#this was the thing that i lost 3 hours of progress off

[lyss-butterscotch]

hey pebbles, has your citizen interacted much with NSH's messenger

Pebbles : I think they're very good friends

Hunter and Arti :

[illogicalvulcans]

nooooooo i put off this sidequest for too long and bc i completed a different one first locked myself out of a third sidequest entirely......

[ceruark]

general yandere headcanons - ratio, boothill, aventurine, sunday

notes: gn! reader. yandere! ratio, boothill, aventurine, sunday [separate] cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, stalking, abduction, manipulation, blackmail, brainwashing words: 2250 a/n: one of these is longer than the others. can you tell i have a favorite?

VERITAS believes genius comes in many forms, and you exhibit some traits that could qualify you as being one. Whether or not you're a scholar, your ability to listen intently, ponder things deeply, and uphold meaningful conversation captured his attention and landed you in his favor. He thinks highly of you, and finds himself eagerly awaiting the next time he can poke your brain about some complex topic you feel like you aren’t equipped to comment on, but do so anyway at his insistence.

His obsession with you isn't apparent at first, not even to him. He tells himself it's simply in a scholar's nature to learn more about the things that intrigue them, and you're not special just because he seeks out information on you wherever he can. His research ends up paying off when he finds out that you desire more than the quaint life you've made for yourself, and he personally extends you an invitation to Veritas Prime.

When you accept, he insists that you attend as many of his lectures as humanly possible. Even if it doesn't align with what you're studying, he convinces you to show up anyway, fabricating some argument for how it will be useful for you in the future. Normally he'd be irritated with himself for giving a lackluster lecture, but he can hardly blame himself for being distracted when he has your undivided attention for hours on end. He's addicted to it, the way your eyes lock with his, the way you hang on to every word leaving his mouth.

Not that any of this is obvious to you. No, from your perspective, he's harsh and critical, always undermining your intelligence by insisting you need additional lectures and overseeing your studies himself. Obviously, he doesn't put much faith in your competency and thinks you'll fail unless you're being handheld the entire way. He may not outright insult you the way he does with others, but his "special treatment" is enough to make you feel insecure in your own abilities.

And that insecurity is a weak point he unapologetically exploits. When he feels like he hasn't seen enough of you lately, all it takes is a few bad marks from him to have you at his side, seeking out guidance and ways to improve. The worst is when he catches you spending too much time (which is any time at all) with those insignificant simpletons you call your friends. Clearly, you have too much time on your hands. Certainly you can assist him with his latest project, no? Well, if you'd rather slack off and lose all the progress you've made so far, that's fine, too.

You'll never know what his true intentions are until he's already involved in or controlling every aspect of your life, and at that point, you can't risk upsetting him. Your future success is contingent on how content you can keep him, and in this new phase of your relationship, you hardly know how to do that.

Better get to researching.

Threat Level: 3/5 Pet Names: darling, dear/dearest

BOOTHILL loves to make you laugh— it's the thing that drew him to you. He'll do anything to keep your attention on him, not caring how much of a fool he looks so long as you keep those gorgeous eyes on him. But beneath all the flirtation and humor is a deep desperation; he can't lose you, not after everything he's already lost. He stays on your home planet for as long as he can, but he has things to take care of, so he can't stick around forever.

To be fair, he tries. He makes the first few trips alone, leaving you behind to live your life— and every minute is agony. He doesn't know what you're doing, who you're with, or if you're safe. He's glued to his phone, constantly checking the news to make sure no tragedy has struck your home planet or the cozy town you reside in. Every night he wakes up from a nightmare, the sounds of bombs ringing in his ears and the illusion of your corpse still hovering before his eyes.

The next time he visits you, he takes you. You're coming with him— you don't have a choice. He can't live without you by his side, but he can't stay in one place, either. You can fight him all you want, but he's relentless, and his fear builds up into a frustration that causes him to be a little harsh. You're weak, vulnerable, and you can't be expected to protect yourself, so he has to. When he calms down, he tries to convince you that it won't be so bad. You'll get to travel the endless galaxy with the man you'd been so taken with just a few days ago. What more could you ask for?

Trying to escape him is futile. He's probably the easiest one on this list to get away from, but don't let that get to your head: he'll be hot on your trail, so you better hope those few days away from him are worth it in the end.

But with time you'll learn there is some truth to his words; if you don't try to leave him and keep him happy, then maybe you can trick yourself into believing that this is a life you chose for yourself.

Threat Level: 3.5/5 Pet Names: beau, gorgeous, sugar

AVENTURINE is like a moth to a flame, and your capacity for intimacy is the match. You're the first person in recent memory who treats him as a person, not as a commodity or a body, a wallet or another cog in the machine. Your first interaction was fleeting, but it replays in his mind every time he closes his eyes.

He watches you for some time, learning you inside and out— partially to satisfy his desire to know more about you, but mostly for leverage. He memorizes your schedule and interests, and subpoenas documents to learn more sensitive information, such as your medical history and anything pertaining to your family. He remembers everyone you interact with, making note of who's on the sidelines and who's part of your inner circle. He sees the way you openly bare your heart to them, keeping them comforted by its warmth, and he wants it all for himself. Hasn't he been denied something so pure for long enough?

He's charming in the beginning, using one of his many masks to slither his way into your mind and heart. He showers you with compliments and gifts, leaving you flustered after every single meeting. He knows exactly what you like, so it's easy to keep you fixated on him.

When you two finally make things official, he lures you into the palm of his hand. Your rent unexpectedly went up? No worries, he can start covering that for you— it's no trouble for him, really. Someone important to you had an unexpected health issue and can't cover the bill? He's got it, anything to cause you less stress. Is he sure it's okay? Of course it is. He only wants to see you happy.

When your friends start dropping like flies and even your family starts to distance themselves for you, he's by your side through the turmoil. Fate has been so cruel to the both of you, hasn't it? It's okay, he's here for you. He's not going anywhere.

By the time you catch on to his manipulation and realize he's behind your isolation from your friends and family, it's too late. You're too dependent on him, and he knows everything about you and anyone still sticking by you. Do you dare bite the hand that feeds you? Will you try to escape? Can you afford to pay the price if it all goes wrong?

What will you wager to get yourself back in his good graces?

It’s unwise to try your luck against his. Play along, and perhaps he'll show you the face that you fell for.

Threat Level: 4/5 Pet Names: babe, doll, sweetheart

SUNDAY takes notice of you because of your carefree nature. Being so trapped in his own head about the fate of Penacony and humanity as a whole, he's captivated by the way you seem unconcerned with matters larger than yourself. While you do plan for the future and have aspirations of your own, you still manage to live in the moment and take things one day at a time, possessing a liveliness he's never quite seen before, never been allowed to have himself.

He knows about you long before you ever meet him. Nightingales line every path you walk, sticking to the shadows and noting everything about you: the places you frequent, the food you like, the type of clothes you buy, your colleagues, your route home, and the little habits you have that he finds so endearing.

When he finally appears before you, you're starstruck— how could you not be? The head of the Oak Family is seated beside you at Dreamjolt Holstery, making small talk about your day and your life and your interests when he could be speaking to any of the other high-profile guests at the bar. You're flustered from the honor of having his undivided attention, and the butterflies in your stomach only worsen when he asks if it would be possible to keep in contact with you. Of course, you give him your number, and your impromptu meeting turns into another, and from there, into more.

He's so earnest in his adoration for you that you never notice how off-putting it is that he seems to already know what you like. Surely it's just a coincidence that he takes you out to all your favorite places and gifts you things that you'd been spending months saving up to buy yourself. It's nothing more than fate that you seem to bump into him at the oddest of times, on your way back home from a night out on the town, or during the day while you're heading out to meet with one of your friends.

It's only when you agree to a relationship that you start to get concerned. Describing his behavior as "clingy" would be putting it lightly; he tries to have you by his side in any way he can, talking you into attending a party with him or asking you to sit in his office at his side while he gets through paperwork. When you go anywhere without him, he's ordering a member of the Bloodhound Family to accompany you. He seems so distressed at the mere thought of you not being by his side, nevermind the thought of you being out in public by yourself— it's not healthy for either of you. Before you can even think to voice your concerns to him, he's wrapping his arms around you and reminding you that he just worries about you. The Family has many enemies, and they would be willing to use you to get to him. He just wants to make sure you're safe.

When Robin goes missing, things take a turn for the worse. He moves you into Dewlight Pavilion, and you don't get a say in the matter. If he's home, you're by his side at all times. Anything you have to tend to at this point can be done from within the comfort of the estate, and in his presence. Even if he's not there, he might as well be; the nightingales and their pervasive gaze are out in the open now, watching as you aimlessly wander the pavilion, getting lost in the maze and growing a little more desperate each time you explore your new home. You move through the mansion with an urgency, like you're searching for something.

Like you're trying to leave.

When Sunday's suffocating protection inevitably gets to you and you try to confront him, he gives you one more chance to see things his way on your own. It's a miscalculation on his end; you snap again, only this time, you manage to find an exit. You make it back to Golden Hour, but by the time you get there, there's already a group of Bloodhounds waiting to catch you and drag you back.

When you're shoved into his office, he's standing with his back to you, hands clasped behind his back. You can hear the heartbreak, the betrayal in his voice as he tells you how hurt he is that you'd endanger yourself after everything he's done for you. Out of guilt or fear, you can't tell, but you apologize and swear to him that you won't do it again.

And you won't— he'll make sure of it. Under the light of the Harmony, all is revealed: his undying love for you, your reciprocation, and the strength of his will over yours. You see it now, don't you? Everything he does is for your wellbeing. Clipping your wings while you're on the ground is just a way to ensure you'll never fall out of the sky. You're safe here, in this gilded cage he's tailored your tastes, with a kind keeper to tend to your every need and shower you with all the affection your heart could ever desire. How could you fault him for that?

You can't. After all, you don’t even remember why you were upset with him in the first place.

Threat Level: 5/5 Pet Names: angel, dear/dearest, dove

[thoughtvoid]

Playing Pokemon Violet and just.

Me wanting to progress on the paths to get mobility, unlock items, catch easier, etc, so I’ve been kinda blazing ahead without stopping in an area for too long.

Also me: Starts a picnic to heal and get some powers, sees all my mon falling asleep, so sets my system aside for ten minutes so they can rest.

[nanowrimo]

4 Tips for Autistic Writers

Autistic writers can face unique challenges when it comes to writing. NaNo Participant Auden Halligan has tips to handle some of those challenges!

So, you’ve just sat down at your desk, all ready to work on your next chapter, but you just can’t seem to start. Something is itching at your brain, and no matter how hard you think, you can’t figure it out. For autistic writers, that itch might be even harder to get around when compounded with autistic inertia, introspection issues, and sensory processing disorder — even if we were super excited to get started, sometimes the stumbling blocks are enough to keep us from going anywhere at all.

Here are four tips to identify your struggles and work around them rather than against them as an autistic writer!

1. Schedule your writing time appropriately

While keeping a schedule can help you stave off unwanted change in your routine, the need to switch to another task when the clock strikes the hour sometimes feels like a monumental task, one that eventually becomes detrimental to your creative pursuits.

If switching tasks is the biggest hurdle to your writing, setting a designated writing time with no other plans around it could do the trick. Oftentimes, just one hour of time to transition from doing dishes to sitting down at your computer to write is exactly what you need to get past that point and find your writing headspace.

2. Make sure your sensory environment is right

Sometimes getting into that writing headspace is harder than normal, but you can’t put your finger on a reason. Chances are, you’re not quite ready until you have your sensory needs met and you can fully focus on your story.

Personally, I like to be on the couch with my water bottle, a playlist at just the right volume, and a comfortable jacket or hoodie on. For you, the ideal sensory space might involve a desk and a snack, a pet nearby, and a quiet room. For others, it could be outside or even at a library or coffee shop. Autistic people are all different and so are their sensory needs, so this one is super subjective — do what works best for you!

3. Take breaks often

Writing can be exhausting, and if you’re struggling to keep going, you might need to take a pause. If you’re like me and struggle with remembering to hydrate and eat once you’re deep in a task, use your break to get some water and a snack. If you’re having trouble staying focused, get up and move around and stim or go outside to give your brain a reset. If you feel like you’ve gotten some good progress done, however small, reward yourself — do something related to your special interest, dance with a pet, and celebrate your little (or big!) win!

The pomodoro method is a good way to keep yourself from working too long without a break, and if that doesn’t work for you, methods like the Eisenhower method with breaks interspersed and even simply inserting breaks into your scheduled writing time are just as valid.

4. Don’t be afraid to skip around

Another thing that often trips us autistic people up is needing to follow the story down its natural progression, from start to middle all the way to the finish. But inevitably, once we’ve gotten past the initial excitement of having the project started, we hit a stumbling block…and the project gets abandoned. I’ve left behind countless projects because I lost interest after hitting a scene I wasn’t excited for after just a few chapters.

To combat this, try writing out of order! Skip ahead to the scene directly after your stumbling block. You could also skip to the next scene your favorite character is in or even to the climax if it helps you move forward. If you’re having trouble putting your first words down, try writing a random scene in the middle of your story to get into the groove of writing your characters.

Alternately, if you can’t abide by the out of order method and really need to get your characters from Point A to Point B, try putting the scene you’re stuck on in brackets. For example:

[Character 1 and Character 2 fight over the decision to kick Character 3 off the team. 2 leaves in anger.]

It’s simple, efficient, and gets you out of that particular rut so you can keep moving toward that sweet, sweet conversation you’ve wanted to write since Day 1.

Now go forth and write, my friends!

Auden Halligan is a creator through and through. She’s been writing her entire life, but didn’t start participating in NaNoWriMo until 2017–right now she’s working on developing a TV series (or two!) and has several novels and short films in the drafting phase. Auden is currently a college student studying film production and hoping to minor in disability studies. You can find her on her very sparse Twitter at ink.and.spite. Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

If you’re an autistic writer, check out the Pillow Fort in the NaNoWriMo forums! It’s a group for people who are neurodivergent, have disabilities, mental health concerns, or physical challenges that affect their lives.

[dwaekkicidal]

pussyplay with channie????? like taping and slapping??? oh god

this plagued me since the second i saw it earlier today so i had to write something for it or else i'd explode.

edit; i was rereading this and realized that you mightve meant taping as in (tape) and not tapping LMFAO if thats what u wanted lmk and i’ll write you something for that bc i lowkey find that hot😭♥️

~700 words | warnings: fingering (f receiving), pussy slaps/taps, generally mean dom chris icl..., exhibitionism

god Chris and pussy slaps are so MMMMMMMM👹 he's the type to do softer slaps just to tease but hard slaps as a punishment for you misbehaving and/or moving around too much. unless its a day where he's pissed off for whatever reason and you give him the ok to use you. then you're really in for it.

❥ let's say that something went wrong at the studio earlier today; maybe one of his files corrupted and he lost hours worth of progress. i lowkey think he'd be the type to be so angry that he would cry bc he admitted to having anger issues lmao but after that, he's coming home and walking in the door in pure silence. maybe slamming doors subconsciously and/or setting things down aggressively.

❥ and, being the good little toy you are, you pull him into the bedroom and give him the option to either [A] talk about it with you or [B] fuck his anger out using you <3 and who is he to deny that good of an ultimatum???

❥ so he'll get all rough and pin you down to the bed >< almost ripping your clothes as he takes them off. or- better yet, if you have nothing but his shirt on then he's simply pushing your panties to the side. he'll force a few fingers down your throat to wet them and then shove two right into your cunt

❥ he'll finger you soooo meanly and the second you start to squirm too much for his liking or the second your legs try to close, one of those pretty, veiny hands are coming down on your clit >< he might even pull his wet fingers out to slap them across your folds too before plunging them back in

THIS JUST CAME TO MIND BUT IF HE'S ANGRY HE'S DEFINITELY THE TYPE TO SAY SHIT LIKE "This greedy fucking pussy. So tight and can't fit all my fingers in it." *whack* "What am I gonna do with you."

❥ but he's not a complete sadist though, so he'll rub over the area a few times as an apology and maybe give you a kiss or two there. but that's all you're getting <3 because this is about him and for once in his life he's allowing himself to be greedy (🔫), so he's gonna sit there for as long as it takes for his anger to subside (not long but he can and will pretend to be angry just to keep going)

the first way i thought of him tapping your pussy is through your panties ><

❥ maybe you're at an event with him or you're out at dinner with him and the boys. maybe you're just a liiiittle more bratty than usual for whatever reason, maybe you were being rude/a brat the entire way there and now that everyone is sat, you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself. so when it's <15 minutes into dinner, the appetizers haven't even arrived yet, and he already feels your hands on his thigh? his patience is thrown out the window.

❥ even more so when that hand moves right over the semi-hardon in his jeans and rubs it ever so lightly. then you're stealing his hand and sliding it under the table, to everybody else it looks like you guys are holding hands but trying to do so secretly, so if somebody notices they just smile and wiggle their eyebrows at the "PDA."

❥ but in reality you're sliding that hand between your parting thighs and placing your hand over his, basically instructing him to rub over your pussy through your already thin panties. and those thin panties that seem even thinner by the way your wetness seeps through.

❥ he'll shove his tongue into the skin of his cheek, squeeze his legs together to relieve some tension, and then he's swatting your hand away. he'll spread your folds through the fabric just to tap against your clit meanly. he wont even rub it or give it any other sort of attention; just tapping it softly sometimes then roughly the other. the rough ones make you actually jump/shiver and some of the guys catch on, but he'll just say you're cold.

❥ then he's not stopping until you start to make some noise, either if whines start to come out of your throat or if your breaths turn into low moans. at that point, he'll pat you a singular time and remove his hands. he'll act like nothing happened the rest of the night... until you get home c;

[dollfacefantasy]

strip poker that leads to threesome with death island older boyfriend leon and his best friend chris?! reader keeps on losing and ends up half naked and left in her panties while leon and chris are both fully clothed 🥹. + degration and daddy kink (for leon) !

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: a game of strip poker with your boyfriend and his friend ends exactly how you'd expect would

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, daddy kink

word count: 3k

a/n + tags: thank you so much for the request babe! i don't really know how to play poker so forgive any errors 🙏 also consider this to be sharing is caring chris & leon. i hope you enjoy how this turned out <3 @nexysworld @gor3-hound @pupthepokemonenthusiast

"That's not fair!" you whine and gesture at the older man sitting to your left at the table.

When your boyfriend had told you he wanted to invite Chris over to hang out this evening, you'd been completely supportive. You were certain this meant they were wanting a replay of the explicit activities that had transpired between the three of you a few weeks prior. You imagined yourself sitting between them at dinner, feeling their lingering gazes, hearing their hinting words. They'd guide you off to the bedroom or even spread you out right there on the table and have their way with you. 

You fantasized about all the possibilities, but one thing that never crossed your mind was that they'd want to play a game of poker. Let alone a game of strip poker.

When Leon pulled out the deck of cards, you'd raised your eyebrows but tentatively agreed. They'd told you that whoever lost a hand would have to remove an article of clothing. You were interested, believing it wouldn't be too long before all three of you were naked and going at it. How wrong you had been though because in reality, it seemed this game did anything but speed things along.

It'd been over an hour, and Chris & Leon were both still fully clothed while you sat in your bra and panties.

What had prompted your outburst of whining was for the first time tonight, someone that wasn't you had lost a hand. You were excited that some progress was being made as Chris stood up to remove a piece of his clothing. But all he did was unbuckle his belt and slip it from between the loops on his jeans.

Both men chuckle at your frustration, and Leon smirks at you.

"Oh, calm down," he says, "Don't be a sore loser."

"It's not being a sore loser when you guys are like openly cheating!" you insist and lean back in your chair.

"How is he cheating, honey? He's removing his clothes isn't he?" he asks you.

"A belt isn't a piece of clothing! You didn't count my necklace when I picked that to take off," you say.

"Chris has to take off his belt to eventually get to his pants. If he had to take off both right now, that wouldn't really be fair," he says, obviously taunting you, "You didn't need to take off that necklace to get to any of your clothes."

"You made me take off both my shoes in one turn," you point out.

"Shoes are in a pair, princess. I only have one belt," Chris adds.

You huff and cross your arms, shooting the both of them with dirty looks. Despite your complaining, the three of you were all on an even playing field at the start of the game. You all had the same amount of items to lose. For the night, you had on your shoes and socks, shirt and skirt, and bra and panties. The guys on the other sides of the table had their shoes and socks, shirt and pants, and belt and underwear. You'd already lost four to put you at your remaining two.

You roll your eyes as Leon deals again, but you sit up to play. As it turns out, Chris coming up short before was a fluke because this time the bad luck was back on you. They both laugh as you throw your cards down and rub your eyes.

"You know, Leon, if you wanted me to take my clothes off, you could've just asked instead of drawing it out with this stupid game," you say.

"But it's so much more fun this way," he grins.

You glare at him while standing up to remove your clothing.

"C'mon, sweetheart. What's it gonna be? That cute ass or those gorgeous tits?" Chris taunts, lowering his tone as his words become lecherous.

You can already feel the heat starting to creep into your face. Without a word you reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra, letting the straps slip over your shoulders as you slide the lacy garment down your arms. Your breasts bounce free from their confines, and you drop it to the floor with your other things.

You're met with a whistle from Leon that cements a flustered expression on your face. Chris wears a smug look, but you can see in his eyes how he enjoys taking in your figure. Your nipples begin to pebble when exposed to the cool air.

"No need to be shy, honey. It's nothing we haven't seen before," your boyfriend teases.

"Just deal again, so we can get this over with," you say.

Sitting down inadvertently pushing your breasts together, making them stand out a bit more as if crying out for attention from either of the sets of hands in the room. It's Chris's turn to deal, but he takes a moment longer to shuffle the cards up since his eyes linger on your chest.

Another round goes by, and it's another round you lose. At least you were out of the game now, but you weren't sure what that meant. The thought of being sent off to your and Leon's room with no reward spun you out of sorts.

"Bullshit! You guys are cheating," you exclaim and drop your cards for the final time.

Both of them laugh at you. Chris shakes his head and takes his winnings from the round while Leon looks over at you.

"Watch your mouth," he says. He's teasing, but he uses a stern tone that zaps arousal right through you, "Remember whose money you're playing with, angel."

You look down when he says that. It was true that you didn't lose anything but your dignity by playing this game. Leon put up the money for the both of you.

"Your money or not, that doesn't change how many times I lost. That's like unnatural amounts of bad luck," you pout.

"Have you ever considered you might just have the worst poker face in the world?" he goads.

"I do not," you respond instantly.

"Oh yes you do," Chris interjects, "You bite your lip whenever you think you can win. Your eyes dart around whenever you feel like you're gonna lose. We can basically read your cards just from hearing your voice."

You scoff at that, but you don't really have a defense. You'd never been a good liar, especially with Leon. He chuckles at the defeat written all over you before leaning a bit closer.

"How about you come sit with me, babydoll? You can be on daddy's team," he says and pats his lap.

The rush that goes through you pulls you from your chair and over to his. He holds your hips, smiling up at you and planting a gentle kiss right above your navel.

"You still lost last round though. Gotta take these off before we can continue," he says and snaps the elastic of your panties.

You drop them to the floor and kick them to the pile of clothing next to your chair. He then takes you in his arms and gets you situated on his thighs. You lean back against his chest while he deals himself and his friend back in.

The first game without you in it is uneventful. You sit with Leon and he occasionally lays a small smooch on your cheekbone, but that's about it. You just watch him play, but at least you're getting some sort of physical contact.

He ends up winning, and Chris slips off his shoes. In a gesture of celebration, his hands come to cover your breasts and give them a squeeze. His fingers dig into the plump flesh, his palms brushing against your hardened nipples.

"You paying attention? Maybe you can learn a thing or two about winning," he murmurs against the skin of your neck.

The next game starts up as Chris sets the deck down between them. This time is a lot more interesting for you. Leon sits there, stoic as ever, but his hand drifts downward. It finds its place between your thighs, his middle digit seeking out the familiar location of your clit.

The invasion causes you to squirm slightly, but a quick pinch to your inner thigh halts your movements. Chris's eyes are switching between his cards and your increasingly aroused appearance. Your boyfriend pays his leering no mind though. The rough pad of his fingertip swirls around your bundle of nerves.

You spread your legs a little to give him more room, and you can feel his face convey his amusement against your head. His fingers rub down over your entrance, dragging some slick up over your clit. His digits slide over it with ease now, flicking back and forth over the tiny bud with lazy precision. You purse your lips to try and stifle your whimpers but little squeaks make it through now and again.

"You don't have to keep quiet, sweetheart," he whispers in your ear, "I think those pretty noises might help daddy win."

He could tell from the way Chris was shifting in his seat that he was starting to get a boner. He was getting aroused himself, but he got you all the time. He had more control. He could stave off a full erection for a little while. His friend on the other hand - he was eager to try you again.

Your head tilts back with permission and a longing breath leaves your lungs. Your breasts rise and fall with the motion, those perky nipples bobbing in a way that nearly hypnotizes Chris. All the while Leon's hand remains dedicated at the apex of your thighs. He strokes you just you like before moving his finger down to your entrance and sliding it in, grinding his palm on your swollen nub simultaneously.

"Fuck daddy," you whimper and roll your hips.

"What is it, baby? Looks like daddy's gonna win, doesn't it?" he purrs.

You nod mindlessly, not paying attention at all to the game. But whatever daddy says goes. That much you knew.

Chris is so enthralled with the sight of you unraveling on his friend's lap that he folds without a second glance at his cards. Your boyfriend chuckles at him while working his finger to the knuckle within you.

"You must have had a pretty rough hand, man," Leon jokes.

Chris's eyes flit to him. "I'm just in the mood for a different kind of fun now," he says.

"You are?" he says. He then turns his gaze to you. "What about you, dolly? You wanna have some fun with daddy's friend now?"

"Yes," you choke out as your back arches away from his chest, his digit pushing up against your internal sweet spot.

"Yeah?" he coos, "What kind? You want Chris in your pussy again? Or something else?"

Decision making isn't your strongest skill while in this frame of mind. You try to come up with an answer. As usual, Leon swoops in for you and makes the save.

"How about you use that pretty mouth on Chris?" he murmurs in your ear, "Suck on his cock while daddy gets his prize for winning."

Chris stands up once the plan is set, his bulge visible at the front of his pants. Leon gestures for him to wait though. Instead of having the older man come to the two of you, he pulls his fingers out of you and spins you around, boosting you back onto the table. You push some of the cards behind you out of the way on your way down. You end up spread across the table, happy that part of your earlier fantasy was now coming true.

Now both men stand, looking down on your nude form and taking in every curve and crux. Leon reaches forward to grope one of your tits again. He gives it a good feel before cupping it and leaning down to press some kisses around the nipple. He kisses from there over to the valley between your breasts and down your tummy. All the affection gives Chris time to shed his pants and boxers and give his cock a few languid tugs.

Leon sits in his chair again, pushing your thighs apart and looking at your glistening cunt. He leans in and kisses your clit with a feather light touch.

"Look at Chris, baby. He's got your treat waiting for you," he mumbles as he wraps his arms around your thighs and delves into his favorite luxury in the world.

You mewl but do as he tells you and turn your head. Waiting for you is Chris's heavy, flushed cock, dripping precum from the swollen tip. Your mouth waters. You'd wanted it bad last time, and now it was all yours. He reaches down to pet your head.

"That look good, princess?" he coos in a low voice.

You nod lazily, your brain fogging up with the mist of lust. Your lips part, and he pushes his hips forward, slotting his length in your mouth. You moan around the shaft, your tongue laving against the veins. His cock was thicker than your boyfriends. The difference thrilled you. You have to stretch your jaw a bit to accommodate him as he works it into your mouth. Your fingers wrap around the part you can't take.

He groans and tilts his head back. He sinks as deep as he can, unable to get enough of that soft, wet orifice.

"Fuck, honey. You're a two for one. Perfect mouth to go with that perfect pussy," he grunts.

You nod lazily and begin bobbing your head best you can while laying on your back. Chris was kind of impressed by your dedication and focus considering Leon was between your legs devouring you as if you were his final meal.

His tongue slides from his mouth and delves into your awaiting entrance. He moans as he tastes you; sweet and rich, completely addictive. As natural as sucking cock came to you, Leon's propensity to eat pussy seemed to be innate. He keeps you pressed against his face, eating you out like you're the finest delicacy he's ever tasted.

The intensity of his efforts have you whining and drooling on Chris's dick, but you keep sucking. The older man's fingers soothingly rub the back of your neck and help to guide you and pace you. Pulling back a bit, you suckle on the tip and kitten lick the head, making him grit his teeth and will himself not to blow his load right there.

"Your daddy's taught you well, babydoll," he pants before pushing you forward again till his tip nudges the back of your throat.

Both you and Leon moan when you hear that. He laps at your cunt with increased fervor now. He flattens his tongue and laves it over your throbbing clit before wrapping his lips around the little bud. You jolt and your legs jerk, but his hold on you is firm.

"Let daddy have his prize, sweet girl. Wanna taste that cum," he mutters before returning all of his attention back to your pussy.

Your whole body shudders, but you keep going for Chris. He runs his free hand through his hair and wipes at the sweat beading on his brow.

"Don't think I'm gonna last too much longer, Leon," he informs the other man.

"She won't either," he tells him, indirectly giving him the go ahead to do as he pleases.

Chris moans while beginning to rock his hips back and forth. His thrusts stay gentle, but they're just what he needs to start working him to the edge. Meanwhile Leon has your hips and legs squirming as if they're running from the release destined to catch them. He keeps you in place and keeps twirling his tongue against you.

It's Chris who cums first. His eyes flutter closed and his hips sputter, making sure he's nice and deep in your mouth when ropes of cum fire out of him. He moans and fucks it all into your awaiting throat. It's warm and sticky, and you swallow it like the good girl you are.

His eyes are hazy as he looks down at you. He's slow to pull out. When he finally does, the tip rests against your lips and you give it a few kisses. A string of saliva connects the two things when he backs away for a moment to catch his breath.

As he calms down, you spiral further into the pits of euphoria. Your back arches off the table and you claw at it so much you feel like there's gonna be scratch marks when you're finished. Leon keeps on with his task like he's being paid. He strikes the perfect balance between playing with your clit and teasing your insides that has you cumming minutes later.

Chris watches from above as you yelp. He takes in every little switch of expression on your face. Leaning down from behind you, he kisses your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. He captures all your lewd moans and whimpers. His nose brushes against your chin as his lips move with yours.

He cups and rubs your cheeks as you come down. Leon's movements slow down until he gives your cunt one last sloppy, lingering kiss and pulls away. Your slick covers his chin. He doesn't wipe it away before standing up and bending over to kiss you himself. You taste your pleasure on him.

Your head is still spinning as the men help you sit up on the table. Gentle touches come from all directions it seems, and you're barely able to discern who's who. It's a blissful confusion, and you wouldn't trade the feeling for anything. 

When your eyes refocus, your boyfriend's gaze back into yours. Chris's lips are on your neck, laying tender kisses up the column of your throat. Leon smirks at you as his finger runs down his jawline.

"Let's go upstairs, baby. I haven't fully enjoyed my winnings yet," he whispers before carting you off to the bedroom with Chris following behind.

[xiaq]

I got another raise today. Praise for my contributions to my team, validation for my hard work, and a clear overview of what my continued progression in my company could look like. I celebrated by taking the afternoon off to nap and read in bed with my husband. I painted some swatches in the space that will soon be my library in the basement of our new home. I talked to my publisher about the process of turning my 3 published books into audio books. And now I'm in the living room, writing and watching my dog attempt to entice pedestrians on the sidewalk to pet him over the front yard fence.

Next month it'll be two years since I left academia.

It was the hardest and the best thing I ever did.

Three years ago, I was having an existential crisis about my career. I was working 60+ hours a week for embarrassingly little pay as lecturer. I loved my job, but I knew that continuing to work in academia wasn't a sustainable option for me. The thought of buying a house some day was laughable. I'd sworn off relationships. I looked at my writing and I thought there was no chance I'd ever publish anything. I was nearly thirty and I felt like I'd wasted the last decade of my life and I was fighting hard against the sunk cost fallacy that whispered I should just stay. Continue as I was. Let no one know I was drowning in the life I'd always said I wanted.

See, people like to say "it gets better" when people are feeling lost or hopeless. But what they don't tell you is that in order for things to get better you often have to do big scary shit that sometimes feels like walking backward. Sometimes you have to tear things down to the studs before you can rebuild. Sometimes the path to "better" looks a lot like "worse" at first.

I was lucky that my family and friends supported my "worse" phase while I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life, interviewing for tech companies and taking fire fighting exams and querying agents/publishers and basically just saying "fuck it, I'll give it a try" to every available opportunity, including dating the guy who is now the love of my life. But "it gets better" requires hard work and bravery and putting yourself out there and bitter disappointment and rallying and leaning on that support system, and trying again.

So, I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than to say, for anyone else who was where I was 3 years back, anyone who feels stuck or hopeless or like they've wasted years of their life on a career or relationship that doesn't love them back: it gets better, but you have to fucking fight for it. So rally your troops. Get your support system in place. Give sunk cost fallacy the finger. And go figure out what will serve you better.

I'm so happy, now. My life is amazing. But it might have been amazing even faster if I'd dropped out of grad school after my first year when I realized that maybe it wasn't what I wanted after all. I wish I'd been brave then. Be brave now.

[verilly]

On my knees for some post-Mithrun fluff rn.

POST MITHRUN FLUFF? I gotchu 😎 it’s going to be bullet points b t dubs, just so I can catch the right mind set… THANKSYU 4 THE REQUEST ILY <3

Mithrun x Reader

•••|•••|•••|•••|•••

Right. So after canon he heads back to Melini (with you, of course) to scout out monsters and demons with his side hustle of making noodles! So as a noble yourself, you follow him to help achieve his dreams!

