is that how you see yourself, Toji? Dangerous?" He leans his body back relaxing into the seat with a sigh.

"Of course, I do, Doc. I've hurt people, had blood on my hands. I know I'm dangerous," his eyes are watching you as you write down in your notes, before looking at him again.

"Are you proud of that?" you question tilting your head.

He puts a finger on his chin like he was thinking before letting out a laugh, "I am actually." Standing up from the sofa, he walks over to where you're sitting, leaning over you and the desk, "I did what I had to do to protect the ones I love. I had my reasons."

Before you could even respond, he was walking out the door, "Thanks for the session, Doc."

Re-reading Toji's file, you notice that it says he has a son and a daughter and was married before the incident. Your heart sinks thinking about how his kids must feel not having their father, even more so how Toji must feel not being able to be with his kids. He's right, he has his reasons for doing what he did, even as violent as it was, it was for the people he cared about.

The next few days Toji didn't show back up to the office, and honestly, you were worried about him. That Thursday when Gojo was your security guard again you ask him about Toji.

"He seems angrier than normal, and he hasn't said a word since he left your office on Monday," you were looking around the yard, spectating how the inmates engaged with one another or just with themselves. You saw Toji lifting weights in the corner of the yard, he was by himself, no one daring to come up and intrude. "Don't dwell too much, he'll come talk to you when the time is right. Just like the rest of these men."

The next day you go through your appointments, some of your patients opening up more than when you first meet them, making sure you tell each of them that you're proud of the progress they're making. You started to pack up for the weekend when it was time for Toji's appointment, knowing he wasn't coming, until a knock at your door startles you.

"Come in!" Toji walks through the door, head high, and another smirk on his face as Gojo walks in behind him, hands holding Toji's cuffed ones behind his back.

"He asked me to bring him." You smile lightly then gesture for Gojo to take off the cuffs before he leaves your office. Toji sits down on the sofa while you lean on your desk, giving him your full attention. Your eyes wandered on his body, seeing a few red marks and some sweat.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," you laugh slightly embarrassed, eyes staring right into his.

"I heard you don't work weekends, so I wanted to come talk to you before you left."

"Of course. What is it you would like to talk about?" you ask hand clasped in your lap.

"I want to apologize for my actions on Monday. I am not the talking type and never really have been, probably why my marriages haven't worked out." He whispered the last part, and you jotted that down in your head. "You were just doing your job and I don't need to make it any harder."

"I appreciate you apologizing Toji but know you didn't have to. I don't understand what's it like to be here, but I know that this environment isn't the best one to make you feel like you want to open up about your feelings," you smile and it warms his heart. "You don't have to come every day if it feels like too much for you. We can start at whatever pace it is you want if you even want to come to talk to me."

"Thanks, Doc, and I'm fine with meeting every day. I'm hoping that talking to you will help me get on parol so I can see my kids." He's being sincere and you admire that.

"As long as you make me believe that you've learned your lesson about being in here, I will get you parol, Toji," you give him a genuine smile and he returns it.

"I want to be a better man, for my kids," and for the next couple weeks, he saw you every day. During the first two weeks, he was still having a hard time being completely honest about his feelings, telling you small details about how he ended up here, or about his childhood. You didn't push him though, you didn't push any of your patients. Building trust with them is about letting them learn to trust you at their own pace, letting them open up at their speed, and as long as you give them the time to open up, your job will be easier.

Around the second month of Toji coming in every day, he felt himself become so intrigued with you. Whenever you weren't around, you were all he could think about, your eyes that drew him in whenever he looked at them too long, your legs that he couldn't stop thinking about wrapping around his waist as he pounded into you, and your pretty full lips that he imagines is his hand when fisting his cock late at night in his cell.

It would be a lie if you said you didn't think about him that way either. How could you not? Always having his big beefy biceps on display when he wore a wife beater. His uniform pants hung low on his hips and as soon as he sat down they were tight and you could see the print of dick against his thigh.

You always sat behind your desk when you met with your patients, so it was no different when it came to Toji, which made it easier to hide the fact that you were clenching your thighs together to release the tension you felt between your legs. Then one day as you were about to sit down at your desk Toji asks if you would sit next to him instead.

"I don't think it's appropriate to be so close to one of my patients," you smile and you could see a small pout on his face.

"Don't you want your patients to feel comfortable and feel you are building a bond with them?" He tilts his head and you laugh, knowing what he's doing. You grab your notebook and pen and sit at the other end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. He smiles at you and places both his hands in his lap, hinting he won't try anything.

"We haven't gotten into your past relationships. Would you like to talk about your ex-wives or anyone you've been involved with?"

"Like people I've fucked?" he smirks and you shake your head looking down at your notepad.

"If that has anything to do with the person you are today or why you ended up here then sure."

"Sure it does, I mean how else would I have gotten two kids in this world without fucking some pretty girls," you rolled your eyes. "You have any kids, Doc?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?" he questions.

"Toji, we're here to talk about you—”

"We're building a bond," your body leans back on the sofa letting out a sigh.

"I'm just not the motherly type," you tap your pen lightly against the notepad.

"So you just have casual sex then, nothing serious?" you can see the small smirk on his face.

"What does my sex life have to do with you?" you put your pen down and look at him.

"I'm just curious, Doc, wanna get to know you," he's grinning, trying to get in your head.

You raise your eyebrow, "Asking me about sex is getting to know me?" All he does is nod his head and you roll your eyes mumbling a 'fine.'

You turn your body towards him still leaning against the couch with your legs crossed, "Yes, I just have casual sex."

"Is it.....good?"

You laughed a little at the question, "I mean sometimes it is, other times not so much."

"What's the kind of sex you like?" his lip was between his teeth, he's just curious.

You tapped your chin with your finger in thought, "I don't know, I like it all." You looked at Toji, eyes scanning over his muscular arms, then down to his pants where you could see him getting hard. "Most of the time, sex just depends on the mood that's set."

"So what's the mood that's set right now?" your eyes widened at how forward the question was, clearing your throat as you looked away from him.

"Toji—"

"You know you want to, Doc," he slides his hand from off his lap and onto your leg. He was running his fingers back and forth on your smooth skin, your body felt hot and a shock of electricity ran up your back. You knew this was wrong, so so wrong, but it just felt so right.

He leaned his bigger body closer to yours, lips ghosting right over the shell of your ear as his hand pushed off your notepad and pen, making its way under your tight pencil skirt and rubbing his fingers over your panties, "Such a dirty girl getting all wet for an inmate."

You did feel dirty, about to fuck your patient in your office of a prison, it was disgusting, but your pussy has never been wetter at the thought. You turned his head towards you bringing him into a heated kiss. His tongue was exploring your mouth as his fingers were sliding your panties over to rub circles on your clit. Moaning in his mouth, he smirked against your lips, "Lemme eat your pussy, Doc."

He stood up from the couch, fingers still massaging your clit as his lips are still entangled with yours. A string of saliva connects your lips as he bends down in front of you, both hands grabbing your thighs and spreading them apart. He can see a wet spot on your panties, and swipes his tongue across the spot, briefly tasting your bitter juice and letting out a moan, "Didn't think I'd miss eating pussy, but God I did."

He pulls your panties down and off your legs making sure to slide them in his pockets, then uses two fingers to spread your folds apart, exposing your glossy pussy to the cold air in your office, "You have such a pretty pussy, Doc."

Letting out a needy whine when you feel his breath against your cunt, it causes your aching hole to clench around nothing, Toji's eyes widened at the sight, "Toji... please just eat my pussy!"

He smirks at your whining, leaning his head down to kiss your clit, "Your such a nasty girl..." His tongue slid down your folds, breathing in your scent, "acting like a slut for an inmate." Your head is leaned back against the couch, moaning at the contact from his warm tongue. His tongue is circling your clit before he's closing his lips around it, sucking the nub into his mouth.

"Mmm—Toji!" your moans are music to his ears as your thighs are squeezing around his head. He's so messy, practically making out with your pussy, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs, "Mouth feels....so good." Your fingers are tangled in his black hair, as your rutting against his face, and he's moaning at your taste.

He slides one hand up your body, tapping his fingers on your lips, and you open your mouth allowing two of his thick digits to sit on your tongue as you suck on them, "You gotta be quiet dirty girl, don't want us to get caught, huh?" You nod your head, legs lightly shaking around his head, as he continues to lap at your messy cunt.

Your clit feels tingly as you feel a hot feeling of pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach, your toes are curling, and Toji's name is rolling off your tongue like a song. He laughs lowly, the vibration sending a shock up your spine, "Aw, Doc, you gonna cum already?"

His eyes are looking right into yours as you nod your head frantically, still sucking on his fingers. Your roll your hips into his face, chasing your orgasm, fingers gripping onto his hair, and right as he starts flicking his tongue against your clit once more, your legs are shutting around his head as your back arches off the couch, "Fuck, fuck—Toji I'm cumming!" He continues to slurp at your cunt, getting you through your orgasm, hand rubbing your thigh soothingly.

"God, your pussy tastes so good," he smiles wide as he's licking his lips, and removes his fingers from your mouth. You steady your breathing as you open your eyes seeing his dopey grin.

"You know for you to have been in here for 5 years, you're good at eating pussy," you laugh sitting up on the couch, then bring him into a slow sloppy kiss, letting your hand trail down and rub against the bulge that was in his pants.

"I don't have time for teasing, sweetheart, I'm already on edge from eating your pussy," he groans against your lips.

"Then stand up," he was quick to stand to his feet, your eyes looking right up at him as your sat on the couch. You kiss against this clothed bulge, fanning your breath over it and his head is leaning back.

"Fuck, Doc, just take it out," your hands are pulling down his pants just past his balls, eyes widening at the size of his cock.

"So big," you moan licking the underside of his cock and your eyes are watching his expressions. His lip between his teeth, eyes screwed shut, and his big hand holding the back of your neck. Parting your lips letting just his tip past your lips, tasting the salty pre-cum that was leaking. You swirl your tongue around his tip, then widen your mouth to take more of his length while a hand fondles his balls.

Bobbing your head taking most of his fat cock, he's groaning and bucking his hips into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag, "Yeah, gag on my cock, Doc." He's watching you with dark, hungry eyes, as breathy, deep moans slip past his lips, he's struggling to keep himself quiet, "Such a good girl, with a filthy mouth."

You moan at his dirty talk, fingers massaging his warm squishy balls, as you relax your mouth deep throating him as best you could. He squeezed the back of your neck pulling you off his cock then leaned down to kiss you, shoving his tongue in your mouth, "Feel like a fucking virgin 'bout to cum in 2 seconds."

Spitting on his fingers, he rubs your clit, then stuffs two of his fingers in your wet hole, you instantly spread your legs, and moan against his lips, "Tell me how you want me to fuck you, Doc."

"I don't know—mmm—just put it inside me," he's kissing you again before a hand wraps around your neck and he's whispering in your ear.

"Ride this dick," he pulls his fingers out of your soaking cunt, you rise to your feet quickly, switching places with him so he's now sat on the couch. He grabs each of your thighs placing them on the sides of his so you're straddling him, hands on your hips as yours are around his neck.

He guides you down on his length, both of you moaning feeling the stretch, "Fuck, pussy's so tight." Once you're fully sat on Toji's thighs, he doesn't rush you, letting you get used to him, kissing on your neck, then sliding up your sweater to expose your boobs, sucking on one of your nipples.

Your rise your hips until it's just his tip that's in you before sliding back down, taking him fully again. You keep the slow pace of riding him, as his hands are rubbing softly on your hips, lips still sucking on your hard nipple as you moan his name. "Toji feels soo good," you whine head leaning in the crook of his neck.

"How about you speed up for me?" you do as your told, lifting your hips again and then slamming them back down on his thighs. Your ass continues to slap against his thighs, the sound of how of wet you are filling the room. Toji moans in your ear about how wet your pussy is, you can't do anything besides moan his name, so intoxicated with the feeling of him filling you up.

Your legs were starting to give out, Toji could feel you slowing down, so he moved his hands under your ass slamming you down on his cock as he started to thrust up meeting you halfway. Kneading the flesh of your ass before smacking it, you let out a yelp clenching around his shaft and Toji's head fell back against the couch, "Fuck, Doc, pussy so good, you're gonna make me cum already."

He moves one hand to play with your puffy clit, and you moan loud in his ear, making him turn his head and capture your lips in a kiss, shushing you. You grind your hips into his fingers and within a minute your creaming all over his cock, squeezing him with your gummy walls, and he's coming right after you. Lifting you off of him and cumming on your stomach, with a loud moan of your name.

Your forehead is leaning against his as you both calm your breathing down before you're lifting off of him and heading to your desk to grab tissues to wipe off his cum. "For an inmate, your stamina ain't too bad," you laugh fixing your clothes.