However, Mithrun is still ticked off at the part where reviving isn’t a plausible option after death, so he’s extremely careful with you. So much so that after a month or so with you trailing with him on his search for monsters, he tosses you in the noodle shop (with the land he had claimed with his noble blood).

At this point, he’s been so surrounded in his want for monster/demon blood that he hasn’t exactly made any progress with the noodle making… and well, neither have you. So there you sat, alone in a big restaurant, with no customers at all, no one to keep you company or to keep you entertained!

So that’s when you decide to try to cook noodles on your own!

You grabbed as many how to guide’s you could from books all over your country, which included recipes from the western territories all the way to the eastern islands! You even scrounged up some old tattered papers from the ex-canaries, Senshi, and the trash.

Collecting herbs, grains, and whatever monster-like ingredients Laios sent to you through the mail.

You decided to keep most of your habits a secret from Mithrun, or at least as you can from him because you wanted to be the one to teach him when the day comes he wanted to pursue his other desire. You always schedule your time practicing for when he's away, and Mithrun being the man that he is always has a set pattern on doing things. Meaning he always came back home almost at the exact same time everyday.

The only other times he'd come home at a later time is when he gets lost, for he has the time of his life navigating the city streets. (This is rare because he likes using his teleportation magic a lot more than actually walking.)

So on this very special day, once you've decided your skills are up to the test, you served him home made noodles. Not only were they home made, so was the sauce/broth. You were quite proud of making such a delicious meal, now it was time to share your talent with your lover.

"Mithrun, wake up, I have a very special breakfast to share with you!" You say, pushing him back and forth from his sleeping state. You'd waken up hours earlier to prepare for this momentous occasion.

No response.

Maybe you should have planned the scheduling better? This was earlier than usual for the ex-captain to wake up... No! You were his partner, he should wake up for you!

"Mithrun wake up!!!" You groan loudly, stopping all your movements before shoving your face into his blanketed stomach, "Please please please please!"

With no words to utter, Mithrun begrudgingly arose from the bed, sitting right up to face you. You beamed with excitement as he looked to face you.

"Why don't you join me down at the resturaunt floor? I have set up something quite amazing down there." You put a finger to your chin and smile, "Plus I think you'll like it a lot!!"

Down the steps the two of you went, where in arrival was the bowl of noodles you had prepared only minutes before. They were served with scallions, mushrooms, a pantry load of seasonings, and whatever meat you had bought fresh from the market a day before.

"What is this?"

"It's noodles! That I made.. for you... 'cause you said you wanted to make them yourself and.... I can see where I messed up a little, but I did it so that I can help you in the future! When you wish to fufill your desire of noodle making!!!" You sheepishly say, a much smaller smile creeping up on your lips.

"I never said you messed up." He said smoothly, teleporting away from you and into the seat in front of the food. You follow closely behind him, sitting at the seat next to him.

"Go on, take a bite! It'll be all for nothing if we run out of time and you need to go out monster hunting." You tilt your head to the right, clasping your hands together.

He looks down at the meal in front of him, and his good eye flickers up and down between you and the noodles. After a few seconds past he picked up the nice utensils you placed next to the bowl and took his first bite.

"So how does it taste? Do you like it??!"

"I don't feel anything in particular for it." He murmurs calmly.

"Ah." Your world view shatters for a moment, before sucking in your pride, "So what makes you feel that way? I thought it was really good, but our tastes are quite different from each other..."

"It's a little too flavorful for me, but I'm... grateful that you spent so much time perfecting this for me. How long was it? A few months?"

"What!!? How did you know that I was..."

"You can't hide things from me, [name]. You'll never be able to succeed."

You stare at him for a second before collapsing on the table before you, "Arghh! I totally thought everything was going to go great, but as it turns out... Mithrun is just too good for me." You pull the bowl towards you, taking the utensils from Mithrun's hand, "And if you don't like it then you don't need to eat it."

"It's not my taste, but I don't mind. Please, I'd rather not leave any left overs, especially if it's a meal from you." His face seemed to soften as he said those few words, and your face reddened in response, letting out an "oh" as you correct your posture.

"Well then if you have time off anytime soon, you could stay here and I could teach you how to make your own noodles that suit your own taste. Then we could actually open the resturaunt to the people." You say sweetly, looking down at the food, watching it dissapear by each passing minute, "I'm sure every being here in Melini would love to eat food made by the hands of a noble. Maybe even the Canaries can home, I'm sure they'd enjoy a meal made by their captain."

"Mm... I'll stay here for today. My desire's growing after eating this d- uhm. Delicious meal you made for me." He states simply, putting the empty bowl and utensils to the side.

"Alright then." You get up from the seat next to him and take his hand, "I'll teach you everything I know." Another smile perks up on your lips as you pull him to the kitchen.

Mithrun in a kitchen. Who could've guessed?!

He's not very skilled at cutting, buthis use of magic fills in the void quite perfectly.

You help him a lot, which includes taking his hands in yours when he begrudgingly uses the knife.

He likes your touches but not the “weapon” in his hands.

You also teach him to pound the noodles, which you usually put lots of energy into, but for him not so much. You have to fill in for him most of the time.

There will come a day where Mithrun won’t go out on expeditions and instead stays with you in the restaurant, for a long time.

And to him, he wouldn’t want to spend his last few (hundreds of) years any differently.

•••|•••|•••|•••|•••

I tried to make it flufffy I don’t know if this is fluff

I hope you liked it :3 pls keep sending me stuff it’ll take like a day - ish for me to fill it out but I def will!!!!!!!

My masterlist is on profile :3

Lots of love, Yours truly.

[sirgogington]

This might be a little unorganized and is definitely an unpopular opinion in this community, but I'm going to say it anyway. Feel free to unfollow. I wasn't going to post about it, but honestly I am so upset for George in this situation. I want to preface that I am a 28 year old female so maybe my thinking is a little different due to that.

The more I read about people's reactions to the George situation the more angry I feel. George was being accused of sexual assault, and the consensus is "he fucked up and should have asked for consent."

My bold take is that I have little sympathy for Caiti. She is a woman who regrets flirting with George, which she has the right to. But her story really made it seem like George randomly started touching her inappropriately, forced her to drink more when she was already drunk, purposely preyed on her because she was 18, and followed her out of the room to the elevator.

None of these things happened. She was drunk beforehand and her friends that she went to Dreams room with wanted to play drinking games. George didn't randomly start touching her. They were sitting together on the couch playing a game with the rest of the group and mutually decided to start cuddling. Caiti got up multiple times and would always come back and cuddle with George. Over the hour of cuddling they were flirting with each other, playfighting etc. When cuddling George started with his hands on her hips above her clothes, and then after he assumed she was comfortable with what he was doing, given the previous signals of her laughing, smiling, and coming back to cuddle with him then he placed his hands on her waist under her clothes. He said he would slowly move them up after awhile. She didn't show any signs of being uncomfortable. She could have pushed his hand away or told him she was uncomfortable with that, but she didn't. She could of left if she felt uncomfortable or sat somewhere else, but she didn't. She also didn't have to walk with George to the elevator, but she did. She didn't have to keep in contact with him afterwards but again she did. It's no wonder why George was understandably confused, and assumed everyone had had a fun night that night, and was blindsided by these accusations. George said that he made a joke about the elevator being broken, but saw when she wasn't open to getting in the elevator with her then he backed off.

Her friends also knowingly put her this situation. They left her unattended while she was drunk in the hotel room with Dream and George and whoever else was left. Going to a drinking social at 18 is a risky situation in the first place, this is why in college I avoided frat parties because I knew what could potentially happen if I went.

George literally did not do anything wrong, and people are painting him as a monster. Now that Caiti did this stream he has lost a lot of his fanbase and friends for no reason, because God forbid you support George. If you support George you must hate woman, because he's evil. Like people have said this could have all been handled privately. Just simple communication like "hey I actually regret what happened at Vidcon, and I didn't actually like that you were cuddling me looking back" or something along those lines. If George is a decent person which it seems like he is he would say okay and apologize most likely, and they could have not had this nasty drama for no reason.

I believe there is non-verbal consent, and most people in that type of situation would rely on that more than verbal consent. They test things like George was doing and slowly progress things. He could have asked if she was okay with it, but she was showing all the signs over the 3 hours that she was. He's not making you stay if you get uncomfortable. Where non-verbal consent doesn't work is if George would have groped her after a half our of flirting. That would absolutely be wrong, and need to be apologized for.

George was defensive in his video because he needed to be. After being accused of all these things you didn't do, and Caiti leaving out details you would be defensive to. She made him out to look really bad. She blew the situation way out of proportion and George has to suffer due to this. I really think that George didn't need to post the extra apology tweet, that the livestream would of been enough to show that he had no malicious intentions and was sorry that Caiti felt strongly about what had happened.

The whole support victims things in this situation makes me upset as well. There were no victims because there was no sexual assault. Yet if you don't say I 100% support the victim then suddenly your evil and hate woman. Without there being a victim it seems dumb to put that but if you don't then you're follower count also takes a hit as a content creator. George didn't fuck up, he acted in a way most men would, and probably even in a more gentleman like way to be honest.

It also upset me as someone who has experienced very real sexual assault. The guy was 25 and I was 18. I didn't want anything sexual/romantic with him because I could see the age gap, and told him that. He invited me to his apartment which I thought would be innocent because I presented my boundaries, but then he started taking off my clothes and telling me I was okay with it over and over until I believed him and let it happen, while feeling really uncomfortable. My body language did not show any interest, just confusion. I remember answering "I don't know" when he asked for consent to touch me, but he would just keep asking until I said okay. He purposely preyed on the younger women because he knew they were easier to coerce and more vulnerable. Looking back I didn't really knew where I stood on hook up culture. He convinced me he could teach me a few things that I could use with my sexual partners in the future. Luckily it never progressed to him taking my virginity. He bragged about how many girls he had slept with, and how many he had took their virginity. I would have been just a number to him. I am so much more than just a number. (he did a lot of other sexual things with me after coercing me into saying okay. Stuff I can detail if you care to know. I remember saying out loud that I was glad that I still had my virginity and I'm glad he didn't take it afterall. Not purposely leaving out, but it was way more than Caiti had experienced with George. For my situation there was a high likelihood it would happen again to another girl like me, and I remember wanting to warn them. It's different because my attacker did have malicious intents even though he disguised it as me consenting.) Being in the mindset I am now I would have never let any of it happen, but I am much more in tune with my thoughts and opinions on things. I would have noticed all the red flags and I would have never put myself in a 1 on 1 situation with an older guy like that or any guy unless I were dating them.

Outside the fandom I've noticed that a lot of people agree with me in this. It's just within the fandom that people are of this support the victim mindset, even when said victim turns out to not have been a victim of anything. I don't know if it's different with younger people that you have to ask for verbal consent for everything, but it just seems dumb. Everyone was also drunk and not thinking straight so sober minded Georgenotfound would have probably asked for consent before he moved his hands up. It's hard to know. I think other content creators probably do agree with me, but they aren't able to have their own opinions, which to me seems gross and fake. We can't genuinely know how content creators feel on certain issues because if were to tell what they truly thought and it wasn't the majority consensus then they risk their viewership which is also twisted.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The realities of life come hurtling down with no mercy, and the progress you believed to have achieved crashed and burned right before you. But for once, Eddie Munson is there to give you the one thing you’ve been yearning for: stability. Because Eddie Munson loves y...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, brief alcohol consumption, brief mentions of drugs, depression, bullying, strained parental relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, mentions of parental death, mentions of driving under the influence, and mentions of childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | And that’s the end! I truly will not be able to formulate the right words to express just how utterly thankful I am to all of you who have shown your support and love on my first series! I am forever grateful, thank you. I love you all! Also, I had my little Breakfast Club moment at the end. Also, I added a small allusion to Shrek, I'M SORRY! I was watching it while writing.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭

“Hmmm…”

Surely—only in the logistics that was Eddie Munson’s mind, of course—anyone could decipher the underlying “fuck off” that was spoken into that quiet, drawn out hum that Eddie’s sleeping state grumbled out from the comfort of his bed. But it was evident that his uniquely catered Eddie Munson language got lost in translation, because whoever was creating that grating, jarring, and abrasive knocking clearly was not smart enough to interpret his message, he came to the conclusion. Totally not because it was just a sleepy murmur… totally not. Nonetheless, the corrugated wood of his front door was rattling harshly under the fervent hits of bare knuckles, seemingly also bringing awareness to the repeated request to tighten the door hinges from Uncle Wayne to his forgetful nephew, though that ask fell quite redundant on deaf ears- well, until now, of course. 

Maybe if Eddie waited long enough they’d go away.

No, they didn’t.

“Fuck me, man.” He complained with a yawn. Truthfully, Eddie would like to say his slumber came about under the guise that it had been a long day, I mean, hey, rule number four of the Munson Doctrine specifically states a tired man deserves a restful hours long nap, should it ever be brought up with complaints from another party member. But the honesty of the inner workings of his mind actually proffered the idea of sleep to fill the gaps in which you were not in his company. After you had left his trailer, Eddie had plopped on his bed with a pained groan of pure longing for you to just return and stay with him forever. He missed your pretty face. Your mawkish voice. Your saccharine smile that just made all his insides turn into a mush of gooiness. Sleep gave him the ability to close his eyes and transport his subconscious into another reality where you were laying delicately in his arms, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, lips pushed into a pout as they smushed against his naked chest with little breaths tickling his skin, and you were just losing all your worries in the solace of his heavy arms wrapped around you in protection against all the evils of the world that could hurt such a beautiful person. And also, sleeping through the evening allowed Eddie to stay up all night, which for whatever reason enabled his mind to formulate the most insanely creative ideas of his upcoming campaign, because, honestly, who could conjure up the idea of hooded cultists who hail a so called Lord Vecna at two in the afternoon? Not anyone sane, that’s for sure. The ominous hour of 3:00 a.m was a profoundly better time for ingenious ideas to flow. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone. But that’s all besides the point. 

“Jesus shit, dude, fucking relax.” He aimed against the knocking perpetrator. Eddie groggily stood on wobbly legs, the sensations of pins and needles nestling into his toes, as his bare feet trudged their way through piles of clothes and thrown magazines. 

Reaching the doorway of his bedroom, his movements came to a halt, he needed a good stretch before cursing a neighbor out for disrupting his peace. He had his bets that it was surely the recently converted Jehovah Witness that lived three trailers down, who made it her mission to “condemn the devil within and save him from satan.” One time, Wayne even caught the middle-aged woman sprinkling holy water around the Munson trailer during the time Eddie decided to practice his guitar just a little too loud. His tired muscles burned with the extensibility of his reaching movement; back popping with a deep arch, elbows cracking as his arms turned up to the sky, and a waking yawn to resume his conscious breathing. Padding his way to the front door, his left hand rubbed the dry remnants of sleep from his eyes, as his right hand eased the harsh reddening imprints of his jeans on his abdomen with hard scratches. He really should have taken off his belt before a nearly two hour long nap.

The rapid knocking was really starting to piss him off. It had been reaching the five minute mark, couldn’t people pick up the point that someone didn’t want to be bothered? “Oh, my god.” Eddie sighed with a heavy breath, clinched eyes to attenuate the pounding headrush that coincidentally became worse with every deafening knock. His heavy hand slammed onto the door knob with a cruel twist.

“What the fuck is wrong with- oh.” It was you. Fist frozen in the air, but it had quickly fallen from the opening of the swinging door. You flinched at the sudden ambush. “Sh-shit, sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can leave, I shouldn’t bother-”

“No, no, no, no.” The sound of your quiet, nasally voice had upset his stomach with worry. “C’mon in.” His body moved for your entrance. Upon seeing you in the glowing lowlight of the yellow lamps across his living room, Eddie was able to make out the redness of your eyes, followed by your creasing eyebrows that seemed to find no moment of peace to relax. “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?”

He hadn’t meant to upset you further, but his gentle prodding question seemed to elicit your pent up emotions, and your face immediately crashed into the palms of your hands, as tears began making their pounding way out with choking sobs that you attempted to conceal. Eddie had no hesitation rushing his arms around you, where your stature had just given up in the embrace of his warm body. Your drenched lashes seeped through your fingers, spreading their salty wetness across the expanse of his naked chest, his lips pressing into the crown of your head, where he inhaled the sweetness of your lingering smell that he was just dreaming about merely two minutes ago, and his large hands raced around the canvas of your back to give you the comfort neither of you were ever privileged with as lonely children. 

You were in utter distraughtness…

-

Four Days Earlier

That following Tuesday after your return to Hawkins High you got slapped in the face with the biases of privilege, as Jason Carver smiled at you after leaving the front office from a meeting with Principal Higgins during the school day. Believing your hopes of finally having the world align to the imperative need of justice you felt were deserved for Eddie Munson, others… and yourself came to be too good to be true after Ms. Kelly had called you into her office. Before you, it was Martin Valencia, sophomore, who detailed the accounts of when Jason threatened the boy because he stood too close to jock’s locker. Then, Nathan Werner, senior, lamented the numerous times Jason and his posse would throw bits of food at his lunch table under the guise of just “messing around.” Tracy Owens, freshman, spoke of when unsolicited comments about her body were hurled against her when she stepped out of her comfort zone and wore a dress she felt pretty in. Because of Jason’s words, Tracy never wore that dress again. Then it was you. Ms. Kelly had used the term “anonymous tip” to explain your visit to her office, but Eddie Munson’s name was written all over it. Unless, of course, a bystander had felt bad for the agenda that was being pushed against you before and prior to your suspension, but that wouldn’t occur in the bubble of Hawkins High. No, you knew this nameless hero came forward—completely unbeknownst to him, funny enough—with the purest intentions of explaining your hurt to invigorate the importance as to why he cared so much about you that it reflected in his actions. Why he couldn’t bear to see you pained by the abhorrent actions of angry men, because he’d been there. He’s fallen victim and he’s victimized. But that wasn’t who he was anymore- it wasn’t who he ever wanted to be. So, Eddie Munson spoke. Even though he didn’t want to throw your name out there without your permission, his words were clear enough to pick you out. 

Subtly may not have been in his skillset, but at least compassion was. Even if he was still learning. 

Truthfully, you were wavering between the feelings of anger and relief upon initial arrival. While the notion of speaking to a licensed counselor for the guidance and understanding the troubles within seemed essential for your progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being cornered when your name echoed through the intercom. You wanted to speak on your own terms. Choosing when and how. And the abruptness of your visit felt more like an intervention, though Ms. Kelly was firm with her assurance that your personal feelings were not going to be psychoanalyzed without your consent, and you were merely appreciated for any input you could provide about the bullying that was from Jason Carver. 

So, as Eddie Munson had done, you spoke. Finally.

But the reality of life came crashing down as you were humiliated with the fact that all that strength you mustered to be vulnerable about the hurt and pain inflicted onto you by a schoolmate ultimately meant nothing in the eyes of the authorities when Jason Carver ultimately got off scot-free. Despite her best efforts, Ms. Kelly presented the finding of what’s been going on with the rightful opinion of suspension as consequence, but her professional judgment had proved to mean nothing when Coach Monaghan had reminded Principal Higgins of the upcoming semi-finals that their star player couldn’t miss. 

Jason Carver’s suspension declined into two days of detention. 

Reality, too, had devastatingly slapped Ms. Kelly in the face. No title. No profession. Not even her degree could trample the opinion of a white man with a promise to bring home a trophy. She was a woman, a woman of color who resided in the rurality of Indiana. This had been the verity of life for Ms. Kelly. For Chrissy Cunningham. For you. Looped and controlled into an endless cycle of becoming puppets for puppeteers who felt that a total of four inches between their legs somehow made them superior. 

But who were you guys to let them have a say in the show?

Chrissy Cunningham had made her strong decision to leave a relationship that hegemonized her will. You were on the course to liberate yourself from the appalling titles that tried to demean your worthiness. And Ms. Kelly would have her power when principal evaluations would circle at the end of the school year. Retirement would be hurtling early for Principal Higgins. 

“It fucking sucks doesn’t it?” Eddie Munson had found you on the bleachers after cheer practice, as everyone but you began clearing out for the day. Marinating in your sweat under a blistering sun surely would be enough to send you to the showers, but on days like these, simply sitting and reflecting was enough to just be… enough for the day. 

You didn’t even have to ask to elaborate, as he sat down next to you. You understood. “I took a picture of you and your friends and I got a week of suspension, ugh.” You threw your head back, as he chuckled at your exasperation. 

“That was totally out of jealousy, looked way too sexy in that photo, of course, it pissed Higgins off.” That was able to get a sweet giggle out of you, and Eddie swooned at the sound.

“Well, it was a very… nice picture of you.” You smiled, before containing an even bigger grin with a bite to your lip, which had Eddie piquing with surprise. 

“Wait, really?” He sprung up, his back jumping into the straightest posture it ever had been before. “Because, y’know, I was totally just kidding, but you- you just admitted that I was sexy-”

“I did not say those words!” You protested with a bubble of laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Eddie waved his finger in your face, “you can’t take that back, sweetheart, you totally think I’m sexy.” He puffed the lapels of leather jacket, which was surely too hot to be wearing in the spring weather. 

“Oh, whatever.” Your effusive voice too giggly for the faux groan of annoyance you attempted to portray, but the fluttering butterflies stewing in your belly were ready to contradict any reservations you planned on having with him; your body was clearly ready to open itself up to him. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t try to deny it, it’ll do you no good.” He smirked. Soon, a prodding tongue peaked from his lips to indicate his venture as to how he was going to convey his next words correctly without turning into a nervous mess. Maybe it was still too early to ask you his impeding question. Maybe you would flat out say no to his face. Maybe hearing and processing the rejection was needed for his progress. Maybe- just maybe, you would actually say yes and his throat would constrict with anxious nerves. Maybe he should just take the leap. “Y’know, some scientists actually say that tagging along with the ever so devastatingly handsome man you think is sexy to, I don’t know, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, is actually a good way of dealing with, y’know… tingling feelings.”

Oh, he was so close to being smooth, but he was internally dying at his poor choice of words that had you dying of laughter at him. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight enough he’d get sucked up into a blackhole and he wouldn’t have to relish on the fact that he just uttered the words “tingling feelings.”

“Aw,” you beamed with amusement, “like a date?”

If Eddie Munson couldn’t suave his way out of embarrassment, he sure could joke his way out of eternal misery. “Woah, no!” He fervently shook his head. “I believe that’s something that happens when two people like each other. And, c’mon, that’s totally not us. We’re buddies!”

“Oh, right.” You nodded along to his sarcastic logic that made you gush inside. “Well, that’s actually really good, because since we’re friends we can tell each other about our secret crushes, right?” Eddie’s lips completely folded within themselves to hide his ebullient smile. “See, there’s this guy, pretty tall, he’s got this whole Van Halen wannabe hair-” you couldn’t contain your giggles as his mouth dropped with dramatic flare, and his hand held his heart with pain.

“Kirk Hammet, this dude would prefer Kirk Hammet.” Eddie corrected matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, he's got this Kirk Hammet wannabe hairstyle-”

“Much better, keep going.” He chimed in with approval and encouragement.

You could only playfully roll your eyes in retaliation. “Anyways, he’s also super funny- oh, a fully decked out metalhead, and, you know, just a little bit… sexy.” Eddie got full merriment from seeing you suddenly shy away from the revelation, just belting a trading laugh at your banter. “So! As a friend, Mr. Munson,” you pulled him back to the topic, “do you have any tips on how to get him on a date with me?”

“Well,” Eddie tittered with a breathy sigh, “hypothetically- theoretically- if it ever were to randomly occur- just in case he were to ever ask you out to, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, I personally think you should go with him.” He rejoiced proudly.

You giggled before sincerely smiling at him. He was so unbearably cute. It stung to have to turn him down. “I’d love to go with you, Eddie, but…” his grin had slowly began to drop, “I’m still very much grounded and confined to my room. It’s school and practice, that’s it.” You despairingly reminded. 

Eddie let out a disappointed breath through his nose, nodding to affirm his understanding, though mumbling a small “prick” at the allusion to your father. 

“I’m really sorry, Eddie, maybe another time we-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He interjected. “Don’t apologize or try to, like, make it up to me, it’s not your job to do any of that, it’s okay.” Eddie managed to speak out with a small smile. Though it wasn’t a direct no, he was accepting it, letting it be spoken without interference from his anger. This was a part of his learning. This was a part of his growth. 

“The day will come for us.” You reached for his hand, and his eyes stayed connected to the delicate movements of your small fingers playing with his ringed ones, as he situated himself in the intoxicating sparkling feeling that was igniting just from touching your skin. “You know, when we can properly go out… as friends who don't like each other.”

Eddie chortled a smile. “Totally platonic." He joked. "Buddies even. Like brother and sister-” Your suddenly scrunched face of cringe had Eddie immediately reeling back his words. “Wait! Wait, no! Too far- too gross, I took it too far, I’m sorry! Sweetheart, I’ve never spoken to a girl before!”

“Eddie!” Your cheeks burned with laughter.

-

Eddie’s chest was heaving heavily under your crying face, as he attempted to minimize his panic for your sake. He had just dreamed of a perfect reality in which you came back into his arms, filling in that empty hole in his heart with all your love and care that he fully intended to return three times greater. But this isn’t what he wanted- how he wanted it to happen. You, pained by some evil that hurt you to the point of sobs, he hated seeing it. His hands raked over your head, trying to smooth the shaking mess that you were, before cupping your hot face and maneuvering you away from the comfort of his chest. “Honey, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.” His thumbs smeared the tears that tainted your cheeks. “Okay? Are you hurt? Something happen? Did someone- did he touch you? Please!” His round eyes frantically roamed your face for answers, but he was only met with sniffling sobs. “C’mon, baby, please just breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”

You fervently shook your head. “I-I can’t go back- back home. P-please, Eddie, don’t make me go back.”

“No, no, no, no, I won’t.” He shoved you back into the warmth of his body, arms cascading around your trembling figure to ease you into peace and safety. “It’s okay, just stay here with me.” He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, where you simply let yourself get lost in the engulfing waft of cheap cologne and cigarettes. “Just stay here with me.”

Minutes had passed where he took responsibility of gently rocking your conjoined bodies side to side with ease in the middle of his living room. He didn’t prod any further, simply letting your emotions cry out in a safe environment, where they would be understood and appreciated for their strong efforts of being vulnerable. Maybe then, he’d ask. When your breathing settled, when your eyes didn’t sting with fuzzy vision, when air could properly heave in through your nose and out from your mouth, when you could gather your thoughts and articulate your words, when you could just be okay. 

Just as you always dreamed. 

It was devastating that a kind person like you couldn't be granted a simple ask: to just be okay.

Eddie felt your lips move, as you mumbled into his chest. He delicately pulled away to see your wet face, “What?” 

“I-I said, um, I didn’t bring- I don’t have anything with me, l-like clothes.” You sniffled, as you wiped your noise with your sleeve.

“Oh, uh, okay, that’s fine, do you want to borrow some of mine- it’s okay, really-”

“I promise it’ll only be for one night!” You worried interjected. “I-I’ll leave first thing in the morning, and I’ll figure something out by then-”

“Okay, no.” Eddie immediately stopped your rambling. “You have to tell me what the hell is going on, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” His hands firmly gripped your shoulders, so he wouldn’t be tempted to bring you back into his embrace and possibly wash over the issue at hand because he had you in his arms again. As much as he really wanted it, he really needed to know what was hurting you to the point of sobs and desperation.

“Eddie, my dad…” You had begun to blubber with a sense of shame, because in all honesty, you were embarrassed about the unfolding events of your life. Normalcy, why couldn’t you just be someone normal, be someone with a normal life, with normal parents, with the stability of just being loved and understood and not followed by animosity? What- what could possibly be so wrong with you that people hated you? How terrible of a person were you that you were deserving of all this hatred? “He kicked me out, h-he doesn’t want me!”

In a matter of days, your progress- that progress you were so proud of for enduring, was taking a steep hit to rock bottom, where you felt you were just going to rot in the depths of nothingness, where no light of life could revive you. Everything you had ever worked on was slipping into the abyss at high speed, and the breaks were refusing to stop.

You were crashing into despair.

-

Two Days Prior

The balmy Thursday afternoon felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to what was Tuesday’s scorching humidity that had been suffocating the small town since the coming of spring. Though slugging through Hawkins High’s poor excuse of a courtyard alongside Chrissy Cunningham to reach the end goal of the football field for practice felt exceedingly unbearable, after your confiding revelation brought forward an onslaught of urging requests from your bubbly friend: your father would be going out of town that Friday.

“Come on, just do it!” Her hand tightly gathered around your arm, where you became suddenly aware of just how strong she was, as her insistent movements left you shaking in her grasp. “It’s not like he’s going to say no, he's the one that asked you out first! I mean, your first date together, that’s so cute!” She swooned.

“Not a first date.” You quickly interjected. “Very much a friends hanging out thing.” It may have been easy to joke about it that earlier Tuesday, but suddenly reveling in the idea that it could very well be considered a date—hell, it was—had your tummy stirring with queasiness. 

“Oh, please.” Chrissy laughed. “You guys can tiptoe around your feelings all you want, but everyone knows it’s so obvious. What’s so wrong with admitting it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” Last time the admission of feelings came about, Eddie Munson had drunkenly confessed the entirety of his problems in your bedroom in the dead of night. And while you both have accomplished the responsibility of recognizing that moment of brutal vulnerability as a stepping stone to receiving help, it doesn’t derail from the fact that whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson was built on a foundation of troubled minds fueled by hatred and anger. The fear of potentially reverting back to the people you both used to be kept shouting at you in the depths of your mind. It was cemented that as a couple, your relationship couldn’t reflect that of a sweet high school romance- no, you and Eddie Munson were not granted that privilege of peace, and your relationship would be stalked into a corner where all the bubble worlds of Hawkins, Indiana would unite together to yell, stab, slaughter, and shoot you both down with the lasting promise that neither of you were wanted in their town, especially not together. And this wasn’t a matter of if it were to happen- this was going to happen, bound to by the reality of life, and when it does, would Eddie Munson stick by your side or run? “…I just don’t want anything bad to happen, Chris.”

“Okay, look,” she stopped you, and watched every other cheerleader in front of you walk with notice of you two behind, “I know what this is about.” She huffed with certainty. “You’re scared you’re going to end up like me and Jason.”

“Huh?” 

Oh, Chrissy Cunningham, she truly did have a caring heart. “It’s okay, I promise. But I can assure you guys are nothing like me and Jason, so that won’t happen.” It had just dawned on that she actually had no grasp as to what had occurred between you and Eddie. The yelling, the even more yelling after the cafeteria incident, the inebriated word vomit- nothing. She genuinely knew nothing about the gravity of the situation. And it truly was not her fault, in fact, you liked that she didn’t know the extent of it. What happened between you and Eddie stayed between you and Eddie.

So you simply nodded along. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess.”

And bless her, she was there to help you. “Look, Eddie is nothing like Jason, okay? He doesn’t care about what people think or say. He tried really hard to make it up to you for whatever he did, I don’t know, but either way he really tries. I mean, he literally hunted me down just to make sure you were okay. What has Jason ever done? Ask you what my favorite color is so he could act like he knows me and win me over?” She laughed with a scoff. “Please don’t let the people in this town dictate your happiness. Eddie likes you for you, and you two deserve to be happy with each other.”

She may not have had the clearest indications as to what was actually pestering your mind with fear, but her intentions of helping did place clarity on the uncertainty that was Eddie Munson. Her words and his actions truly illustrated the assiduous effort Eddie was enduring for the sake of his and your’s stability. Trust is a profoundly scary skill to embark on with another person, but the basis of security and love that would blossom from assurance in one another was a journey so devastatingly beautiful, it would heal the longing within both of you. 

Eddie Munson laid his cards out with a terrifying layer of vulnerability. If he was doing it- working through the painful excursion into trusting you, the least you could do was reciprocate the effort. You were ready to trust Eddie Munson.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft smile, “yeah, I know, Chrissy, thank you. I’ll be sure-”

“To tell him?!” She perked up with a squeal. “You’ll tell Eddie that you can go on the date?!”

You chortled in disbelief. “Yes, I’ll tell him, leave the energy for practice.”

“Do it! Do it now!” She begged you, once again, your limbs were taken into her grasp and she was shaking you into oblivion. “Please!”

“We’re literally on our way to practice right now, I’ll do it afterwards.” You giggled, as you dragged her to catch up with the rest of the girls.

“But what if he leaves before us?!”

Eddie Munson had surely not left before you guys. It had occurred in the split second after Coach Hannigan had aggressively blown spit through her whistle to call for a break mid session, that instead of running to the designated drink cooler that became quickly surrounded by sweaty cheerleaders, you instead ignored the blatant thirst that burned your throat to dedicate a couple seconds of your time to run to the football field’s gated entrance. It was then, you caught sight of the still parked van that belonged to your metalhead, heating up in the blistering sun in the same parking spot it reserved when Eddie first arrived at school that early morning. Now, assuming you saw correctly, Coach Hannigan’s watch had indicated the time in which Eddie’s scheduled meeting with Ms. Kelly was surely to be over with. Why was Eddie Munson seemingly hanging around the halls of Hawkins High, especially when he made his disdain for the school very public, you weren’t sure. And with complete honesty, there was a part of you that wished he would have just gone home, so you wouldn’t be faced with the nervousness of having to ask him out. In retrospect, you knew just how much Eddie would like hanging out with you, and that warmed your heart, but the chances of him potentially saying no still lingered on a low chance. And that, in itself, was terrifying. 