"Well if we make this a regular thing, it could get better," he's pulling his pants back up, his eyes glued to you. Before you could respond there was a knock on the door, you both look at each other before he sat back down on the couch and you sitting at your desk.

"Come in!" you yell and Gojo walks in with a concerned look on his face.

"Everything okay? You guys took longer than normal?" Gojo questions arms crossed against this chest.

"Yeah, I was just crying about my past," Toji pouts and Gojo scoffs.

"Yeah right," Gojo leans against the door frame.

"I was explaining to him about my past, and it got a little emotional," you explain. "Building a bond with my patients requires trust on both ends."

"Hm, makes sense," he walks over closer to Toji. "But I'm going to have to break up this bonding moment, all inmates need to be in their cells."

You nod in understanding, and Toji stands up, hands behind his back, so Gojo can put on the cuffs. "Same time tomorrow, Doc?" Toji looks towards his pocket where your pink panties are sticking out with a smirk.

Your eyes widen as you force a smile, "Same time tomorrow."

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maladaptiveobsession · 16 days ago

Note

........ I Forgot to ask .. but do you have any headcanons for the guards? Literally anything at all👀

“Overstimulation”

Synopsis: Various scenarios of the reader being overstimulated.

Words: 921

A/N: I sincerely apologize for such a late response. I hadn’t expected the guards to be so difficult to characterize.

These were written specifically with the guards in mind, but I left out names so any character could be inserted according to personal tastes and preferences.

Veteran Guard

➥ Eden or Scarred Inmate would be equally appropriate, if you prefer.

➥ Contains: gn!reader, amab!reader, gn!character, amab!character, frotting, noncon, overstimulation, rough treatment

Sitting in their lap, an ache blooms through your inner thighs as you struggle to accommodate their massive figure. Stripped of your clothes, the evening chill nips at your skin, yet the shame of being so exposed burns undiminished.

Dark eyes leer down at your shivering form with intense focus. Their hands, rough with calluses and scars, cruelly pinch and pull at your nipples. A hand meanders down, wrapping around your waist to pull you closer before deftly tugging on their zipper. You can’t help but yelp as their cock—an imposing and unwieldy thing—springs free and slaps against your own. The rumble of their voice as they chuckle darkly conjures butterflies in your stomach.

As their hand envelops you, the pad of their thumb circles over your tip experimentally. Sounds threaten to spill from your lips as they coat their palm in you. Once satisfied, they gather both of you together, easily accommodating your combined girth. Before you can process anything, they begin pumping, fast and rough as they’ve grown accustomed to.

Hurts? You’ll learn to like it. Overstimulated? You can give them more. Whatever the case, you’ll manage.

The pace leaves you breathless, gripping onto their shirt with crossed eyes. Their other hand settles on your waist, the bruising grip keeping you settled firmly in their lap.

After years of death grip treatment, it now takes uncomfortably long for them to climax. You can sob and whine all you want, but you’ll be shooting blanks by the time they’re done with you. You're finished when they’re finished and not a second sooner.

Anxious Guard

➥ Winter, Corrupt!Sydney, Leighton, Briar, Niki, and Harper would be all be fitting replacements.

➥ Contains: gn!reader, gn!character, bondage, dacryphilia, noncon, orgasm control, severe overstimulation, vibrator usage

Secured firmly to a chair, you hardly register the ropes biting into your flesh amidst the haze of pleasure. Any rational thoughts have long since melted away due to the vibrator pressed between your thighs. Your tongue feels like a foreign object in your mouth, babbling incoherently with prayers, pleas, and apologies, all of which are met with silence.

With every climax, dark spots dance across your vision, accompanied by pain as well as pleasure. Clarity evades you, unable to recall the crime befitting this torment.

Body shaking with arousal, another orgasm crashes over you as they read disinterestedly across the room. Only occasionally do they glance up, that sharp gaze piercing through you being the only indication of arousal. Such has been your night: a cruel ritual of edging, denying, and overstimulating.

Mindlessly, they adjust the vibrator's settings to a higher level while flipping through a page in their book. The effect is immediate, a sob tugging on your vocal cords as you feel another wave build up. You don’t want to cum anymore.

Setting aside their book, they wordlessly stride over, but you’re too far gone to notice their approach. Without warning, a ball gag is stuffed unceremoniously into your mouth. Panic rises in your chest as they make for the door, assuring you they’ll be back to collect you in the morning. Tears cloud your vision, but your sobs are muffled by the gag.

Pausing at the door, they take a moment to relish the sight of their work—a lovely display of writhing and waterworks—before switching the remote to the highest setting and exiting.

A long night awaits you. Your only hope is that the battery might eventually run out.

Relaxed and Methodical Guard

➥ I could also see Wren taking such a bet with one of their friends. Given you’re all dating, Bailey and Eden from their school days or Whitney and Corrupt Sydney would be equally appropriate.

➥ Contains: gn!reader, gn!characters, amab!characters, dacryphilia, double penetration, noncon, oral, overstimulation, rough treatment, threesome, throat bulge

Jostled horizontally between two bodies, the violent, erratic pace overwhelms you, hands scrambling against a pair of thighs for purchase. Four accompanying hands keep you snugly nestled between their bodies, gripping you with enough force to bruise.

You choke and sputter for air against the cock cruelly breaching your throat. A hand wraps around your throat, feeling the bulging outline of their tip. The other wields their girth with ruthless efficiency, cruelly battering your guts.

What began as an offhand comment quickly snowballed into a high-stakes bet; whichever of the two could last longest was owed head by the loser. Neither cared to lose, so you quickly found yourself severely overwhelmed. From the sounds of their voices, you could easily guess that they were both quite overstimulated as well, having already reached a number of climaxes, if the amount of release that poured out of you and onto the floor was anything to go by.

Feeling lightheaded, tears blend in seamlessly with the sweat, drool, and cum drenching your exhausted form. You worry you may break under their cruelty.

The cock pounding your throat begins to shudder, its pace increasingly becoming more erratic. Fingernails bite into your flesh as you’re pulled flush against their pelvis, releasing down your throat, whimpering and gasping. As they ride out their high, the other approaches theirs. Despite your body’s protests, you find yourself reaching that precipice yet again as well. With shaking thighs, you wrap your legs around their waist. The sudden constriction of your walls pushes them over the precipice, another load of warmth filling you.

A wave of relief washes over you as the girth in your mouth finally slips free, a thick string of semen and drool connected to your lips. Four hands reposition you upright, and as you relax against the chest of the one still penetrating you, you feel the other person position their head at your entrance alongside them. Realizing neither had any intentions of surrendering any time soon, a sob breaks free, struggling helplessly as your hole is filled beyond capacity. Babbled pleas are silenced by hungry lips, neither seeming to care much for your discomfort or distress, happily treating you as little more than a rag doll for their sick gamble.

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sinful-lanterns · 11 months ago

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Reader: *sneezes*

Every PTN woman wearing a coat within a ten mile radius: *charges at the speed of light to cover you with their coat*

#⛓️ inmate confessions #ptn x reader #ptn women x reader #inspired by the most recent #angon623 art on twitter

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unknownmads · 2 years ago

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PRISON TOJII (he’s so addictive🤭) if he’s so bad then why does he look so good? like that’s literally my baby daddy y’all✊🏼😍 i wrote this kinda quick sorry i’ve been so busy y’all

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

the words rang through your ears having this be the first time you heard his voice, it was deep and rough his ton was teasing you quietly.

Prison Toji who’s eyes track as you reach into your bag grabbing a small notebook and pen. Opening the notebook revealed a page already full of questions you were waiting to ask him. oh how cute you are thinking about him so much just so excited. he’s pulled out of his trance when you finally speak.

“hi toji, it’s great to finally meet you too” your voice soft at first from your original anxiety about the situation. i mean your just here to meet him for your class nothing more. right? you wouldn’t be here because you love reading his letters telling you how pretty you are. how he wished he could take you out properly. Shamelessly telling you how hard he got to your pictures, but he was just flirting he’s a man in a prison it’s what happens.

Prison toji who finally speaks next the seconds feeling like eternity for him. He doesn’t want to have to sit across a table from you he wants you in his lap sitting pretty just how you are now.

“That’s a lot of writing in your lil notebook doll, you been thinkin of me?” this time his tone laced with teasing and smirk displayed on his lips. it draws attention to his scar, you had never asked about it not wanting to push things you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but ask anyways.

“where’d you get that scar?” pointing to your own lip as you looked up at him. a small chuckle escapes him surprised at your bluntness.

“well you’re quick to the questions today. you wanna get a closer look at it?” the gawking look one your face giving you away. with a quick nod you were leaning across the table to get a closer look as he did the same to help you.

Prison Toji who stops you with an almost surprised grunt when your hand reaches up to touch his lip where the scar is

“shit sorry” quietly escapes you as you looked away for a second toji takes this as an opportunity

“you’re okay sweetheart just gonna get us in some trouble if you do that.” his lips next to your ear as his breath brushing against your ear “can’t control myself around such a pretty thing like you.”

Prison Toji whose pants grow so much tighter when he sees how flustered you get from such a simple comment. You turn back to face him, his eyes instantly meeting yours challenging you telling you to do it, see how far it goes, see how bad he possibly is, and just like a moth to a flame you do just that. your hand grazing where his scar is going to cup his face, it was all so fast you could barely process it. he forced himself forward slamming his lips to yours. shock took you first then you eased into the kiss and began kissing back. and then you remembered HES A PRISONER AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR SCHOOL.

Prison toji whose ready to snap his cuffs when you pull away. leaning into you as much as he could almost whining when your lips part from his. he sees you shocked and guilt ridden with your finger touching your lips

“whats wrong doll didn’t like it? give me another chance to try again” his body fully leaning to you practically half way over the table.

“im sorry we shouldn’t hav- it wasn’t bad- just we can’t Toji.” your thoughts swirling the world is spinning. Could you get kick out of school? what if someone saw? are there cameras in here? why do i still want to? it’s wrong.

“It’s fine sweetheart no one will know, just you and me i know you want more from the look on your face and the way your sqeezin your thighs. don’t even try to deny it.”

Caught. like a fly in a trap, he’s got you.

Prison toji whose cock jumps when you slide out of your seat and approach him looking to make sure the guards weren’t watching. unknowing to the fact that toji already blackmailed both of them to let him have all the privacy he needed with you. the look in your eyes as you approached was pure lust and need for him.

“your sure we’ll be fine right?” you say as you lean down towards him

“im positive doll i made sure of it.”

Prison Toji who finally snaps his cuffs unable to take anymore. grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap his face clashing with your the kiss is sloppy and full of need. a small sound escaping as he deepens the kiss.

“i’ve been dreaming of this.”

TAGS: @altgojo @nanmiik @kouyoumarryme @imaslothandsowhat @dragonmaiden79 @sircatchungus

SOME OF YALL DIDNT SHOW UP WHEN I SEARCHED IM SO SORRY😭

#feral #jjk toji #i love terrible men #i need him #inmate toji #jjk #jujutsu toji #prison toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #dilf toji #oldermen #older toji

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littleplantfreak · 9 months ago

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Inmate Togame? Inmate Togame

So inmate Togame Jo who's well mannered to a point. He doesn't do much harm, and is always polite to you as a nurse to the prisoners. Sure he has a bad habit of calling you pet names, but that's the least offensive thing you've been called while working.

When he does get into fights, he waits patiently as you tend to the other people first, saying he's good with being the last one out. He likes to watch you work, thinking even if it's one sided that it's time well spent with you, and it's hard to mind those pretty green eyes being on you the whole time.

And when he has to take his shirt off to let you look at some bruised ribs, he can tell you're staring at more than just the bruises. He won't say anything, but when he leaves later he brushes his knuckles across your lower back to watch your reaction, pleased to see you arching from it.

Things go back and forth a weird push and pull of you both trying not to get too close but also soaking up the other's presence until he gets in a nasty fight. One that somehow lands him in solitary, though they've thrown him in there without bringing him to get checked up first, leaving you demanding the guards let you in. Against their concerns, you insist he'll be nothing but civil with you.

He's bloody and still heaving from the fight as he sits on the floor slumped over, but most of the blood actually isn't his, which is a relief you guess. When he kisses you as you get a closer look at his face, suddenly all bets are off and you're both starved for one another. Needless to say once the guards knock to check in, you request more time with the patient due to extent of injuries.

#mari writes #though its less writing and more //shrugs #i wrote a whole thing abt it for aria but I took parts of it for this #different from my usual ume content. i present: togame #i think ive been worried about in-characterness lately which #wouldn't happen if i just took the time to reread the manga and analyze everything again. dont have to worry when its an au tho......probab #ACTUALLY i had three different ideas for inmate togs and all of them were raunchy and slightly different only due to reader's jobs but like #the reporter one was goooood i was gonna make him smaaarmy #one of my followers gonna be like 'actually i work in a prison' and theyre gonna read me for filth #also he's in jail cause he took the fall for something Choji did prolly #togame jo x reader

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baphmochii · 1 year ago

Text

Inmate Sal x f!reader ~ PenPal (HC's)

18+/CW: SFW with a dash of NSFW. PenPal turned Romantic. Reader is female and of age (adult).

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

This is something I thought of and I'm hoping it doesn't turn out awful. I know that no one's perfect when it comes to writing anything but.. *exhale* here we go.

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

✯ (How it Started): You're close friend had told you about inmate penpal's, they would read you their letters of what their penpal would write and it sparked an interest if you wanting to have a penpal.

✯ After getting set up and registering for a penpal, to your luck you manage to get Sal. It started off as (surprisingly) friendly back and forth conversation. It felt as if you were talking with an old friend you haven't seen in years, you would write Sal about your day, what you plans you had, college and other normie things. Sal would write to you about his day and what goes on in prison. (ex: riots, stabbings, etc.) The usual of what happens in a prison.

✯ You would eventually send Sal a photo of yourself after some time of talking and getting to know each other via letters, you slipped your photo in with the most recent letter you sent off to him. Once he got that letter and opened it, seeing your gorgeous face.. something changed in him.

✯ Sal was infatuated with you. Truth behold.. Sal was starting to gain feelings for you, strong romantic and sexual feelings. To admit, there were a few times Sal beat his cock silly to the photo of you, he felt shame afterwards, perverted too. He would imagine that it was you on your hands and knees, sucking his thick cock, taking it as deep as it would go down your tiny throat. The things he wanted to do to you... and you didn't even know it. Yet.

✯ Sal would manage to send a photo of himself to you (making a trade with another inmate), he would also slip his photo into his recent letter he sent off to you. Once you got it, you got to see him. Yes, you've seen mugshots of him before but that was along time ago and this was recent. He was.. handsome, he looked quite mysterious. His prosthetic made you feel.. tingly. You wanted to see more of him, especially his face. That would be asking for too much.

✯ The both you would still have conversations but there would also be.. "interesting" conversation. You would engage first with the explicit talk: "I have to be honest Sal.. I played with myself to your photo. I really want you inside of me, I really.. just want you to break me til' I'm unable to walk or form a sentence." You wrote in one letter. In return, Sal would praise you, call you his "good girl", his. Only his.

. . "You make me go feral inside of my cell. You're all I can think about, day and night, princess. I really want to feel your skin, you look so soft." . .

. . "In the showers when I'm alone. All I can think about is wanting to shower with you, our bare skin pressed together as we get each other clean." . .

. . "How are you doing today, princess? Did you remember to eat today? How were your finals today, too? I hope you did your best on it, you're my smart girl." . .

✯ I forgot to mention: Aside from the usual conversation and sexual talk/teasing of each other. Sal would regularly make sure you were eating, making your bed, brushing your teeth, just overall genuinely caring about you. Sal doesn't see you as his "little fuck toy" he sees you as his princess. His precious girl to care for you, he desperately wishes he wasn't behind bars so he can be with you. Sal has never felt this way in a long time with anyone, he's been through so much. Sal is quite surprised you feel the same way towards him.

✯ Being in love with an inmate and yes, a murderer despite him not having a choice. You loved the man, you shared personal things with him, shared many things with him actually. If only there was a way to get him out, to get him his freedom he deserved so badly.

✯ In your recent letters, you and Sal scheduled a meetup at Nockfell Prison. You two would finally see each other face-to-face for the first time. It made the both your hearts beat and flutter like there was no tomorrow, he had so much to tell you and you, the same. You'd finally be able to see his beautiful face (even if it's his prosthetic). It was a face you'd grow to love.

... Bonus!!🎉 (18+) 🥵

✯ Remember how you and Sal would send each other photos yourselves? Well, yes, the both of you would send naughty pictures to each other too.

✯ Sal loved when you would send photos of your naked body. He yearned to touch your curves, feel your breasts and squeeze them in his large hands. He wanted to feel every inch of you.

✯ I do think at one point Sal had manage to photograph his cock (a dick pic lol) and when you saw the image - THIS MAN IS HUNG. You always wondered how big or what it looked like but, the guy is big (8inches).

✯ Ah sending each other naughty pics was what got both of you through your days. Sal made a private folder (somehow) of all the naked/lewd pics of you, his girl. His little shrine~

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

Phew! I hope I did good at writing this, this was all off the top of my head but I really wanted to write a penpal turned romantic type of thing, I guess? If you all want more or wanna ask questions (it can be SFW/NSFW questions)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Inbox is Open - 24/7 - SFW/NSFW Asks/Questions are Allowed ❤️

- Aki✯

#sally face #sal fisher #sally face killer #inmate sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x you #sally face x y/n #sally face x you #sally face smut #sal fisher x reader smut #sally face x reader smut #prison sal x reader #sally face fandom #sally face simp #sal fisher simp

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 1 year ago

Note

Yandere Anasui Narciso X Therapist Female reader

Yep, will do. This is before Joylene went to prison and the events of Part 6 haven't happened yet. Pucci may be mentioned. I have never been to prison and am only using what I've seen of Green Dolphin as reference. Take anything that happens with a grain of salt.

Psychosis (Yandere Anasui Narisco x Fem! Therapist reader)

Tw: Sexism, mental illness, mentions of SA, murder, Anansui, obsessive behavior and other gross and suggestive themes. DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNDER 17 (even still you're on thin ice if you complain).

The clicking of heels rings through the prison's male section as a woman walks beside two heavily armed security guards. The Green Dolphin male ward was no place for a woman to be by herself. The inmates either made disgusting comments about her and what they want to do to her, or they cursed her out and threatened to kill her when the guards leave.

The woman in question is (Y/N) (L/N) a recent graduate of Florida State University with a master's in psychology. While rather young, (Y/N) was a very bright person recommended to the Green Dolphin Street Prison by her professor. (Y/N) was very interested in the criminal mind and its workings, so this job while not glamorous piqued her interest. Sighing to herself, (Y/N) pulled down her skirt to cover as much of her upper legs as possible. Pigs. She knew none of them would have the courage to act this way when they were in a session with an armed guard.

"Listen newbie these prisoners contain some of the vilest criminals in Florida. You'll need to toughen up because your fancy degree won't be able to protect you." The male officer on your right sneered at (Y/N). (Y/N) huffed before turning to him. "I was under the impression that at least one armed guard would be nearby during a session." The guard on her left snickered mockingly, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. "You're a big girl, you should be able to protect yourself. Besides you ain't even that cute for no one to fu-" (Y/N) slapped the officer's hand away harshly, glaring in disgust. "You have no right to speak to me or any colleague that way." The left male officer's eyes narrowed into his puffy cheeks making him look like an angry bulldog. "You think you can speak to me bitch cause your hot shit?! I oughta beat you like your daddy should have."

The officer on the right looks away as the officer on the left closes in. To (Y/N) it became very apparent that the male officers saw no use of the female employees here and were threatened by her intelligence. She knew that they were masking their precious egos and wouldn't do anything. (Y/N) made no move to back away and looked the chubbier officer in the eyes. "You know projecting your own trauma onto others won't resolve the internal pain." The left guard's cheeks turn even redder as he pulls out his Billy Club. "Why you-!"

Before she was hit, (Y/N) calmly yet defiantly stares into the cop's eyes, he falters and snarls at the woman. "Fucking witch, what did you do to me?!" "Given you something to work on, now would you both kindly escort me to my patients or will I have to report to the warden for gross incompetence." Both prison guards grumbled something about (Y/N) being a "pretentious bitch" but (Y/N) could care less she had clients to meet.

It was turning night and (Y/N) had finished some paperwork on her latest client some blind man named Johngalli A. He refused to open up to her at all and kept staring at the wall. (Y/N) chuckles to herself about the irony of your statement before sighing...why couldn't she just be assigned to the women's ward? Well, time to go home and shower the day away.

Those bastard cops left her defenseless in the men's ward no less! (Y/N)'s heels being the only noise in the uncomfortably quiet hallway. (Y/N) darts her eyes left to right as she turns the corner. Once she gets out of the male ward she can walk to a gate! (Y/N) visibly relaxes at the sight of two guards at the front of the gate. She tenses back up as they block the gate with their faces obscured. "Is there a problem gentlemen?" (Y/N) asks the guards who stood like sentries before the gates of Hell.

"Oh, look at that it's princess, can't believe you survived your first day" cruel brown eyes stared directly into her soul. More cops with a vendetta against (Y/N), when will it end? (Y/N) huffs and tries to barge through the flesh barricade, only to be met with resistance. "What's the hurry pretty thing? We just want to get to know our coworker better right Lewis?" The second one pipes up causing Lewis to glare at him. "Shut it Darnell, just grab the girl!" Darnell shrugs before attempting to grab (Y/N), key word is attempted as (Y/N) does not want anything to do with these men. She elbows the one trying to grab her hard in the windpipe. Darnell wheezes and falls to the ground, (Y/N) pulls pepper spray out of her bag and sprays Lewis in the face. Lewis covers his eyes and falls to the floor hollering.

(Y/N) tries to make an escape when Darnell hits her in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. (Y/N) curses Darnell for recovering quickly as she falls to the ground, black spots filling her vision. "Fuck that bitch is quick on her feet." Darnell gasps as Lewis gets back up their voices become indistinguishable, but (Y/N) sees them getting down and trying to take of her clothes. Tears bubble up as she tries to move away only to be forcefully held down. The last thing (Y/N) sees and hears however is pink hair in her peripheral vision and a scream of agony.

(Y/N) wakes up in the trauma care center with prison nurses fussing over the bruising on her arms. Some cops who weren't complete dicks found the woman lying on the floor with her blouse partially unbuttoned and bruises on her arms and the back of her head. Hanging above your unconscious form were the dead bodies of your would-be assaulters Officers Lewis McVay and Darnell Thompson. Their bodies were so horribly disfigured that officers were only identified by a DNA test.

(Y/N) was horrified at the news yes, she thought they deserved to be punished but for someone to play God to this extent makes the woman feel unnerved. Her boss wasn't completely terrible since (Y/N) was given a week off. In this time, (Y/N) couldn't get the question out of her mind. Who saved her?

Monday at 9 am sharp (Y/N) arrives to work, she won't let the trauma stop her from helping the patients. Also bills need to be paid and college debt doesn't make life any easier. The guard at the front gate greets (Y/N) as she walks into the prison. Before (Y/N) can make it to the health wing, the warden approaches with a stern look on his normally pleasant face. "Ms. (L/N) I hope your break was pleasant, I regret to inform you that an inmate has personally requested you to be their therapist." That was news for (Y/N) as she was under the impression that most of the prisoners in the male ward hated her. It filled her with a weird sense of hope that her progress might not be all in vain.

"Great just hand me his personal files and we'll get started tomorrow." The warden held his puppet Charlotte up to you and spoke through it. "You don't understand, he wants to have a session now!" Now? (Y/N) was stunned why was the warden being so pushy about it. "Alright, I still need the man's files." The warden smiled and handed the woman the manila file under his arm. "Thank you very much Miss (Y/N) you've done the right thing." (Y/N) walked off in the direction of the male ward without bothering to respond.

The male prison ward was a lot quieter with the lack of jeers from the prisoners, however there was a lingering tension in the air. Many of the male prisoners glared daggers at the therapist as she made her way towards the room where her next patient was waiting. Inhaling (Y/N) put on her best brave face and opens the door. Waiting for her with a bored expression was a flamboyantly dressed man with long pink hair. The patient's rose-colored eyes lock with (Y/N) an indecipherable look as he trails her form. The therapist also took his appearance in further as she made her way to your seat.

His attire was impractical for a prison, consisting of a mesh shirt with pink shoe prints attached to it, a purple stewardess hat with gold horns on it, and thigh high white boots trailing up to the skimpiest brown skirt she's ever seen. Sitting down in the seat, (Y/N) greets her patient without breaking eye contact. "Good morning Anasui, I am (Y/N) (L/N) your therapist. I cannot prescribe you painkillers or antidepressants, but I can recommend you to a psychiatrist if I decide it is best for you." Silence. Very well, (Y/N) thought, he must not be quite comfortable yet. "The warden told me you requested my services personally, is that correct?" Anasui stares at your mien before speaking in a baritone voice. "I did doctor." (Y/N) shakes her head as she looks sheepishly at Anasui "Oh no I'm no doctor, I can't afford to spend any more time in college."