Practice had come to a hurtling end far quicker than you had anticipated, and Chrissy Cunningham was wielding all cheer captain authority to make sure you were placed in front of a shower head before they all got claimed by girls ready to leave. She’d even tasked herself with the responsibility of locating where the man was lurking, which evidently came to your dismay when her intelligent skills proffered her return in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Your shirt hadn’t even been placed on by then. And as wonderful as it would have been to discredit her “he’s in the drama room, I heard him playing music in there,” with your logical, “that could be anyone, Chris, you don’t know that it’s him,” you knew she was right. One day, you’d thank her for this, but right now, you were urging her to just let it go. 

Chrissy Cunningham had used that newfound strength of hers to all but push you into the direction of the drama room, the one you hadn’t stepped foot in in a little over four years when you were asked to build sets for A Midsummer Night’s Dream for your elective art class during freshman year. And Chrissy had been right. Music was drowning its way through the closed doorway of the prop room, where the distinct screaming voices of men surely indicated itself to be muffled metal music which was in particular interest to Hawkins’ local metalhead. There was no turning back now. Chrissy had even assured to lay your father out with an excuse of “girl problems” to explain your unwanted lateness to the punctual man. 

So you stood in the empty hall, long after the dragging time of school hours, with your fist hesitantly making your presence known to the man on the other side. You opened the door shortly after, where you came face-to-face with a confused Eddie, who’s features quickly melted into a sickly smile upon landing on you. His fingers worked quickly to turn down a dusty radio that had once been squashed under theatrical masks and vibrant feather boas in the corner of the room. “Hey, sweetheart.” And it was then you wondered why you had been nervous all along, when his simple greeting seemed to have placed you into ease with no uncertainty from your body. 

“Hi,” you closed the door behind you, as he stood from throne King Duncan once sat during Hawkins High’s very first—and last—remediation of Macbeth, when Kevin Kavaugh’s baby face held no grip to the fake beard that once belonged to a Santa Claus costume and it had slipped off during Act 1 Scene 2. Not to mention when Lady Macbeth had to die a scene early because Carly Bennett hurled her lunch due to the numerous eyes awaiting her to speak her line. “Um, sorry for interrupting.” 

Eddie Munson wasn’t having any of that, as he rounded the table he was once sat at to meet you in the middle. “No, no, my time has gotten much better since the mere second you walked your pretty self in here.” He smiled down, with a grin that just made your face heat and gain the inability to look him in the eyes.

And it was because you were shying away, refusing to meet his teasing stare, your eyes caught sight of the work he’d been displaying on the table behind him. “What are you working on?” You invited.

“Just settin’ up for my campaign tomorrow night.” He notified, as he sat half of his bottom onto the edge of the table with crossed arms. 

Taking in his words, you finally peered up at him with round, crestfallen eyes. “Oh.” You heavily sighed. “So, you’re going to be busy all night tomorrow?”

“Yeah, basically.” He nodded. “DnD campaigns can last for hours, which is why I’m settin’ up early. Still gotta meeting with Ms. K, so I don’t wanna waste any time. Figured putting everything up would be easier. Finish with counseling and head straight into DMing, y’know, Dungeon Master n’ all.” He proudly pointed at himself. 

And your obvious response of another despondent “oh” had clearly railed Eddie into a small frenzy of concern. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He suddenly stood again. “Are you okay? 

“No, no.” You quickly assured him into ease. “I was just, um- it’s stupid really, well, it doesn’t matter s-since you’re busy and I don’t want to disrupt your plans, but, um, I just thought it would be a good idea to go out- or hang out, you know, tomorrow, like, together or whatever to the Hideout like you wanted.” Mrs. Crosby, your Public Speaking teacher from the tenth grade, who used to parade you around as a model student who spoke so clearly and concisely with confidence, would surely be disappointed at the sentence you just uttered. 

Not Eddie Munson, though. No, in fact, Eddie Munson was grinning ear to ear with a teasingly amused smirk at your sudden shyness, something his insides were melting and reveling in, especially knowing he was the cause of your flusterness. So you surely didn’t appreciate his, “Holy fuck, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Refusing to let him see your heated face, you hid away in the comfort of your hands with a whine. “Stop!” But his snickering laugh was failing to cease. “You’re being mean!”

“Aw, no, c’mon, sweetheart, let me see your pretty face.” He smiled, gently grasping your wrist at an attempt to pull them away.

“You’re not helping by saying that.” Your muffled complaint had him chuckling, as he worked to pry your hands away, leaving your face vulnerable to his lovesick smile. 

“There she is.” And for a split second, everything was quiet. Neither of you spoke, but rather lavished in the couple seconds in which you both peered at each with mesmerized eyes, because though it was never verbalized, neither of you could believe that you had each other. Eddie cleared his throat. “Um, could you ask me that again?”

You giggled in disbelief. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Of course, not.” Eddie laughed. “But this is quite literally the first—and probably only—time a girl will ask me out- let alone one as gorgeous as you, so c’mon, hit me with it. I wanna bask in the feelings.”

“Oh, god, you’re ridiculous.” You delicately chuckled, but Eddie was still awaiting your invite with a large smile to ease you into your words. You sighed with a grin that matched his, and gave him your full attention as you looked up into his dough eyes. “Will you, Eddie Munson…” you trailed off into a small giggle, “…go on a date with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And that answer, you weren’t expecting. 

“What? No!” You quickly interjected. “Your campaigns tomorrow, you can’t go.”

Eddie laughed, “Isn’t there a game tomorrow you’re supposed to be cheering at? When exactly were you expecting to go out with me when we’re both busy?”

“Uh, well, yeah, but the game doesn’t start till six, I figured we’d go to the Hideout before then, you know, after school?” You reasoned your thinking, but Eddie still couldn’t contain his chuckles.

“Y’know, you really are so fucking cute, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Nobody goes to the Hideout in the afternoon, it’s a bar, more of a nighttime thing.”

You scoffed incredulously with a lingering beam. “Oh, well, excuse me, you’re the one that suggested it in the first place. I’ve never been, I was just trying to be nice and go along with your request.”

“Oh, I know, honey, you’re just the sweetest.” He softly spoke, as he stepped closer, leaving you to truly crane your neck to meet his smile. “So, after my campaign, after your game, we’ll go.”

“Yeah?” God, Eddie Munson was truly baffled by the idea that you, someone so utterly enthralling who had the purest heart of good and acceptance, was questioning the validity of his statement of wanting to go out with you. He should be questioning you- questioning the world of what granted him the right to get to know or even go out with you. But this was a part of his journey. Eddie Munson was deserving of good things, and so were you. And while the both of you could easily fall into an endless hole of overthinking your worthiness for each other, it would ultimately do no good. As the wise words of Chrissy Cunningham once said, you and Eddie Munson were deserving of happiness. And you both had been put through too much to let that chance slip away because of fear. Eddie was told to face it, and he was. You were strong enough to do the same.

So, Eddie Munson confirmed your questions with an affirming nod that spoke everything he needed to before he took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’ll be okay? I don’t want to put you in a dangerous position.” His fingers gently touched the tips of yours, where they met on the old wood of the table.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You softly spoke with a delicate smile. “I actually wanted to tell you that my dad will be leaving town Friday for work, so… we can have our day.”

“Perfect.” Eddie whispered into the air, and you watched his large eyes flicker to your lips, where they linger just long enough to spark the atmosphere with palpable tension. It had dawned on you just how close he stood, chest puffed to yours, where his wrinkled band t-shirt gently caressed the basic top you had changed into, and this spark was heavily enticing your lips to just finally give in to all desires and crash into peaceful bliss- but not right now. As Eddie’s head slowly leaned in, you had to reel back. For now, at least.

“Um,” Eddie immediately halted his movements from the clarity of the moment, and drew back.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “so, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You reassured him away from his worries. “But, um, it’s just my dad’s waiting for me.” And the silky curve of your lips proffered him the understanding that you wanted him, too. Just as much. And when it was right, the moment would come. 

“Yeah, okay, so, uh, after my campaign- or your game, whichever one ends first, just meet me by my car and we’ll go on from there. That sound like a plan, sweetheart?”

You could only muster a little “mhm” through your bitten lip before turning to the door. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stop by the game and actually see me cheer? I know there’s absolutely no way you’d actually rather play a nerdy little game surrounded by smelly props.” Eddie could visibly see your sarcasm oozing out of your teasing smile, and it truly made him battle his internal restraints to not run up and swoop you into his arms with a loving kiss. God, you were the one torturing him, and you had no clue in the world. 

He winced before pointing a stern finger at you. “Don’t make fun of me, sweetheart, you’ll make me lose all self-control, and there would be nothing stopping me from dropping down on my knees in front of you and-”

“Eddie!” You chastised with a flustered face of hot cheeks that had him dying of laughter with a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh!” He smiled, “By the way, my freshmen, way smellier than any props in here.”

Eddie Munson was truly a piece of work.

-

Your snotty sobs had deliquesced into the quiet hum of Eddie Munson’s shower, where hot water burned your skin, as it felt like a deemed punishment for what you had just put Eddie through. He had taken it upon himself to reclaim countless times that your visitation was something he welcomed with open arms, and to let out all that was needed for you to be okay, though his reassurance did little to distract you from obvious trauma dumping you just proliferated into his life. It was no different than Eddie Munson bawling his eyes out while his intoxicated mind spewed the pain and regret of his life, in fact, that may have been even more severe than what you had transpired, but it still didn’t derail you from the notion that crashing into him with all of your hurt couldn’t be well for his mental progress, and you loathed the idea of what you were doing to him.

When your tears had finally subsided into small whimpers, Eddie had still held you tightly in his grasp, processing the information of what your life had just turned to- probably thinking far more than you had been able to. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie, I don’t mean to-”

“Hey, sh, just take a minute, okay?” His hand continued to smooth down the back of your head.

Though, your rampaging thoughts were quickly manifesting into a jumble of words that were torpedoed out of your mouth. “No, really, Eddie, I’m sorry, I swear it’ll only be for the night, or I can leave if you want me to, I-I just- just- can we just be here for a minute?”

Eddie’s arm tightened around your waist, and his hand securely cradled the back of your head, where he just gently whispered, “of course,” into the air, and your arms finally linked themselves around his neck for the safest embrace either of you ever felt. 

Seven minutes had passed by with no interruptance to the peaceful quietness you and Eddie had cascaded between the both of you. Your tears had damped the warm skin of his neck into a sticky, itchy residue that had you wanting to pull back, yet you weren’t entirely ready to leave his body. And it was even more evident he had no plans of letting you leave, as his hands refused the budge from the firm hold they had against you. When you eventually made the decision to carefully move away, Eddie saw how the obliterating uncomfortableness you were currently suffering through: reddened eyes with humid skin that mixed terribly with your drowning tears and sweat from the spring mugginess of the night. Eddie had delicately brushed everything away from your hot face and neck, where he was finally able to see your beautiful face shining past the pain of your expressions. 

Being so exposed, you truthfully felt so gross. The moment of transparency, where you just stared at his concerned face that longed to keep you away from the troubles of the world, made you feel like an utter failure, because for once, you couldn’t solve your way out of a problem. No homework, quiz, test, or exam could amount to the complexity of mental and emotional health, and while you managed to keep your mind distracted from the issues of your life, your efforts ultimately could not lead you straight to being okay, and you felt like a failure.

“I’m sorry.” You harshly rubbed your eyes with a deep sniffle. “I’m such a mess, I don’t mean to drag you into this.”

“No, you’re not, honey please stop apologizing, everything is fine.” He cleaned your face with a heavy hand swiping your cheeks. “I want you here. I want you talking to me.”

With a trembling sigh, your sore voice croaked. “So it’s okay if I stay here- it’ll be just for one night, I promi-”

“Yes, of course, it’s okay.” He cut off your apologetic rambling, because even though you hadn’t explicitly spoken the words I’m sorry, he knew it was drenched in your cramped sentences. “But I’m gonna really need you to work with me here, sweetheart, and tell me if he laid his fuc- if he put his hands on you? Did he, baby?”

“No.” That was the succinct answer he needed to hear, and a small breath of relief washed over him for a second. “W-we, um, we just started yelling and-and got into this big fight, where I just screamed at him, you know, about everything, and t-then he just kept yelling back, and he got so angry.” You heaved heavily. “Eddie, I don’t have anywhere else to go, um, I-I’ll figure something out, I just- I really can’t go back there.”

“No, no, don’t go back.” He ran his hands over his face. “Please, just stay here as long as-”

“No, Eddie, I can’t do that to you or your uncle.” You pursed your lips with slumped shoulders, feeling awful for taking advantage of his living situation for your accommodation, but Eddie would be livid to hear you keep denying yourself safety.

“Stop, don’t even try it.” He firmly stopped you. “Just, for once, let me help you. You’ve done so much for me, you deserve to let me just fucking help you through this, sweetheart. Please.” You relented. There was no point in making this situation harder for yourself, and you desperately just wanted to have some tranquility in your life, and Eddie was offering the biggest hand to you. Closing your eyes, you just agreed to his loving aid with a soft nod of acceptance. You once laid your bed out for Eddie Munson when he was at his lowest, he’d be damned not to give you that in return. 

“What do you want right now? We can talk- or just, like, completely avoid it, but only for a little bit, don’t keep it inside, that’s what Ms. K said- oh, uh, food! Are you hungry? Have you eaten dinner yet? Maybe like a cup of water? I can order some food, you don’t really want me cooking anything, but I have like a shit ton of pretzels-”

“Is it okay if I shower?” You quietly interrupted.

It was hot, suffocatingly hot. The months of spring brought an awful draft inside trailers that were not equipped with the proper protection for the incoming heat wave that would engulf Hawkins, Indiana. When winter hit, freezing families bundled together dreaming of the day warmer weather would mitigate numb toes and shivering bodies, but when that dream would come, sticky skin of sweat and hot flashes that made it feel like you were burning in an oven made the poor civilians of Forest Hills Trailer Park yearn for winter to come back. Just stuck to suffer yearly.

And you were sweltering.

-

Twenty-Two Hours Prior

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Honestly, how crazy would it be for Eddie Munson to rub his Black Ice Little Tree air freshener onto his jacket to mask out any potential bad smell? It’s not like carried his cologne around with him at all times, let alone for dates he doesn’t even go on. Plus, he always wondered if that Old Spice smell was too much. Last time, he became oblivious as to how much he wore, and Gareth Emerson couldn’t stop the ongoing sneezes that occurred whenever had Eddie stepped within a two feet radius of the poor kid. Safe to say, Eddie Munson learned two sprits was enough. But he had only applied his cologne this morning, what if the smell was gone? What if he still terribly smelled like that cigarette he smoked just before Hellfire started? Or what if he smelled like the illegal greens that resided in his lunchbox, after having to spend an extra five minutes rolling joints for Naomi Rahman after she explicitly stated she thought his service came pre-rolled. He knew he should have charged her extra for the free labor. Shit, what about his breath? Was he going to kiss you today?! Were you going to kiss him today?! Does he even own chapstick? And his hair, how come it looked so frizzy in the murky reflection of his rear view mirror? Was it always this frizzy? Why the hell do people let him walk out of the house like this?! 

Eddie slumped back in the old seat of his van with a groan. This was going horrible- granted the date hadn’t even started, but still. He couldn’t do this. How are you even supposed to act on a first date? Shit! This is Eddie Munson’s first ever date with a girl- a gorgeous girl- the most beautiful fucking girl he’s ever seen for crying out loud! How the hell do people do this so casually? You were probably cool as ever.

“Oh, my god, Chrissy help me! I'm freaking out over here!” As much as you’d like to scream, your devices only left you whispering fervently, as you and Chrissy Cunningham had snuck away into the corner of the locker room, where your cheer bag had been precisely fitted with three pairs of earrings, two necklaces, two pairs of shoes, and three dresses; however, despite being intricately picked for the sole reason that they were the best dresses you owned, you began hating them upon closer inspection. It’s lovely how the mind works, isn’t it?

“Would you relax?” Chrissy huffed, shoving her frayed bangs away from her eyes. “You’re stressing me out, and I’m not even going on the date. And it’s not like this is going to be your first, you’ve been out plenty of times.”

“Three.” You sternly corrected, with the high wedges in your hands acting like a scolding finger, as you pointed them towards your friend. “Three is not plenty. And as if I cared what those guys’ thought, this is Eddie. He, I actually do care about.”

“Aw, that’s so cute.” She giddied out a squeal, which could only be met with your eye roll. “No, but seriously, Y/N, it’s Eddie, you know he’s, like, totally obsessed with you, I don’t think he really cares about what you’re going to wear.”

An underlying “I know” was spoken into your sigh, as you put down the shoes, and simply looked at everything laid out on the old locker room bench. “So,” you took a deep breath, “any of these will be fine for the Hideout?”

“Wait,” Chrissy’s eyebrows raised into her forehead, “you’re going to the Hideout? Why’d you bring heels? That place is totally, like, a rundown-beer-old man kinda place. Not a heels and dress type.” She stressed. 

Just when you were beginning to calm down... “Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Came the whisper yelling. “I’ve never been! How do you even know?!”

“That’s where Jason and Andy always bought their booze from for parties. The owner is totally like this desperate guy who always wants money, and, well, he sold so they bought.” She quickly explained, groaning at the memories of having to sit in the back seat with the numerous boxes of cheap beer, because Jason Carver was that much of a douche he made his girlfriend move to the back for his friend to claim the front. “But, anyways, just wear your cheer shoes, it’ll still look cute with your dresses, especially the green sundress one.”

“But my sneakers are so scuffed up, they’ll look messy.” You whined. If only Eddie Munson knew how much thought you were putting in just to see him. He would think it was so cute.

You were then met with a Chrissy Cunningham deadpan that had you snapping back to reality. “Y/N, get real, Eddie’s probably wearing that t-shirt he doodled on with markers. I highly doubt he’ll judge you for a scuff mark on your shoe.”

Eddie Munson’s wristwatch ticked at 10:25 p.m. The last straggle of students, teachers, and town goers were slowly evacuating the emptying parking lot, as the numerous cars prompted the small bit of traffic that would occasionally occur in Hawkins that wasn’t directly correlated to the Fourth of July Fair. With the tiniest bit of a pep talk that honestly made him feel a little lame, Eddie exhaled deeply before making his way out of the car. Four weeks ago, Eddie had walked in on Dustin Henderson intently watching “Sixteen Candles” in the comfort of his own living, after Hellfire’s designated room got invaded by a bombardment of paint cans and set designs for Ms. Kathey’s drama club, insisting that her “Our Town crisis” was far greater than any campaign Eddie’s club had to host. Wanting the brownie points, Dustin took it upon himself to impress his Dungeon Master by proffering his house as an alternative, though when Dustin had muttered the words “mi casa es tu casa” he hadn’t anticipated Eddie Munson to just meander in without a warranted knock, leaving the kid vulnerable with his movie playing loudly in the background. Now, Eddie Munson was still a proudly proclaimed asshole back then, so the situation gave him great leeway to blackmail the freshman into doing his dirty work- by that, he meant his science homework. But now, there was no science homework, and Eddie Munson was instead trying to replay the foggy memory that was Jake Ryan leaning against his red car in the coolest fashion, as Samantha Baker stared in awe. He wanted you to stare at him in awe. He wanted to be cool. With the exception of the cool sports car and confidence, of course. 

But when the back doors of the gymnasium had opened and the harsh light of the beaming lamp post illuminated your figure upon entrance, Eddie Munson had been apotheosized. Long gone was the air in lungs, as when his eyes landed on you, it felt like a sucker punch to his stomach, and any confidence he was trying to willed by mimicking the acts of Jake Ryan had abruptly slipped his mind, and Eddie began fidgeting in place. Chrissy Cunningham had completely gone unbeknownst to Eddie as she waved you goodbye, the janitor, Charlie, who was currently dumping a barrage of trash from the gym was left unnoticed by Eddie, everything- every little thing that wasn’t you didn’t matter in this instance. 

Just you.

You had shyly approached him with a soft smile to your lip that had Eddie’s heart fluttering in his chest. “Hi.” That simple greeting was enough for Eddie Munson to officially say goodbye to the conviction he once held when he flirted with you just yesterday. 

How you were able to fuel his charm with giddiness one day, and then have him melting into a puddled state of flusters the next day was beyond the knowledge of modern science.

“H-Hi.” His voice rasped into the night air, which had you softly giggling. 

“Um, I hope this is alright?” You smoothed down the creases of your dress. “I didn’t know- uh, is this appropriate for, like, the Hideout?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” He cleared his throat, eyes following your body up and down, before reverting back to your eyes out of respect. “You’ll totally be, like, the prettiest girl who’s ever walked in there- well, I mean, way more than pretty,” he awkwardly corrected, “because, um, you look r-really beautiful. You are really beautiful, Y/N.”

Your eyes had lit up and twinkled under the night sky. Briefly looking away to compose the ever growing smile on your face, you finally peered up at him. “Thank you, Eddie.” You delicately spoke, following suit of eyeing him. “You’re really beautiful, too, you know?”

Unfortunately—or very fortunately for your entertainment—Eddie had sucked in a deep breath, far bigger than he had anticipated, out of shock from the words he just heard, leading him to hurtle into a fit of uncontrolled coughing. “Sorry!” *cough* “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” *cough*

“Are you okay?” You laughed, your hand gently being placed onto his chest with small rubs to ease his derailment. 

“Totally your fault.” *cough* “Why do you have to be so- ugh!” Eddie heaved, as his back straightened, and the clearing of his throat helped alleviate his little fit. But how could someone blame him in the first place? Not once, in the twenty years that Eddie Munson had been alive, has he ever heard someone call him beautiful. It was the great juxtaposition of Eddie’s life, because that’s what society told him. Eddie Munson was far from beautiful. Freak. Criminal. Errant. Disgrace. What would be so wrong with believing the town’s word, that he really was everything terrible in the world? They believed, so he believed it. Eddie Munson spent the entirety of his childhood wondering where he went wrong to continue to be degraded, and then turned his early adulthood into becoming those things, because why try to change the people’s opinion. It was already cemented into the books. Eddie Munson was a shame.

And you had just casually waltzed into his life and ruined that. Ruined his pessimistic beliefs. Ruined is cynicism. Completely ruined the agenda placed against Eddie Munson, because, for once, someone outside of his personal friends and family wanted him.

You wanted him. And in the Munson Doctrine, the newly indicted rule states your word triumphs all. Because you gave him meaning. You gave him a chance. For redemption. For love feelings. For everything. 

“My fault? I have no clue what you mean by that.” You giggled against his blushing state. “But you’re lucky I didn’t have time to call you sexy before your little aneurysm. I was totally ready to sneak that one in there-”

“Okay!” Eddie clapped his hands to cut you off. “You are trouble. Into the car, before you fucking kill me out here.” He left the last part to quietly fuse into the night sky with mumbling lips.

Eddie Munson’s hand had lingered on the small of your back, where he guided you to the passenger side of his car, and opened his chariot for your voyage (his words). Your cheer bag had found the floor of the back side of his van, where remnants of trash you once saw when Eddie Munson graciously stole you away from your house as per your request still nestled in the same spot they were once discarded. Eddie was quick to appear on the driver's side, and his van lit up with the last bit of life it had within her, where he began trailing behind the last of students leaving Hawkins High.

Eddie Munson was going on his first date ever. 

“Wait, stop, go back.” Eddie’s finger halted on the knob of his radio, ending his knit-picking ministries of finding the perfect channel for his music taste. It was always a mystery why he continued this routine. Eddie knew anything from the local channels would never play his preferred choices, but the procedure always developed the same: switch between channels, condemn the local radios, reach for whichever one of his tapes was closest. Except for tonight, of course, you interrupted his precious routine. “Go back, please.” You sang with the most satisfied smile, as Eddie—with his skeptical, squinted eyes—begrudgingly gave in, turning the knob ever so slightly to the left.

It was David fucking Bowie.

“Yay! I love his music! Keep it there.” You gushed, as his voice began drowning into the small atmosphere of Eddie’s van, and he, so predictably, protested your personal taste in music. 

“Nonononono.” His hand immediately reached back for the radio. “I am not losing you to some British dude with weird hair. Pass me my Sabbath tape.” Now, full transparency, Eddie truly could no care to bash your taste of music. In fact, he, himself, occasionally bobbed along to the voice Bowie every once in a while. It was just something about bickering with you that made his tummy tingle, that he just couldn’t help himself. He liked your little offended face.

You gasped an offended gasp, as your hand playfully smacked his away from the premises of the radio. “Um, excuse me, isn’t Ozzy Osbourne just another British guy with weird hair?” You giggled. 

“Woah, woah, woah, now, babe, you better choose your words wisely here, alright?” Eddie chortled. “He’s British metal, it’s the only acceptable form, this though…” he exaggeratedly grimaced, as the lyrics to “Changes” belted out from the speakers, “This is just lame.” He teased, while you dramatically scoffed. “Sounds like it belongs in some weird cartoon movie with, like, ogres and shit.”

You guffawed at the oddity of his opinion. “That’s literally right up your alley, sir. And, in my humble opinion, Mr. Dungeon Master, I believe orcs are far more lame.”

If it wasn’t for your presence in the vehicle, Eddie Munson would have swerved off the road and crashed into the nearest tree. His wide eyes and flushed cheeks swiftly met your laughing face, before distracting himself with the attention of the road, clearing his throat to prevent the impending cough that was inevitable ever since he met you. Your name calling was now sparking another tingling feeling inside him. “You… ugh,” Eddie grinned with red cheeks, “You are trouble.” He bit his lip, as he just took in the sight of your head falling back with laughter. God, you were so comfortable. So comfortable with him. “And for your information, orcs are not lame, in fact, because you said that, I’m changing this terrible song-”

“No!” Your hand had seized his, fingers lacing tightly to prevent his movements, and you locked your entangled hands into the soft plush of your thighs. Eddie Munson’s mouth fell agape. You really were trouble.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do whatever you say.” He rushingly mumbled out for your amusement. 

“Just enjoy the song, Eddie.” Your thumb caressed his hand, and you felt him tighten his hold on you. “Expand your horizon, and I promise to listen to all the screaming men you want me to.” You turned up the song, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to protest your want. Not when you looked so damn perfect enthusiastically singing your heart out, with your hand in his, with his skin grazing your thigh, with you in the front seat of his car, where he could picture you sitting to the end of time, because it looked so natural.

You and Eddie Munson were natural.  

Chrissy Cunningham had entirely been correct. For the past twenty years since its start up, the Hideout had indefinitely established itself as a rundown-beer-old man-kinda-place. There had been a reason why Jason Carver was so insistent with Chrissy Cunningham staying in the car during their retrieval for cheap beer. Eddie Munson had soon fallen to regret ever bringing you here. Unabashed stares from men had been glued to you the second you and Eddie had made your presence known within the bar. Eddie had wished they were merely targeted at him for the simple reason that the regular goers were shocked to see the metalhead, who dedicated his Tuesday nights playing loud music on the stage, with a pretty girl who they deemed to be out of his league. But it would be stupid to think of that, when the stares had obviously been directed to the young girl in a pretty dress, someone these men had grossly dreamed of. Eddie had attempted to shield you from the many perversions aimed against you, as he directed you to a table farthest away from the small crowd that lingered at the bar. 

He felt like a complete asshole when he watched you coil into yourself, arms cramping over your tummy once you situated yourself onto the rustic chair. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie had leaned in to immediately apologize. “I should’ve put more thought into this, I just couldn’t afford anything like Enzo’s, but we can absolutely leave if you want.”

“No, no.” You assured him with a small smile. “If this is the place you like going to, I want to enjoy it with you, too.”

“You…” His head dropped in disbelief at the person you were- at the person he got to experience this moment with. “You’re too fucking nice to me, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Really, let’s leave if these assholes are making you uncomfortable.”

But you had sternly shaken your head. “I don’t know when it’ll be the next time we get to hang out like this. I don’t want to let anyone ruin our night, Eddie. I-It’s okay.”

Eddie could see right through your smile. You were devastatingly uncomfortable, but your words held so much truth, you genuinely did not want to leave, sacrificing your consolation for a special moment with Eddie. Because this was your chance- your opportunity to be with one another, and given the hardships of reality, who knew when something like this could be offered to you and Eddie again. 

He had immediately shrugged off his jacket, passing the heaviness of leather and denim over your shoulders for you to take lead in letting your arms get swallowed by the sleeve. “Take this, princess, at least.”

You adjusted his jacket around you, before sitting up and beaming at him. “How do I look?” You rhetorically spoke with a giggle.

Eddie Munson was about to cry. His fist clenched tightly out of sight beneath the table, and he blinked harshly to get rid of the invading tears that were about to come forth. Why did he have to react like this? What were you doing this to him? Why did you have to give him the time of day after everything he’s put you through? The sight of you- your hair, complementing the perfection of your features, because you meticulously styled it flawlessly just for him; your eyes, sparkling in the low light of the bar with such happiness, because you were looking at him; your cheeks, plumping with such liveliness, because your alluring lips were curled into a heavenly smile, because of him. Eddie Munson wasn’t deserving of good things, so why the hell were you opening your arms to him? Accept it, accept it, accept it, he forced himself as a reminder. Accept your care. Accept your passion. Accept your love feelings. You were putting your life at risk wearing the jacket that branded Eddie Munson. But you were doing it with the greatest smile he’s ever seen. 

You wanted him- you wanted Eddie Munson.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.”

Your lips folded within themselves to contain your beaming smile. “You’ve already said that.”

“Because it’s true.” He spoke with such conviction.

Your hand snaked under the table, where you met his tense fist, but your delicate fingertips ignited them to unfold and relax with comfort, where fingers just mindlessly played with one another. “Thank you, Eddie. And thank you for asking me out… first, at least.” You giggled. “You know, before you held me against my will to ask you out?”

Eddie let out a guttural laugh. “What are you talking about, princess? You practically hunted me down and begged me- no, pleaded with me to just finally take you out. I’m just for the food, of course.”

“As if.” You scoffed with a playful roll to your eyes. “But, you know, now that you mentioned it, I am desperately hungry for food. What is there to feed me?”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, this fine establishment offers us some very stale nachos-”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Some burgers made with the fakest of meat, and just drenched in grease from a stove that’s never been cleaned-”

“Very appetizing.”

“And, of course, three-day-old cheese fries with, y’know, just a sprinkle of dust for flavor.”

“Ooh!” You perked. “That! I want cheese fries, please.”

“Then cheese fries she will get.” Eddie stood with a lingering chuckle, getting ready to place in your order. “You wanna pick your poison? I can get it for you.” He pointed towards the bar.

“Whiskey old fashioned.” You smiled confidently.

Eddie blinked back in surprise. “That really your usual?” He interrogated with a flabbergasted laugh.

“No, I’ve just always wanted to say that.” You giggled with amusement. “That’s what my dad and his friends say when they come over and invade his liquor cabinet. I’ve never drank before, so I’ll just have whatever is your favorite.”

Eddie Munson had instantly fallen back into his seat with a gaping mouth of shock. “Sweetheart, you let me bring you to a bar, and you don’t even drink?!”

You retaliated with a deadpan shot directly at him, and your hands finding your hips like a scolding mother. “Eddie, how hard is it to believe that I just really want to go anywhere with you, that I don’t care where it is?”

“Uh, very.” He answered too quickly. You could only laugh in return, gently smacking his bicep.

“Just go get my drink, please.” You failed to sternly convey, as your effusing voice spoke too bubbly to be austere. 

“I’d be a terrible influence to let you indulge in beer, and an even worse person for letting your first be from here. How about a soda?” He crooned affectionately.

But you, of course, protested so eloquently with crossed arms. “It’s never a bad thing to try new things.”

Bits of yellow liquid had toppled over the rim of the thick glass, as your cup of beer fell heavy against the wooden table with a loud clunk. Eddie stood smiling next to you, sliding the drink to be perfectly stationed in front of you. He had returned far quicker than you had anticipated. “Here you go, Evel Knievel, go crazy.” He jabbered, urging you with a nod to his head, as an act of support. Your round eyes peered through your lashes and connected with his. With a confident grip of the overly large cup, you brought the drink to your face, getting a whiff of something not too bad but not entirely pleasant, either. Possibly overestimating yourself, your lips engulfed a section of the rim and you happily accepted a hefty swig of the beer. Eddie looked down at you expectedly, because as he prophesied while ordering your beer, your nose had cutely scrunched into a multitude of creases, becoming the biggest telltale sign that you surely did not like it. Eddie had laughed but pitied you as if you were a lost puppy, “Aw, you want me to get you a soda, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You grimaced, though ever so politely. 

“It’s okay, good thing I only got one, I figured you wouldn’t like it.” He chuckled, as he slid the beer over to his side, and brought the cup to his mouth, where his mouth rested upon the gloss stain of your lips. If this was the closest Eddie Munson would ever get to kissing you, he would take it. He gladly took a gulp with no reaction. You envied him. “I’m proud of you for at least tryin’ something you wanted, pretty girl.” He lovingly pinched your chin, before leaving to retrieve your soda.

-

Eddie’s pajamas felt soft in your hand. They were his finest pair—no holes, no stains, no loose threads—coming from the back of his dresser, because five months ago, Eddie had shrunk them in the dryer. Nothing too drastic, but they clung to his body in ways he was too uncomfortable with, and if a certain pair of pants or a t-shirt didn’t provide him the privilege to move about freely, the back of the dresser they went. But he honestly wasn’t kidding, they were his finest pair of pajamas. Entirely because they hadn’t been in Eddie Munson’s possession for too long to be worn to demise. And now they sat neatly folded on the toilet, awaiting to replace the soft towel that was wrapped around you tightly. 

It felt wrong. Having to leave your skin to dry out in the humid atmosphere of the Munson’s bathroom, as you truly left with nothing in your hands, but the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet. Despite the shrinkage, his pajama pants had still managed to pool around your ankles, even with the stretchy waist clasping at your stomach at an appropriate height. And his t-shirt had been no different, sleeves long enough to get caught in the crease of your inner elbow if you ever chose to bend your arms. Dio, written boldly across and attended with an unsettling depiction of a creature to embody the tone of the album cover. You’d ask Eddie about it some other time. And he would gladly answer. 