"Interesting"

(Y/N) got uncomfortable, it felt like Anasui was the therapist not her. "Do you find my lack of a doctorate amusing Mr. Anasui?" (Y/N) switched to strict therapist voice, she needed to let him know that she won't bend to whatever he has planned for her. Anasui stands up from his seat and stalks closer to the therapist. (Y/N) maintains eye contact with the prisoner as he kneels down until their foreheads are touching. "Why are you here (Y/N)?" Anasui asks as his hot breath fans over the woman in front of him, his tourmaline eyes scanning her facial features for any trace of dishonesty. (Y/N)'s eyes narrowed as she retorted sternly. "That is none of your concern Anasui, please return to your chair." "I won't." (Y/n) furrowed her brow in frustration as Anasui seemed to only get closer. She knows not to reveal all her cards, yet she knows that Anasui will refuse to continue this session unless he's pacified.

"If you must know Anasui, I happened to get into my profession because the criminal mind fascinates me. Now would sit down so I can figure out how to help you?" (Y/N) glares at the unruly patient in front of her, Anasui pulls away and stands back up to his full height, peering down at her. Anasui scoffs before sauntering over to his chair and sitting down. (Y/N) sighs before scribbling down 'difficult patient' on her patient notes. Who could blame her for being a little petty with a criminal? "Alright Anasui how was your childhood?"

(Y/N) came out of the room weary and a bit defeated. It was difficult to get through to someone who looked at her as if she were nothing. The little she gathered about him were short normally one-word answers. However, the audacity does not end there as Anasui asked many invasive questions about the therapist's personal life. (Y/N) gave lackluster responses and it seemed to be the only time that Anasui paid any attention during their session, as she would meet his unwavering gaze greedily soaking up the answers. It was honestly quite creepy.

(Y/N) was not watching where she was going as she collided with a firm object, causing (Y/N) to fall and drop her papers everywhere. "My apologies miss (L/N), I must not have been watching where I was going." A deep yet warm voice spoke as (Y/N) looked up to be met with the prison's chaplain Enrico Pucci. The young flushed as the handsome man offered you a firm hand, pulling her up. He was quite handsome for a man of the cloth. "Oh no father it was my fault, I've been stressed with work recently." Pucci nods his head as he gives (Y/N) a knowing look. "The prisoners here can be quite difficult, but you must not let you stray from guiding these lost lambs to salvation." (Y/N) smiles gratefully at the encouragement from the priest. "Thank you, father I won't let, you down." Pucci waves as the woman walk to the canteen for your meal. She won't let Anasui best her.

Not now, not ever

Lunch was uneventful as the therapist ate in the cafeteria, none of the inmates attempted anything. Must still be afraid of what happened to the last people who tried. (Y/N) didn't mind the peace as she looked through Anasui's file in hopes of getting some information which might crack him. It said he was a lonely boy who enjoyed taking things apart and was sent to the psychiatric ward for disassembling a neighbor's car. Clearly some compulsive behavior that continued on in a disturbing way with his crime. When he caught his girlfriend in bed with another man, Anasui methodically killed and disassembled their body parts so "they'd never be together again". You would think that was the actions of a mentally ill individual, but the psychiatric analysis declared Anasui was perfectly sane. Well, there goes her appetite, however (Y/N) achieved interesting information for her next session with Anasui.

(Y/N) awoke in a cold sweat to the blare of the alarm. She had one of the most disturbing nightmares about Anasui looking down at her with rage and slicing her limbs off one by one as she bleeds to death. The inmate's furious expression frightened her as (Y/N) had never seen more than a neutral expression on the pink haired criminal's face. The woman wanted to avoid that terrible fate of choking on her own blood, so she was determined to get into Anasui's good graces. Dressing in a comfortable sweater and a nice pair of dress pants, (Y/N) applies a slight bit of makeup before walking out the door in pleather dress shoes.

Morning traffic was light as (Y/N) drove down to the prison with a (hot beverage) in hand. Florida's weather was not (Y/N)'s favorite as she felt sweat beats form on the hand holding her beverage. She just hoped the air conditioner was working in her office as she had some paperwork to do after meeting with Anasui. Crossing the bridge, (Y/N) showed her work badge to the officer in the front before driving to the employee parking lot. She was ready to deal with her unruly patient.

(Y/N) could feel the tension filling the room. Anasui refused to look at her and the only sound was the scribbling of her pen. Alright time to deploy new tactics, not looking up from her paperwork (Y/N) asks. "Anasui what's your opinion on love?" At this question, Anasui sat up straight and burned holes into the top of her head. "My opinion on love?" Anasui slowly asks as if he's not sure what (Y/N) just said. (Y/N) looks up with a sweet smile. "Yes, I would like to know how you feel about love. How have you felt it? Who you've loved?" Anasui looks at the therapist with an unreadable expression before he sighs. "I don't love anyone." (Y/N) raises an eyebrow before shaking her head. "That's not what I asked, I want to know how you feel about love. I doesn't have to be romantic or recent, just tell me about your view on love."

Anasui looks like he had been punched in the gut as he looked away from his therapist's calm yet curious expression. "I never loved my family." Anasui began looking unsure of himself as the woman in front of him gestures for him to continue. "It was nothing they did wrong, I just never really cared what happened to them. I never cared about anyone until I met her..." Anasui looks down at his boots as if contemplating how much to share. "Was she your girlfriend?" (Y/N) asked gently, a tone that surprised Anasui. Anasui nodded and looked up to meet the woman's gaze. (Y/N)'s face was warm and welcoming a contrast to the normally hard professional exterior. "What was she like?" Anasui flushed at the question as he looked up dreamily. "She was perfect. Tough yet kind, I felt like I held the world in my arms when I held her." His face softened as his eyes filled with adoration. "What changed?"

At this question Anasui's eyes filled with rage, the same rage that (Y/N) saw in her dream. "I found another man with her in her bed, fucking her right before my eyes. How could she be so shameless as to sleep with another when she was mine?!" Anasui raised his voice towards the end, vitriol filling his voice as his eyes grew dark and a blank expression came across his face. "I figured if that if she didn't love me anymore than she deserved to die. The man who led her astray had to go too." (Y/N) shivered as she tried to keep a neutral face at the prisoner's confession. His voice was measured and cold like a true killer. (Y/N) knew she had to get him out of this volatile head space, or she might be next.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through such heartbreak, love isn't always easy. I don't think you should give up on love entirely Anasui, there's always someone out there for everyone." The therapist hid the waiver in her voice as she felt ice shoot up her spine, Anasui's dead eyes gazed at her apathetically. (Y/N) jumped as Anasui appeared right in front of her caging her into her chair with his body, his gaze fixed like a predator observing its prey. How did he get up so fast?! Anasui observed the panic on (Y'N)'s face as he leaned into her face. "Do you really believe there is someone who is willing to love a monster like me? A murderer who killed two innocent people and feels no remorse?" Anasui challenged the woman in front of him, daring her to delude herself in believing that he was worthy of love.

"Yes, I believe that even murderers can find love." (Y/N) steadily stated placing her hands in her lap to hide how badly they were shaking. The man who put her in such a compromising position scared her to know end. She had dealt with many vile criminals that threatened her life but there was always anger, blazing fire in their eyes. Anasui was icy cold as nothing was displayed behind his eyes. His forehead bumped into (Y/N)'s harshly as he looked her up and down. "Could someone like you love me? Someone innocent and free from the cement walls that confine me?" (Y/N) brought her own face close enough for their noses to touch before speaking. "Yes, even innocent people can fall in love with criminals. It's up to the criminals to open themselves up to the idea of being in love though." Anasui's eyes widened at her action and words, she was tough. However, the fire in her eyes was something beautiful to experience firsthand. She cared enough to try to get through to him which means she cares.

She must love him

His eyes fill with an emotion he only held for one other person, adoration. (Y/N)'s eyes widen as Anasui plants his lips on her forehead and he pulls away smiling. She had never seen this man smile, except when he mentioned his ex. Her gut felt like it was filled with lead as Anasui takes her hands in his and speaks. "I think I'm ready to love again."

I think I'm ready to love again

What an ominous warning for what was to come. If (Y/N) could come back and warn her previous self not to take on Anasui as a patient, she would. However, it seems he was obsessed with her before even officially meeting. This obsession morphed from curiosity to some bastardized version of love. Some sick replacement for affection. (Y/N) couldn't continue this charade of being the caring therapist if it meant her life was in peril. She'd have to move to the women's ward or worst case, another prison entirely. Stirring the coffee that she obtained from the break room, (Y/N) contemplated her next move. Anasui is a dangerous man, who knows how he will react to her leaving? For now (Y/N) needed to lay low and make it perfectly clear to Anasui she did not love him at all.

"You're late." Anasui's voice held a tinge of annoyance as (Y/N) set her leather satchel down. The woman grimaces at the sign of a negative emotion, keep calm and everything will be fine. (Y/N) turned to Anasui and gave him a professional smile. "I don't think it's possible for a therapist to be late, if this concerns you, we can finish later." Anasui considers this and nods, scooting his chair in to be closer to his beloved therapist. (Y/N) pushes her own chair further away from the pink haired male, causing him to frown. "Anasui, you know I am your therapist, right?" Anasui gives her a dreamy look as he reaches out to (Y/N). "You are that and more my darling." (Y/N) recoils into herself at his lovesick eyes burn holes in her very soul. She needs to pick her next words carefully.

"As your therapist it is important that I maintain a distance from your personal life. I believe that it is wise for us to observe our relationship as patient and provider, nothing more and nothing less."

"Marry me."

"What?" The cold feeling of dread raked its icy fingers through your neck hairs, which stood at attention. Anasui's pink lips quirk into a confident smirk as he pulls a small black box out of God knows where. He opened it to reveal a modest ring with a small diamond. "I see no need to court properly as we already know so much about each other. I want you to be my wife and I will be your husband." "NO." (Y/N) shouted her calm facade quickly unraveling as Anasui approached her chair once more.

"No."

(Y/N) looks away from the towering pinkette in front of her, the room's energy becoming sharp and frigid like an icicle. (Y/N) had to stand firm now or she would never escape this monster "I can't marry my patient; besides you know nothing about me." (Y/N) thought reason would reach the seemingly logic-oriented prisoner, but he was too far gone. A rough hand gripped her chin and pulled her face to peer at his own misty-eyed stare. "You're wrong, I know more about you than even your own parents. I can treat you better than any other man so why do you refuse me." (Y/N) didn't believe him one bit.

"What's my favorite color?"

"(F/C)."

"When was I born?"

"(DOB)."

"Do I have a pet?"

"No but you've also preferred cats over dogs."

(Y/N) gasped and pushed herself further in her chair as the monster in front of her caged her in once more. This has to be a bluff, an attempt at besting her, she won't yield. "Anasui if you don't sit down, I will alert the guards." (Y/N)'s tone waivered as her eyes were wild with panic. Anasui soaks in (Y/N)'s terrified expression with a deadpan expression. "If you call the guards, I'll slaughter every last one of them. If you leave, I'll break out and find you." His eyes did not lie as he said this phrase, she were frightened. How unstable could a prisoner be to claim to love her after only a few visits?

Before (Y/N) could retort, Anasui slams his lips on hers muffling any cry for help. He took advantage of her open mouth to wriggle his pink muscle in. (Y/N) screamed into the kiss as Anasui had closed his eyes in bliss. The therapist lay limp as she let him have his way with her mouth, before he pulls away a sting of saliva connecting (Y/N) to this ravenous beast. "If you're not ready for marriage now we can court, just know that refusal can lead to the death of many." Leaning down to place open mouth kisses on her now exposed neck, leaving pink lipstick marks all over.

"What will it be (Y/N) marriage or courtship?"

#yandere x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #male yandere #yandere #yandere anasui #narisco anasui #stone ocean #yandere inmate #enrico pucci #jjba part 6 #narciso anasui

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lesservillain · 1 year ago

Text

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: drinking, explicit fantasies

September 16th,1994

The idea to you was asinine from the moment Principal Williams brought you into her office to explain the program details to you. How no one else thought that the idea of thirteen-year-olds becoming “pen pals” with prisoners wasn’t insane baffled you. It was dangerous at worst and inappropriate at best, but, despite your best efforts to reason with her, your opinion as a “newer” teacher was dismissed.

Now here you are listening to the speech of the prison rep, Mr. Bridges, as he explained the program to your 7th grade class. Not like you had a lesson planned for them today.

Mr. Bridges stands a whole 5 feet and 6 inches with a short stack military fade and the most unsettling sunny disposition. He reads as incredibly fake, like a snake oil salesman, and his shiny, white, slightly too big for his mouth veneers not doing him any favors. It doesn’t surprise you that your newly divorced principal was able to be persuaded by this guy's charms, but thankfully you’re used to his kind of tactics from your own previous relationship.