Your hand had become coated with a warm layer of water, as it swept away the condensation pestering the hanging mirror. Red, your eyes had still been stained with the dreaded redness of tears and exhaustion. But at least, the last bit of hot water for the Munson’s managed to circulate your blood back to your drained face, and the tiniest sliver of liveliness could be detected if anyone chose to inspect close enough. Eddie Munson would be that person. He always had no problem staring at your face.

Turning the brass door knob, the waft of a cooler breeze from the trailer’s air conditioner cascaded goosebumps along your arms. It’s quiet. Your hands tightly clenched around your balled up pile of clothes, as you begin your slow movements to the kitchen. But the stove light continued to be the only thing keeping the kitchen company, as Eddie was still nowhere to be seen. The washer had been stationed to your left, where the clean clothes of Eddie and his uncle resided in a basket that had yet to be folded. Choosing to follow suit, your denim shorts were folded in half with delicacy, placed onto the metal washing machine, with your shirt joining soon after, ready to grab first thing in the morning. Because that was a promise you were holding, you were truly not ready to take up any more space in Eddie Munson’s life, not when he had his own issues to understand. He didn’t need yours as a cherry on top. Even if his persistence told you otherwise, that he’d have you living with him in a heartbeat. 

Hearing a muffled shuffle coming from the end of the hall, you paddled your way to the doorway of his bedroom, where Eddie had caught you through the creaking sound of his door opening up to your face.

“Hey, um, feelin’ a little better?” He finished up smoothing the wrinkles of the newly spread bedsheets, something he retrieved from the back of his closet. Though, they hadn’t shrunken. He honestly had just forgotten about them, until ten minutes ago. You nodded truthfully, the corner of your lips barely tugging upward, but enough to make your dry skin feel tight with the movement. “Um, oh, your room for tonight.” He opened his arms to showcase the myriad of posters that would be staring you down while you slept. “Clean sheets n’ everything. Hotel Munson, if you will, best service in town. Especially that continental breakfast, don’t miss it.”

That managed to turn your facade into a real smile. Something Eddie loved. “I can’t take your bed.” You spoke so quietly, someone could have thought you were whispering him a secret. “You’re already doing a lot by letting me stay here, Eddie.”

“No, please take it.” He walked up to you with an earnest voice. “Honestly, take anything- I’ll give you anything, Y/N, just please.”

You stared at him with longing eyes that just pulled at the string of his heart. “Will you sleep with me?” You sighed softly. 

Eddie Munson had fervently shaken his head with all purpose in the world. “I’ll give you anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Eddie. For everything.”

“You’re the only reason why I’m getting better, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m devoting my life to you.” He smiled solemnly at the breathy giggle he managed to squeeze out of you. Progress was progress, and this was the start. “Although, I checked, and I don’t have any ice cream here to help. But I can go to the store real quick-”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You assured him with a tender hold of his forearm. “Really.”

“Okay.” Eddie accepted with a sigh. “Um, is it okay if we talk now? I don’t want you keepin’ anything to yourself, honey. I wanna hear your voice.” Eddie's hand had engulfed yours, urging you to follow his small steps to the made bed right behind him. He had dropped with ease, letting you stand between his spread legs, where his other hand had joined your united ones, and both sets of his fingers began toying with yours languidly. “Please.”

You slowly took up the empty space next to him. What was three inches of space closed to be touching thighs, when Eddie had snaked his arm to grasp onto your hip and pull you as close as possible. The worry of whether the move was a step over your boundaries had quickly dissipated in Eddie’s overthinking mind, as the close proximity had prompted you to lay your head comfortably on his muscular shoulder. 

But before Eddie could think of laying against your head in return, you had quickly chosen to turn your face to the wall where a large burgundy blanket had taken the place of an actual curtain over the window. It was behind him, where his back was turned to. Because you didn’t want Eddie Munson to see your face right now. You shielded away. And he would let you. As long as he got to hear your voice. 

“If I look at you I’ll start crying.” You quietly mumbled against his shoulder. Because you look at me with all the care in the world, and my father doesn't. 

“It’s okay, baby.” His lips fell onto the crown of your head and made no judgment to move, even long after his lips had already puckered to plant you a deserving kiss of compassion. “Take all the time you need.”

Come Monday afternoon, Eddie Munson would thank Ms. Kelly for guided lessons on how to be a therapist. Even if that was far from her intended goals with him. But as long as it was helping you, he’d facilitate his newfound skill. 

“Being with you, Eddie…” you took a deep breath,  “…you just make me realize so many things.” Both of your arms had bear hugged his bicep, keeping him as close as humanly possible. “My dad, I wish he would just get help from someone for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would get better for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would just care for me.” Like you did. “I told him. I told him everything. About what he’s done. How he treats me. How I feel. Everything, I finally said everything, Eddie.” Your voice began wavering with a stinging throat. Because even if you had chosen to peer away from Eddie’s sympathetic face, it wouldn’t steer you away from the hurt of losing everything you’ve ever known. “I stood up to him, Eddie.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He whispered into your head, his hand working to grab a caring hold of your thigh. “So fucking proud.” I wish I had the strength to do what you did when I was younger. 

But you had finally picked up your head and cried at him with glossy eyes and a frown so deep it felt like a knife in his chest. You harshly began shaking your head. “He yelled at me, Eddie. He screamed so much.” You began choking. “He didn’t want to hear about how I felt. Eddie, he was blaming me. Said it was my fault. For everything.” You agonized. 

“No, no, no, sweetheart, none of this is your fault, alright?” He cupped your hot cheeks securely in his hands. “None of it is. Don’t you dare listen to a word that asshole said, okay?”

“But, Eddie, he’s right.” You sobbed. “I just can’t- Eddie, I should have left you alone that night.” The club picture. Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were blaming yourself for everything that had occurred. You didn’t even have to verbalize it for Eddie to understand. He knew what was about to come out of your mouth. 

If I didn’t bother you, you would have lived your life. 

If I didn’t bother you, the school wouldn’t have been so disgusted with me. 

If I didn’t bother you, my dad wouldn’t have been so ashamed of me. 

Eddie Munson’s face had dropped stunned. So blankly, he just spoke, “Don’t fucking say another word, Y/N.” And maybe that had come out far harsher than anticipated, but he had indicated it with such love, he honestly didn’t care. Eddie Munson wasn’t going to tolerate another hateful word to be said about you. It was the reason Jason Carver still sported a faded yellow bruise on his cheek. It was the reason why he spent hours killing himself over the nasty words he once screamed at you. Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare be alive to hear you speak horribly about yourself. The men in your life had already terribly decided to do that to someone so far from deserving it. Including him. And processing the horrid regret of feeling appalled by his actions, he was going to be the first to understand that hearing these words come from yourself was going to hurt ten times worse. For him. But especially for you. The rage coursing through his body, he was desperately trying to handle it. But someone was hurting you. And Eddie Munson was fighting all restraints to not end up with a murder charge by the end of the night. “If you sit there and tell me straight to my face that he made you believe any of this was your fault, I’m killing him.”

You sat still, blanking your round eyes at him in disbelief. Though jarring, his words- his entire shift in demeanor had snapped some sense into you. Because you believed him. Everything he had just uttered came with a harsh truth. How Eddie had managed to speak the scariest words, yet so clearly convey his adoration for you was truly unbeknownst. To you. To anyone. But not to Eddie. No, because Eddie was beginning to understand his feelings for you were drilling deeper and deeper to the point where he’d jump to any matter to protect you. He would have done anything to go back in time and confess it to you the moment he first spoke to you. But it was too late. And now, all he could do was devote his life to you. Just like he said. It wasn’t a joke. 

So, you whispered, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Do you believe that?” His eyes frantically scanned yours in search of certainty. “Because everything that's happened has been my fault, sweetheart. Not yours. And I need you to understand that. Do you?” His words were so firm, it felt like a parent lecturing a child. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you that first day in the cafeteria. I shouldn’t have been an asshole the night you took my picture. I shouldn’t have crossed the line when it came to Jason. I shouldn’t have called you those disgusting names. And I shouldn’t have fucking scared you, and dumped all my bullshit problems onto you.” Eddie’s eyes were beginning to burn with a gloss coat of tears, but his face remained stoic, not wanting to deter you from the purpose of his words just because of his emotions. Because he knew you would. Eddie Munson knew you cared about him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m so fucking sorry every piece of shit person in this fucking town has blamed you for my mistakes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ed-”

“No. Don’t fucking make yourself believe that it’s okay.” He pleaded. “It’s not. None of it is. I know you’re happy that I’m getting help, I am, too, but if there’s any part of you that still hates me, then hate me, Y/N. That’s okay. It’s okay to be fucking angry and sad about everything me and everyone else put you through. You don’t have to be this selfless person who excuses everything that’s ever been done to you for the sake of normalcy, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do that to yourself. Be mad at me. Be mad at your shit excuse of a father. Be mad at fucking everybody. You deserve to have your feelings heard. And if your dad isn’t going to be the fucking one to do, I will. I swear I will, princess.” He swore with all urgency. “But only if you want me to.” Eddie huffed, as he longed into your sorrowful eyes, and cemented his proposition.  “You’re going to sit here and tell me if you want me to make it up to you. I don’t care if we’ve already been on a date, none of that matters, except how you truly feel. It’s your choice. You get to decide. You choose.”

Eddie Munson had laid out his cards. For once, the decisions of your life were in your hands. Not your father’s. Not anyone’s, but yours. And maybe that was the entire reason as to why you took Hellfire’s picture in the first place. Everyone had made their decisions about Eddie Munson and his friends. Exclusion. Ostracism. Rejection. Everything had been chosen for them. Eddie Munson’s life and character had already been set in stone by the people of Hawkins, Indiana. And you had recognized it when Principal Higgins made his decisions. So you took back that power. You disobeyed the expectations of a small-minded town that bred conservatism and conformity. You made your choice. You took his picture. You did what was right. Everything that has happened has been a result of you making your own choices. No one likes when a teenage girl is capable of breaking the decisions that have been set for her. Because that makes her a powerful woman. 

That makes her you.

So you made your decision. Firmly. “I want you to make it up to me.”

And Eddie Munson accepted it. “I will.” He so effortlessly agreed. “Now, c’mere.”

Eddie had taken a hold of your legs, and moved them around his waist, where your body crumbled into his lap, arms holding on for dear life around his neck. He moved until his back uncomfortably hit the frameless wall, where lumpy pillows only gave him support, but Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare to move. This was him listening. A large hand splayed across the canvas of your back to sooth, and another keeping your head secured in the solace of his neck. This was him making it up to you. Because though you weren’t speaking, your cries were articulating the anger you bottled. “I hate him. I hate him” You choked. 

This was your power. And Eddie Munson was accepting it with loving arms.

-

Nineteen Hours Prior

You’d been laughing for nearly three hours. 

Eddie Munson’s bottom was beginning to feel the numbing sensation of his ass giving out for having been sat for too long. But he couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to. Not when you were uncontrollably laughing at the stupid jokes he made, because he was bringing joy to your life. And it was a real laugh. Not a cute one that would be gently let out for fear of being judged for having experienced pure happiness. No, you were being loud. And sincere. And Eddie Munson loved hearing it. 

“That’s so not fair.” You whined finishing the last bit of cheese fries that stained the lined parchment paper with grease within the basket of stray fries—all too small and soggy to be enjoyed. And there was no dust. “You can’t just casually mention you turn up this place with your five fans cheering you on.”

Eddie had, of course, playfully exaggerated the weekly experience. When asked about Corroded Coffin, he had put on his bravado act, one like the most famous rockstars do during interviews in Hollywood, and braggingly told you how crazy the local five drunks act upon their arrival. “I mean, I’m a total smokeshow, babe, can you blame ‘em? Autographs, pictures, I even have groupies lining up at our tour bus.” Eddie Munson loved making you laugh. 

“What do you mean I can’t mention it, you’re the one that asked about it?” He crooned, as he took a large gulp of the water he ordered after he downed the beer you had discovered to hate. 

‘Well, yeah, but you’re just rubbing it in my face.” You laughed. “I’m bound to my room, I’ll never get a chance to see the Corroded Coffin live. I wanna be the sixth drunk to come watch you perform- well, with my soda that is.”

God, you were too fucking cute. “Don’t worry, baby, I got my sweetheart back home, I’ll bust her out one day for a personal live show from yours truly. She’ll love you.”

“Mh, feel like I’m meeting the parents.” 

Eddie’s face scrunched with a wince. “You don’t wanna meet my parents, babe.” He chuckled. “Everything that’s wrong with me is because of them.” Sometimes if he laughed about it, he’d forget how much the truth hurt. “But, uh, Ms. K, said I shouldn’t think like that- think that I’m like them, y’know?”

You nod your head to affirm him. It’s true. Eddie’s not like them. Even if you’ll never meet them. You know he’s not like them. “Do you believe that?” You quietly asked.

The tone of the night has shifted. “Tryin’ to.” He concisely answered. “I mean, every time I looked in the mirror all I saw was my old man, been thinkin’ I was like him for the last ten years of my life, so it’s not easy to just forget it, but I’m workin’ on it.” There was a small lingering smile on his lips by the end of the sentence. He was proud. Proud of himself. You could tell. 

“That’s good, Eddie.” You softly spoke with a caring smile to let it cement that you, too, were proud of the person Eddie Munson was becoming. “I also feel like I’m like my dad- well, actually I kinda just know I am.”

Eddie didn’t speak for a second. His hand had managed to sneak under your stool, where he had taken a hold of your cushioned seat—torn with its years of usage—and pulled you close until the legs of your chair screeched their way against sticky wood tiles that covered the floor and finally hit his chair with a clank. You were close. “I don’t know if you’re aware, sweetheart, but you’ve never chased me out of your house with murder on your mind.” And luckily his comment was lighthearted enough to keep you at ease with your underlying feelings, providing you laughter where you would usually cry. “I don’t think you’re like your dad, honey. Not even in the slightest bit.” He whispered closely to your face.

And surely, a smile was on your face. Not because this was a topic you loved to rave about, but for the mere fact that you wanted to tell Eddie. You felt comfortable- safe with Eddie. You wanted him to know your secrets, one you hadn’t even told Chrissy Cunningham. “I have a little brother.”

In retrospect, it had been an odd thing to simply blurt out in the midst of a semi-serious conversation, so you didn’t find blame in Eddie when he squinted at you with confusion. But out of respect to you, and with no judgment ahead, he chose to follow suit. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you did.” 

“I didn’t either, until about two years ago when my cousin, Cassidy, told me.” You admitted, a tight lip smile being the only readable tell to your face. And with a heavy sigh puffing out of your cheeks, you had continued. “She, uh, she said his name is Levi, which I thought was pretty cute. And then eight months ago, my cousin also told me that my mom just had twin girls. Jasmine and Maddy. I know their names, but I don’t think they know mine.” Comprehension was quick on Eddie’s part, as it didn’t take a rocket scientist to dissect your words. Your mother had abandoned you. Started another family. “I’ve always felt like I was too much like my dad- too much of a perfectionist, too focused on work, that I just reminded her of him. It was probably why she didn’t bother coming back for me.”

And Eddie heard it. The small crack in your voice when you finished speaking. You were stopping yourself from explaining any further, because the thrush of abandonment was crashing into you at full speed, and you didn’t want to cry on your first date with Eddie. It was why you took the last sip of your drink as a distraction. It was why your eyes averted away from his gentle gaze and willed all strength to focus on the American flag that was nailed onto the wall above the bar, so your eyes could be strong enough not to bawl. 

But then you felt the warm metal of Eddie Munson’s rings touch the skin of your knee, before the rest of his hand followed soon after to hold a tight grasp of your body. Of course, you looked back at him. How could you not? “Y’know, you’re pretty fucking incredible, Y/N?” He spoke with a profound smile to his face that personified all his adoration for you. “You’re quite literally the smartest person I know, and I know Henderson, sweetheart- but don’t tell that little shit I think highly of him, it’ll get to his already big head.” Eddie smiled, as he watched your frown develop into a giggle he could listen to forever. “And you’re so fucking nice. Like the sweetest thing on this planet. Got such a kind heart, taking that photo of my club, putting us in the yearbook, having the patience for everyone, and…” His eyes burned into yours, as his heavy hand squeezed your knee, “…giving me a second chance when I sure as hell don’t deserve one. Don’t waste your time wallowing on the idea that you could be him. You’re not, sweetheart. And you know it. I was dumb enough to start acting like my old man, but luckily a pretty, little thing whipped me right into shape.” Your blood had circulated to your cheeks, and he could definitively see the effect his words had on you. He was grinning ear to ear. God, how you hated Eddie Munson. “And because of her, I’m not rotting in a jail cell like he is. And I sure as hell won’t be, either. You’ve got too much kindness in your heart, you’re nothing like you dad, baby. Just because you came from him, doesn’t mean you are him. And you’re much smarter than me, sweetheart, so I’m sure that beautiful brain of yours will figure it out faster than I did. You are nothing like your dad, Y/N.”

And you accepted his words with certainty, letting them play on your mind as a reminder that Eddie Munson didn’t see you as everyone else did. There was a time he did, but he’s learned. You’re far greater than the expectation placed upon you by everyone else. You were spectacular in the eyes of Eddie Munson. 

“Eddie,” his name lingered on your tongue for a bit, “um, your dad’s in jail?”

Eddie nodded. And then, he told you everything. 

On the night of January 1st, a mere hour into the new year of 1976, the Munson family had spent their holidays in the cold, sterile atmosphere of Hawkins General Hospital. Eddie Munson, innocent to it all, was supposed to hit double digits that year. Exciting, it was all he could rave about on the way to Aunt Shirley’s house. Something in Eddie Munson’s tiny mind had proffered the idea that turning ten meant he was a man. Someone who was strong, and could grow muscles overnight, and used their strength to fight. A real man. Fight like his daddy… fight his daddy. He was ready for it. But the older Munson, as it typically occurred, had fallen under the influence after he stationed himself amongst the other men of the family around a cooler of beer that was empty by the time the clock struck twelve. Eddie’s mother had been insistent on driving. But when she asked for the keys, his father had made a big show of how a woman oughta learn to stay in her place, and humiliated enough, she didn’t try again. No one stopped him. No one said anything. Then the arguing began in the car. Icy roads and intoxication was a death sentence that the Munson family would learn devastatingly quickly. Eddie remembered nothing of that night except for the last scene that played in his head: his tiny soon-to-be-man hands gripping tightly the worn seat belt, with fear wracking through his small body, as daddy was swerving into the wrong lane. But it was the stop sign that changed everything. Passed with no regards, a pick-up truck had collided into the passenger side. His mother’s side. It was five hours later when Eddie Munson had woken up with a gentle tap on his shoulder. “You okay, boy?”

Uncle Wayne. “Where’s mom?”

At the very least, it was quick. Pronounced on scene. The agony of her life wouldn’t have to continue any longer. “She said you could have a couple sleepovers at mine. How’s that sound?”

Arriving at 10:43 p.m, Eddie Munson hadn’t anticipated keeping you around until 1:30 in the morning. But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Laughing about the miniscule things in life, sharing interests that drastically revealed how different you were—he was dark, you were light—and confiding about the scariness of childhood that should have been happiness, like little children sharing secrets on the playground. Much to Eddie’s dismay, you began organizing the table, stacking cups with bits of residing beer, soda, and water; stealing napkins to dust off crumbs and soak up water rings; and finishing it off with throwing the numerous balls of paper into the empty basket of what was cheese fries. You were ready to go. And Eddie couldn’t blame you. You had just cheered through an entire basketball game, he should have considered the exhaustion you were fighting against just to see him. But you’re not entirely done with your moment with Eddie. It’s not likely you’ll have another one given your circumstance. 

Standing from your seat, you secured his jacket around you. “Ready to go to your place?”

You always found it amusing how your words could make his eyes bulge, just as they’re doing right now. This may have been Eddie’s first rodeo into the world of first dates, but he wasn’t oblivious to the actions that occurred after the date. In fact, he may have even rented a couple “movies” that followed the same plotline. And they always seemed to end the same way. 

“W-what? Uh- I, um, what?”

“Your place.” You reiterated with a teasing smile. “That’s where you said your sweetheart currently is, and well, I’m pretty sure I was promised a personal live show.

“O-oh, right.” He swallowed thickly. Eddie Munson felt like an ass for having his blood begin to circulate to a particular area of his body, when all you wanted was to hear him play. But also, could you blame him? He didn’t know what he was doing. “Um, you wanna hear me play?”

“Of course!” You beamed brightly. “Like I said, Eddie, there’s a lock outside of my bedroom door bounding me to my room. By the time I leave, you’ll probably be off giving actual autographs, and taking photos, with a long line of groupies waiting for you. You’ll forget about me then. And I want my show now.” 

You were insane. Eddie Munson could never forget about you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. You were burned into his mind for life. Just like he wanted. 

Eddie wouldn’t know it unless he asked, but his assumption landed on the fixation that this was probably the first time you’d ever cruised down Mulberry Street to get to Forest Hills Trailer Park. I mean, genuinely, what reason would someone like you ever have coming down to this side of town? But Eddie stopped himself. He shouldn’t think like that. Still, the fear of judgment plagued his mind, as he anxiously took numerous glances to see your face- see your reaction. Because driving down Mulberry Street, there were no meticulously planted trees of uniform formation, but rather invasive species of plants and weeds that suffocated the dark woods. Where a sophisticated sign—lined with an array of beautiful rose bushes, and a bright light that spotlighted the fancy lettering of Pinecrest Acres—named your neighborhood, Forest Hills got nothing, only accounting for rusted trailers and dirt roads that the townspeople would use as an indicator for where you ranked in reputation. Apparently to the civilians of Hawkins, Indiana, poverty shunned you away from the title of an All American Perfect Community. 

But everytime Eddie had briefly gazed at your face, he was met with a small smile of bubbling excitement to the point where your teeth had sunk into your reddening lip for the majority of the car ride over. You seemed too occupied trying to find the perfect rhythm to head bop to the songs Eddie had chosen for the departure from the Hideout—especially after the whole Bowie debacle—to focus on the evident income gap between the two of you. Or, you simply did not care. Either way, Eddie liked both options. And truthfully, you were having a hard time head bopping to the blaring voices of Iron Maiden. One day, Eddie Munson would teach you how to properly head bang, and you would complain of getting a headache, but for now, you were simply arriving at his humble home for what would be the first of many times.

Eddie had huffed out a lung to reach your door before you could. Actually, you saw him ferociously sprinting, and slowed your movements for his awaited opportunity. And you’re glad you did. Because when Eddie opened the door for you, he met you with a beaming smile of proudness for his gentlemanly actions. “M’lady.” He offered his ringed hand. “This is my, uh, castle.” He showcased his trailer with a sarcastic chortle of amusement to the reality that his home was far from a castle, and surely you could see that in the flickering blue light of the wooden lamppost. 

“Thank you for bringing me, kind sir.” No grimace. No scowl. No look of disgust. You genuinely did not care for the elephant in the room. 

Of course, you wouldn’t. Eddie knows the kind of person you are. 

The creaking screen door was held open by the expanse of Eddie’s back, as he worked the house key of his crowded keychain into the doorknob of the front door. And upon the first step inside, you were inundated by the warmth of a cozy home, the snug smells of carpet and blankets infused by the obvious smell of lingering cigarettes, and glowing by golden lights of shaded table lamps. Had you spoken about it, Eddie Munson would have learned you envied his home. Because that’s what it felt like. A home. One where you could tell he had a lot of laughs over meals with the closest he cared for. Your house was like a museum. It’d been three years since you and your father ate at the dinner table together. And it was cold. He liked it cold. You were yelled at for touching the thermostat in search of warmth in an empty house. 

“Sorry, uh, maid took off.” He made a quick round disposing of the trash that decorated countertops. 

“Do you live alone, Eddie?”

“Uh, nah, my Uncle Wayne, remember I told you about him? It’s his place. But he works night shifts at the plant, so, yeah.” He smiled, standing by the trash can with his hands at his hips, watching your eyes circle around living space. Again, no judgment in sight.

“You guys have a lot of mugs.” You giggled, taking a minor step forward to peer at the array of colorful ceramics displayed by the handles with proudness. 

“Yeah, Wayne used to hit the interstates as a trucker, had a thing for hats and mugs. Used to take the piss out of him by just getting him more.” Eddie chuckles. “But then he started expecting them, so now the old man’s got a lifetime supply comin’.” 

Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “Which is his favorite? Yours?”

Eddie’s heart warmed at the question. “I gotta Garfield cup. He’s got an Odie one.” You wanted to learn about his uncle’s favorite. Eddie would one day eventually tell you over breakfast that he actually hates the taste of coffee, but doesn’t start his day without a cup full of that Garfield mug. Something about drinking coffee made him feel like an actual adult. Granted, he was still consuming it out of a cartoon character mug, but the irony is what made Eddie Munson so special. Because he still hadn’t catched on, and asked why that was so funny. A grown man wanting to feel like an adult by drinking coffee out of a Garfield mug.

“Aw, like the bobblehead in your car! You guys must really like Garfield.” God, you remembered. 

“It’s the one thing I would watch when I first moved in with him.” Eddie laughed at the memories. A lazy cat who was enthused about hot lasagna was wonderfully able to ease the pain of his life circumstances. Of course, Uncle Wayne would continue to put it on. 

You slowly walked up to Eddie with an endearing smile. “That’s really cute. I’m glad your uncle is a good guy.” Not a lot of people were in either of your lives. It was an unfortunate thing to be grateful for. But you were. And so was he. 

“He is.” Eddie nodded with a gentle smile. “Gave up his room for me.” He jerked his head to signal down the hall.

And gave him that sweet giggle that melted his worries away. “Is that an invitation?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He ardently agreed, as his hand entwined with yours and led you to his bedroom. 

And if Eddie Munson could be objectified as an element of interior design, his room would be the most fitting aesthetic for the Munson persona he loved to flaunt around. Though, if you ever told him that, he’d just laugh and say it was a standard metalhead’s room. But you liked the way you thought of it. How every poster—the ones you would admit were kinda scary, and he’d tease you about it—or clutter of amps and wires amongst the heaps of dirty or clean clothes were personalized to Eddie Munson and unique to his taste, even if it was typical in company with the scene he followed. 

And then you saw it. “Ooh!”

“Wait! Don’t touch her- it.” 

Fingers mid air, you stopped and turned around to face Eddie, who stood with a cringed face that was heavily targeted at himself. “Her?” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Eddie caught up to where you stood in front of his desk, taking the hand you were about to use to touch his precious guitar, and holding it firmly within his grasp. “No one touches the guitar unless it’s me- or unless you’re worthy.” He declared. 

“Worthy? Who are you, Thor?” You teased right in his face, that had him scoffing and rolling his eyes. 

“No.” Eddie childishly snided in your face. “It’s just that- wait, you read Marvel Comics?” His head tilted back, face churning with suspicion, as he eyed you. 

Now, it was your turn to snide at him, “No.”

Eddie laughed in your face unabashedly. “Oh, you so totally do, sweetheart.” He giggled. “Nerd.”

“Oh, whatever.” You crossed your arms with sass. “It was a long time ago, and they were my dad’s collection. It’s not like I roleplay practicing alchemy with my little gaggle of friends.”

Eddie Munson winced for you. “At least I have friends.” Your mouth dropped in disbelief, and Eddie guffawed loudly in your face. He was kinda right. But he was also kinda the reason why you lost them in the first place. 

Though, you had to hand it to him, you walked right into that one. “You are mean, Eddie Munson!” You joined in on his laughter. “So, so mean. I-” You stopped mid sentence, well, actually it was the faint thud you heard outside that stopped you mid sentence. A thud? Slam? Pound? You don’t know, but you heard it.

“What?” Eddie questioned your sudden confusion. 

“You didn’t hear that?” You hit him back. “The noise outside?”

“There’s lots of noise outside. It’s outside, babe.” He could only giggle at the incredulous look you threw him. “Probably just the neighbors, or Cronkers. It’s night, gets her zoomies n’ all.” But before the question of who Cronkers was could leave your mouth, the front door to Eddie Munson’s trailer pushed open, and that, you both surely heard. Eddie’s head snapped to the door of the bedroom, concealing either of you from the incoming sound of the living room. Eddie had surely made a hand signal to stay, but as if you would, you blatantly ignored his unspoken declaration, and followed right behind, fitting your hand within his with a tight grip. “Hold on, sweetheart.” He quietly whispered, as opened his bedroom door and entered the long hallway of the trailer.

“Ed, how many times do I have to tell ya to fix those damn hinges-” Wayne Munson had stopped.

You and Eddie Munson had stopped. Hand in hand. In the kitchen. Fully seen. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie hadn’t meant for it to sound so disrespectful. 

“Last I checked, it’s my house.” Wayne huffed back, watching his nephew nod his head in an apology. “What are you doin’, son?” And though the simple question had been directed at Eddie, Wayne Munson’s eyes had fallen on you. Standing shyly behind Eddie, his hand in yours.

“I, um- after my campaign, I just went on, uh- Wayne, this is Y/N.” Eddie simply cut straight to the point. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Wayne Munson had surely remembered that name. “The girl that nearly got you arrested?”

Your eyes had doubled in size. “What?”

“No!” Eddie immediately blurted out upon seeing your worried face. “No, you didn’t, I promise.” He directed to you before turning to Wayne. “She didn’t, none of that was her fault. That was all Jason’s bullshit- and mine. Not hers, Wayne.”

A pregnant pause linger amongst the three of you. It was painfully awkward. Eddie watched Wayne watch you, while you couldn’t muster a stare back, merely peered at your dirty sneakers where your toes were uncomfortably tensing inside, thanking god you hadn’t chosen the heels you proffered to Chrissy Cunningham. 

“So, uh,” Wayne had cleared his throat, “what are you two doing at this hour? Did I, uh, interrupt-”

“No, sir.” You interjected politely. Your hands had worked fast to peel off Eddie’s jacket, as it somehow felt incriminating, feeling as though it could have possibly alluded to anything inappropriate. It hadn’t in Wayne’s eyes, though as precautionary measures, you still shoved it back into Eddie’s hands.  

“Look, Wayne, um, why are you home so early?” Eddie managed to ask.

“Well, some incident at the plant occurred, just sent us all home until it cleared up.” Wayne shrugged off his work coat to hang along the rack of hooks by the door. The older gentleman had sauntered his way into the kitchen, standing directly in front you. “It’s awfully late, hon, you eat anything, yet?”

“Um-”

“We ate at the Hideout.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing the attention of his uncle. 

“Well, that surely ain’t food, is it?” He rhetorically asked, making himself chuckle with gruff, before turning back to you. “Ya like pancakes?”

“It’s two in the morning.” Eddie chided.

“I wasn’t askin’ you, boy.” Wayne tsked back. And like clockwork, he once again directed his attention to you, humming as a way to ask again.

“Yeah, um, I do, sir.” You meekly answered, attempting to conjure a nice smile that didn’t reveal how awkward you felt. 

“Great, let’s have us some breakfast, then.”

Wayne Munson had lost his intimidation in a matter of ten minutes. Much amusement came about witnessing the atrocity that was Eddie Munson attempting to crack eggs without stray eggshells, then complaining about the icky sensation of gooey egg whites when the inevitable occurred, and he searched for shells within the unmixed batter. You and Uncle Wayne had stood back to watch it play out, whispering teasing comments about the boy, as though he couldn’t hear. He did. Then proceeded to complain about that. Then the toppings debacle came about, one that had you reeling with laughter, as you played along with Wayne. You said “maybe blueberries.” He suggested  “a little cinnamon.” And in the background, Eddie’s small voice offered “chocolate chips.” But in the grand scheme of things, the joke came when poor Eddie was blatantly ignored for you and Uncle Wayne’s entertainment, so when you piqued “ooh, chocolate chips.” Wayne had smiled “that’s a great idea, you should come over more often.” Eddie’s mouth dropped to the floor with disbelief. But he loved it. Eddie Munson loved seeing you with his only family so much. 

“You sure your folks won’t mind you being out this late?” Breakfast had been served in the early hour of 2:27 a.m, and the small kitchen table within their residence had been bombarded with a stack of pancakes with all the fixings. 

“No, sir, they don’t mind.” You lied with a smile on your face, as Eddie watched you from across the table intently. 

“Good.” Wayne stuffed himself with a bite. “I’m not lookin’ to have the police roundin’ us up.” He laughed. “‘Specially not when my boy’s almost graduatin’ this year.” And watched as Wayne smiled at Eddie, providing a firm pat to his shoulder that had his nephew feeling gratified. 

“Y/N’s the real star.” Eddie pointed his fork at you. “Valedictorian and she’s finishing on her first try.” You giggled with a heated face from the sweet attention. 

“Really?!” Wayne turned to you. “That’s incredible, darlin’, I’m real proud of ya!” That felt nice. Too nice, to the point where your heart had suddenly stopped for a brief second to recuperate. “Folks must be real proud, too, huh?” No. They weren’t. Your father nearly screamed at you to tears the day you were suspended because the daughter he raised was becoming a failure. And your mother never cared to stay long enough to learn of the fear you were enduring. 

You could only extend a tight-lipped smile with a small nod, and Eddie’s face dropped seeing you seethe in the uncomfortableness of the reality of your life. Every passing minute that Wayne Munson spoke, your smile grew faker and faker, and Eddie watched it transform every time. But Eddie was helpless. Every diversion of conversation amounted to nothing, as the fact of the matter was that Wayne Munson was a good guy- a genuine one who shamelessly showed his support for nephew in every topic of conversation. Wayne cared for Eddie like a son. Wayne loved Eddie like a son. He showed it when he spoke. So clearly. And it cemented in you deeper that your father couldn’t bear to do the same with his own daughter. 

Eddie couldn’t handle the pain behind your smiling eyes. He called it the second you took the last bite of your pancakes. It was the first time Eddie Munson hadn't finished a meal. His priorities too focused on you to satiate his appetit. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late, I wanna get her home, Wayne, she’s had a long day.” He’d politely interrupted his uncle's question of wanting more orange juice. 

“Yeah, go on, and let her get some rest.” Wayne smiled at you, as you stood from the table. “I’ll take care of the dishes, hon, don’t worry.”

“Thank you for everything, sir.” You sincerely beamed back. “Really, I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Lovely meetin’ you, too, darlin’.” Wayne gathered the litter of plates and cups. “Hope to have you back soon.”

“Hopefully.” Hopefully. 

You hadn’t even been able to process the breath of fresh air you inhaled from the humid outdoors before Eddie began rushing out his apologies. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, was that too much?” He rushed. “I swear I didn’t know he was coming back home early. And the conversation- if anything made you uncomfortable, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“No, Eddie, stop, don’t- don’t ever be sorry about that.” You smiled. A small one, but an authentic one. “I’m sorry that I worried you. You didn’t even get to finish your food.” Eddie sighed, shaking his head to refuse your apology that he felt was unnecessary. “The breakfast was nice- you guys were nice. I loved spending the day with you and your uncle. It made me really happy, Eddie.”

“Really?” He came out so strained with disbelief. But your fervent nod cleared all his worries. You loved it just as much as he did. 

“Your uncle is really kind.” You smiled. “I’m happy you have someone like him, Eddie.” Before he could respond, you took it upon yourself to throw Eddie into a secure hug that had him immediately snaking his arms around your waist tightly. “This has been the greatest night ever. Thank you for letting me learn about you.” Your lips brushed his ears in quiet whispers. 

Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling a sweet smell of your perfume, enclosing his arms stronger. 

Eddie Munson had just gone on his first date. 

-

“Sweetheart?”

Just as it occurred last Tuesday, when Eddie Munson had gone into his drunken hysterics of guilt about who he was as a person, where you once cradled him into a peaceful sleep to mitigate the pain of realizing who he had become, Eddie Munson was now doing for you. Your eyes had given up when stinging tears finally put them to rest in the comfort of Eddie’s neck. Your breath was steady. Where your lips gently grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, Eddie turned to softly place a delicate kiss to your hot temple. You were finally getting your rest. A sense of what stability could be like. With Eddie Munson. 

“Honey?” It was quiet as a mouse in Eddie’s room, the only sound to be accounted for was the whirring of the air conditioner that was working overtime. It would surely break by the end of the week. 

In truth, Eddie was hungry. You would probably complain of hunger, too, had you been awake. Dinner had been long forgotten. But even if the rumble of his tummy did place some discomfort, Eddie didn’t want to move. But what he did do was ever so slightly shimmy his body down his sheeted bed, until his back was finally within comfort, aligned to the mattress, and Eddie simply rested. With you clinging to his body like a lost child, Eddie laid back, and closed his eyes with rest. His hand had mindlessly found its way beneath his shirt that you wore, letting his fingertips graze upon your back with dainty touches that had you stirring against him. 

“Shh, baby, just go to sleep.” He whispered against your ear. “So proud of you for getting it all out.” His hushed voice felt like tiny kisses against your warm skin. “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. Don’t ever think that you’re not.”

Wavering between the boundaries of sleep and awake, you could hear Eddie loud and clear. Failure, the feeling that consumed you and sent you spiraling had all been wrong. All of it. You weren’t a failure for experiencing the inevitable setbacks of life. Though it may not be the explicit goal, one of the best accomplishments can be as simple as refining naivety. It was okay to profess. You’d become fixated on the achievement of results, that you blinded yourself to the repercussions of a grand high, believing it to be the end goal. Just like the great pioneers of science, physicists to biologists, the ones whose intelligence you aspiringly admired, they knew to recognize the failures of a hypothesis as discovery not a mishap. Because learning what didn’t work for yourself was a profound revelation of merit. Indulging yourself into a state of purgatory—eating three meals, decluttering your room, working your body to a purifying sweat—was great, and an admirable start, because it may have worked for the moment, but not in the long run. And you were learning it the hard way. But that was okay. 

That night, Eddie Munson wrapped a soft blanket around your clinging bodies, and for once, a restful night of sleep was casted upon you two, because two hearts of lonely children were experiencing the strength of love and recovery, and you two were healing. 

-

Two Hours Prior

It was the turning of locks and an abrasive single knock to your door that you had become accustomed to for the past week that told you dinner was here. It had also been the only form of communication your father ever cared to give you now-a-days. On either ends of the kitchen island, you both stand. You watch him intently, and like usual, he’s in a rush to leave, pulling styrofoam plates of hefty take-out from wet plastic bags of condensation. The question’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe for once, things can change. Things can be like Eddie and Wayne.

“Hey, um, dad?” Not a word of acknowledgement. He didn’t even look at you. “D-Do you, uh, maybe want to eat together? Like, at the table?” That. That was all you were asking for. “Please?”

It was supposed to be simple. All you wanted was simple. Your father slammed his plastic utensils to the counter. “Do you really think someone like you deserves that?” Your face dropped. 

“I-I just wanted to have dinner with y-”

“After everything you put our name through, you think I’d want to have dinner with you?” It was supposed to be simple. “I’ve got men in my office, their kids who go to school with you, asking me what kind of nutcase I’m raising. Do you know what they think of you? What they think of me?! How you’ve ruined our reputation in this town?! Are you that inconsiderate?!” Your tears started welling. It was supposed to be simple. “Do you not realize how humiliating it is having a daughter like you?! I’ve done everything to give all that you need in life, and this is how you repay me-”

“You left me, dad!” 

The tense atmosphere fell silent with nothing but huffing breaths. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You. Left. Me.” This it was. You were saying it. You were going to say everything. “I- Being around you s-scares me, because it feels like you don’t care- I know you don’t care. You don’t care about me, dad.” Maybe it was something you’ve known all along, but simply refused to accept it. Downplaying the emotional hurt, because others had it worse. Who were you to complain? And your father even spoke it. Titling himself Father of the Year for never laying a hand on you. Some dads did that. But he was the villain for wanting what’s best for you. For the family. He was disgusted with you. “I-I just want you to care! Why? Why don’t you care about me?”

“I never left!” He heaved. “Your mother is the one that left us- gave up on us! Not me! I stayed when I didn’t have to! Don’t tell me that I don’t care when I fucking stayed!”

“You were never there, dad!” You cried. Anger, you wanted to be angry, show him how angry you were, but you were crying like a child, reflecting the one that had been abandoned for years. “When mom left, so did you! You were never here for me! You’re fucking gone to me, dad.” You whimpered the last words out, immediately hiding behind the comfort of your hot hands, as burning tears smeared against your face. 

“Don’t-” Your father scoffed with disbelief. He turned away, because facing the reality of neglectful actions would have put him at fault. Something he did wrong. He couldn’t be wrong. He just couldn’t. But his daughter was pleading with tears in her eyes, that poured out years of hurt by the hands of everyone. By the hands of him. So, of course, he couldn’t look at you. Not when his face began to strain with stress to control the stinging of his eyes. “I- You don’t know how much I gave up to give you everything! Everything I do is for you!”

“Locking me in my room was for me?! Never congratulating me for anything was for me?! Forgetting my birthday every year was for me?! Stop- I- you know, dad. You know that you were never here.” Your voice constricted with the agony of loss. “Y-You’re supposed to be here. For me. And I just want to tell you things, I want to tell you everything, but-but I can’t because I know you don’t care. And I just want you to. Even if it’s just a little, please, dad, please just care about me.” Everything had become horrifically pathetic. The desperation. The yearning. You hated the way you sounded. But it was how you truly felt. “I just want you to be okay. I just want you to get help- help me get help, so we can be okay together.”

Had your eyes given you a second of peace from the blurring pricks, you would have seen it. The slightest sight of a quivering chin from your father that could have maybe- just maybe given you the infinitesimal chance of hope for the best. Because it showed that he felt something. Even if it was minute to the onslaught of your escaping feelings, at the very least, it was something. Something to show that he might care. Deep down. Just might. 

But then he spoke. So calmly. So earnestly. And it made you want to vomit from the sickening impalement. “I was perfectly okay until you became my problem.” You were no longer a person to him. He cleared his throat, his reddening eyes penetrating you with the utmost frightening look of disconnection. He was gone. “I hope someday you realize your mother didn’t just leave me, she left you, too. And she didn’t care to come back, Y/N. Not even for you. So, go ahead and yell about how I don’t care, when she clearly didn’t care about you, either. Make me out to be the bad guy, Y/N. But when you do, I want you to stop and think for a second about how much of a problem you were to make her leave. But I fucking stayed.” That was the irreconcilable wound that burned into your skin. Changed everything forever. “If you think you have it so bad with me, leave. Nothing’s stopping you. In fact, I want you to. Let’s see how willing mommy is to open up her arms for you. Just don’t come back when she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t care.”

Your father was thirty-four when your mother left. A decade later, his daughter was taking the same steps through the front door. The slam of the heavy door finally ignited the single tear to stream down his face, before his fingers swiped away the vulnerability. Perhaps somewhere in the back of your mind, your dad had long died, alongside the dream of amends. And maybe you had known it all along, but refused to accept the ugliness of it all. But you didn’t regret it. You couldn’t find yourself too. Though, you couldn’t believe you finally said. Everything. You hated him. You hated everything about him. As each thought cemented, your legs took you closer to him. Eddie. Without thought. Without warning. Your mind knew where to take you. Your body trusted to follow. Because just as you saw him once, you knew he could see you. 

It was why his gentle words opened the busted seams of your heart, “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?” It was why his arms held no hesitation to bring you to him. It was why he provided you the necessities to be comfortable. It was why he was making it up to you. 

It was why you woke up in the arms of Eddie Munson that Sunday morning. Because Eddie Munson saw you. 

-

You hadn’t blinked for three minutes. 

The stained linoleum of the kitchen floor were all your eyes could focus on, as the morning sun attempted to bleed through the curtained windows of the hot trailer. You had sat so stiff in the wooden chair. Where you once nearly choked on the tooth-achingly sweet bite of pancakes from a comforted laugh, you had now been stuck quiet in the depths of loneliness, attempting to find the right words to say. 

Eddie’s eyes had bleared open, despite the resistance of dryness, when his hand had clutched around air. Heavy hand patting around, all that caressed his palms were the wrinkles of his sheets, now cold where the warmth of your body had now rested. Eddie had felt gross to admit it given the circumstances, but it felt nice- so fucking nice to hold you so dearly. To have his nose be invaded by the smell of you. To have his hands squeeze the curves of your body for comfort. To have your breath fan him with warmth even if it was boiling outside. Eddie would gladly burn to death if it was at the hands of your calm breathing, so steady and tranquil, so angelic and beautiful. 

Rushing out of the containment of his strewn blankets, his knees had popped with the abrasive movements as his feet steadied themselves among the scratchy frills of the lining carpet. Had he given himself a second to ease the tiredness of his body, Eddie Munson would have had an alert mind, and wouldn’t have startled you with the deafening creaking of his bedroom swinging open. But he did, and he would soon apologize. But not before he showered you with the needed support for the conversation you were carrying. 

Phone tightened in the small grasp of your hand, you locked eyes with Eddie from down the hall. And he heard you speak, so soft and frail, closely into the receiver. “Something bad happened, Chrissy.” Eddie rushed to your side, once your face contorted to the pained scrunch that killed his soul to witness. Had you looked at the ticking clock on the wall, you would have known time was breaching seven in the morning. Chrissy Cunningham’s voice sounded so groggy with fatigue. You felt even more awful. But Eddie’s hand had landed on the small of your back, his rough finger maneuvering gently against your tense body to mollify the ache of tensity. You stared at him with big eyes, as you spoke weakly into the phone. “I can’t go home, something bad will-” Your breath hitched. “I just- can I please stay with you for a little bit, Chris, I’m so sorry.” 

Eddie had pulled you in until your head landed peacefully against his chest. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispered against your head. 

When Chrissy Cunningham had her first argument with Jason Carver, she was spending the night at his house, when she suddenly turned up at your doorstep. It was trivial. Teenagers arguing over the discomfort of one’s lab partner being of the opposite sex. Despite its inconsequentiality, Chrissy had wanted to cut her sleepover short after the petty bickering. You had let her take up the other half of your bed for the entirety of the Memorial Day weekend with no complaints. Chrissy Cunningham would be damned to not provide you the same safety. Of course, she said yes. No questions asked. When the last goodbye was spoken, you’d lazily dropped the phone back onto the hook, before collapsing into Eddie’s tight embrace for security. 

“Let me make you some breakfast.” He pulled back to see your face. “Wayne should be home soon. I’m sure he’d like to have breakfast with you again. Couldn’t stop ravin’ about you last time.” But the short chortle that fell out of Eddie’s lips was short lived, as you suddenly began shaking your head in refusal.

“No, I don’t want him to see me, Eddie. Not like this.” You sighed. “I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t want to be a problem. This is twice in a row that I’ve been here without his-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His hands drew down the length of your arms. “Relax, sweetheart, you’re not a problem, I promise. It’s my place, too. I want you here, Y/N.” Your heart could barely handle the words Eddie spoke, how much they contradicted the torment your father instilled. “Let’s just sit for a minute, yeah?”

“I-I can’t, I have to get my stuff, I need to head over to Chrissy’s, I still have so much work to catch up for school, I can’t- Eddie, I can’t.” Your hands pulled around the skin of your forehead, believing it to be the only remedy to ease the aching throb of your head. 

“Okay, stop, honey, you’re going to drive yourself insane thinking like that.” His fingers took a firm hold of your wrist to pull them away from your harsh touch. “I know it’s a lot, baby, and I’m so sorry for this bullshit that’s being thrown at you, but please just take a second to breathe. We’ll figure this out, I promise. Just one thing at a time, we’ll take it one thing at a time.” You nodded your head with a heavy exhale to regulate the needed alleviation throughout your body. “I’ll take you to grab everything you need, I can drop you off at Chris’, and you’ll eat there- promise me you will, because you haven’t eaten anything in a while Y/N, and once you finally rest, you can catch up on a bit of work. I’m sure Chrissy will like to help. And I promise, Y/N, I’ll be home, near this damn phone, so if you call, I’ll be here to talk to you. For anything you need, I’ll be here.”

Eddie Munson’s designation brought you to quiet tears. How could you ever see yourself as a problem, when Eddie Munson wanted to be there for you? 

Begrudgingly, you’d lost the comfort of Eddie’s pajamas when you retrieved your folded clothes from the washing machine, having to be tainted by the outfit that reminded you of the haunting memories of last night. Eddie hadn’t realized the severity of you truly wanting to leave his house before his uncle arrived, until he trudged out of the bathroom with decent clothes, and found you nowhere, until he peeked outside to the foggy morning where you rested against his van within the mist. In all honesty, the humiliation of having to face someone as nice as his uncle was the only driving point to leave so urgently. Bombarding his home when nothing had even been concisely established between you and his nephew. That was another lingering issue that twisted your mind to mush. Surely the events following up to today had pushed you both beyond the heavy definition of a friendship, or maybe it hadn’t, and this was simply the newfound experience of gaining a friend who was genuine in comparison to the ones you once had. 

“You ready to go?” His hand stationed upon your shoulder, where you turned to meet his sweet eyes that couldn’t keep away from your face. The ones that fluttered to every feature with precise dedication to each one; your eyes, your nose, your lips. 

How could he ever be just a friend when he looked at you like that?

The ride over had been nothing but a palpitating heartbeat drumming in your ear, as the contents of your belly stirred rambunctiously. Eddie noticed it every time he looked over. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Lips mouthing the words like a command to be followed, as you stared at the passing landscape as a distraction to the fear bubbling inside. Eddie’s hand snaked over to yours, stealing your attention, as his fingers interlocked with yours to never be let go. He smiled at you, a reassuring one, one that dissipated the heat that was consuming your body to a suffocating degree. Eddie was here. Your empty driveway had been the first sight your eyes landed on. Dead. You thought he was dead to you. But a gnawing persistence of disappointment crashed over you when you saw he was gone. Just a little bit. Because maybe on the off chance of believing he could change, you would have seen your father’s car parked in the same position it once had been when you left, because who would genuinely go to work the next day after their only child left them for good? But that was the ego of a man. That was the reality of your father. 

“Take all the time you need, or be as fast as you want.” Eddie squeezed your hand, as you stayed seated in his van. “Your choice, sweetheart, okay?” 

You nodded your head surely. 

The third stone to the left that lined the large bush of pink rhododendrons had housed the spare key to your house. Imprinted into the wet dirt, the key had embarked you into the coldness of your house, where Eddie followed closely behind. In the case of not being hounded with the threats of murder by your father, Eddie had taken the moment to really stare. Stare at the whiteness. The blandness. The minimal decorations. The large staircase. Uninventing as a house could be, Eddie felt unnerving about the thoughts of being stuck in such a lifeless place for years, proffering much needed appreciation to the cozy trailer he called home. 

“I just, um, I’m only going to get clothes, and some important papers. I won’t be long.” Your fingers curled around the cracked door of your bedroom, still opened from when you stepped out to have dinner. Still opened from when you just wanted to be together. When it was supposed to be simple. 

Your room looked different. Drastically different from the drunken eyes Eddie once scanned of your room. Gone were the miniscule details that defined the person you were. Eddie didn’t like it. At all. “Everything’s gone?” He hadn’t meant it to be perceived as a question, but the implications of confusion had taken over, and Eddie surely was looking for answers. 

You were quiet with your speech. “I was just trying to get better.” Given you had reached within the depths of your closet to recover a beloved suitcase, Eddie hadn’t seen the pain of admission to your wrongdoing. Just like your father, the reality of acknowledging where you had gone wrong burned your throat as you spoke. But you weren’t like him. Just like Eddie wasn’t like his. And you were strong enough to recognize your wrongs. “But, um, I don’t think it was enough… to actually help.” You weren’t like him. 

“You did something.” Eddie chimed in sincerely. “That’s more than most people do. You’re really fucking incredible to try something without having a shrink tell ya.” His finger circled to himself. And that’s what he wanted. A laugh, even if it was small, the corner of your lips were tugging to the sky. Even if he had to take a jab at himself. 

“Ms. Kelly is not a shrink. She’s a counselor. Genuinely a vast difference.” And even if it was stated with a little sass, he’d take your rebutting comments with ease, because Eddie Munson truly loved it coming out of your mouth. 

The offering of a hand had fervently been rejected by you, feeling as though you’ve sacrificed enough of Eddie’s time with the rampancy of your life. So, he sat back. With you by his side on the floor of your bedroom, Eddie quietly watched you fold items of clothes, each tailored to the style that suited you best. Shirts; small, large, short-sleeve, long-sleeve, of all patterns and colors. But you softly told him green was your favorite. And sweaters, my god, did it appear you love them most. While you ransacked your dresser, the very least Eddie insisted on was retrieving all that hung in your closet. Tight dresses, sun dresses. You’d briefly went on a tangent explaining how you loved the look of strapless ones, but the lack practicality really peeved you off. Eddie laughed when he heard you say peeve with all seriousness. And the shoes were the easiest. Sneakers, and, well, just mostly sneakers, they were the most important. Not very often will you find yourself sporting any form of stilettos while living at Hawkins. If those had to stay to be forgotten, it’d be okay. And ever the gentleman, Eddie noticed your hesitant approach to the last drawer, and quickly turned his head away to appear as if to be occupied by the minimalistic flower patterns of your wallpaper. Whether you realized his actions, or merely thought it was perfect timing, it didn’t matter, because Eddie Munson saved you the awkwardness, and you freely were able to stuff the last of your suitcase with the needed bras and underwear of your life. 

A moment of quietness rested upon you, as Eddie momentarily left your house to follow the back and forth momentum of loading his van with your personal belongings. Books. You had a lot of books, special ones that once lined your bookcase with perfect clutter. Eddie had seen the small lingering smile etched to your face, as your finger traced the spines of novels, big and small. So hearing you disheartenedly admit donation or selling to be the best options stung his chest with a residing ache. He mumbled with a small smile. “You should keep ‘em, sweetheart. They belong with you. And when you get your own place, they’ll be the first thing I’ll help you put up.” Eddie Munson had a delicate way of evanescing the affliction of reality. 

You had told him you’d be just a minute. And you had been. Sitting in the driver seat of his van, cool air blasting through the dusty vents of the AC, Eddie wondered what you did for that minute. Following the cliches of just about every coming of age movie where the main character leaves a childhood home, Eddie would have imagined you reminiscing through the various rooms you once stepped in throughout the stages of your life. But surely, that would take more than a minute. And you were out quickly. Because the reality of the matter was that you simply did not want to reminisce. Anything good of remembrance had been taken away from you by the tainted realization of what you meant to the people you cared about the most. 

It was cold. It was blank. It was lifeless. 

So, all you needed was a minute, and as promised, Eddie watched you close the door to leave that life behind. This was your beginning. Even if it wasn’t ideal, you wanted it- needed it. You let go of the deep breath that resided in your lungs the second your bottom met the cushioned seat of Eddie’s van. It was the first words he spoke, the only words he needed to say, “Are you okay?” You looked at Eddie solemnly. It was such a disgustingly polarizing question. One that had been haunting you for a lifetime. One that brought you to the precipice of collapse. One that felt as if you’d been driving yourself to delirium just to dissect. 

A small smile appeared on your face, as you softly answered. “I will be.” And for once, you could be sure of that. 

As a student of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham had been all too familiar with the rampant yells of metal music that emanated from the grumling car of Eddie Munson. The student parking lot had been no different than her neighborhood street. So, Chrissy emerged on cue. It didn’t take you two seconds to jump out of Eddie’s car the second he parked along the curb of Chrissy’s house. Pacing off her porch, Chrissy met you halfway down her driveway before you crashed into her arms. Your arms had smushed into the straight strands of her hair around her neck, as she secured you firmly in a hug. It became helpless to try to fight the bombarding tears, and they came quickly, sinking into the cashmere collar of her sweater. Not a word was said between the two of you, as she merely held you in a tight embrace that provided the comfort you needed to relinquish the torment of your home life. “I told my parents.” Chrissy mumbled into your body. “Of course, you can stay with us.”

A choked sob escaped your throat. It was acceptance. 

Chrissy’s eyes opened to land on the man standing back. Leaning against his rustic van that was on its last leg, but he paid no mind, as long as it got you to the places you needed. To the places you’d be okay at. To the places you could run away and be together. Eddie’s heart lurched at the sight. Seeing you understand that you were cared for. No matter your parents, you had people. Even if it was just two. Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson loved you. 

Shit, Eddie Munson genuinely, authentically, certainly, absolutely loves…

He swallowed the large lump in his throat. “Just hold her.” His lips mouthed, as Chrissy watched him. And she listened. Arms tightening around to safety. 

Stability.

-

Monday. Following in the footsteps of the lazy, pessimistic cat that Eddie and his uncle loved, you were beginning to revel in the same sentiment of despising the first day of the school week. Sunday had you were drained of all emotions. You wished you could put blame on sore muscles after having to move your items into the spare bedroom, though Eddie took that away from you when he told you to sit down, and did the dirty work himself. And Chrissy, of course, did the due diligence of multitasking between the playing chef and best friend. French toast was fried and topped with syrup and powdered sugar with a side of strawberries, while providing a shoulder to cry on, because it dawned on you that you had never been taken care of like you had been during the mere twenty minutes of that particular Sunday morning than you had been during the last eighteen years of your life with your own parents. 

The notion had solidified when all of that sunny Sunday, you received no call from a worried father about their gone daughter’s whereabouts, as one would expect. Nothing. Not even a knock at the doorstep just to make sure of your security. Absolutely nothing. 

And surely, a tumultuous home life would be reason enough to garner someone a day off from school to prolong the chaotic weekend, but most weren’t returning from a suspension due to insubordination, so that Monday you were playing catch-up. Exhaustingly. 

The myriad of conversations surrounding you within the main hall of Hawkins High was becoming discordant to your tired state. Your eyes blinked harshly to try to mitigate the drowsiness of the day. The clunking of your stubborn locker finally opening was enough to bring you just a sliver of energy to switch out a history textbook that truly looked the historical part for an agonizing book about calculus that was becoming your sworn enemy. 

“You tired?”

Your eyes turned to lock with his brown ones you’d grown heavily fond of. Eddie had sported a sly smile that played into his bravado, as he leaned against the lockers next to you. 

You winced at him. “Is it that obvious?”

“I woke up to your pretty, little, tired face yesterday morning, sweetheart. I’ve burned it into my mind forever. Of course, I’m going to notice.” Eddie liked that small shy face you pulled, attempting to hide your heated face away from his stare. But with your face peering away from him, you caught a glimpse of what reality was for you in school. Eddie followed your eyes to the sight that made your smile fall. Across the hall, Blake Decker had eyed you with a flagrant smirk after whispering to his buddy that if the freak could get you, so could he- the whole baseball team could. You were up for grabs. It was just a matter of who could score first. Three lockers down, Stevie Martinez had laughed at the question of how much substance the freak was supplying you after getting in your pants. Would enduring a little flirting with him get her a discount? He had to be desperate. And pointing at you from the water fountain was Carmen Mitchell, identifying you to her posse of youth group kids that were ready to snitch to Hawkins’ local pastor of someone needing Jesus. In a couple days, your father would be receiving advertising mail of encouragement to join the church. Luckily, you didn’t live there to countenance the proselytism from evangelical Christians. Eddie despondently sighed. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Your head snapped at his contemplative face. So somber, but a tight-lipped smile was attempting to cover it. So, you smiled at him. Dignified. “No.” You told him firmly. “I want you right here… with me.”

His teeth found his bottom lip, as his cheeks became flooded with blood that rosied his pale skin. “I, uh-” Your giggling did nothing to satisfy the coughing he had to conjure to compensate for his dry mouth. Because you… you were squeezing his heart without realizing the severity of it. This was dangerous. Dangerous territory Eddie Munson was crossing into. But running away would be worse. He did it once, and it killed him. “Um, w-would you want to be with me Saturday night? Like, another date? A second one? I promise I’ll plan it way better than the first one.” He chuckled. “No more skeezy bars, I swear! And it’ll be the weekend, so I’ll obviously not be doing my homework, and I know you’ll be done with yours…” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “You should really be doing your homework, Eddie.”

“I will, I will.” His conspicuous stare to the far right let the fact be known that he was blatantly lying without a care. “If I do it, can this potential date be my little treat?” He perked. 

“Depends, what does this little treat entail?” You interrogated with a smile on your face. 

“Ah, well, unfortunately, sweetheart, details will not be disclosed for anticipation purposes.” He smirked. “Y’know, surprises n’ all.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Mm, the last time you concealed such details I almost wore heels to a rundown bar full of old men.”

Eddie blenched. “Sorry ‘bout that again, sweet girl, but I promise this time is different.” He assured. “I may be a sulking asshole who can’t handle my emotions and lash out at people because I’m too pathetic to deal with my own problems, but I definitely keep my promises.” My god, how far you and Eddie have come was mind blowing. Had you told your past self that the man you had a screaming match with just outside of school a couple weeks prior was asking you on a second date, you would’ve laughed in your own face. 

“Are you still hanging that over my head?” You giggled. “Because if I remember correctly you said far worse-”

“No, no, I know, sweetheart!” He adamantly agreed. “You’re wholeheartedly correct. And are you kidding me? That one-liner was the second greatest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I’m genuinely considering getting it tattooed right across my chest with no regrets.” He laughed. “That one sentence set me straight, honey.”

“Wait,” you invigorated, “if that’s the second greatest thing I’ve ever said, what’s the first?” Your head tilted with curiosity.

“Agreeing to go out with me. Twice.” He simpered. 

“‘Twice?’” You tittered. “I don’t remember saying yes to the second date.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie laughed. “I’m totally finishing my homework for this week, that’s a guaranteed yes from your part, trouble.” 

You pointed a stern finger at him with squinted eyes of skepticism. “Only if you finish your homework.” 

Thursday. Amidst the bustling thirty minute break from class, the cafeteria had flooded with an amass amount of students that proffered the freneticism that was Hawkins High’s lunch period. Chrissy Cunningham had been persistent to encourage your prospective application to Claire’s after Hannah Walsh was set for a nine month leave—whatever that meant. And Chrissy was resolute on the fact that working at the Starcourt Mall had far more perks than babysitting the Johnson’s circus of kids, especially after popping out their fifth. Insisted on the matter that it was aging you. Lovingly, though. And it happened to fall during her harangue about the employee discount that a book report was slapped in the middle of the table that stole your attention away from your friend. “The Last of Mohicans.”

“Wear something casual.” Eddie smiled, as you peeled your eyes from his homework and looked up to meet his satisfied grin. “I don’t recommend heels, but wear as you please. You’ll look perfect regardless.” But before you could get a word to even formulate, Eddie had turned his attention to an equally stunned—more so confused—Chrissy. “Will your folks mind if I pick her up at your doorstep Saturday night?”

“Oh.” Chrissy blinked. “Uh, no, they have a dinner party that night.” She smiled, and looked at you. 

“Perfect.” Eddie beamed. “I’ll see you Saturday night at seven?” Taken aback by his charm, you made the right decision to save yourself the embarrassment of trying to speak, and settled on a firm nod and beguiling smile that had Eddie flushed with giddiness. “Perfect.”

Saturday. It was the locker room scene all over again. Yes, being taken in by the Cunninghams had been something of extemporized means, but a week of residing in their guest bedroom—something they encouraged to just call yours—surely would have given you enough time to settle, right? No. Very much, an extremely hard no. Clothes of all sorts had been strewn about in a chaotic mess, made only worse, when you flung about shirts, pants, and shorts to find the perfect outfit. Chrissy had been defeated in a pile of cotton, cashmere, and silk as you dwindled your choices to two shirts that in Chrissy’s words “looked great, just choose one, he won’t care.” And she’d been right. Upon opening the door to his meticulous knocking, his eyes had brightened just as it occurred on the night of your first date. Your face- your everything had been magnetized to the golden rays of the setting sun, that just highlighted everything beautiful about you. And that was… everything. 

“Are you going to finally tell me where we’re going?” You elated, as you settled into the front seat of Eddie’s van. 

“Patience is a virtue, my darling.” Eddie smiled, as he took peeks to his right side. “Trust me, it’ll be better than the Hideout.”

“Benny’s?”

“Not Benny’s, but I’ll consider it for the third date.” He smirked.

“If you make it that far.” You joked, as your soft giggles infiltrated his ears lovingly. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I have firm plans of completing all of my homework for the rest of the school year. So, hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re kinda stuck with me.”

“Mm, wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that idea.” You teased. “Ooh, wait! Enzo’s?” You were beginning to catechize him, but were only met with a barking laugh from Eddie. 

“Sweet girl, I’m still terribly broke, but I appreciate your guessing.” He chortled. “Now, no more questions. Just sit back and relax, and let me handle things, okay?” 

And you did just that. Attempting to adjust to the loud music Eddie’s ears had already been accustomed to, he had taken it upon himself to provide you all the formation of said bands that played. Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath once bit a bat’s head off on stage. Eddie claimed it was the most metal thing he’s ever seen. Oh, and Derek Riggs, the dude who made the album cover for Powerslave—declared the best album by Eddie, himself—for Iron Maiden liked to stick silly messages into the artwork. Eddie affirmed to show you whenever it would be the next you came over. Which then segwayed into a conversation of how Wayne Munson had been insisting on having you over again. He liked meeting one of Eddie’s “friends” as he put it. Eddie would never tell you, but all of Sunday, he had been teased relentlessly for having a pretty girlfriend. And despite his inexorable shield of “we’re just friends, she’s not my girlfriend,” Wayne Munson’s old ears were able to pick up on the mumbled “yet” that his nephew so hopefully spoke to himself. And thankfully, before any interrogation could progress from your part, you both had reached the outskirts of Mulberry street, and neared the woods. 

“Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock?” You asked, as Eddie’s van tracked over tire trails from previous cars who took the familiar succession. “Because one would show you have sentiment.” You smiled. “The other would show you definitely have a motive.”

“Definitely the first one.” Eddie laughed. He parked his trusty van at a small clearing, where twenty steps south, Lover’s Lake glistened under the illuminating sunset. “Because- well, last time we were here we cried like babies over ice cream.” He sniggered quietly. “And, uh, even though it was… heavy, it was still one of my favorite times with you.” Eddie had shyly began to play with the rings on his fingers, as he felt your eyes dawn on him. “Y’know, it was the first time I got to talk to you- actually talk to you. Explain everything to you. So, um, as part of making it up to you, you deserve to be taken out. Properly. Not a bar. No tears. Just you and me. Where we can just clear our minds together.”

When he finished, Eddie finally found the courage to peer his round eyes at you that searched for any validation that this was okay- that he was okay- okay to be with. And he found you smiling sincerely at him with devoted eyes that gave him all the tender care of the world. “I love it, Eddie.”

He smiled. You, you, you, you. How great would it be to hear the word “you” instead of “it” in that sentence?

Eddie whispered. “I packed a totally metal picnic.” He nodded to the basket that resided in the back of his van. 

And packed a totally metal picnic he did. Three feet away from the cooling waters of Lover’s Lake, a small patch of grass and dandelions had been covered by the soft blanket that lived in Eddie Munson’s van, as it’d been the only clearing that wasn’t smeared with muddy clay infused with dirt—an hour prior, Eddie had played landscaper to get rid of the dirt and sticks that claimed the best spot he found. Though, he had kept that part a secret from you. Something about hearing you gush about fate giving you the perfect area was too innocent to kill in his eyes.  

“Okay, so we have some totally cool beers, and by that, I mean one for me.” He pulled out. “And for you, sweetheart, a nice cold soda, because I care about your liver and taste buds.”