Before leaving, Mr.Bridges approaches you at your desk. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he starts, leaning too far into your space. One of his thick fingers points at a paper he had given you before he started his speech, “but is a student absent today? We have an unassigned inmate—”

“We had a student move,” you say shortly, keeping your voice monotone and not bothering to glance at his paper, “so I’m short one student in this class.”

Bridges nodded, clearly deep in thought. His brows furrowed for a moment before perking up.

“Maybe you’d like to take on a pen pal?’” He proposes, his chipper disposition coxing on the migraine that wants to break through behind your eye.

The look on your face must have said it all as he tried to convince you further. “The inmates that signed up are all trying to better themselves before being re-released into society, ya’know?” His eye’s shift, landing on the floor with a solemn look. “We thought talking to kids that grew up while they were incarcerated would help them get in touch with the times, be able to cope with time they’ve lost. Give them something to look forward to when they get out.”

The pads of your fingers dig into your temples, eyes rolling to the back of your head before finally giving him the eye contact he so desperately craved from you.

“Fine, I’ll take whoever you have left, I guess. What’s his name?”

“Perfect!” Bridges hands clap together next to your ear, “The leftover inmate wants to go by The Banished One and he—”

“Banished what?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, The Banished One! It’s his nickname for the project. We have all the inmates disguise their names just in case the kids may be related to one of them.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, resting your head in your hand, “Okay, fine, sure I guess that makes sense.”

Bridges continued to assure you that all the letters are anonymous and would be vetted both ways, adding that only ‘good behavior’ inmates were allowed to take part in the program as a last push for your participation, you reluctantly agreed. Mostly just to get him to leave your classroom before your head explodes, but not without the stipulation that if you thought it was too much for your kids that you would pull them out. That seemed to be enough to satisfy him.

October 7th, 1994

The first writing session took place on a Friday, the soft sound of music from your mixtape playing for the kids to help them relax. It had been a long week of testing and you felt like an easy day was in order for both you and the kids, most of your other classes would just be doing free work.

You grabbed the stack of letters from your desk, Pictures of You by The Cure filling the air as you hand each student their respective letter.

“Don’t forget to keep personal information like names and where you live out of your letters. Once you’re done, bring them to my desk.”

Once the kids were settled, you returned to your desk and grabbed your own letter. The envelope before you had “Teach” written across the front, the pen name you chose to go by. The handwriting was like chicken scratch. Not much different from the 13 year old boys whose papers you grade, though, so you were confident in your ability to decipher the rest of the letter. But still had a roughness, an edge to it.

As you opened your letter, unfolding the paper to it’s full state, the first thing to catch your attention was the graffiti like drawings along the margins of the paper. It reminded you of a flash sheet at the tattoo shop your friends took you to for your 21st birthday, a permanent reminder of that day on your inner ankle in the form of a small butterfly that was already starting to fade. There was nothing too offensive; a rose, a sailor ship, a dove with an olive branch, all impressively done for just being pen on paper.

Once you got past the artwork, you began to take in the letter's contents. The single page was filled from front to back, barely any room for the signature at the bottom.

“Hey there, “Teach”... if that is your real name…” the letter starts. The lame opener makes you crack a small smile that you quickly cover with your hand. You read on, taking in each sentence, and you start to get the idea that your pen pal doesn’t take this pen pal assignment too seriously.

The letter is casual, a few puns here and there, with some Tolkien references that would have been missed if one wasn’t familiar with his work. It’s clear that this person is young, or at least young at heart, which saddens you to think about, but you try not to dwell on it.

Getting into the meat of the letter, your pal explains that went to prison in 1989 for drug related charges, but is set to get out in about a year if he keeps up his good behavior.

“I’m ready to get out of this place and get back to my hometown in Hawkins.”

A shiver goes down your spine for a moment when you read that he’s from Hawkins. Bridges assured you that the inmates wouldn’t know what school the kids would be from, but you weren’t expecting to be talking to someone from this small town. You wonder if Bridges knows more than he’s letting on with his comment about the kids being related to the inmates.

Once the creepy feeling dissipates you continue to read on. The details your pal gives about himself tell you that he’s very different from the people you usually hang out with. His favorite genre of music is metal and he used to play guitar and do vocals for a band every week before he started working as a mechanic full time. They’d have a crowd of 20 or so some nights, but it was usually just the regulars at the place they would play at.

The final paragraph of the letter consists of a seemingly scripted warning about the dangers of drugs and that no one should make the same mistake he did. You wondered if this was obligatory for the project. At the bottom of the page your pal signs with his chosen moniker “The Banished One.” When thinking about it, you find that it’s very fitting for an inmate.

After taking a moment to check in on your class, Morrissey’s somber voice serenading them as “I Know It’s Over” plays from the small radio’s speakers, you pull out your own pen and paper to start your response.

As you ponder on where to start, a thought that crosses your mind; does your pen pal even know they’re talking to an adult? The pen name you chose might be on the nose but you didn’t want to assume. Granted, your handwriting itself may be a dead giveaway if you were to compare it to a teens.

It took you a couple of tries to start your letter. Instinctively, you wanted to be formal, but the longer you thought about it the more you didn’t want to come off as a boring writing companion. You tried and failed to come up with something witty to match the vibe of your pal, but comedy wasn’t your strong point, though you’d argue that it wasn’t his either. Instead, you approached it as if you were writing to a friend.

“Hello! Nice to meet you “Banished One." Though, it sounds like you won't be banished much longer.”

Erring on the side of caution you chose to only respond directly to things he wrote, slipping in that you also enjoyed the works of Tolkien with your own reference. You mention that you listen to metal from time to time, more into radio rock at the moment, but you’d really listen to anything.

It took you a minute to calculate how to respond to the reveal of his dealings in drugs, ultimately deciding to lightly say that you hoped he learned his lesson unless he saw himself returning to prison in the future. You shared that you were familiar with Hawkins, noting that you loved the milkshakes from the old diner in town, but left it at that. As you closed the letter you complimented his artwork, informing him that the rose was your favorite and that you looked forward to seeing his artwork on future letters.

You’d manage to write enough to cover the majority of the back of your lined paper, signing your pen name a few lines away from the bottom. Going over your letter again, you can't help feeling like it’s a bit dull. Safe, but that’s what it's supposed to be.

October 24th,1994

It only took two weeks for Mr. Bridges to return with new letters for your class. Truthfully, you had almost forgotten about the letters entirely while trying to keep your students on track as the holiday season approaches. The emotional whiplash of seeing your ex out with his new, younger girlfriend while you were out looking for Halloween decor for your apartment wasn't helping either. It felt like no matter what you did, how much your friends tried to help, you just couldn’t catch a break. At least the manager of the local liquor store was nice to you.

When your students seemed too preoccupied with the stack of letters on your desk to pay attention to your lecture, you decided to call it a day and give all of you a break. You click on your small stereo and let the tune of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah take over the room while you pass out letters.

Once the letters were distributed, you settled at your desk where your eyes met with the same chicken scratch handwriting as before. It was tempting to reach for it… until you glanced at the pile of ungraded papers that sat next to it, taunting you. You desperately needed to go over them, the deadline to turn in grades fast approaching.

You deliberated on what to do. You had to admit you were curious about the letter. Part of you wondered if you’d even get one back. You didn’t want to give any personal information away, so you couldn’t blame the random man in prison for not responding if he thought he was talking to an old lady teacher.

But the stack of papers is practically glaring at you.

A thought; you could always finish your papers later at home. But you did tell yourself you would be better at bringing so much work home with you this year…Your friends had an influence on that decision, making sure you took at least every other weekend to go out and do something — anything to keep you from shutting yourself in again.

With a sigh, you tuck the letter into your work bag, grabbing your pen to start grading.

“Damn it, why can’t I find one stupid pen!”

Slamming drawers and stomping around, the red liquid of your cup sloshing around in your glass as you grew more and more frustrated in your search for a pen to write out the checks for the coming month’s bills.

After searching the kitchen, you make your way to the living room and spot your school bag on the coffee table. In your rage, you slam the glass on the table and begin haphazardly pulling the contents out of the bag, praying you still had a pen that hadn’t been “borrowed” to never be returned by one of your students.

The feeling of plastic on the tips of your finger almost brought you to tears of joy. Pulling out a purple ink pen you decided that it would have to be good enough if your landlord wanted your rent on time.

After finishing with the checks, you return to your bag to put the envelopes inside to drop off tomorrow at the post office. As you lift the bag, your eyes meet with chicken scratch again away. A burst of buzzed excitement runs through you at the sight, even if for just a moment before you shook it off. It was just an envelope from some random man sitting in a jail cell, why are you getting so excited? Is it because you’re at home and not feeling the pressure to be uptight and rigid?

Or maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time you received a letter that wasn’t a bill. It sort of gave you a feeling of nostalgia, taking you back to a time when you wrote letters to your mom when you were at camp, or when you would write to your grandparents around the holidays. It even reminded you a bit of writing in your diary, if your diary could write back that is. It’s not like he would have room to judge you from his jail cell, right?

You snatch the letter from the bag and walk back into the kitchen, grabbing the dark bottle of wine to refill your glass and plopping down at the table. Ripping open the envelope, you pull out the letter and immediately notice that it is covered in artwork just as the last one was.

This time you notice a 20-sided dice with a banner that read “critical hit”, a very detailed dragon head, and a stylized version of the skeleton guy that you’ve seen on the cover of Iron Maiden albums. The biggest piece was of another rose, but in the fully bloomed center was an eye. It was…interesting. Well done, but not what you were expecting. Not that you were expecting anything anyway.

Getting the artwork out of the way, you take a large sip of your drink and begin reading.

“Hello again, Teach,” the letter starts, “I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room before I can write anything else.” Your brow quirks up, a slight nervousness begins to creep in your mind.

“I was already suspicious when I was told the person I was writing to wanted to go by Teach. And no seventh grader I’ve ever known can write as nicely as you. Not that I know a lot of seventh graders...Anyway, can I ask how I ended up being pen pals with the class teacher? I know I could ask Bridges, but I think it would be more fun to hear it from you.”

Your lips tug into a smile, but this time you don’t feel the need to cover it. Why did it feel like a game he won or a riddle he solved? It wasn’t exactly like you were hiding it. But something about him figuring out something about you was…exciting.

As you get into the meat of the letter itself he goes on to ask you what subject you teach and how long you have been teaching. He asks if you like working with kids and if they ever made you want to pull your hair out. The phrasing of his words make you giggle.

“I was never good in school,” he states. “It took me three tries of my senior year to graduate. I used to blame my teachers saying that they didn’t like the way I dressed or my taste in music. I guess now I have to admit that it was probably because I didn’t bother to show up to class or do any of my homework…”

A full laugh shook you in your chair. Was he actually funnier in this letter? And why did it come off feeling so personal? The air about it was different, like you were talking to a long-distance friend rather than a felon, your cheeks starting to ache from smiling as you continue read his sketchy handwriting.

He went on to ask more about you, like what your favorite band was since you “liked rock so much more than metal,” with a little frowny face to punctuate his disagreement. He says the prison lets them watch MTV sometimes, which has been his main exposure to new music. Sometimes he gets a hold of new music every once and a while, but usually just listens to his old cassettes on his Walkman that his uncle gave him when he first entered the system.

“Some people have tried to steal it from me, but they learned pretty quickly that I have my ways to get things back, and that I'm not one to be messed with.”

That left you curious. A small glimpse into the inner workings of prison. You never really thought about what a person in prison could or couldn’t have. It was nice that he could have at least a small luxury, an item of value if it was under constant threat of being taken. You also couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by not being messed with.

Before you know it you’ve hit the end of the letter. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It felt like there could have been so much more to say, but his pen name barely fit at the bottom of the paper as it is. You take a piece of paper out of your notebook, pulling the frayed pieces off the edge and replacing the one in front of you with it. Hopefully your pal won't mind the purple pen or the probable lack of coherence compared to your first letter as you feel the wine really start to kick in.

Referring back to the paper like a student answering a question in class, you make sure to answer all of his questions to the best of your ability.

“Hello again, Mr. Banished. I see you have uncovered my secret that I am, in fact, a grown woman and not a 13-year-old. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I have been teaching English since I graduated college, coincidentally in 1989. It's like we traded places; I got to leave the prison of being a student in college and you went to prison for whatever drug related charges you acquired.” You laughed at your own joke as you continued.

“As for why you are stuck with writing a late 20’s school teacher rather than one of my students, that would be because of the aforementioned Mr.Bridges. We had a student move a few weeks into the school year and Bridges practically got on his knees and begged me to take on a pen pal.” You left out the detail of not being totally comfortable with the program. Not that you weren’t still hesitant, but the last thing you wanted to do was offend him by insinuating anything about the type of person he was for being in jail. The wine had rationalized with you that sometimes good people do bad things when they’re in dark places.

Continuing on, you wrote that he was probably right in both his opinions on why his teachers failed him. The older teachers at your school were stuck in their ways and judged students before really trying to help them. You did your best not to be the same way, hoping to be a teacher that your students could trust and come to if they needed help. It was a passion of yours since you were small, wanting to help people learn and grow, so what better way to do that than to teach?

“I am interested in what you wore that would call for such harsh judgment. I try to be as unbiased as I can with all my kids. If you asked them, they would say that I’m stuffy or rigid most of the time, but it’s mostly because I care about their education. And partly because being a new teacher is…really freaking tough if I’m being honest. These older teachers don’t take half of the things I say seriously because their own kids are older than me. It’s kind of bullshit, actually, but I just deal with it until I can get more experience under my belt.”

A sigh slips through your lips, pen tapping against the kitchen table as you feel the frustration bubbling. It’s not fair to dump these feelings on him, but the anonymity made it so easy to just put everything out there. He doesn’t know anything about you, and if you were to weird him out by getting a little real, then he could just not write back, right?

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you decided to just move on to a different topic.

“Sorry, that was a lot of feelings on my part. Is it too personal to ask what you do in prison? You mentioned getting to listen to music, but what else do you do? I’ve seen in movies that inmates work out a lot and play basketball outside. Is that real or made up for the audience? If it is real, does that mean you are super buff from working out all the time? Do you beat people up if they try and take your Walkman, or do you stab them? I’ve seen people do that in movies, too. I hope you don’t stab them, that would be scary.”

You can feel yourself getting a bit rambley in your tired state, so you decide it’s time to call it a night. You wrap up the letter by telling him that you’re going to go to sleep and that you were looking forward to his next letter. You sign your name and draw a small doodle of a flower next to it.

November 18th,1994

It was 3 am when you woke up the first time. A nightmare had you shooting up from your pillow, cold sweat drenched the collar of your sleep shirt, chest heaving as you caught your breath.

He had been knocking at your door, your pen pal. You never saw his face, but heard the anger in his voice as he yelled for you to let him in. You remember sitting in front of the door begging for him to leave you alone, telling him it was too soon. That you weren’t ready.

The nightmare became reoccurring, waking you at least 2 or 3 times a week. Sometimes it’s your ex, but most of the time it’s your pen pal. Even though you have no inkling of what he looks like, you just know it’s him on the other side.

The disturbance in your sleep was starting to affect your daily life, one of your coworkers asking if you were okay after over pouring a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

“Are you okay?” Mr.Clarke asks, helping you mop up the spilled coffee with some paper towels.

“Yes, I’m sorry, yeah,” you say, trying and failing to reassure him.

“Hey, I know that midterms can be rough with the holidays coming up. But, try not to stress out about it too much. I’ve heard good things about you from the kids in my classes that have you this year. You’re doing a good job, so don't kill yourself, okay?”

It was damn near impossible not to burst into tears at your coworkers words, but you held it together until you could hide in the faculty restroom.

The dreams didn’t stop though. Even Mr.Bridges felt the need to comment.

“Holidays stressing you out?” he asked with an energy that seemed inhuman to you, his sunny disposition could make the snow outside melt.

“No.” You stated shortly as you looked through your lesson plan for the day.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he said with a nod, “This is the most wonderful time of the year after all. We try to stay busy at the prison, keep the morale high and what not.”

He placed the stack of letters on your desk, along with a small box that read “Greeting Cards” with a wintery scene displayed on the front.

“These are for the students to give to the inmates.” You look at him with “no shit” written on your face. He cleared his throat, “But, uh, I’m sure you could figure that out. I know this time of year can be hectic for everyone, but we all deserve some holiday cheer, right?” Your expression remains unchanged as he continues on.

“Right, well, I’ll be giving the inmates their own cards to send to the kids with their letters. It might be a bit difficult for me to come back before Christmas, family affairs to attend to and all that. So, I went ahead and wrote the address and stamped the envelopes for the cards. If I don’t come back by, oh, let's say the 15th? Just go ahead and stick those in the mail and I’ll make sure the inmates get them!”

Before you could protest having to go out of your way to do his job, Mr.Bridges quickly made his exit as the warning bell rang, wishing you a happy holiday as he disappeared.

With the lack of free class time as you all crammed for test week, you decided to let the kids take their letters and cards home for the weekend to work on. As you passed them out, keeping the addressed envelopes in the box, you told the kids to write something nice in their cards.

“This may be the only card some of these men get, so think about that when you’re writing them this weekend.”

Getting to the last letter, you feel your stomach twist as you read your actual government first name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting instead of your pen name. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks until the sound of the bell brought you back to your body.

“U-uh, ge--get your letters done by the end of class Tuesday!” You yell over your class as they begin migrating out of the room.

Quickly, you return to your desk and rip open the letter. Unsurprisingly, it’s once again covered in artwork. The pumpkins and bats and other Halloween inspired art felt out of place, putting in perspective how long it had been since your last letter. But before you could look much further into the writing your next class began to file in, forcing you to set the letter aside for later.

You’d felt nauseous the rest of your morning classes, You wracked your brain about how the hell your pen pal could have figured out your actual name. You may have been...a little tipsy when you wrote that letter a month ago, but you’re sure you didn’t say anything personal enough that he would know who you were. Could he have asked someone on the outside to look into you? No, Mr.Bridges assured you that the inmates don’t know what school they are writing to. Maybe Bridges said your name to someone at the jail and the inmate overheard?

As soon as the bell rang for your lunch period, you practically rushed your students out the door and closed it. Throwing yourself into your chair, you grab the letter and begin reading.

“Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to be getting more lore in your newest letter! You have a very cute name by the way…Sorry I hope that wasn’t weird. Anyway! I guess I can tell you my name, too. Call me Eddie.”

Eddie.

So you had included your own name in your letter somewhere. You sigh with relief, though it still makes you a little uncomfortable that this stranger knows something personal about you. Sure he’s been nice, but he was still a felon. Though knowing his name made you feel a little better. Made him feel a tad more human to not use silly nicknames.

“Can I start by saying I loved reading your last letter?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.“The purple pen was a nice touch. Something about a teacher complaining about other teachers is really funny to me, too. Nice to know the torment of some teachers isn’t just limited to students! And I doubt your kids think you’re stiff or whatever. You seem pretty cool to me. Even if I’ve only gotten to talk to you through a couple letters, you talk to me a lot nicer than I probably deserve.”

The smile that had made its home on your lips from his sentiments dropped into a frown. You felt yourself wanting to get defensive, wanting to tell him that he shouldn’t think that way about himself. That even if he was a felon, he still deserves respect.

“Being a younger teacher must be hard. You did all the college stuff to be a teacher so that should be enough to get their respect in my opinion. I don’t think I had a teacher who wasn’t at least in their 50s so they probably can’t see anyone under 30 as anything other than a kid I guess.”

“Hit the nail on the head,” you say to yourself with an airy chuckle.

As you keep reading, he changes the subject to something you don’t remember asking in your previous letter.

“So you wanna know what I look like, huh? Well back before I was in here I would wear my band shirts, Metallica and Judas Priest and all the bands that make the old ladies cringe. My jeans had holes in them, too. And I have this battle vest that I’ve put together with some patches of my favorite bands on it. My uncle Wayne says he’s keeping it safe for me at home. It’s not much, but I learned how to stitch patches on by myself, so it means something to me. Gives me something to look forward to when I get out.”

Your mind paints an image of a gangely teen trying to look cool to impress his friends or scare off the old ladies at the mall. Sounds like the kind of guy you had crushes on in high school. There may have been a picture or 2 of Kirk Hammit or Vince Neil or Eddie Van Halen tapped to the inside of your locker door in high school, but you’d never admit that now.

“I also had long hair when I was younger. Can’t call yourself a metal head without having long hair ya know. But I’ve had to cut it since I’ve been in here. I’ve got pretty curly hair and it was getting hard to keep up with it. It’s short enough to keep out of my face most of the time. I’m actually due for a haircut, so thanks for reminding me! Hair cuts are free in prison so I get it done way more than I ever did on the outside. You gotta tip your barber though or else they might “accidentally” shave all your hair off next time. Learned that one the hard way.”

He goes on to answer some of your questions about the inner workings of the jail. They do get to work out a lot, but says he’s not a “big meat head” like some of the other inmates. He doesn’t like basketball for “personal reasons” so he prefers to run laps. “When you’re trying to get out of a big fight it’s better to be faster than stronger.”

“I am also proud to admit that I have never stabbed someone. Almost been stabbed myself, but I used to get my shit rocked in high school so I’ve learned to dodge over the years.” Your hand comes to your face, almost forgetting that you asked such a stupid question. Of course he hasn’t stabbed anyone. You could excuse it if it was out of self defense maybe. But then you recall him saying before that he doesn’t get “messed with”, so what is he doing that people aren’t bothering him if not stabbing them? Your head spins with possibilities as you think about it more.

As you are about to read on, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, the sound causing you to jump in your seat. Quickly closing the letter and shoving it into your bag, you rush to the door to find a student from your 3rd period class, a shy one at that, needing clarification on the newest assignment. You let her in, forgetting the letter for the rest of the period.

The rest of the period then turns into the rest of the day. It goes by like a blur as everyone seems to be getting last minute things turned in for the week. Grades for the upcoming report cards would be due by the end of next Tuesday, so you told your classes to get any missing work in by today and you would give them partial credit. It was setting yourself up for a busy weekend, but anything to keep your mind off the upcoming holiday was welcomed.

It would be your first Thanksgiving single in almost 10 years, and your 4th since your mom passed. Your soon to be ex-husband, Henry, had convinced you to move to his hometown of Hawkins after your mother died to be closer to his family and to help his dad’s business as his accountant. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, and after looking back on the situation, you realized that he had used your vulnerability to get a lot of what he wanted.

Things seemed fine at first. His parents bought your house and he had a good paying job. All you had to do was cling to his arm and keep quiet. You were kept well manicured, your appearance catered to his liking as he paraded you around at office parties.

The not so hushed whispers from the women in his office always talking about how lucky you were to bag an older man reached your ears. But you kept your tongue against your cheek. They could be jealous all they want, because if they knew what happened behind closed doors they wouldn’t be singing the same tune.

Waking up early in the morning, way before he ever did, just to put on your face. God forbid you weren’t presentable to him always. Afterwards you’d iron his white button ups and khaki slacks, make him a huge breakfast, present his clothes to him, and be waiting by the door on your knees for him to use your mouth before he walked out the door.

At the time, you felt like you had a purpose. That being a housewife was what you were meant to be. But the degree you had worked so hard on stared at you as you cleaned the house everyday. Your passion was just in reach, boring you every day.

That is, until fate, and the well timed retirement of your predecessor, gave you the opportunity to start teaching that year. When you got the call, you were over the moon. Henry even said he was proud of you.

Until you forgot to iron his clothes. It was just a stern talking to the first time, an anger in his eyes like you’d never seen before had you on edge the entire first day of class. You made it up to him by waking up extra early, using your mouth to start his day since you couldn’t be at the door for him anymore.

But, then you started falling behind on chores during the week as grading papers took up most of your free time when you weren’t tending to his needs. It’s not that you didn’t clean, it just wasn't the only thing you had to do every day anymore. Passive comments about becoming lazy were brushed to the side until they collectively spilled over into your first big argument. You told him he could help, too. He smacked you across the face.

Too busy juggling work and cleaning the house full time caused you to miss the signs that things were declining. It started when Henry had to start staying late for work, claiming that they had a “big project” that was going to require him to stay over longer. He made it seem like a temporary arrangement that ended up becoming a pattern for months. But, he assured you that a raise could come from his hard work. So you continued to sit at home, a cold, untouched plate sitting across from you as you finished another bottle of wine. At least he wasn’t there to put his hands on you.

Then it was the pair of panties that you didn’t recognize when you did his laundry. When you confronted him, he told you that it must be a pair you owned back in high school that was mixed in with his clothes somehow when you moved. When you pressed on, he gave you a black eye.

Then it was the perfume you didn’t recognize on your pillow case when you came home from a weekend trip to see your new nephew. He told you it smelled like your perfume, you just hadn’t been home all weekend to smell it. You didn’t argue this time.

Then it was his father’s secretary, Missy, calling your home and telling you that she was sleeping with your husband. She had been nice at last year's Christmas party when you first met her. Nineteen, dumb as a box of rocks.