“Why thank you so much, kind sir.” You laughed, as you grabbed the drink. 

“No problem, princess.” He winked, before continuing his ministration. “Oh, and, uh, I saved you the future food poisoning I would have given you if I cooked anything, so Mrs. Latrowski kindly offered to make us some Fettuccine Alfredo.” Not kindly. He was now stuck fixing her hunk of junk excuse of a car for the next week. Without pay. “Don’t know if it’s really picnic-y, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Of course, really, thank you so much, Eddie.” You scooted closer to have his thigh touching yours. He licked his lips, and focused his attention to the basket to conceal his reddening cheeks.

“But Mrs. Latrowski doesn't get all the credit, because I packed pretzels.” Two bags. Two comically large bags full of pretzels. “And, uh, Pringles, sour cream n’ onion, because that’s the only acceptable flavor. Oh, don’t worry, I balanced it out with some of Wayne’s watermelon that I stole. Don’t tell him.” He laughed, pulling out the tupperware of the uniquely cut fruit. “And I made us some PB&Js. And to top it off, some chocolate chips.” The half filled bag of Nestle's chocolate chips that were once used to make pancakes with you and his uncle were now being pulled out of his basket as an appetizer for your date.

And you loved it all.

-

The obnoxious door bell had rung for the second time that night. 

“Ugh.” Chrissy Cunningham groaned, as her plans of taking advantage of her newly single night were now being disturbed. Pausing in the middle of Sandy Olssen’s hopelessly devoted number to Danny Zuko, Chrissy begrudgingly removed the bowl of popcorn from her lap to wake her legs from being sunken into the couch. And then, some knocking. “Alright, I’m coming!” Her socked feet slid her across the glossy wood of the floor, as she dragged herself to the front door. “Yes-”

It was strange how much you looked just like your father. 

Chrissy’s face had been drained of all the blood in her system, and she closed the door to lessen the gap between her and the house. “Chrissy.” Your father cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting your night so late. Are your parents home?”

“N-No.” She softly answered. “But, uh, my b-boyfriend is.” Her heart beated out of her chest. For safety. 

“Well, um, is my daughter here? I’d imagine Y/N would most likely run away to your home than anywhere else- well, at least I would hope.” His mind reeled back to the morning he chased Eddie Munson out. 

“She’s not here, sir.”

“Right, well, if you’re ever in contact with her, please give her this.” He handed over an envelope that stuck to a folded piece of paper with tape. This was it. This was his goodbye. Chrissy cautiously took the hefty envelope, and nodded her head, speechless to it all. “Have a good night. Tell your parents I said hello.”

Not even a hello to you.

-

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have eaten all those chocolate chips!”

The dramatics of Eddie Munson truly played their part, as he laid back with his arms stretched out, and a groan to accompany his complaints. “I told you to slow down on those.” You laughed, placing a delicate slap to his bloated belly that simply elicited more moans. “Don’t die on me, you're my ride.” You joined him on the ground, where he turned his head to meet the tip of your nose. 

“Wow, nice to know how much I mean to you.” He playfully scoffed. 

“Are you kidding me? You mean the world to me, Eddie. Best chauffeur in town!” You laughed, as he rolled his eyes. “Even better since you can’t complain. You know, since you’re making it up to me?”

Eddie guffawed. “I asked you to let me make it up to you, not exploit me.” 

When the giggles had simmered down, you and Eddie were left simply staring into each other's eyes. You could see his stare soak up your features, following the contours of your face, and stationing at your lips. “You know you mean more to me than just a chauffeur, right?” 

Eddie nodded his head, his hair getting smushed in the space between his head and the blanket. “I know, sweet girl.” You both could feel it in your bellies, that stirring feeling of sparks igniting whenever you looked at each other. The excitement, sure, it was incredible to revel in, but the security, the security of when that spark would slowly die out, but not to a point of resentment, to a point where the nerves were gone, and you could be comfortable. Comfortable with the piece of mind that you had him and he had you. His shoulders scooted closer, nose rubbing against yours, and his breath fanned warmly across your mouth. “Y/N…?” Whispered into the air, the question didn’t have to be verbalized. You shook your head to give him permission. And Eddie leaned in.

That is until you screamed. 

“Ah!” You shrieked, jumping up to your feet. 

Eddie sat up with urgency. “What?! WHAT?!”

“There’s a worm by your head!”

“WHERE?!”

Your second date with Eddie Munson was ended by a stray earthworm that managed to squirm its way onto the blanket. But it’s okay. In the future, it would be a cute story to tell. And the car ride home was made even more entertaining when your jabs at Eddie became endless. The humidity of the night had frizzed his hair far more than usual, and watching his hands swat the strands crazily in fear of a worm creating a nest in there had your stomach cramping from laughter. Eddie would allow the teasing to continue if it meant hearing your laugh for just another minute. But he vehemently countered that you screamed just as loud in the first place, so you were in no place to poke fun. Arriving at the familiar doorstep of the Cunningham house, Eddie had sighed realizing another perfect night was ending far sooner than he wanted. But it had also been a reminder. The biggest sign of that two story suburban wet dream of a house was your newfound freedom. No longer were you shackled to the barbaric severeness of perfection that your vile father had subjected you to. You were liberated to live your life. Make your own decision. Be your true self. 

So dropping you off at your new home wasn’t exactly the worst thing for Eddie to endure, because he knew you were safe. He knew you were going to be okay. Eddie held your hand up the stairs to the porch, where the small, yellow light bloomed your features in the night. Staring down into your face was the single greatest thing Eddie felt privileged to experience. God, he loved it. He loved y-

“Thank you for another perfect date.” You beamed up at him. 

“Anything for you, princess.” He sighed a breath of relief, as he felt at ease in your presence. Preparing to have you leave was another thing to handle. “I’ll be sure to finish my chemistry homework to get you on a third.”

“It would be quite nice to see you walking for graduation.” You squeezed his hand. “Maybe your uncle and I can celebrate you with a late night breakfast.” 

“God, you really are the sweetest.” Eddie bit his lip, as he peered down at you. “I really hate that worm for ruining our moment.”

“Poor guy, we were probably crushing his home with our picnic.” You giggled. “Can’t blame him for seizing it back.”

“I can if he stopped me from kissing you.” Eddie allured you, as his large hand found your cheek to cradle in his palm tenderly. Thumb swiping your supple face, he had dragged you close against his chest. “But the bastard’s not here to stop me again.” 

“No, he’s not.” You softly laughed. 

Eddie smiled, as he whispered to your face. “So, can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You delicately nodded. “You can kiss me, handsome.”

Nose brushing, your lips were colli-

“Y/N!” You jumped back with a squeal, as Chrissy Cunningham had abruptly opened the front door with exigency that caused you to separate from Eddie’s incoming face. Eddie knew what this was. This was the universe testing him. Seeing how fast he would resort back to his asshole ways, and yell at Chrissy Cunningham to fuck off for interrupting his kiss with the one girl he’s ever wanted to be with. But he bit his tongue, and fought the anger to subside, and simply chose to sigh dejectedly. “Sorry to barge in, but I really need Y/N.”

“Is everything alrig-”

“Yes, just come on!” She grabbed your hand. “Sandy just caught Danny dancing with Cha-Cha DiGregorio, come on! Eddie, you have our number, just call Y/N tomorrow, okay? Bye!” 

“Wait, can’t we just get a minute-” Eddie attempted. 

“No!” Chrissy Cunningham was using that cheer strength to hall you into the house. 

“I’m sorry.” You quickly looked back. “Call me later, I had so much fu-” The door was slammed right on your sentence, and Eddie’s head fell against it utterly crushed. “Chrissy, what the hell? I was literally about to have my first kiss with Eddie-”

“Y/N, your dad came by.”

Your face had fallen like a sad child. “What?”

Chrissy had respected your wishes to leave you alone in your room. Alone with his envelope. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the note attached to the delivered mail. Your fingers had a tight grip on the paper, your heat causing the thin material to crumple from the clamminess. Eventually, your shaky hands managed to attentively tear the taped letter away from the envelope. Just a folded notebook paper. The unusuality of the situation came about as the paper had been torn. Your father once yelled at you for not tearing a sheet by the imprinted seam. This was rushed, a message written with urgency. For once, not prioritized on perfectionism. You unfolded the frail paper.

“I know you’re angry, but everything I’ve ever done for you was exactly for this moment. I did all I could. Your mistakes determine your success.” - From, Dad

Your brows cinched with confusion. Setting his note aside, you harshly reached for the thick envelope, turning it around to read the address. Your heart sank to your stomach. Written in its bolden letters, there it was, the determining factor to your future: 116th and Broadway, New York, NY, 10027 Columbia University Undergraduates Admission Office. Far, far away. You wanted to go far, far away. Frantically tearing the sealed envelope open, your hands worked absentmindedly quick to unfold the professional letter. It was there. Right in your hands. But your eyes couldn’t fathom moving past the formal greeting that simply stated your name, and possibly seeing the rejection of your life. You knew how your mind worked. You knew how you were conditioned. A rejection is a failure. You would be a failure. And your father would be right. 

Columbia University

Office of Admission

Dear, Y/N Y/L/N,

No matter how close Chrissy Cunningham smushed her ear to the door, it was dead silent. Nothing. She was beginning to worry you may not have even been breathing. She may have respected your privacy, but she wasn’t oblivious. She knew better than to read your father’s personal note, but she very clearly read the return address of the envelope, and she knew what was about to unfold. Three years ago, sitting in the comfort of her bed with you by her side, you both stared at the ceiling with smiles on your face, and talks of the future. At the time, a young Chrissy Cunningham had gushed about going to Indiana State, because that’s where Jason Carver had prioritized to attend, after frequenting all their college basketball games with his dad as a kid. It’s where Jason Carver took Chrissy Cunningham on their first date. In the moment, she laid out the plans of her life: attend college, study pharmaceutical medicine, and graduate with a ring on her finger. Specifically his great grandmother’s. An heirloom so beautiful and of high value. And Chrissy Cunnginham would have wished it to occur on the night of their graduation, where both families met to celebrate the young adults on a new chapter of their life, and Jason Carver would have declared his chapter to begin with his wife. Chrissy had turned to you and asked “What about you?” And you answered honestly. “I just want to go far away.” You’d asked her if it would be possible. And she smiled and nodded her head. “I see you being successful. Somewhere big. Like New York. Where you can be you. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here.” And you had hugged your best friend tightly that night. Far away. That’s where you’d go. 

Chrissy flinched, as the door to your bedroom slowly opened. And there you were. She stared at you with big, wandering eyes. Yours had been stinging. Stinging with tears, and Chrissy's mouth was beginning to open to try to formulate a word. But then you spoke. Quietly.

“I got in.”

Chrissy gasped, as she brought you into a tight hug, arms securing you in place, as she began screaming in cheers and jumping up and down, forcing you to follow suit. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” You released your tears of joy, crying in laughter, as you began your intimate celebration with your endearing friend. “That’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I can’t believe I actually did.” You muffled into her embrace. “My suspension-”

Chrissy pulled you away. “Hey, forget about that! You did! What Principal Higgins did holds nothing to how incredible you are! And they see that!” She effused loudly. “I’m so proud of you!”

This was you. This was your accomplishment. Not your father’s. This was all entirely you. 

“I’m proud of myself.” You giggled through the sniffles of a stuffy nose, as you wiped your eyes. 

“We have to tell everyone- my parents, they’ll be so happy for you! Oh, Eddie! You have to tell Eddie!”

Your smile became small at the realization.

Eddie…

You sucked in your lips, and simply nodded along to the rambling cheers she shot out a mile a minute. Eddie. That night, despite Chrissy's encouragement, you hadn’t told Eddie of your acceptance when he called you at 10:43 p.m. You just relished in his voice, humming along to the stories and thoughts he excitedly shared with you, as you savored his over-the-phone company. Because in a couple months, you would be gone. And the budding relationship that you and Eddie had worked so hard to come to terms would be gone alongside your presence. And that made your eyes well with tears as Eddie sweetly confided how much he loved spending time with you. Eddie claimed that night he couldn’t wait to do it for as long as you’ll have him. What he didn’t know was how quick that reality would come shattering in. So you just let him speak. Because no one had ever given Eddie Munson a chance to talk. And the one person who did would be gone soon.

So, you smiled through the ache and told Chrissy that Eddie was happy for you.

And you softly cried that night. Alone. Both happy and sad tears that wet your pillow before you fell asleep for the day. 

-

The next morning, Eddie had followed the sound of the patterned clink of his uncle’s spoon hitting against his valued Odie mug, as the older man stirred his morning cup of coffee to accompany the scrambled eggs and toast he’d just served himself. “Mornin’.” Though his back was turned, his nephew’s feet patting their way against the tile of the kitchen had become all too familiar. And like clockwork, a tired groan was the greeting in return. “What’s got you up this early?” He asked, as he turned around to see Eddie’s slumped body lean against the cold counter, as he did little to fight off the weariness. 

A single sock with a hole that let his toe peek out, while his other foot stayed completely exposed. But in Eddie’s defense, he was in no control of the insanity that was his sleep state, and that left sock was most likely tangled into his rumpled blankets. But the boxer briefs were entirely his fault. If he’d only learn how to properly use the dryer, his plaid underwear wouldn’t be constricting his thick thighs right now. But as much as Eddie didn’t know how to correctly do laundry, he also hated attempting, and he was down to his last clean pair. So, unlike his pajamas, he actually had to wear the shrunken boxers after scavenging for them in the back of his dresser. And for once, Wayne could see his nephew’s large forehead, as his bangs had lost the battle of Eddie’s sleeping movement. 

Examining his nephew’s look wasn’t something Wayne partook in on a regular basis, but seeing his state, and thinking of you- well, you liked Eddie. You liked Eddie like this. In the most abominable condition Eddie could be in, Wayne Munson could still picture you crooning so lovingly at him like the early morning of your communal breakfast. You liked Eddie for Eddie. 

“You.” Eddie’s voice cracked with dryness. “Why are you so loud?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t know it was a crime for me to make breakfast in my own home after workin’ the graveyard shift.” Wayne gruffed. “And what were you doin’ last night? Oh, yeah, havin’ fun with your little girlfriend, while your poor uncle worked.”

Eddie shot him a tired glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I like you better when she’s around.” Wayne chuckled quietly. “Far less grumpy.” And a small smile managed to crack through Eddie’s fatigued face, as the home phone began to ring from the wall. Setting his breakfast onto the small kitchen table, Wayne sighed before picking up the call with a strong “Hello?” And then a hum. And then another. And then he turned to Eddie. “It’s for you, boy.”

Slapping the sleepiness from his cheeks, Eddie meandered his way over to the phone, where he took over for his uncle. Sporting the same fashion, Eddie could only give a hoarse “Yeah?”

“Hey! Good morning, Eddie!” Chrissy Cunningham. He had suddenly flinched the phone away, as her effused voice startled him awake. 

“Jesus, yeah, hi, Chris.” Eddie managed to grumble politely. “What’s up, everything alright?”

“Absolutely!” The bubbly cheerleader being a morning person? Oh, how Eddie envied her. “I just wanted to call you, because I think it’ll be a fun idea to plan a surprise party for Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah, sounds totally fun.” He sarcastically spoke. “But is it a normal thing to give Y/N a random heart attack in the middle of the year, or are we actually celebrating something for her?”

“Duh! It’s for her acceptance to Columbia.” She stated matter-of-factly. “She’s always dreamed of going to New York, and now she finally is! It’s incredible! And given everything that’s happened to her, I think she really deserves it, you know?”

Eddie Munson stayed quiet for a moment. “New York…?”

“Uh huh! Isn’t it great that she finally has a chance to leave this town! Really, I think a party is in need.” She laughed so casually. You were leaving? “Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to call you about, Eddie. See, when I thought about it, I realized she really only has me and you, so it can’t technically be a party. But maybe you could bring your friends around. You know, your club members? Is she also friends with them? I remember one of them came up to our lunch table one time. So, do you think-”

Eddie’s head began to pound, as Chrissy’s words were pacing through his mind. “Okay, okay, stop for a second, Chris.” He heaved out to rashly interrupt.

“Is everything alright, Eddie? Do you not think it’s a good idea? Maybe it’s too early?”

“I, um-” His throat felt heavy with constriction. “We’ll just talk about this later, I gotta go.”

Chrissy Cunningham stood no chance to Eddie’s rapid movements, and the phone was hung up before she could mutter another word. His hand had stayed tightly clutched to the phone, as he placed it on the wall. He was frozen. His eyes blinked oppressively, as he attempted to digest Chrissy’s words. Eddie’s heart pounded. You were leaving him. Oh, no. This is where the spiraling began. Ms. Kelly warned him of the possible triggers. He hadn’t expected one to occur so suddenly. Like everyone, you were leaving him. Suddenly, Eddie Munson was an eight-year-old hearing his father’s threats of abandonment because to his dad, he and his mother were no good and not worthy of anything. Then he was a nine-year-old walking in on his mother quickly packing a bag of her clothes. Her clothes. Not his. But his father came back before she could finish. And Eddie was stuck with the realization that his mother was ready to leave him behind for safety. 

“You alright, son?” Wayne’s voice brought him back to reality. “Want some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

And that slam of his nephew’s door was all Wayne Munson got from Eddie for the rest of the day. 

Monday, you’d received the same fate. Hopping out of Mr. Cunningham’s car in the early hour of the school day, you peered around the bustling parking lot in search for a particular van alongside a particular metalhead. But your efforts came up empty, and the commencing bell stole you away from further prodding. By lunch, your neck was beginning to cramp with how many times you turned around to take a peek at the Hellfire lunch table. But the head seat was empty. And the rest of the boys continued their conversations. Perhaps he was sick. You managed to convince yourself of the idea to ease the disappointment of not seeing him today. But that became short lived when a call to his trailer after practice went unanswered, and the other line rang and rang until it cut you off. 

Tuesday, you followed the same routine. And you were left with the same nauseating feeling. Accompanying Chrissy Cunningham to her locker, you had carelessly interrupted her diatribe against Jessica Lewis’ ploy to turn the rest of the cheer squad to voting her captain. It’s almost the end of the school year, did she really think that would work? Ugh. But you had cut her off to ask if she’d talk to Eddie recently. Two absences in a row wasn’t particularly unusual for Eddie Munson, but your overthinking brain could ameliorate the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. You’d just gone on your second date with him, had he suddenly had a change of heart about his feelings for you? But Chrissy was useless. When interrogated, she quickly brushed it off as part of his usual antics of being against the school agenda. 

But Wednesday, you put your foot down. Three days absent. Four calls unanswered. And you were ready to panic. Marching past students, unwavering to their bumping shoulders and looks of disgust, you sat yourself in the chair in which Eddie Munson’s ghost was residing. The boys stared at you wide eyed. “Where’s Eddie? Why hasn’t he been here?” You had cut straight to the point. Mike Wheeler had reminded you of the fact that your boy toy wasn’t exactly fond of attending school, so it probably wasn’t a big deal. You rolled your eyes at him. Grant Goodman had suggested the idea that maybe his time was being taken up by the work of Reefer Rick to move sales. Ever since he’d been in jail, someone had to replace his position. And while plausible, the idea didn’t exactly satiate that agonizing fear. Then, Dustin Henderson proffered the idea that maybe he was just sleeping the days away. That’s when you realized the boys were just as useless as Chrissy Cunningham.

That afternoon, your fifth call was finally answered. 

Right before the start of practice, you wasted any lingering quarters from your bookbag to dial the numbers of the Munson household with the payphone provided by the courtyard of Hawkins High. When it picked up, you gasped of relief. When it was Wayne Munson, you felt awful for wanting it to be Eddie. You could only answer with a disheartened greeting when his uncle asked who was calling. 

“Oh, hey, darlin’.” He was so sweet. Wayne Munson was dwindling down to your last hope. “Nice hearin’ from you again, been pesterin’ my boy of when we can have you over again.” He smiled. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Hello, sir.” You attempted to pick up your tone of voice to not sound so crestfallen. “Um, yeah, everything’s okay with me, but, um, I’m more so calling for Eddie. I just- I haven’t heard from him or-or seen him, and, well, I just want to make sure he was okay. Is he?”

Wayne’s long sigh did nothing to aid your concerns. “Uh, yeah, kid, not entirely sure what’s up with my boy.”

“Is he sick?” You questioned. “Like, did he come down with something?”

“Nah, nah.” Wayne quietly confirmed. “Not that kinda sick, but he sure ain’t feelin good. Been in his room most of the time. This isn’t somethin’ new. Not the first time he’s gone through this cycle.”

“What do you mean?” You softly asked.

“Every once in a while, sweetheart,” he began, “Eddie gets these moments… these feelings that he locks himself in his room. It’s hard to speak to him. He doesn’t wanna talk. Most of the time, I can figure out that somethin’ is bothering him, but other times, these moments just happen. And, well, I just gotta wait for him to speak on his own terms.”

You swallowed thickly. Were you the thing that was bothering him? Did you send him into a depressive cycle? “Is he- is he okay?” In retrospect, it felt quite a redundant question to even bother with. 

“I think things are gettin’ better, kid.” Wayne earnestly answered. “He left his room today. Went to get some fresh air. It’s a start.”

“Wait, where did he go, sir?” 

“Not sure, didn’t say. Just told me he’d be back after clearing his mind.”

Clearing his mind.

Your brain perked with realization. “Uh, th-thank you for telling me, Mr. Munson.” You quickly thanked. “I’ll try my best to make sure he’s okay if I see him. Just thank you so much.”

Wayne released a breath of consolation. “Thank you for carin’ for my boy, darlin’. It really means a lot. To the both of us. To him especially.”

Lover’s Lake. Cheer practice had been entirely lost of care the second you hung up your conversation with Wayne Munson, and your mind had prioritized a journey to Lover’s Lake. Chrissy Cunningham would eventually tell Coach Hannigan that you were feeling sick when fifteen minutes passed, and you hadn’t shown up for practice. Because car-less and quickly exhausted, your trek to the sentimental location had become a near hour and a half long trip. One once thirty minutes with the most below average car became to feel like an eternity on tired legs. Having to run laps for practice tomorrow would become your death. Skipping through the center of town had proven to be easier, as sidewalks were provided for the entire purpose of walking. But turning into Mulberry street, a lack of pavement that wasn’t a cracked road made the experience worse. Your sneakers crushed the overgrown grass that met the street, as you willed all strength to persevere through the ache of sore legs. Not to mention, the slight ping of fear that would shoot through you whenever a single car would drive by. The scary decade of the 70s was enough to instill a precautionary guard. Eventually, the wooded trail that Eddie Munson once took you down came into sight, and your legs managed to exert underlying energy to guide you through the wooded path. About five hundred steps north, Eddie’s van became unconcealed through a horde of trees. 

Conscientiously stepping away from branches and newly sprouting weeds of tiny flowers, you quietly walked alongside Eddie’s van to approach the back doors that had been shoved open to let in the spring zephyr of the lake into his vehicle. 

And then, you delicately made your presence known.

“Hi.” Laying back against the shag carpeting of the back space of his van, arms crossed behind his head with eyes closed in peace, Eddie had automatically shot up at the diaphanous sound of your sweet voice. 

And he hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but he did, and your brows creased sadly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You reiterated back with concern.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but his voice could speak up. But you could visibly see his urge to tell you all. One cautious step forward, Eddie hadn’t protested, so you continued your slow movements until you took a seat next to him. An evident gap purposely placed between the both of you. “I- um, how did you know I was here?”

“Kinda got the idea when I talked to your uncle.” You answered.

“My uncle? You called my- wait, how the hell did you even get here?” Eddie attempted to wrap his head around. 

“I walked-”

“You walked?!” Eddie abruptly interrupted, perturbed by the endangerment of your safety that was put at stake just for him. 

“Well, you scared me, Eddie!” You hit back, and Eddie had quickly quieted. No, no, no. Eddie promised himself- promised you that he’d never put you in a position to be scared again. And here he was screwing everything up, because his emotions were becoming too much to handle. It was so easy to resort to his old ways. So comforting to do something he was familiar with. And he hated it. Hated everything he was doing, because it was such an easy outlet to write his progress off as bullshit, and affirm the fact that he was an asshole, because he deserved nothing good in life. Before he could apologize, you began speaking softly. “You haven’t spoken to me since Saturday. Since our date. Why- what did I-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He knew where you were about to spiral. “Don’t blame yourself, this is all me, please don’t- just please don’t think you did anything.”

You eyed him worriedly. “Then what’s wrong, Eddie? Can you just talk to me?”

Eddie took a deep breath, and his hand found his way toward yours, where he squeezed it tenderly. And then he looked at you. So longingly. “Y/N, I will always, always be so thankful that I met you and had you in my life.” Your heart began beating rapidly out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it. “Genuinely, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking kind. And you care- you care so much that for once in my life I actually feel wanted. You make me feel so good, Y/N.”

“Of course, Eddie, of course, I want you-”

“But that’s what’s so scary, sweetheart.” Eddie stopped you. “When you leave me, I’ll feel fucking destroyed. And I- it wouldn’t be good to depend my happiness solely on you, because I’ll be so awful.” His eyes stung. 

“No, Eds, I wouldn’t leave-”

“I know about Columbia, Y/N.” He simply inputted, that had your face scrunching with confusion. “Chrissy accidentally told me, she hadn’t meant to. But I know. And I know you deserve to leave this fucking town and go live your special life in a place where these bullshit people can’t hurt you. Leave me, sweetheart. You need to leave me.” He tried to smile through his tears, but it was ultimately failing. And you dropped your head to hide your hot face from seeing the man that was tearing your heart. “Before any of this gets serious, you need to leave me. I-I won’t have the balls to leave you, so just end this right here, sweet girl. Please.”

And maybe this is simply where the story of you and Eddie Munson was meant to end. In a matter of weeks, both of your lives and perspectives were altered for the better, as you navigated the heartbreaking moments of learning to be strong. Learning to seek help. Learning to listen. Learning to accept. Learning to love. Because when Eddie received that monumental call from Chrissy Cunningham, he felt as though his world came crashing down, because the thought of losing you became too severe to imagine, and he couldn’t feel that for someone he didn’t love. Experiencing the privilege of learning how to love you was the single greatest thing Eddie Munson had ever felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, he could feel it. He could feel it in the tight squeeze of your hand. And he’ll pay the price of having this moment with you even if he knew it would end far sooner than he wanted. Because it was for the best. You would get to live your life free from restraints, and Eddie Munson could look back at the incredible girl who endured hell with him and shaped him to be the better man he was today. Everything great about Eddie was only amplified ten times more because of your appreciation to his authentic self. You were so unfathomably beautiful, Eddie would forever hate himself to be the man that held you back from blossoming into the real world. Eddie never wanted a thousand admirers, he just wanted you. 

Pulling his hands from your hold, they moved their way upward to cradle the cheeks of your head, and he pulled your hiding face to expose itself right in front of his. Your wet tears burned the pads of his thumbs, because it hurt so badly to make you hurt. No, Eddie Munson never wanted to experience the pain of seeing you leave him, but for once in his life, he would just like the control of choosing who hurt him. And he liked his choice of it being you. You would do it so kindly. Eddie Munson willed himself to picture a world where you weren’t in his life, and what a worthless world it would be. But you were leaving regardless. And that worthless world would be an inevitable reality, so Eddie was choosing it on his own terms. As much as it killed him, you were meant to leave. And he wouldn’t place himself into a position to stop you.

His forehead landed against yours, and he shakingly smiled down at you through his tears. “You’re so beautiful, god you’re so fucking beautiful. I could never get tired of looking at you.” Oh, my god he loved you, he loved you so much, Eddie felt so lucky to love you. “You deserve greater things than me, Y/N. Everything’s going to be okay.” He whispered. “Leave me, and go get what you deserve, sweetheart.”

But your head began to softly shake no in the hold of his hands. “You don’t get to decide that, Eddie.” His faltering smile fell in an instant. “I know you’re doing what’s best. I know you’re making your own decision, but it’s my life, too, and no one- not even you can get a say as to what I deserve or what I should do.” Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. He knew who you were. He knew the perseverance you harbored. He knew the intelligence of your incredible mind. “How could you ever think me going to college would ever equate to me leaving you? How could you ever think I’d do that?” You asked. “You’ll still have me, Eddie, you’ll always have me. Even when I’m away.”

It was this time Eddie began fervently shaking his head against yours. “No, no, please don’t give me hope.”

“I’m not giving you hope, Eddie, I’m giving you my word.” A heavy breath released itself from his quivering lips, and pressed his nose against yours. “Make it up to me, and give me your word.”

He nodded vehemently. “I give you my word. I’ll never hurt you, just please don’t leave me.” A nine-year-old Eddie Munson cried out to you.

You smashed your lips into his wet ones, tasting the coating saltiness of his raw emotions becoming embedded into your body, as he firmly pressed your face into his to happily suffocate into. The spark, it had blown up into a blaring firework that screeched its way into the night sky and glowed its vibrant colors like the sun that once set. That was the excitement. But then the remnants of the sparks cascaded down tranquilly into the warm waters of a lake named after couples like you and Eddie, and had sizzled into peaceful nothingness. That was the stability. 

That was Eddie Munson. That was you. 

His lips had so tenderly massaged yours, as his nostrils opened up to breathe you in heavily. His thumbs had pressed into the plushness of your heated cheeks to keep you like this forever. Just in his arms. In his hold. Where you were safe to be yourself. Safe to make mistakes. Safe to be that mesmerizingly beautiful human being you were. The one Eddie Munson loved so much. 

Though much to his dismay, you were a human that needed to breathe, and Eddie had gut punched all the wind out of your lungs when his devotion poured into your mouth. You needed the tiniest bit of air. And gently pulling away, you and Eddie were left heaving against each other’s lips. 

“Eds.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, voice too congested with snotty tears, it made you giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, baby, I just had the greatest kiss of my life.” Eddie whined, which truly prompted more soft fits of titters. “Y’know, I’ve always thought New York was a cool place? Diverse city. Great job opportunities. Pretty gnarly bars to get my music some exposure. Wouldn’t be such a bad place to visit and stay periodically.”

Your sinking teeth did nothing to suppress the ever growing smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “But, I mean, it totally has nothing to do with you. I’m not even your boyfrie-” Your giggling mouth fell onto his once more, lips molding against his with such synchronicity, it felt like second nature to have his mouth on yours so lovingly. When you pulled away, Eddie groaned with a deep setted breath. “Mm, please let me be your boyfriend, sweet girl?”

You spoke against his lips with a smile. “Of course. Make it up to me, Eddie.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

-

One Week Later

“Um, what about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” will that take your attention away from math?”  

Chrissy Cunningham had playfully smacked your swinging feet, as they moved absentmindedly to distract you from the dulling ache of your elbows sinking into her mattress and the headache that was AP Calculus. “Uh huh.” So distracted. Chrissy rolled her eyes, as she sat against the headboard of her bed, thumbing through movies.

It was a never-ending sleepover. 

“Weren’t your exams a week ago? Shouldn’t you be done with classwork? Or has this become your new definition of fun? Wouldn’t be surprised.” She laughed. 

“My exams may be done, but I was still gone for a week, and Mr. Fitzgerald was persistent with work during that time. Almost done making it up.” Your hand wrote and wrote, as the indent on your ring finger became deeper with every stroke of your pencil.

“Okay, well, will you just take one break for a second.” She pleaded with a mewl you knew would only get louder. 

You looked back at her with a knowing smile, before slamming your textbook shut. “Fine.” In true Chrissy Cunningham fashion, she offered you a small cheer. “Gonna go pee, be right back.”

Your friend nodded, as she watched you make your trip from her bed and out the bedroom door. And the second it clicked shut behind you, Chrissy was springing from her bed, and toeing to her window. Popping the latch, the night’s breeze flooded inside her room, and choosing to stick her head out of the window became a terrible idea, when Eddie’s face shoved its way into view, scaring the poor girl to death. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” She whispered-yelled at the metalhead, as his sneakers secured him onto the tiles of her roof. The man was beginning to have a thing for roofs. 

“What the hell took so long?” He complained. It had felt like an eternity just waiting for the signal to arrive. Eddie Munson just hadn’t anticipated the signal to take over forty-five minutes to come. “The food’s going to get cold.”

“Well, sorry, but your girlfriend has a freakish obsession with schoolwork.” She protested.

And Eddie flashed a love sick smile. “She’s real smart, isn’t she?”

“Just give me my food.” Chrissy insisted.

“Give me a blanket.”

And the muscle of her arms had harshly hurled the balled blanket from her bed into Eddie’s face that had him stumbling on his kneeled legs with a huff from the impact of the hit. Eddie met her deal, and reached into the grease spotted Benny’s bag to pull out a double cheeseburger with extra pickles ordered directly by the cheerleader herself. Satisfied with her dinner, Chrissy ran back to her bed, allowing Eddie a moment to lay the blanket onto the roof and station the hefty bag of fast food alongside. Within a couple seconds, Chrissy could hear your incoming footsteps from the hall. 

“Okay, I’m back.” You strutted in, heading straight to her bed. “Ready for some-”

“Wait, wait.” Chrissy abruptly halted your movements, leaving you frozen mid climb. “Actually I have a change of plans for you.” She smiled. 

You peered down to her lap. “Where’d you get a cheeseburger from?”  

“Alongside being a chauffeur, I’m also a great delivery man.”

Turning around, Eddie stood confidently—hands on his hips, with a shit-eating grin shining from his face—with your impromptu date awaiting you. You smiled, and made your way to him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured a pretty girl needed the experience of a third date.” He gave your chin an endearing pinch. “Greasy food from our first, picnic setting from our second, perfect combination for our third. And most notably, no worms around.” He climbed out of the window, and stood perched with a proffered hand out to whisk you away. Of course, you gladly took it, and Eddie helped you over the window ledge, and guided you onto the roof, where the moonlight descended like a mystical spotlight. 

“You know, some day, I’m going to have to plan one of our dates.” You teased, as you took a seat next to him. “Can’t have you do all the work.”

“Oh, no, I’ll absolutely do all the work, sweetheart.” He beamed a radiant smile at you. “Got a lifetime supply of dates set just for you.” 

Your arms circled around his neck, as you placed doting kisses to his cheek. “Thank you so much, I love it all.” Eddie had turned his head to meet your lips to enable his newfound addiction of kissing you deeply. It was tooth-achingly sweet seeing you both smile into your kisses. Your hand had managed to snake its way down his broad neck, getting caught in the chain of necklace, where you fingers toyed with guitar pick that accessorized his entourage of leather and chains. It was then, you felt it. Pulling away from his chasing lips, you took a better hold of his necklace, turning it to the side that stayed concealed against his chest, where your thumb rubbed your senior picture. Torn by the hands of Eddie Munson from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook, and meticulously cut to fit the backside of his guitar pick and stuck on with the tackiest of all glues for security.

“You still have this?” You crooned, as you peered into his eyes. 

His had never left yours. “Of course, baby.” He kissed your tilted chin. “Too corny?” He smiled.

“Absolutely not.” You laughed. “But I’m becoming quite jealous of the fact that I don’t have a photo of you- oh, wait, Chris has a polaroid camera!”

He groaned dramatically. “No, no! I’m not modelesque like you, pretty girl. It wouldn’t serve you any good.” He laughed, as he pinned you down to keep you from attempting to flee away for a photo opportunity. 

“Well, I still have the yearbook Nancy gave me, so should I use your senior picture or your club picture?” You giggled.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had weaponized a young girl’s kindness to dehumanize the body that worked so hard to keep her full of life. A decade ago, you were running topless on the white sands of the beach, so liberated from the world’s retributionist opinion of what it meant to be a woman. But the bumps, curves, and expansion of your own growing body had been pitted against yourself forcefully by the nastiestness of society that reminded you you were a sexual thing, as you dealt with the first moments of womanhood at thirteen alone in your bathroom with an aching belly and a confused mind that couldn’t understand what changed so suddenly that you had to cover up the body that connected you to nature. Why was being a teenage girl something so terrible that other’s of all ages demeaned you? Why were you told to be so kind to everyone, but have it twisted to make you out to be something you weren’t? Why when you voiced your anger of being lied to by the world were people so freely allowed to label you with the dramatics of “being a woman?” Why were you left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

Eddie kissed the creasing of your furrowed brows.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had denigrated a young boy searching for acceptance, and villainized the enthralling qualities that gave him beautiful uniqueness of what it meant to be human. He was uncomfortable. He was nervous. He was ashamed of his own feelings, unable to not see the grossness of society that made him feel embarrassed to be alive. To show character. Forced into a dangerous pipeline to destruction, because horrid people—one’s meant to love him the most—enabled the environment where vile words of unworthiness were encouraged upon a growing boy who was being attacked by the cruelty of the world when he just seeked to be loved. So low in the hierarchy, it became so easy for the town to discard a living body to the ruins of society with no mercy. How horrible could his differences be for everyone to hate him? How terrible of a child could he have been to be left with bruises that never healed and tainted him to be a lost cause? Why when he played the part of a no good freak that they casted over him did everyone become disgusted with him? Why when he chose to seek help from the destructive patterns of his life was his worthiness still stepped on by his peers. Why was he left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

But as noted, you and Eddie had rescued yourselves. Your time was not devoted to force the world to see you both as you truly were. That was not your labor. They saw you both for how they wanted to see you. But it wasn’t in your concern to care.

Not when he looked at you like that. Not when you looked at him like that. 

“I’m okay.”

"...𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡..."

- 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If you are someone who has followed along with my series and you'd love to place your input, please feel free to! Any critiques, comments, suggests are all heavily appreciated! Again, thank you so much!

@sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

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@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 16

Just one more chapter left, and in cased you missed it, I won't be doubling up on chapters per day this week. The last chapter will be out next week.

Doubling up really killed the numbers for these stories, half the time people were only reacting and commenting on the SECOND chapter.

But don't worry, what this means is that your favorites you've been seeing snippets of on WIP will get quicker releases this way.

In this Eddie's rut progresses as normal, they talk about Steve's status, and Eddie and Benny learn some very interesting things about golden omegas.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15

****

Eddie came to and was sure that at least a day had passed, but he looked at the clock on Steve’s nightstand and frowned. It had only been five hours since his rut had started. He looked in the wastebasket and there were only three condoms in it which fit the time frame.

He looked around, but Steve wasn’t there. He sat up and the sheet that had been covering his waist slid off. He looked down and saw that his dick was sheathed with another condom.

There was some of Steve’s slick on the sheets, but considering Eddie was still in them, he figured Steve couldn’t change them yet.

He could hear Steve humming to a beat in the kitchen and padded out there.

He smiled fondly as he watched the omega dance around his kitchen to the music in his head. Bopping and hopping as he made a wholesome snack.

“That snack looks good, baby,” he said, his alpha rumbling happily, “but I would rather eat you.”

Steve squeaked. “Eddie! You’re awake! How do you feel?”

For the first time since he woke up, he took stock of his body, really examining it.

“Warm, sated...” he said furrowing his brow, “happy?”

Steve beamed at him. “Yay! That means your rut is progressing as it should. It seems like your body is adjusting better to the low light and you’re more lucid.”

Eddie came up behind him and buried his nose into Steve’s scent gland. “All because of you, sweetness.”

Steve squawked when Eddie picked him and spun him around.

When Eddie finally put him down Steve swatted at him playfully. “You absolute menace.”

Eddie cackled. “Yes, but I’m your menace.”

Steve turned around in his arms and kissed him deeply. Their cocks brushed against each other and he let out a low moan.

“So good...”

Eddie nipped at Steve’s chin. “Let’s get some food in us and then I want something else in you.”

Steve snorted. They ate and hydrated before Eddie picked Steve up bridal style and carried him back to the bedroom.

Eddie could feel himself sliding back into the blind haze of his rut, but the scent of the omega underneath him stirred some distant memory, but it was lost in the next moment when Steve moaned.

The pattern continued like that for the five days. Steve and Eddie taking care of each other while Eddie was lucid, Steve taking care him when he wasn’t.

Eddie had never experienced a rut that had gone so smooth. He understood why alphas paid top dollar for an escort to service their ruts if every one was like this.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend another rut without Steve for as long as he was biologically able to experience ruts.

Each time he became lucid, he would become aware for longer. The last day having two hours before the rut took over him again.

But he used those two hours wisely. He talked to Steve.

“Baby,” Eddie said, from the sofa, “come sit for a bit. You know it won’t hit again for awhile, you might as well relax.”

Steve looked over at him and smiled. He padded over to the sofa and curled up onto Eddie’s lap.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured into Eddie’s neck.

“I’m good,” Eddie replied. “This was worth every penny. I see why it’s so popular.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m glad that it’s available to alphas that can’t afford escorts through clinics.”

“That’s a new thing, though right?” Eddie asked. “I don’t remember seeing them when I first presented.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “It’s something that a lot of the major escort houses pushed for in recent years, if all alphas can get the same level of care that the rich do, then it lowers the chances of alphas turning feral from bad ruts.”

Eddie grinned. “It would have happened in the last five years or so, would it? Like say when a particular omega became popular?”

Steve blushed but didn’t deny it. Alpha health was something he had been passionate about for awhile. Helping everyone no matter how much money someone had was just the start of what he wanted to do. Mandating sex education for alphas. It was mandated for omegas and beta, but not alphas, because ‘alphas instinctively knew what to do’ with omegas. Which was bullshit.

“I thought so,” Eddie said.

Steve smiled back. “I’ve even got a non-profit going setting up education booths outside high schools for alphas to get pamphlets and other material about their reproductive health.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Eddie said, nearly vibrating with excitement. “We should throw a gala like the one where we met to get the awareness out there.”

“That’s a great idea, Eds,” Steve said, kissing Eddie’s jaw.

They settled down into a warm silence for awhile just taking in each other’s soothing presence.

Eddie nuzzled Steve ear to wake him. “Hey, you tired, sweetness?”

Steve roused himself and looked up at him bleary eyed. “I guess I am. You see this rough and tumble alpha has been keeping my hole hot and full for the few days. Trying to keep up with him is tiring me out.”

Eddie cackled. “Yeah, if he wears you out so bad, you should blacklist him or something.”

“I would, but I’m in love with his cock so...”

Eddie’s head reared back in mock indignation. “Excuse you!”

Steve laughed. He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s scent gland and the alpha purred. Steve’s omega chirped happily in response.

“I love your scent,” Eddie murmured. “It’s not like other escorts I’ve met.”

Steve looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Chrissy, Elinor, Tommy,” Eddie said. “All smell too sweet. Like fruit rotting on the vine. A terrible but apt metaphor for their condition. But you smell spicy. But in sweet kind of way.”

“I do?” Steve really never thought about his own scent before.

Eddie nodded. “Gareth described it like Mexican hot chocolate. You know the kind that is spiced with peppers?”

Steve nodded back.

“Did you ever think that you might be a golden omega?” Eddie continued.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Never. Like why would I? I’m not special.”

“That’s highly debatable, sweetheart,” Eddie admonished. “But your scent and everything you’ve told me about your family. It’s very possible you could be.”

“Is that why you wanted to court me?” Steve asked, soft and small. Like a mouse.

Eddie pulled Steve in closer. “No baby, I didn’t figure it out until later. I wanted to court you because you are funny and amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in a mate.”

He lift Steve’s chin up and kissed him deeply. “Plus, I set up the rut way before I put the pieces together. Everything was set to protect me, but it seems to me that it may end up protecting you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you know, golden omegas can only get pregnant during their heats,” Eddie said. “And since I’m a known scent breaker...”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “You think there is a chance I’ll go into a mini heat, don’t you?”

Eddie nodded. “When I first booked you, it was one of the things Robin was adamant about protecting you from.”

“She’s amazing like that,” Steve murmured.

“She really is,” Eddie cooed. “But it looks like our time is up, honey.”

Steve could feel Eddie’s cock harden under his ass. “Come to bed with me, alpha,” he purred. “Let me take care of you.”

Eddie let Steve pull him to his feet and they walked hand in hand to Steve’s bedroom for the last of Eddie’s rut.

****

When Eddie came to he was not in Steve’s apartment, he was in a smaller hotel room lying on a comfy sofa.

“I’m going to have to burn that sofa after all this,” Robin groused from a nearby armchair. “It will reek of alpha for months if I don’t. I can smell you from here.”

Eddie sat up. He was dressed in soft grey sweatpants and a loose white tank top. No underwear, but then he hadn’t brought any. He ran his fingers through his greasy and sweat slicked hair.

“Fuck,” Eddie grumbled.

“Your manager, Benny sent over a duffel of clothes for you for the next three days.”

Eddie saw the small duffel and snatched it up. “May I please request the use of your shower, milady?”

Robin laughed. “Please do.”

Eddie dashed for the door she pointed to and slammed the door behind him. He stripped his clothes and quickly got under the still cold water. He didn’t want to wait for it to heat up because he felt that gross. His dick was most clean because Steve took the time to wipe him down between condom changes, but he washed it good anyway.

The next thing he focused on was his hair, he had to wash it several times before it felt like it was supposed to. He ran conditioner through the ends of his curls with his fingers, gently massaging it in.

Then he worked on getting the sweat and stink off his body. He hated washing away Steve’s scent, but if he didn’t get clean, Eddie was going to scratch his eyeballs out.

Finally satisfied with how clean he was, he rinsed out his conditioner and stepped out.

He dried off quickly and rummaged through the bag.

Eureka!

Underwear.

Eddie got dressed and then cleaned up his mess, hanging up towels and making sure there wasn’t water everywhere. Uncle Wayne raised him better than to make a mess of someone else’s home.

He opened the door to find Robin and Benny waiting for him.

“Hey, Ben Ten, Birdie,” he greeted, concern dripping from every pore. “What’s happening?”

Benny smiled. “It’s nothing bad. Robin and I were just wrapping up the end of the contract.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped in relief. He had almost forgotten about the whole thing because he was madly in love with Steve. He sat down on the sofa next to Benny.

“So everything is good?” he asked to be sure.

“Yup!” Robin said brightly. “You are now free to pursue the omega of your dreams.”

Eddie chuckled.

He thought for a moment, licking the bottom of his lip.

“Hey, Robin,” he asked, looking down at his clasped hands, “has an escort ever turned out to be a golden omega?”

Robin and Benny shared a glance.

“You think Steve might be one?” she asked. “Because if he is, that would be fucking hilarious.”

Eddie’s head snapped up.

“His parents have called him useless and a disgrace for being infertile for over a decade,” Robin explained. “To have him be a golden omega who could have been sold for ten to twenty times what he got auctioned for? That would be poetic justice.”

He nodded. “So do you think there’s a chance?”

“Sure,” she said with a half shrug. “The agency doesn’t shout it from the rooftops but yeah, there have been a couple of golden omegas that have come out of Starcourt.”

“How did they find out?” Benny asked, suddenly very interested in where this conversation was going.

“A combination of a couple different ways,” Robin said. “The first is how frequent their heats are. Most golden omegas go into heat more often then regular fertile omegas to make up for the fact they can only get pregnant during their heats.”

Eddie nodded, “And Steve’s are within the normal range?”

She waved her hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s more times a year than a regular omega, but not outside the possibility if you know what I mean.”

“So say a regular omega has four heats a year and golden omega has eight,” Benny said, “Steve’s heat is somewhere in the middle?”

Robin nodded. “Exactly. The other thing is scent. Which you know Steve’s is unusual. But it’s unusual for an omega full stop.”

Benny and Eddie shared a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Alphas scents are spices, like cinnamon, clove, cardamon, or spicy like peppers, or natural woody scents like pine or cedar,” she explained. “Omegas are fruit and floral scents. Sometimes flavors like chocolate or coffee. That includes golden omegas. Infertile omegas have what is always described as rotted fruit. Super sickly sweet.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. “But Steve’s is a mix between the two scents?”

Robin nodded again. “Right. The third thing that helps identify a non-tested golden omega is their resistance to scent breakers.”

“Fuck,” Eddie said. “That means he’s not a golden omega. I thought for sure he was. I even told him he was. That he was so special and precious beyond measure.”

She shook her head. “No, Eddie. That’s where you’re wrong. There is a final thing that helps identify if the omega in question is a golden or not.”

Eddie frowned, “What’s that?”

“There’s a reason golden omegas get their choice of any alpha in the country, if not world,” she said fiercely. “And despite what the media likes to paint it as, it’s not just the rich and elite.”

“It’s not?” Benny asked.

Robin shook her head again. “They’re looking for their soulmate.”

It was like someone had scooped out Eddie’s stomach. “Their what?”

“Soulmate,” Robin said. “The person who completes them. Someone who can break through their scent breaking resistance, someone who’s scent compliments their own, someone who when they share their heats and ruts it goes just about as perfectly as two humans can get. And if they meet that person?”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed.

“Oh.”

****

Soulmates! *jazz hands* Yeah, sorry I couldn't help myself.

Part 17

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[bettyfrommars]

Touch my cheek before you leave me, baby//Part 2

gigolo!Eddie x virgin!older!fem!Reader

(part 1)(part 3)

18+Only, mature content, intimacy smut, sweet!Eddie, nipple play, praise!kink, masturbation, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, toxic mother, self-esteem issues, alcohol consumption, implied self-loathing, pet names, implied sex with someone other than reader, paid sex. wc: 4.6k

summary: After that first night together on your 29th birthday when you lost your virginity to gigolo Eddie, he mentions, in his own way, that he'd like to see you again off the clock. Reader is an introvert dealing with self-esteem issues and invites Eddie to be our date for a wedding, but not before he invites us back to his place.

authors note: I never intended this to be more than one part, but it quickly became a favorite, and I had so many requests for more. Who am I to deny us more of sweet, gigolo Eddie?

All of your support means the world, and I very much look forward to your thoughts ❤️

pls no minors beyond this point

-------

You still couldn’t tell if it was real.  When he said he wouldn’t charge you if you ever wanted to meet up again. It felt sincere when he said it, but now, two days later, by the phone with gigalo Eddie’s number in your hand, you were convinced that it was all part of his game.  Maybe he was just that good.

He knew everything that would turn you on, everything you needed to hear, right down to the pet names and the missionary style, intimate sex. It had all been in the paperwork you’d submitted. It was nothing but a job to him, and you had totally fallen for it.  

Now you felt like one of those idiot, lovesick men at the strip clubs who always believed that the girls were really in love with them after they made eye contact a few times and tipped them for hours on end. 

You did your affirmations in the mirror that morning, trying not to look at yourself from the side in the full length mirror and pinch at the parts of your body you thought were gross.  Trying not to indulge in the morning ritual of hating yourself.

Even if Eddie had felt some type of real connection with you—which you now highly doubted—how would things progress between the two of you? From what Robin had told your friend Nellie, Eddie was a busy boy.  He was a respected gigalo within a 50 mile radius, and his list of regular clients was long; your evening with him was booked a month in advance.  On nights when he didn’t have clients, he was practicing with his band or playing gigs, and you were sure he could have any woman he wanted when he performed.

But then the phone rang as you were sitting there right next to it and you jumped, a shriek escaping your throat.

It was your mom, reminding you to pick up the dress for your cousin's wedding the following weekend. You weren’t going to be in the wedding party, but your mother had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want you to embarrass her with any of the styles of clothes you would’ve picked out for yourself.  

She exhaled a haggard breath.  “I suppose you still haven’t found a date? There’s a new boy who goes to our church. I think he might even like you, as long as you don’t bring up any of your strange conspiracy theories or serial killer statistics. Wear that special bra I got for you, and put a little makeup on.  Men like women who try to look nice for them.”

You wanted so badly to let your mother know that you’d recently paid for a gigolo to take your virginity, just to hear the horror and panic in her voice.  You were already a disappointment to her, why not put a cherry on top?

You put Eddie’s number on the table and stared at it while she talked.  “Actually,” you took a stiff swallow that felt like a marble in your throat.  “I do have a date.  For the wedding.  His name is Eddie.”

You relished the silence of shock at the other end. “Oh? What does this Eddie do? Not another jobless musician like the last boy you had a crush on, I hope?”

You winced at the way she brought it up.  Almost a decade ago, you had a crush on the brother of one of your friends, that is until you overheard him refer to you as “creepy”.

You knew she’d never drop it until you told her something; what a person did for a living and their social standing was very important to your mother.  “He’s, um,” you looked around, eyes landing on one of the cassette tapes on the shelf for the band Mike and The Mechanics.

“He’s a mechanic,” but you knew that wouldn’t be good enough.  “He, uh, runs his own auto body garage.” The lie—the fact that you even had to lie—made you squeeze your eyes shut.

She of course asked what the name of his garage was, and you told her he was from out of town and only coming in for the wedding.  She started badgering you with more questions and you lied and told her someone was at the door of your apartment and you had to go, hanging up the receiver before she could protest.  

A few hours later, after listening to music on full blast in your headphones and nearly pacing a hole in the carpet, you cracked open the nerve to call Eddie.

Your blood ran freezing cold as it rang on his end, and you glanced at the clock: it was just after 8:00pm.  You’d purposely waited until it was later in the evening, praying that he’d be with his band or with another client, and then you could leave him a message on his machine.  You were banking on this, actually.  If he picked up and you heard his voice, you’d probably hang up on him.

As luck would have it, you did get his answering machine.  Nervous as all hell, your voice was a tad squeaky at first, but then you cleared your throat. 

You decided you would present the invitation to be your date to the wedding as a job, one you would pay him for.  You let him know you’d had a great time the other night, and then made sure he had your phone number, and that you would TOTALLY understand if he was already busy that weekend.  You were about to hang up when you realized that you’d never said exactly who you were, and so you blurted your name out at the last minute, but it was too late because the recorder beeped and cut you off.

You went to bed that night convinced you would never hear from him again.  

Much later that night, after a long day, Eddie grinned down at the answering machine the second he heard your voice—he knew it was you right away.  He’d been thinking about you nonstop since that night you’d been together, but he never expected to hear from you.  He worried that he had put you on the spot when he said you wouldn’t have to pay him, and it had probably made you uncomfortable.  Flirting on the job was not something he had done before and it was very unprofessional of him. At the very least, he needed to apologize to you.

But there you were, calling him this soon as if you’d been thinking about him too.  

He tucked his hand in his armpit and nibbled at his lip when you asked if he was free this weekend to go to a wedding with you.

His heart skipped a beat.  He was thinking something more along the lines of dinner and a movie, but, sure, he would be your date—he had a tux. He’d have to reschedule one of his regulars, but she would understand. Other guys might’ve seen that as getting too serious too quick, but not Eddie.  He hadn’t had a girlfriend, or even been on a date that was not work related in over a year.  Women weren’t interested in taking a gigolo home to meet their parents.  They wanted his cock in all of their holes, but none of them ever wanted to know how his day went or what his dreams were.  

“So, just let me know…” you continued in the message.  “...if you’re available, and how much would you charge for something like that? I’d totally understand if…”

Damn it, he cursed to himself, sucking air in the side of his cheek.  He thought that invitation was sounding a little too good to be true.  

All the same, he called back the next day and left a message while you were at the local grocery store where you worked as an assistant manager, letting you know he’d be honored to be your date, and to tell him the where and the when.

But he did not give a price, and the omission was not lost on you.

—-----

You were so nervous, you could puke.

But it was still a day before the wedding, and you were in attendance at the post-rehearsal dinner at Enzo’s.  Although you were not going to be in the wedding, your beautiful, outgoing sister Judith was, and you weren’t entirely against a dinner paid for by your uncle at one of the fanciest restaurants in town.  

You were feeling the buzz of the wine and trying to play wallflower as the other four people at the table, including your sister and three of her friends, engaged in lively conversation and shared exaggerated stories from their college years.  You were sitting back in your chair, offering a chuckle to something that was just said, when you looked across to the main entrance and saw Eddie coming through the door.  

You were only looking in his direction for maybe five seconds before you looked away, but it felt like an hour.  There was an ocean in your ears as your heartbeat soared and your brain scrambled to make sense of what was going on. 

He looked particularly beautiful.  Hair worn down, framing his face, a crisp white button down, allowing for the dark designs of his chest tattoos to show, sleeves rolled up at the elbows, exposing his defined forearm muscles and tattoos.  

Eddie was not alone.  

Next to him, holding onto his arm, was a very pretty woman.  Shoulder length, brunette hair brushed back from her face, flawless skin, tight black dress and gold jewelry.  She might have been mid to late thirties, much shorter than Eddie. They appeared to be very cozy as they stood waiting to be shown to their booth, and when she turned to ask him something, Eddie answered, and then kissed the back of her hand.

You snapped your eyes back to the table, twirled the stem of your wine glass a few times, and then lifted it to your lips for a generous gulp.  Everyone at your table was just tipsy enough to not notice how flustered you got, cheeks blooming red hot.

Eddie saw you while he was escorting Lana to their table, but he wasn’t sure if you had seen him yet or not.  This was his fifth “date” with Lana.  Her husband passed away four years ago, and she’d decided that she’d never love another man again as much as she’d loved him, so she didn’t want any romantic attachments.  What she wanted was a man to take care of her once in a while: escort her to dinner, treat her like a lady, hold doors for, and then let her suck him off so he could cum on her tits the way her husband used to do.  He wore her husband's Old Spice aftershave and called her “Sugar” which had always been his nickname for her. 

He needed to focus on Lana, but as the waiter handed over the wine menus, Eddie kept glancing in your direction.  It'd been a week since the two of you had been together biblically, and he’d really been missing your face, more than he could even admit to himself.  He found himself drawn to you chemically in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager. 

You shot him a look over your wine glass, and he lifted his fingers in a small wave, but you ducked your head and tried to hide behind whoever was sitting next to you. 

If anyone there recognized him tomorrow at the wedding, and happened to connect the dots that he was with another woman on a date the night before, that would be bad. He made a last second decision to switch places with Lana in the booth so that his back would be to the people you were with, in an effort to hide his identity.  

“I think it’s time for me to go home,” you announced to the table, getting to your feet as you said it.

Your sister protested.  “But, we just got here? One more drink?”

You fumbled so fast for your jacket that your chair fell to the ground.  Even over the Italian music and plentiful conversations, everyone turned to look, including Eddie, and then you were rushing to get out of the restaurant, bursting into the fresh air and hurrying down the sidewalk.

Down at the corner of the building, you were catching your breath and feeling stupid as hell, when you realized Eddie was coming toward you with his hands in his pockets.  He had waited a few minutes, but eventually followed.

“Hey,” he said, catching up to you after a few slow, deliberate strides.  “I hope I didn’t make anything weird for you in there.”

You covered your eyes with your hand.  “No, I’m the one who made things weird,” you told him. “I’m just not a fan of crowds. I think I got a little claustrophobic.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie had his head down, shuffling his foot, and you noticed how different his demeanor was when he wasn’t “working”.  

You huffed a laugh.  “You’re a natural with people, what are you talking about?”

“Maybe I just play a good game,” he lifted his eyes to meet yours, chin lowered. “On the inside I spend plenty of time curled in a ball in the corner, I promise you.”

A car horn blared in the distance, and then Eddie spoke again.  “You look really pretty tonight,” his hands stayed in his pockets, but he gestured with his elbow.  “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, praying he hadn’t suddenly changed his mind.  “I mean, if you still want to?”

“Of course I want to, sweetheart,” he cocked his head, but then he gestured toward the restaurant. “I need to get back in, I can’t leave her hanging.”

You started to speak nervously, something about “oh yes sure go ahead absolutely okay goodnight” as you walked away, but then he caught your arm.

He searched your face in the dark shadow of the street corner.  “Are you…busy later? Like, in a couple hours?”

Your heart tightened at the urgency of his question.  The way his eyes settled on you, they were full of desire, and you couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave you all of their attention like that.  

Eddie was really taking a chance with this one.  What woman in her right mind would want to spend time with him right after he’d been intimate with someone else?  This is where any dating situation he ever attempted came to a screeching halt.  He went home lonely more often than not.  

Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his beautiful neck, letting the gravity of what he was asking you sink in.  “Won’t you be…tired?”

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek.  “Not too tired.”

—----

He called from the payphone at Enzo’s and left his address on your answering machine, just like he said he would, and so there you were, in your car in the driveway of the adorable light blue house he shared with a friend named Steve, who was supposedly also in the gigolo business. Steve was out of town for a few days, though, and inside your head you were screaming; you couldn’t believe this was happening.

 It was one of the better maintained houses on the block; lawn perfectly mowed and trimmed, a flower bed with purple pansies along the sidewalk.  There was the husk of an old muscle car in the garage though, and an engine weeping oil on the pavement.  The lie you’d told your mother wasn’t too far off, and a grin kicked up one side of your mouth thinking about how Eddie’s strong hands had some black stains in the crevasses from working on cars, even though he scrubbed them constantly.  

Eddie had no idea what he was doing.  The good thing about being a gigalo was that he could control the atmosphere and the outcome: he never had to worry about getting hurt because it was just a job.  

You could tell he’d just come out of the shower when he answered the door in a plain white tee and jeans exposing the tattoos on his arms, hair wet down his shoulders, skin warm and soft when he hugged you in the doorframe. 

The hug lingered, and when you stepped back, your chin was down, your eyes trying to avoid him at all costs. Sure, you wanted to be there with him, but also, your body was in fight or flight mode.  You could hear your mother’s voice in your head then, telling you there’s no way a guy as good looking as Eddie would be interested in a girl like you. She’d insist he was using you for something.

“Hey,” Eddie caught your chin and brought your attention back to him. He ran a thumb across your mouth.  “I’ve been dreaming of these lips.”

It made you snort a laugh, and Eddie laughed too, squeezing one eye closed.  “Sorry, was that too cheesy? Occupational hazard.”

“I like cheesy,” you beamed, parting your lips to accept his kiss, opening your mouth to take him deeper, working your hands up the front of his chest over his shirt.  You tried not to think about the woman he’d been with just an hour earlier, and the things they’d possibly done together.  If he could accept you and still find you desirable, even when you didn’t even like yourself, you were willing to have an open mind about his profession.  At least for now.

You found out he had an episode of Elvira’s Movie Macabre on the TV, and told him it was one of your favorites.  This made Eddie like you even more.  He sat back on the couch, legs long, and beckoned for you with a few eager flaps of his wrist to come and sit flush with your back against him.  “This is what I needed,” he said as you got comfortable between his legs.  He kissed the side of your head, intertwined the fingers of one of his hands with yours, and you could barely concentrate on the show with the way his closeness made your pussy pulse.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.  Both of his thumbs slid down the front of the blouse you were wearing to graze the hard nubs of your nipples, while he kissed the outer ridge of your ear.  

You could only make a needy purr in the back of your throat, pushing against him at the need for more.  

“Are your nipples this hard just for me, sweetheart?” He hushed, nuzzling your ear.  You squirmed a bit more, nodding, exposing the side of your neck to greet his mouth.  He unbuttoned your shirt and pulled down the front cups of your bra to pluck at your tender buds, making you whine.  He found your pulse point on your throat and sucked there, continuing to work your nipples in a way that had your underwear immediately damp with arousal.

“You getting wet for me so I can taste how good I make you feel, baby?”

Indeed, your body was letting him know loud and clear that this is what it wanted.  

He licked his fingers to wet your nipples, and you felt like you might be able to cum from his finger twisting alone.  You undid the zipper on your trousers and sank your fingers into the wetness there, working your slippery clit.  You slid your digits down a little further and dipped them into your hole; it gripped around you, begging to be filled.

“Let me taste it,” he told you.  You presented your two glistening fingers up and he sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean, making you tremble at the way his tongue flicked between them.

“Keep touching yourself,” he encouraged, milking and twisting your nipples with a bit more force now that they weren’t as sensitive, causing zings of pleasure to rock through your body.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, finding your clit again, working your wrist.  “You’re going to make me—”

But then it was already happening, a pop of velvet streamers liquified at your core, pulsing, throbbing, making you go blind for a second.  

Eddie’s cock bucked hard against his denim.  You turned to kiss him in the aftermath, and he slid out from under you to get on his knees, pulling your pants off the rest of the way.

“I need to taste it,” he breathed, hiking your knees up over his shoulders so he could bury his face and lick you clean, lapping up your gift, groaning and rocking forward on his knees as he did so.  

You grabbed onto his hair.  “You like how hard I cum for you, don’t you baby?”

You were learning to be more verbal, and it made his hips twitch against the couch, he wanted you so bad.  Once he devoured the sweet  nectar of  your cum, he worked his way up your body, kissing your breasts, and then finding your mouth.  He sank two fingers into your aching hole, and your pelvis flexed eagerly up to meet his hand.  

“Hey,” he brushed his lips over yours, hovering there.  “I don’t ever go down on...clients,” he admitted to you, eyes finding yours, fucking his fingers slowly in and out, curling them up once they were deep inside of you. “You are special, I just thought you should know.”

“I like knowing that,” you said with a quiver in your voice, holding his face. “I want you inside of me.”

There was a condom in his wallet and he helped you guide it onto his cock after he pushed his jeans down, every bit the teacher.  You slid your shoulders down the couch, legs spread wide, exposing all of your holes for him.  Gripping your hip, he teased the tip at your entrance, eyebrows pinching together at the sensation.

“Without a condom, I’d probably blow a hole through you, baby, you’ve got me so hard.”

Your pussy was soaked, dripping from your folds down the condom on his cock.  “You’re the only one I want inside of me,” you were merely stating a fact, but it was just what he needed to hear, and he rose up on his knees, pulled your ass a bit further off the couch, and buried himself balls deep with a hard gasp.

He leaned forward to brace his forearms on the cushion at either side of your head, kissing you, thrusting in a few times as deep as he could go, skin smacking, your wetness now shimmering on the curly hairs at the base of his cock.

You were amazed at how your body knew how to respond, even though you had absolutely no clue what you were doing.  Bucking your hips up to meet him was your favorite, and then every now and then, he’d swivel his hips, holding your legs out.  

“That was a fancy move,” you breathed against his lips. 

“I save all my fancy moves for you, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

He brought his thumb in to play with your clit.  “I want you to cum with me.”

You didn’t know if that kind of tandem miracle was possible, but you were willing to try.  You brought your fingers in to work your slick juices over just the right spot, and Eddie sat back to watch you. He was observing and taking notes.

“You stretch me out so good,” you whined, getting into the swing of things, swiping your fingers faster, not phased at all by the way the parts of your body you hated were all hanging out for him to see.  

“Shit,” Eddie bucked. “You’re gonna make me cum right now if you talk like that.”

“You’ve ruined me for everyone with your big cock, baby,” you continued. “No one will ever fill me up like you do.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight, holy shit,” Eddie cried out.

You could feel the peak approaching but then Eddie pushed in a bit too eagerly, and his cock slipped out and dove up into the folds of your pussy.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” you called out, clutching his shoulder, begging him to work the head of his cock on your clit.

“Fuck baby fuckkkkk,” he hissed, thrusting his hips, fucking your folds with the underside of his cock.  “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

And then, it was you who was cumming, babbling, riding the wave as Eddie cock dipped back inside, needing to feel like he was pumping it inside of you, worshiping you from the inside with his seed.

In the aftermath, his head lowered, hair hanging down, he enjoyed the slip of your cum, feeding you the shaft a few more times. 

Eddie was about to pull you against him to watch Movie Macabre for real this time, but when you came out of the bathroom, you were fully dressed with your bag over your shoulder and a distinct look of goodbye on your face.

“I should get going,” you announced, picking at some loose skin around your cuticle.  