“Are you and Henry still married?” she had asked with her valley girl accent, “Because when I stayed over I saw that he still had pictures of you two at his house.”

Now you’re stuck in this tiny town, your closest relative being your brother who has his own family out in Chicago. Thankfully, you had made friends with the ever charming Steve Harrington, who’s father also worked with Henry. He came as a package deal with his roommate Robin Buckley, and the two of them quickly became your best friends. They were as blindsided as you about Henry’s affair and helped you move into your new apartment. Steve offered to let you live with him and Robin, but you didn’t want to live in the same house as your ex’s coworker, even if he was never there.

“We should make a grocery list for next week.” Robin called from the kitchen to where you and Steve were sat in the living room. “Do we want to bother making a turkey or should we do something easier?”

“Do you know how to make a turkey?” you asked looking over the top of your wine glass as she taps a pen to paper scowling.

“She can barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, d’ya really think she can make a turkey?” You watch as a roll of paper towels is launched from the kitchen into the side of Steve’s head and your laugh erupts.

“Well, then were fucked,” you say between giggles, “because I can’t make a turkey, and I know Steve “grabs a pan without a mitt” Harrington also can’t cook one.”

“Oh, that was ONE TIME!”

Steve goes to throw the paper towel roll at you, but you dodge, “One time is enough to never let you live it down, Steven. Maybe we should get some chicken instead.”

“Oh, I can make us some potato salad!”

After some back and forth about what to make for your “Friendsgiving” as Robin had been calling it, claiming inspiration from a new episode of Friends, Steve was begging to talk about anything else.

“School seems to be better this year,” he looks at you carefully, “You haven’t been talking about it as much lately. Not negatively at least.”

“Yeah the only thing you’ve complained about is that prison thing your class was supposed to be doing.” She looked at you with a look of curiosity, “How’s that going?”

You blink and suddenly remember the letter that you had gotten earlier. It was sitting in your bag back home where you had left it on your coffee table again. You were so busy getting ready to go to Steve’s that you had forgotten to finish it.

“It’s going okay. Hey, did you guys go to high school here?”

They both look at each other, then back to you. “Yep, graduated a year after dingus, though. Class of ‘86.”

Steve gave Robin an annoyed look at the nickname before returning his attention to you, “Why do you ask?”

You pondered for a moment if it would be okay to tell them about Eddie. The program was supposed to be anonymous, but that was just to protect the kids. If he wasn’t allowed to give you his name they would have confiscated the letter, right? Bridges said the letters were vetted both ways, so if it was a problem he would have told you. But this seemed like a breach of privacy. You only had a first name to go off of and a vague description. He never said his age, so could be older than even you, or younger than Robin.

“Um, do you guys know anyone that goes by Eddie?”

They both perked up at the name, giving each other a look that you couldn’t read. You swore they could communicate telepathically.

Steve was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Yeah, we know an Eddie. Why?” His tone was curious as he side eyed you.

“Oh, well my pen pal from the, uh, the prison thing. See his name is Eddie, and he told me that he’s from Hawkins. I don’t know much about him, but I think he may be close to my age and maybe he was in school with you guys-”

Robins laugh caught you off guard. “If it’s the same Eddie we know, then yes he was in school with us. Way longer than he was supposed to be, and we didn’t really get close until the end of my senior year.”

The look on your face prompted Steve to elaborate, “Eddie was -- is, a friend of ours that we got to know better through a mutual friend. He did go to prison a few years ago, but it was because he was scapegoated by a guy he bought weed from. We thought he was gonna go to jail for, like, the rest of his life or something. I had to convince my dad to get our lawyer that he keeps on retainer to represent him in court. The guy owed my dad a favor and he did it, Eddie only got five years.”

“There’s no way,” you said incredulously. Your jaw had to be on the floor. You knew this town was small, but was it really this small? Robin and Steve would be the type to forget to mention they had a friend in prison, too.

“What’s his last name?”

“Munson. Eddie Munson. We still talk to him on the phone every once in a while. Usually his uncle gets a hold of us, tells us that he’s going to call at a certain time so we can stay by the phone. Oh!” Steve stands up from his spot on the couch, clapping his hands, “I have my senior year book up stairs. He should be in it as long as he showed up to picture day.”

As Steve walks away, you turn to Robin, who has an amused look on her face.

“What?” You laugh, still in disbelief at the information that has been given to you. She shrugs, lips turned in a downward smile, “Nothing. So what do you and Eddie talk about?”

“What do we talk about? Not much really. We’ve only sent maybe two letters to each other. He always covers the letters in artwork though. They look like little tattoos.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely our Eddie,” She shakes her head, “His notebooks that he would carry around with him are covered in art. He told us he’s given himself some tattoos while he’s been there. We keep telling him he’s going to look like a felon when he comes out.”

“Isn’t he a felon, though?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to look like it!”

“Found it!” Steve yells as he comes back into the living room, blowing the dust off the book. He plops down on the couch between you and Robin and starts to look through the pages. “See, the funny thing about Eddie, he was supposed to graduate in ‘84, but he kept fucking around and ended up repeating his senior year -- three times.”

“Holy shit,” you were in absolute disbelief, “he told me that in one of his letters. He said he was because the teachers didn’t like him, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he would say,” Robin chuckles.

“Ah-ha, He did show up! Here he is right here!”

Your eyes snapped to where Steve’s fingers pointed to the tiny black and white square. Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said his hair was super curly. The close up of his face makes his hair almost completely take the background out of the picture. You can barely see it but it looks like he’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt under a leather jacket and what you suspect to be the leather jacket he seems to treasure so much. When you finally let yourself focus on his face you’re met with a bright smile and dimples on either side. Dark eyes scrunched up from how high his cheeks were. You definitely would have had a crush on him if you had gone to the same school.

“Soooo…what do you think?” Robin sing-songs with an expectant look on her face.

You can feel yourself smiling and try to reign it in, “Well, he’s not a 40 year old biker looking guy with a beard so that makes me feel better. He looks nice, actually.”

“He’s a good guy,” Steve starts flipping through the pages of the book, “but everyone gave him shit because…of…this.” Stopping on another page in the book, you see a picture of a group of students leaning up against a wall, all of them wearing matching shirts.

“Hellfire Club?” You look between Steve and Robin.

“He hasn’t mentioned Hellfire Club?” Robin was baffled. “That’s like, his whole thing!”

You shake your head, brows furrowed,“What is it?”

“His D&D club? He’s seriously never brought it up?”

“No, not yet at least.” Taking the book from Steve, you get a better look at the picture. “Like I said, we've only sent a few letters back and forth. I wouldn’t say we’ve exhausted all of our topics for discussion yet.”

“You’ll never run out of things to talk about with Eddie,” Steve states sarcastically, “You’d think prison would have had an effect on his social skills, but that guy could talk for an hour about a crack he saw in the sidewalk.”

Hearing that made you wonder if he ever held back when writing to you. His letters were usually front and back all the way to the bottom of the pages. You wonder if they only allow him one page or if has to pay for the paper. Hopefully he wasn’t wasting his money to talk to you.

“When was the last time you guys talked to him?”

“Uh-“ Robin starts.

“It was still hot outside I think,” Steve interjects, “Like early September?”

“Yeah,” Robin nods, eyes wide, “September sounds about right.”

“Hmm, that’s around when we started writing to each other. I guess he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t know about me yet.”

“If it’s been that long we’re definitely due for a call from him.” Robin looks to Steve, you miss the mischief in her eyes, nor do you see the look he gives her back. “Maybe you could talk to him next time he calls us?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide meeting Robin’s gaze. You saw the look now and immediately started shaking your head in protest.

“No, no, Robin I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You stand up from your spot on the couch, handing the yearbook back to Steve. Taking a few steps back to look at them, you bite one of your nails, thinking about the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. “Actually, if he does call, I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him you knew me either. I’m sure he’s a nice guy but…”

“Hey,” Steve stood up and placed a hand on your arm, “It’s cool. You didn’t know Eddie before, and you barely know him now. I think Robin just meant that you could get to know him more since he is our friend. He’s gonna get out of prison eventually and we promised him that we’d just continue on like how things were before.”

“But,” you look at Steve with worry in your expression, “being in prison that long can change a person.”

“Eddie is too stubborn to let anything break him of being himself. He didn’t repeat his senior year twice because he’s dumb. He did it because he was too busy with what he wanted to do to bother with his schoolwork.”

“Actually,” Robin says, “he said prison is easier because he gets three meals a day and doesn’t have to do math, so…”

“But,” Steve gets your attention again, “My point is that you don’t have to go out of your comfort zone to be his friend for our sake if you don’t want to. Just keep talking to him on your own and see how you feel.”

You swear these two really were the only good people in Hawkins.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded,” I’ll keep writing him, but I won’t mention that I know you two. Not yet at least.”

November 27th, 1994

Ever since your talk with Robin and Steve, your nightmares have changed. Now that you have a face to the name they’re not really nightmares anymore. Instead of a nameless, faceless voice at your door, you can see him through the peephole. He’s not knocking on your door with rage, but out of desperation. Still begging to be let in, but the lock is on his side. You hold the key in your hand, you just have to slide it under the door…

A sharp, grating ring wakes you from your sleep, eyes shooting open and taking in the room around you. The sun peaks from behind your bedroom curtains, the light just bright enough to pester the hangover migraine that’s already in full effect. You have to strain to get your eyes to focus on the numbers on your alarm clock that read just past noon.

The continuous ringing of the phone finally throttles you out of bed and into your kitchen. When you pick up the phone you hear Steve on the other end.

“Oh, good, you lived,” he exclaims, “Robin, she’s still alive!”

A muffled, “oh thank god” comes from the background in the receiver. You hadn’t anticipated being so emotional the night before, thinking you were past feeling sorry for yourself that you were alone on a holiday while your bastard ex had someone keeping your side of the bed warm every night.

All the emotions came up at Steve’s during dinner. It was just the three of you there, all with broken families. They had other friends who were home for the holidays, but they were doing their own thing this weekend. Robin and Steve insisted that you join in on the festivities but you declined, using not knowing them as an excuse.

Really you just wanted some alone time. Time to yourself, to let yourself feel whatever you need to feel without having to mask in front of strangers, brush off any awkwardness if the topic of your failed marriage were to arise.

You think Robin and Steve could tell that you were in your own head. They suggested taking you out to the only dive bar in town still open on the holiday, and assuming the place would be pretty dead, you said fuck it and all piled into Steve’s car. Sharing drinks and playing pool while metal music that made you think of your pen pal. You wondered what he was doing as you stepped outside to smoke a cigarette you bummed off an older, balding guy sitting at the bar.

After drinking so much that Robin had to drive your car home for you, their phone call really didn’t come as a surprise to you.

“Yes, god, I’m alive. Don’t yell into the phone, please.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve some of the tension. The phone call is brief, Steve just wanting to check in on you and confirm that you didn’t want to participate in their outing.

“We’re going ice skating! And if you can’t skate, our friend Max would enjoy having someone sit on the sidelines with her.”

“Sorry, Steve,” you press your forehead against the cool wood of the door frame, “I’m sure everyone is very nice, but I’m just not feeling up to it.”

After a few cups of coffee and a long shower, you settle on your couch, flipping through the channels on the tv for something to watch and settling on a Beverly Hills: 90210 rerun marathon. It didn’t take you long to lose interest and you began fidgeting for something else to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your work bag on the floor at the end of your couch. The memory of tripping and knocking the bag over last night comes back to you, making you internally cringe at yourself. You grab the bag and see that the contents were an unorganized mess compared to how you normally keep it. The longer you looked the crazier it made you feel, so you carefully took the papers and folders out, laying them in front of you.

When you picked up your first period folder, the familiar envelope that you had forgotten a week ago fell out, landing in your lap. You quickly pick it up and open it, remembering that you hadn't even had the chance to properly finish reading it.

Something about seeing the letter again made you feel good. As you look at the artwork, you see the picture of the shirts his club members wore and smile as you realize he made the shirts himself.

You reread the description of himself and can laugh because he must have worn the same thing every day, recalling the holes in his jeans and his battle vest from his pictures. It was hard to imagine the wild mane of hair he had being cut short. Do they get conditioner in prison? Because his hair must be a mess without it.

Finally, you get to the part of the letter you hadn’t read. You felt your heart beating in your chest, an anxiousness building that you couldn’t explain.

“I’m running low on space to write and I don’t know when I’ll hear from you again, but I just wanted to ask-“

You’re thrown off when you see two lines of the letter have been blacked out with a black marker or sharpie. There’s no way to make out what was written, and the last line is just him wishing you a “happy whatever holiday you celebrate,” his real signature greeting you at the very bottom of the page. “What the hell?” You asked the empty apartment. The first assumption that comes to mind is that Eddie must have messed up what he was going to write and decided to black it out since he wrote in pen. Or maybe he wanted to write more, but realized he was running out of space? That would go with your theory that they are limited in the paper they can get.

There’s also the possibility he said something inappropriate and whoever checks the letters made him redact it. That was probably the least likely, but it makes you laugh to think about. Robin and Steve brought him up a few times while you were drinking and gave him the highest praises. But, you never know what someone would be willing to say or do when they’ve been touch starved for almost 5 years.

Butterflies invade your stomach when you think about it more. He’s probably had to take care of himself quite a bit while he’s been locked up. Where does one even do that in prison without prying eyes?

Your thighs clench together at the image you’ve conjured in your head. Steve had shown you some pictures of Eddie that he found from not too long before he went to prison. Sure, he resembled his yearbook picture, thin and lanky he once was. But the picture of him and Steve at a lake, both of them shirtless and clearly soaking wet, displayed muscles that he had likely gained from the mechanic job Robin mentioned he had. The tattoos that he had on his body were taking over, almost covering one of his arms completely.

The image of soaked curly hairs clinging to his face as he’s leaning into a shower wall comes to the forefront of your mind. Toned arms flexing as he holds himself against the wall with one hand, stroking himself with the other. You imagined his hands were rough and calloused from playing guitar and working on cars. He was long and hard as he pumped himself, water dripping off the tip with each down stroke. God, you can only imagine his face as he cums, a loud groan falling from his lips as he spills onto the shower floor, calling your name…

You throw yourself into the couch cushion next to you and physically cringe. Where the hell did that come from? Was this the result of your dry spell since you left Henry? A guy that you’ve never even met before gives you a little attention and your brain automatically goes into the gutter. Sitting up, you rub your face in your hands in an attempt to keep the scenario from replaying in your mind. At least you had successfully distracted yourself from the self pity you were wallowing in.

You roll onto your back, holding up the letter in your hand. You admire the artwork, the sloppy handwriting. A person wrote this letter. Someone who did something illegal and paid the price for it. Someone who is very loved and has an uncle waiting for him somewhere in this town, and friends who would do anything for him. And now, he’s writing you letters, and you wonder if he is feeling the same way that you are starting to feel…what are you feeling, exactly?

Sitting up from the couch, you grab a pen and paper from your bag.

“Hello Eddie” no.

“Hey, stranger” no.

“What’s up!” definitely not.

Another balled up paper tossed to the ground.

“Dear Eddie,” sure why not, “I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season yourself. Hopefully your uncle can come and see you for whatever you celebrate. If not, at least a phone call would be nice. Does the prison give you anything special for the holidays? Like a turkey for Thanksgiving, ham for Christmas, the traditional stuff. I spent the holiday with-”

Steve and Robin. You know them! I know who you are, too. Totally not weird, right?

“-my friends. They called it “Friendsgiving,” I think it had something to do with a TV show. None of us like to cook, so we ended up just picking up stuff at the store and then going out to a local bar. I’m writing this letter the next day, a little hungover I have to admit. But, writing this letter has helped distract me from the migraine I’m trying to stave off. It’s been very busy at school lately with projects, exams, a choir…thing? All that means for me is that I have mountains of paperwork to grade, and I spent the last month trying to get kids to turn in anything missing. It’s like trying to get squirrels to stay in a basket.

Winter break is just around the corner, though. Which means two weeks of getting to sleep in late, watching terrible TV reruns, and using the cold weather as an excuse to stay inside. Although, I think my friends will manage to get me out of my apartment one way or another. I feel like a cat who was adopted by two dogs who share the same brain cell. But, they have helped me a lot over the last couple of months so I owe it to them to be their voice of reason sometimes.”

You pause and have a laugh to yourself. You think about all the ridiculous adventures the two of them have taken you on in the last few months, doing things that you would never have done before Henry. They’ve taken the hard metal bones out of your binding and started loosening the strings. You wonder if you would have even said yes to doing this letter thing if you hadn’t already had your boundaries pushed a little.

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but do you have any big plans for when you get out? Places you want to go? Food you want to try? People you want to see?”

You smile when you dot the last question mark. It feels sneaky to ask when you know that your meeting is inevitable, and there is a small voice in your ear telling you that he wouldn’t want to meet you. You’re boring. Simple. Dull. Only shades of grey fill your wardrobe, your heart, where there was once colour. Broken.

The new bottle of wine you got at the gas station stares at you from the kitchen.

Anyway.

“Hopefully you’re able to get out in time for the summer. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk outside as a free man and get to feel the sun on your skin? I think Hawkins is having a Rose festival again next year. There could be some inspiration there for you for your art, and if not, the funnel cakes are worth the admission price. Everything else is overpriced, but what isn’t nowadays?”

Filling the last bit of the back of the page, you felt it only fair to give a few details about yourself. Just a general description, nothing too revealing. Not that there was much to give away since becoming a professional educator has taken any creative freedom from your sense of style. You did tell him that on the weekends you treated yourself by wearing comfy clothes all day. You didn’t tell him that you only felt okay to do that recently, since your ex husband always expected you to look your best.

As you reached the bottom, you remembered the redacted section of his last letter. Do should you ask about it? Would he even be able to tell you? You went ahead and brought it up.

“Before I close this letter, I am curious to know why the last bit of your letter had been marked out. I can only imagine what you could have asked that it had to be taken out. I hope it wasn’t inappropriate, Mr.Banished.” You added a little “ha ha” in parentheses so he knew you were just joking, careful once again not to offend.

“Looking forward to your next letter,”

You signed your name, fighting the urge to draw a heart next to it like the girls in your class writing notes to their crush. There was no way that feeling like this for someone that you’ve only had correspondence through letters and the bit of hype from your mutual friends can be healthy. Grabbing the box of greeting cards that you had sat on the coffee table, you wrote some well wishes and folded your letter to fit within the confines of the red envelope. You took a look at it for the first time since Bridges had handed them over and your heart dropped.

In one of the ethics classes you took in college a classmate did a presentation on Pendleton Prison. It had just come out the year before that there had been an abuse of power and prisoners were basically being tortured. It was hard to observe but informative. You couldn’t even imagine something like that happening to Eddie. You wondered if the reason they were participating in this program to begin with was to help with their reputation. We’ll let them talk to some kids and it will seem like we’re not abusing our inmates.

You look at the wine bottle again.

It’s fine. If Eddie was going through something like that, surely he would have told Steve and Robin, his uncle. But you wanted to be sure. You walk into your kitchen.

December 25th, 1994

“…You can say hello when you see me. You don't have to be afraid. There's a lot of things going around about me, but none of it's true. Okay?”

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly close them when the harsh light of your tv playing Home Alone was too bright. Another dream about Eddie had taken over your mind in your sleep. You sit back to the door, the key in your hand. He doesn’t push you anymore, says to only give the key if you want to. That he enjoys your company no matter what.

Sigh.

As you sit up from the couch where you had dozed off the night before, you decide to make a cup of coffee and ring your brother.

“I could have come to get you. And brought you back. You know I don’t mind-“

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You have your own family now, I don’t want to dampen the mood,” you say as if you mean it. Coffee swishes around in your mug as you talk. It was true that your brother had a family of his own and was living the American dream. You liked that he invited you to be part of that, but you just couldn’t get past the notion that everyone would just look at you with pity. You’d rather be alone

Steve and Robin also invited you to Colorado with them. Steve’s parents had a house in Aspen where they were hosting Christmas this year. Steve insisted his parents wouldn’t care if you tagged along since they started to become fond of Robin. As much as seeing the beautiful snow covered mountains of Colorado sounds like a great reprieve for your mind, you still lied and told them you were going to your brothers. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

The sound of Kevin McCallister’s hijinks in New York got your attention. The movie distracted you for a while, until it didn’t. You watched the tv -- well, rather you looked at it for until you stood up, deciding to get out of the house, even if just to drive around.

The movie-esque scenery of small town Hawkins covered in snow was quiet and still, say for the few cars that you passed likely on the way to see family, traveling between houses. Something you and Henry did to make things fair for both of you. Your mom’s house first, then his parents.

Cars sat outside the Hideout, piquing your interest as you watched a man get out of a pick up truck and walk inside. It was close enough to five o'clock that you decided to pull into the lot, pulling into a spot by the door. Inside you were surprised to see it fairly occupied, mostly by men who looked like they worked at the factory in town or drove the big rig that was parked on the side of the building. The patrons seemed to talk amongst themselves, some semblance of holiday cheer keeping their spirits alive as their glasses clanked and boisterous laughs filled the air.

Sliding into an empty bar stool, you grabbed your purse to get your ID and some cash.

“Ain’t ya little young to be sittin’ alone at a bar on Christmas?”

You looked up from your purse at the man sitting next to you at the bar. He sipped from his glass, cigarette smoke seeping from his lips, attention set on nothing in particular. He was an older man, bald on top and plenty of aging on his face, but you had the feeling he was younger than he looked. Some of his features felt familiar to you but you weren’t sure why.

“Um, well, I guess so,” you stutter as you set your purse down between your feet. “But, uh, I really didn’t want to spend Christmas alone.”

A hum and a nod, “I guess loneliness knows no age.” He huffed a laugh before getting the bartender's attention. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, no, please, you don’t-” you begin to protest, but he puts his hand up and waves you off.

“Trust me,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, “I would be buying it for someone else if they could be here.”

Ah. You tell the bartender your order and the man tells him to put it on his tab.

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile, turning towards him to speak as the bar patrons become louder. You paused for a beat before speaking again, “I’m sorry you’re alone today.”

“Makes no difference to me really, just another day to me,” he takes a sip of his beer. You almost miss it, but you see the flash of a smile on his face.

“Just another day, huh,” you say smugly, dipping your head into his line of vision. He must have realized he was smiling because he covered his hand with his mouth shyly, the motion a contradiction to his hard exterior. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat, opening from his hunched position to talk with you properly.

“It’s just another day, always been to me, but,” He looks at you for a moment, then back down into his beer, “I used to celebrate, for my boy. Haven’t gotten to do that properly in a while. I’m hopin’ this year will be the last, that next year will be different.”

His endearment made your eyes misty. “That’s so sweet,” you coo, putting a hand on coat covered arm, “I’m sure things will work out.” You pull back when your drink is dropped off, quickly taking a few sips.

The man watches you, his head shaking in your peripherals. “So, what’s really got ya out here celebrating with Hawkins finest? Besides the, uh,” he gestures vaguely, “cheerful atmosphere.”

You stay quiet for a moment, eyes focused on the straw floating in your drink. Deep breath in, and out. “Do you want the half truth or the full truth?”

His body bounces from a chuckle, “I got a little time.”

Pouring your heart out to a stranger over drinks felt therapeutic, and not in the same way as talking to Robin and Steve. He just listened, nodded his head, grunted in what you assume to be agreement. This man, who looks like he hasn’t taken a day off in his life, made you feel more valid with no words at all than anyone else has in your entire life besides your own mother.

“And now I’m, like, kinda into this guy, but he doesn’t know I exist,” your words are a little slurred as you take down another drink. “Sorry, no, he knows I exist, but he knows nothing about me. Like, he knows some things, but he doesn’t really know me, ya know?”

His head bobs up and down, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I feel weird feeling this way, because I would never have even considered a guy like him before. Henry, I told you about Henry, he was super uppity, snotty. A real tight ass. But, this guy is funny. Genuine, and his friends talk him up. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that? Even if he is rough around the edges.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with you and this guy, I outta introduce you to my nephew. He was always picked on in school for being different, but he’s a good kid. Just got into the wrong stuff,” the mans face sunk a bit, “My fault really.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “How so?”

“Heart attack. Had one while at work. Stayed in the hospital for a few, got the bill and almost had another one,” he chuckles at that. “I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘em, but he came over to visit and I forgot about it. Saw it sittin’ on the counter. Next thing I know he’s callin’ me sayin’ he’s booked on ‘possession with intent to distribute’. Buncha bull for some grass.” He put his cigarette out with a harsh stab. “But, he’ll be good soon. My deadbeat brother’s been keepin’ an eye on him in there and he’s been keeping his good behavior streak.”

“He sounds like a good kid,” you rest your cheek against the cool counter as you smile up at him.

“Yeah, he is.” His smile reaches his eyes, and so does yours.

“Well, gotta go, darlin’,” he slaps a couple bills on the counter and nods to the bartender, “Excpectin’ a call here soon. Get you some pretzels or somethin’ before ya take off.”

“Thank you,” your brows come together, “sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

“Names Wayne.”

“Nice to meet you, Wayne.”

thanks for reading.

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