Eddie stood from the couch, fixing himself, making sure the zipper was up on his jeans.  He didn’t have a shirt on, exposing the cut lines at his hips and trail of hair below his belly button.

“Sure, sure, um,” he looked around, hands on his hips.  “You don’t have to go.  I mean, you could even stay here, if you wanted. I could set my alarm if you have to get up early.”

You wondered what he charged for overnight stays.  Would you receive a bill on Monday for two full days worth of gigolo time? You had no idea what his rates were, and you still knew you couldn’t afford it.   The voices in your head were telling you what a gullible, cock drunk fool you were. While in the bathroom, you realized that everything he said was way too good to be true.  No man had ever wanted you this bad, nor would they ever.  A part of you was even harboring some anger towards him for being deceitful and making you feel things you’d gone 3 decades without.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat. “For this.  I have a big day tomorrow, so,” and then you turned without another word, headed for the door.

Eddie hustled after you.  “Okay, so, I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow, yeah? We’ll go together?”

“Actually,” you gave him your profile.  “I think it would be better if  you just met me at the venue.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said quietly.  He was having a hard time reading you. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, thanks again,” you said in a rush. 

“Hey, wait—-” but you were already out the door and hurrying down the driveway to your car, afraid to look back.  

---------

Thank you for reading!

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 5

Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon, everyone.

:) Have fun

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Awkwardness, flashbacks, feels

Word Count: 1,950

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

This wouldn't be your and Bucky's first undercover mission together, but it would be the first one where the tension between you is decidedly not sexual. You're not even sure how well the two of you can pull off this charade since you have no idea what your chemistry is like anymore. Used to, you could do anything together, be anything together.

Not so much now.

There’s an awkwardness between you. Silences pregnant with all the things left unsaid – or should have been left unsaid. You’ll catch Bucky watching you from the corner of your eyes, always with an unreadable expression like he’s trying to figure you out again without actually asking any questions.

You can't imagine that you've changed so much in the intervening months, but Bucky makes so much progress in therapy that his confidence in himself and his personality grow by leaps and bounds all the time. 

You don’t know this new Bucky, but you wish you did. You wish you had been with him to see his growth, encourage him on. 

You’ve missed out on so much of your life by staying away from the Tower. You’d had so many plans that never came to be – no walks in the park when the flowers started to bloom, no trips to the beach on the hottest days of the year, no ice skating when the first snow fell. You kept a tab on everything that should have been on the calendar in your mind, noting all the days that had significance in the past but went uncelebrated this year.

But what’s done is done, and you have to pay for your actions – half a year away is a small price to have Bucky back in your life, even as a stranger instead of your lover. 

You’re now trying to organize your new life on the outskirts of a small town in Russia, just a few miles away from a HYDRA base. Snow was falling thick and fast as the quinjet touched down hours ago, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white outside your new home. The small, two-bedroom cottage looks rustic, but it is still nicer than most of the surrounding homes due to Tony’s influence. There is hidden technology that will help the house to stay warm in this cold climate and random high-tech appliances, lights, and other things that look normal and are anything but.

With the HYDRA base going radio silent, you may be in this little home for longer than was initially expected earlier this year. Bucky is sure that the base is still active, though.  He spent a lot of time here as the Winter Soldier, but no one has received reports from the embedded spy in recent months. This inactivity is concerning since you're no longer sure what is going on inside the building anymore.  

It would be too obvious for Bucky to go undercover inside the facility, so that leaves it up to you to infiltrate as a researcher. The spy had assured last year that no one from the facility lived in the town you’ve settled in, so it’s safe enough for Bucky to remain close by as you work.

But the small town you’ve settled in is so traditional that the only way to remain inconspicuous as a younger woman is to be connected to a man in some way – be it living with family members or a husband.

And since you don't want to be labeled an outcast or worse, Bucky is here.

Bucky is going to be a mechanic at the small family-owned shop just down the road, and his prosthesis is covered in Stark technology that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it. Bucky used to spend a lot of time fixing up old cars and motorcycles between missions, so he should really enjoy spending his days in the garage helping out the Kowalds.

Unfortunately, your background isn’t as fun. You’re a whiz when it comes to biology, so Nat cooked up a false resume full of lab work that centers around eugenics and biomanipulation – things your spy had reported the facility was actively looking into. In order to get your foot in the door at the HYDRA facility, the Avengers had to create a background so disturbing that you're not even sure if you can interview for it properly.

 You're just zipping up into your thick winter coat when Bucky walks out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You headin’ out now, doll?” He asks, a small worry line between his eyebrows.

“Yup,” you answer back with a comforting smile on your face. “I need to go meet with our contact to make sure that everything is still okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah?” he tells you, slinging the towel up onto his shoulder. Today is his first day at the mechanic shop, so he's dressed in blue overalls with a small name tag stitched onto his chest. The sun is just barely rising, but he's going to be late if he doesn't hurry.

"You know me, Buck. My middle name is Safe."

"Your middle name is Trouble and you can't convince me otherwise, babygirl."

You stick your tongue out at him and blow a raspberry, holding your middle finger up in the air as you turn around and head out the door. Once out of his sight, you smile and bask in the feeling of having your friend back.

You'd missed the banter and easy wit you used to share together, so this small exchange feels like a return to normal. The awkwardness might return in time, but you hope Bucky has forgiven you enough to power through.

You trek along the deserted streets. The early hour and layer of snow on the ground seems to be keeping the townsfolk within their homes, wrapped snugly under their warm blankets. You sigh heavily and watch your breath fog in the air, the mist condensing and freezing your skin as you walk through the cloud.

You pass house after house, noticing lights turning on and the sound of hairdryers, televisions, and conversations humming in the air. Everything has a vague, indistinct quality to it, lulling you into daydreams of what their lives are like. Is it simple? Do they enjoy this cold, snowy location? Or are they also dreaming of a warm day laying in the grass in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top?

A memory worms its way to the surface of your mind of a day spent just like that with Bucky. 

This was only a few weeks before your friends-with-benefits situation started. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the humidity heavy in the air and making the sidewalks and parks of New York City intensely uncomfortable. Even though Stark has the Tower equipped with the latest technology, he's incapable of leaving anything well enough alone. He'd been tinkering with the HVAC and somehow short-circuited the entire system. Everyone in the Tower was miserable and cranky, choosing to avoid one another in an attempt to stave off arguments and confrontations. 

You'd been sitting in the shade of the balcony, fanning yourself as you watched all the teeny tiny people on the ground maneuver the crosswalks and traffic to get to where they were going. It was no warmer outside than it was in your room, so you chose to people-watch instead of lay there and sweat miserably on your clean sheets.

Just as some bratty kid you’d been watching chucked the ice cream he’d been yelling for only moments ago onto the sidewalk, the sliding glass doors behind you whooshed open. The sound of metal knocking against the doorframe had let you know that Bucky was the one to interrupt your spying.

Regretfully turning your neck, you felt your skin sliding wet and hot against itself. A frown marred your features as you stared at Bucky as he stood behind you, his eyes alight with mischievous glee.

“What did you do…?” You question slowly, almost afraid to know what that look was all about.

He shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Nothing too bad.”

“BARNES!!!” a voice roared from the depths of the Tower.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and a small, disbelieving smile graced your lips. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Buck.”

Bucky hmm’d and glanced back into the building when a CRASH reverberated from where the voice had yelled moments ago. “I was going to get out of here for a while. You wanna come?” he questioned breezily.

“And why would I want to leave when Tony’s working on fixing the AC?” you replied as you continued to fan yourself. Bucky’s eyebrows had quirked ever so slightly.

“Y/L/N!!!” 

Your hand had frozen mid-fan and your eyes widened so much that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where’d you say we were going?” you asked as you rose quickly from your seat and bypassed Bucky at the door.

***

“You little shit!” You had laughed uproariously when Bucky finally admitted to the prank.

“What else was I gonna do?” he responded, turning his face to look at you.

Even with the intense heat that day, you and Bucky had decided to forgo the climate controlled vehicles in the garage and went instead with the fastest getaway vehicle – Bucky’s bike. The wind had whipped against your body when you held onto Bucky and watched the city fall into the distance behind you. 

He apparently hadn’t had a destination in mind, so you had ridden until cities and towns disappeared. He’d pulled off beside a barely visible hiking trail and jumped off his bike. You had followed suit and watched as Bucky pulled a blanket from inside the storage compartment on the bike. You hiked your eyebrows questioningly, but only got a grin in response. 

That’s how you had found yourself lounging on a blanket in the middle of a field with Bucky on the hottest day of the year. You’d chatted and laughed for hours until the sun had slowly faded from the sky. Out that far, the light pollution of the cities couldn’t touch the stars. You had gazed upwards, trying to draw the constellations as you remembered them.

You weren’t any good at astrology or astronomy, but the stories behind the figures in the sky captivated you nonetheless.

You laughed again and turned to face him as well. “And why’d you have to implicate me, huh?” 

“Figured it’d be more fun that way,” he had answered slyly. 

You had wound your arm up and smacked him on the stomach, your hand bouncing off of the toned muscles. He’d caught your wrist on the next swing and held it up and away from his body. You’d tried to tug it away, but his metal fingers held fast and didn’t let you go. You rolled over toward him and began trying to use your body as leverage, but you had only succeeded in pulling yourself closer to him.

You huffed and blew the piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes away and looked up at him. He’d had a look in his eyes that he hadn’t directed at you before, but you’d seen glimpses of it when he’d find someone to bring back for the night.

You can’t help but think that that moment had been the turning point in your friendship with Bucky, the moment he thought about asking you to be friends-with-benefits. Of course you’d found him handsome long before then, but that was a moment that really cemented your attraction to him. 

You didn’t have romantic feelings at the time, but you should have known they were inevitable.

Part 6

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch@stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepcest Love Story About Jim

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

I think my internet has finally stopped hating me, but I can't be too sure. We'll see what happens.

Word Count: 5,531

Warning(s): SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Stepcest, Infidelity, Step-Daughter/Step-Father relations, Family Drama, Forbidden Love, Lying, Sneaking Around, Emotional Cheating, Drinking, Self Loathing, FLUFF, Crying...I think that's it?

Summary: You and Jim have discovered that you don't want to stop, and don't even want to entertain the idea of it.

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I do not give permission/consent for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior/relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

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Chapter 4

You and Jim are horrible people, there’s no other way to put it. Jim woke you up the next day with his head between your legs, and you didn’t even attempt to stop him. Nor did you stop him when he told you get on top of him and get yourself off on him. The first two hours of the day were spent getting lost in one another and, for a moment, you forgot why it was wrong.

Then, you heard your Mother the second you opened the basement door.

“Well, why did ya sleep on the sofa, Jim?!” she snapped.

“My kids are still asleep, Y/M/N,” he huffed as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You were a mess yesterday and-”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“I had to carry you up the stairs in the middle of the movie.”

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I got nervous and they seemed to take more to-”

“That’s been your reason for every time your shit faced now, and it’s always Y/N’s fault.”

“I don’t say that it is-”

“Yes you do, and she’s only here because you asked her to come! Jesus, where’s the woman I met? The woman I fell in love with?!” he snipped and your heart broke.

You wished you’d never come back.

“And you? What do you think?” your Mother asked once she spotted you trying to creep out of the kitchen.

“Please, leave me out-”

“What do you think?” she snapped.

You let out a heavy sigh, because you knew how the rest of the day was going to go.

“I think I should’ve never come back,” you sighed as you leaned against the entry way. “I feel like you do better when we don’t see each other, and I’m not even mad about that. That’s how things have always been between us, and I don’t know why I expected it to change. Since I’ve been home, you’ve been drinking non-stop and an emotional wreck. You asked me to come back and I feel like it’s something I shouldn’t have done. I messed up your progress,” you finished softly as you toyed with your fingers, avoiding her hurt and irritated gaze.

As far as she was concerned, you and Jim were ganging up on her. Hell, if you hadn’t spent the previous night and that morning fucking her husband, you would’ve been able to feel like you weren’t ganging up on her. However, the guilt was eating you alive instantly, and it only got worse when she grabbed a bottle of whiskey off of the top of the fridge. 

It wasn’t even 10am and she’d snapped.

She was drunk off of her ass by 12pm, which meant that it was up to you to save the day for your...step-siblings. 

The day wasn’t even hard because you didn’t like them, it was hard because of what you’d done. With their Father. It didn’t help that they really had seemed to take a liking to you, and they wanted to do everything with you. Especially after your Mother passed out at 1:30pm.

“You alright, Angel?” Jim asked softly once he’d closed the door behind him to your bedroom.

The room that was right next to your Mother’s.

“It’s fine. They go back tomorrow and I’ll go to Ciara’s-”

“I want you here-”

“We already had this talk. Once was enough, Jim.”

“Angel-”

“It’s wrong! You’re married to her! Even if you get a divorce, she’s still my Mother! We can’t just...no, this can’t happen again.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about ya all day, Angel,” he confessed softly as he made his way closer to your bed.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about fuckin’ me.”

“No, I’ve been thinkin’ about you,” he confirmed softly. “Your smile, the way you laugh, the sound of your laugh, how caring and sincere you are, how thoughtful-”

“Jim-”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he promised as his right hand cupped the side of your face. “Have you been thinking about me?”

“Jim-”

“Have you?” he asked sincerely as he focused your gaze on him.

It slipped out before you even had a chance to stop yourself.

“Yes.”

You honestly hadn’t meant to get so caught up in the kiss, and you hadn’t meant to give him a blowjob. However, both of those things happened, which led to him fucking senseless in your bed.

Which is, once again, right next to your Mother’s bedroom. The bedroom that she shares with your Stepfather.

You couldn’t get out of that house fast enough the following day. However, when you got to Ciara’s, she wasn’t proving to be much help either. 

“I’m sorry, you two did what?! How many times?!” she squealed before she took a sip of wine.

“We only did that position once, but we had sex.. a few times,” you mumbled, very clearly ashamed of yourself. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’re in love,” she shrugged as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

“I’m in love with my Stepfather. He’s married to my Mother-”

“Your Mother is awful.”

“Be that as it may, she’s my Mother. She wanted to start a new chapter with Jim, and her new found sense of-”

“She did this, love. She created this fake version of herself, then let it all come crumbling down when you came home. She invited you back, then had a meltdown on the both of you. Is this right? Of course not. However, do I understand it? Of course. I know you feel terrible, and I would too, but lets not pretend you meant for any of this to happen. Hell, you didn’t even know she’d gotten married. Yes, it’s wrong, but you both did your best to fight this and seemed like the harder you two fought against it, the more she went out of her way to be problematic,” she sighed as your phone went off again. “What’s goin’ on there?”

“Jim and my Mother have been messaging me all day,” you muttered with an eye roll. “She wants me to come back because she feels awful and is tired of driving me away. He wants me to come back because he misses me and wants to fall asleep next to me. I’m staying far the fuck away from both of them.” 

“You’ll be goin’ back soon enough, and that should help,” she smiled mournfully.

Honestly? It should’ve. It should’ve been enough to keep you focused and your thoughts away from all of the other bullshit. It’s your final year, and you have so many things to figure out. You need to decide on a job, figuring out living arrangements, where you’re going to live, and a million other things. However, Jim was persistent. If he wasn’t calling and texting, he was sending you flowers with the cutest notes attached. 

By day four, you’d crumbled and told him to come to Ciara’s. 

He took you out to dinner at a cute little restaurant outside of town, and spent the entire time picking your brain. He wanted to know if you were excited or nervous about graduating (you told him that it’s an evil mixture of both), he wanted to know if there’s anything in particular you’re excited about getting back to (you told him about the cute dog adoption center that’s not too far from campus that you visit when you’re feeling too overwhelmed), and he wanted to know your favorite things (that had you rambling longer than you meant to).

Yes, the whole thing was sweet, but you rightfully had your reservations.

“Jim, how do you know this is real? No to be a total fucking cunt, but this will be your second failed marriage. What makes you so sure this will work?” you asked softly before you took a sip of your drink.

“This isn’t like what Yvonne and I did. I was in a good marriage and I fucked it up. I fucked it up for selfish reasons and looked for everyone to blame but myself. This...I honestly never knew this side to your Mum. If I had, I wouldn’t have married her in the first place. Yvonne and I...it started for all the wrong reasons. It started for selfish reasons on both of our parts, but this isn’t wrong or selfish, I promise.”

“Your wife made you unhappy-”

“Don’t. This isn’t something I started because I was havin’ a bad day. You just...you’re so beautiful, Angel. I don’t just mean on the outside. You step up when you shouldn’t have to, you’re thoughtful, you’re so damn funny, you’re witty, you’re patient, you’re painfully considerate...I could go on for hours. When everything started to fall apart, you stepped up and kept a level head. Between the two of us, you were the more mature and calm one. Hell, this whole thing started because I can’t control my feelings for you.”

“What about when I make you mad?” you asked timidly as you toyed with your fingers. 

“You’re not your Mum, Angel. We can talk things out and make it work. We can have an actual relationship that works.”

“Your kids-”

“They love you-”

“As their step-sister.”

“They’ll get used to it.”

“Jim-”

“Angel, I love you and I want this with you. I know I have a lot to prove, but I’m willing to try if you are. We’ll...test this out for a few months and you can decide-”

“A few months?! Jim, she’s my Mother-”

“I’m filing for a divorce, Angel. No matter what we do, I’m filing for a divorce. Things aren’t what they were and they never will be again,” he confessed with a scoff, but you could hear the pain in his voice.

He really thought he got it right with your Mother.

“We can’t...we have to take our time with this,” you told him softly as you tried to force yourself to come to terms with what you were saying.

What you were agreeing to.

“We can do whatever you want, Angel. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“We should wait until we have sex again.”

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do,” he promised with a nod as the waiter came over to ask if you both if you wanted anything else.

You folded like a lawn chair the second you and Jim were in front of Ciara’s house. You pulled him to the backseat of his car and had him until you were both spent. He ended up sleeping over Ciara’s that night, and he held you so close, as if he were afraid you’d run off in the night.

No, none of it had gone ideally. You and Jim spent every moment you could together, and he made it so easy to ignore the guilt. Every kiss, every touch, every date, every laugh...he made you forget how wrong all of it was. He made you forget that the both of you were committing the worst kind of betrayal.

Which is why you’re now pacing around your dorm room, waiting for his phone call. It doesn’t matter that you have an essay you need to start on, or that you have job applications to fill out, because you miss him and he makes you feel like a lovesick idiot. It also doesn’t help that he sent you a beautiful bouquet of pink peonies earlier in the day.

The second your phone goes off, you almost pounce to answer it.

“Baby?” you ask breathlessly, a smile coming to your lips.

A horrible way to answer the phone for the current situation you’re in, honestly. 

“It’s me, Angel,” he chuckles softly. “I miss you too.”

“In my defense I ‘aven’t been this excited to speak to someone...ever,” you giggle softly and he laughs. “How was your day?”

“A bit stressful, but it was good. I hate drivin’.”

“Why were you driving?”

“Had some things to take care of,” he sighs as someone knocks on your door. “Who’s that?”

“I’ve no clue. I didn’t make any plans with anyone,” you shrug as you make your way to the door and unlock it. “JIM!” you scream, throwing your phone to the side and jumping on him as your legs wrap around him, and he laughs softly. “Why are you here?! How?!” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hi to you too, Angel,” he laughs, carrying you inside with a smile, before kicking the door shut behind him. “I missed you, and I wanted you to have a good few days before...”

“Before what?” you question with a cocked eyebrow.

“When I go back....I’m filing.”

“Jim...”

“I want this, Angel. I want us. I’m not gonna regret this and I hope you won’t either.”

“I just...Jim...”

“Do you still want this?”

“You know I do, but...you have to really commit. You’re leaving your wife for her daughter. Are you truly sure this is something you want? Are ya sure you want me?”

“Get dressed,” he smiles once he sets you down, “I’ve got somewhere to-”

He’s cut off by a knock on your door, “Y/N, are you in? It’s Mum,” your Mother proclaims from the other side of your door.

FUCK. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“What are ya doin’ here? Give us a moment, I just got out of the shower!” you panic as both you and Jim try to find a place to hide him.

“Well, Jim is gonna be gone for a few days to go and see a friend, so I figured I should come and see you. We didn’t end on the best of terms.”

“Mum, I really don’t have any issue with you or Jim. It’s just better for you if-”

“I know I haven’t always been the best Mother, but I want to change that. With time, you and Jim will grow to like each other and get along. I know I don’t always act like it, but I want all of this to work. I want us to be a proper family,” she confesses, remorse painfully clear in her voice.

By the look in his eyes, you can tell that Jim wants to say something, but he can’t without giving himself away.

“I don’t hate Jim,” you prattle on as you push him into your bathroom and motion for him to lay down in the bathtub. 

You’re quick to run to the sink and wet your hair, while trying to swallow down all of the anxiety and guilt.

“I don’t hate either of you,” you continue as you look yourself over in the mirror, “I just felt that it would be better if I finished holiday with Ciara. Let you two work on things.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“I just feel like me being around only makes things worse for you, and I don’t want that,” you explain, making your way back over to the shower. “Silence your phone,” you whisper before closing the shower curtain.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door to your room, “I really wish you would’ve called.”

“I figured it would be fine since you didn’t get back too long ago. You don’t have too much work, do ya? We could grab a quick bite,” she smiles hopefully.

You truthfully don’t know what to do, because it’s not like the trip from Dublin to London is an easy one, but Jim also made the same trek and is currently hiding in your bathroom. Seeing as he is about to file for a divorce just to be with you, maybe you should go to dinner with her.

However, Jim did get here first.

“What are you doin’ tomorrow?” you ask, hopeful that she won’t be too hurt.

It’s not as if you’re saying no all together, just not right now.

“Leaving,” she laughs awkwardly. “I figured I’d head back early tomorrow. I’m hoping Jim will come back early and we can talk things out. We got into a bit of an argument before he left, and I’m afraid I’ve really made a mess of things,” she admits shyly.

Fuck.

“Let me grab my things and we’ll go,” you smile solemnly.

Quickly grabbing your phone, you text Jim a quick ‘I’m sorry’, before grabbing your purse and key to your dorm.

“Is there any place in particular that you wanna go to?” you ask, locking the door to your bedroom.

“I figured we’d go somewhere you love. My treat,” she smiles and it only makes you feel worse. 

“We can go to Chez Jules, and don’t worry about me, I can pay for-”

“I’m surprisin’ ya, I should at least pay for dinner. Besides, I put you through a tough Summer-”

“It’s alright-”

“Just let me be a proper Mum for once. Please?”

You hate yourself. You hate yourself to your core. Yes, you and her have always had a turbulent relationship, but never in a million years did you see this scenario playing out as it is. Hell, you honestly didn’t think you two would be in each other’s lives at this point. You and Jim falling in love isn’t even a result of you being angry with her, it just happened. Hell, you fought it so hard because you do actually love your Mother.

Now, it’s just a big mess. You don’t want to hurt her, but you can’t pretend your feelings for Jim aren’t real. You honestly wish you never came home for the Summer.

“How does it feel to be back?” your Mother asks once you’re both seated.

“It’s weird,” you laugh awkwardly, “I can’t believe this is my final year.”

“I’m so proud. Ya did what I couldn’t.”

“You can always go back whenever you want. You know that.”

“It was never for me. I don’t think an of this was ever for me,” she laughs softly.

You don’t even catch yourself as you mumble, “don’t I know it,” slips out.

“ ‘m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You’re hurt and you’re angry. You have every right to be. This past Summer...I don’t know why I reacted like I did. I don’t know why I always react the way I do to you. I do love you, I just don’t know how to be a Mother. I never have and I never wanted to be one. I just...I really thought it was a role I could grow in to. I’d like to think I’m better now, but we both know that I’m not and it doesn’t even matter now. You’re an adult all on your own and your own person.”

“Can we not do this in public? I’m too sober for an argument-”

“I don’t want to argue, I want to be honest. I’m trying to...I want to apologize. Ya didn’t know about Jim and for me to react the way I did...I just felt like he was taken with you more than I would’ve liked,” she sighs as the waitress comes over.

“Y/N, I already know your order,” she laughs before turning her attention to your Mother, “for you?”

“Gin,” she smiles.

“Do you need a moment for food?”

“Um, I’ll have the pork loin steak.”

“Mum!”

“Jesus, I can afford it, as can you,” she laughs. “What do ya want?”

“I don’t-”

“She’ll take the braised shoulder of lamb,” your Mother nods, grabbing your menu and handing it back to the waitress.

“Mum, we can’t-”

“It’s a girl’s night!”

“I have class in the morning,” you lie with a giggle. “I can’t be out too late.”

“I won’t keep ya too long,” she smiles. “I just felt like this would be good for us. I was afraid if I called, ya’d say no.”

“I just...time apart has always been best for us.”

“That’s not how it should be. Jim loves ya, his kids love ya, and I just...I got jealous. You getting to the house before me...I should’ve waited, because I knew you would’ve been hurt. It was a big decision and I didn’t even take you into consideration. I was just so in love with Jim and I felt like...I figured I could finally do it, ya know? Be a proper wife and Mother. Be someone everyone could finally be proud of. I didn’t tell Jim much about my past, because it’s not anything to be proud of, but I did tell him about you. I told him that you’re the only thing I’ve done that’s right. I knew you two would get along, but I still had my reservations. The way I had been with him was a side of me you’d never seen, and I was afraid you’d resent me for being better with him and his kids than I ever was with you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me about him?” you ask, swirling your drink in the glass.

“I don’t know. We were in our own little bubble, and it was nice. I didn’t want to ruin it, and I know you’ve never been a fan of the men I’ve been with, which I can’t blame ya for. I was just scared. It got so bad so fast, and I know it’s on me. I’ve never actually committed to this part of myself and failed before I even gave myself a chance. I let you down, again, and I’m sorry.”

You say nothing as a new wave of guilt washes over you as your dinner is delivered. How could you fuck up this badly? How could you let yourself end up in a situation that will end so horribly?

“I know it was all in my head though,” she continues after the waitress walks away. “Jim barely knows you and you don’t see him like that. You don’t know him well enough to look at him in that light. It was just my own insecurities getting in the way, and I’ll do better. I’ll be better for the both of ya.”

“What did you and Jim argue about before he left?” you ask, doing your best to fight back your tears as you cut up your lamb,

“He’s rightfully angry with me. The drinking, the way I acted around his children, the way I treated you...he said he doesn’t know how to be with me anymore. I was drunk, we both raised our voices, I threw some things...it’s not lookin’ good,” she chuckles humorlessly as she wipes away a few tears. 

“What do you think-”

“He wants to leave me,” she interrupts with a shrug. “He didn’t come right out and say it, but he said it in so many words.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t, but I can tell that he really is at his end. Even with sex-”

“Sex?” you eagerly cut off before you mean to.

You hate that you care so much. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not goin’ to give you too much information,” she laughs softly. “We barely ever have it, and I feel like I have to beg for it anyway. When we do, he never seems to be...in the moment. He always feels a million miles away, and it feels so empty. It was never like this before, and I know it’s on me. I made such a mess of everything this Summer.”

“Maybe you two just need some time apart,” you suggest, knowing damn well that, that won’t solve anything.

The man is waiting for you in your dorm room.

“He seemed pretty put off before he left. I tried to talk to him, but he just...he walked out. He doesn’t love me anymore, and I have no one to blame but myself.”

“Well, why do you do this shite? Huh? You finally had what you wanted-”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, throwing her fork down and drying her eyes with the backs of her hand. “It was goin’ too good. I got too nervous and I just...I let my fears win. I took it out on you, I took it out on him...I can’t fix it,” she sniffles, drying her eyes.

“I can talk to him for you,” you offer quietly.

You fucking idiot.

“My estranged daughter pleading my case for me? That’s even more pathetic,” she scoffs, before taking a sip of her drink then picking up her fork. “Anyway, tell me about school! Are you more excited to be back, or to be graduatin’ soon?”

For the rest of dinner, you try to keep up appearances, but your mind is going a million miles a minute. You know what you need to do, but you also know how much it’s going to hurt. You and Jim have spent so much time trying to build some form of a relationship, and you’re about to destroy it. 

To be fair, the relationship should’ve never happened in the first place.

“You’ll tell me when you’re home and safe?” you ask once you two are back at your dorm.

“Of course,” she smiles, wrapping you in a tight hug, “thank you for this. I really needed it.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll let you get back to your studies,” she laughs awkwardly as she lets go of you. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you smile with a nod before unlocking your door, “let me know when you’re at your hostel, yeah?”

“I promise.”

“Well...goodnight,” you nod once you’re in your room.”

“Night.”

You wait until you see her turn the corridor down the hall before finally closing the door, and letting out a heavy sigh. You know what comes next is gonna break both you and Jim’s heart.

“I know that sigh,” he comments as you close the door.

“Ya can’t leave her, Jim. Make it work.”

“Angel-”

“She’s so in love with you and she’s so sorry-”

“Stop it.”

“She’s my Mother! What do you want me to do-”

“Why do you keep trying to spare her feelings? She did this!”

“Jim, please-”

“I love you, Angel. I’m in love with you-”

“She’s your wife, Jim. She’s your wife and I’m her daughter. Your stepdaughter!”

“I didn’t even know you until I met you! This isn’t some relationship that we built up over years! I met you and we just-”

“Jim...please,” you sob.

He lets out a heavy as he wraps his arms around you, “please don’t cry.”

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be the reason you walk away-”

“She did this! She lied, she drank herself into a stupor, she lied-”

“You married her,” you sob softly, looking up to meet his heartbroken gaze. “I can’t hurt her like this, Jim. I can’t be the reason something else-”

“You’ve never taken anything from her!”

“Jim...”

“I love you! What’s the point of staying with her if my heart isn’t in it? What’s the point of faking it-”

“You two can find that happiness again-”

“I’ve found it with you, Angel,” he husks as he pins you against the wall.

“Jim...stop,” you moan as he kisses down your neck.

“No.”

“Jim-”

“Say it like you mean it. If you really want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he promises, unbuttoning your shorts and pushing them down along with your panties. 

“This...this is the last time,” you whimper as he starts teasing your clit.

“Sure it is, Angel,” he chuckles as he hoists you up and forces your legs around his waist. “Whatever you say.”

“Fuck...Jim!”

“I know, Angel. I need you too,” he groans as you undo his jeans, and force them down.

“I love you so much!”

“Do ya? Do ya want me?”

You know where he’s going with this, and you know it can’t go any farther.

“You know it’s wrong, Jim! We can’t keep on as we are!”

“Lets see how wrong we can be tonight, shall we?” he chuckles as he thrust himself inside of you, barely giving you a chance to breathe before he starts loving you hard and fast.

“Jim...don’t stop!’

“That’s a good girl.”

Yes, you’re going to end things with Jim and do your best to move on from this completely fucked up situation, but for now? For now you just want to live in this moment.

You just want to be with him. 

“I want to be with you,” he pants as he lays you on your bed, before resuming his pace and fucking you brutally hard. “I love you!”

“Oh my God!”

You don’t care if you two wake up the whole damn building.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same! Lie to me and tell me you don’t feel the same!”

“I fucking love...Jesus...Jim! Don’t stop!”

“That’s right, Angel. Take everything I’m givin’ ya,” he husks, pinning your hands above your head as starts biting and sucking on your neck.

“Oh fuck!”

“I’ve missed you so much, my Angel,” he grunts, the feel of his breath on your neck making you clench him tighter. “Fuck, just suckin’ me in!”

“Jim...aht...please!”

“Give it to me,” he groans as you ball your hands into fists.

You squirt hard as you lull your head back and arch your back,”fuck!”

“So good for me, Angel,” he groans as he pulls out.

Before you can whine in protest, he flips you as if you weigh nothing, and you’re instantly ready to go again.

“Hands and knees for me, Angel,” he demands gruffly, and you instantly comply, arching your back and curling your toes in anticipation. “You think we can just stop?” he asks rhetorically, gripping your hips tight before thrusting into you.

“Ah shit!”

“You’re mine, Angel. You’re mine, just like I’m yours,” he whispers seductively against the shell of your ear, thrusting harder and faster.

“Jim...I love you! Fuck, I love you so much! God...that’s it!” you cry out, strangling your pillows as he hits that spot he’s only ever been able to find. “Right fuckin’ there! Don’t stop!”

“Say it! Fuckin’ tell me what I need to hear!”

“ ‘m yours, Jim! All yours, always!”

“Fuck, not gonna...cum with me Angel! Please!” he husks pathetically, resting his head in the crook of your neck, kissing it softly as he coats your inner walls with his desire.

You have no choice but to obey, and you yell his name in the process, as mind numbing pleasure washes over you.

“So good for me, my Angel. So sweet,” he coos as he rides out both of your highs.

You’re quick to collapse onto your bed, trying to clear the euphoric clouds out 

of your head. You don’t know why you thought you’d be able to think clearly 

around him, especially when you’re already so emotional. You know what the 

right thing to do is, but it’s not what you want. It’s not what either of you want.

You hate this so much.

“We can figure this out,” Jim promises softly as he gets in bed next to 

you, instantly pulling you close.

“Jim...what we’re doing is wrong. What we’ve been doing is wrong-”

“I want to be with you.”

“You’re her husband and she’s my Mother. Jim, it should’ve never 

gotten this far. We’re horrible people.”

“Are you afraid of her hating you?”

“I can deal with her hating me. Shes always resented me a bit and 

that’s fine, I’ve always been able to handle it. What’s hard to handle is me 

being the reason she’s heartbroken. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“It wouldn’t be-”

“Jim you may have been the one who initiated everything, but it’s not 

like I ever tell you no and meant it. I want every part of ya just as much as you 

want every part of me.”

“I don’t wanna stop, Angel. I don’t want you with anyone else and I 

don’t wanna be with anyone else.”

“I love you and I’m so happy when we’re together. So fuckin’ happy, 

but this isn’t right. You leaving her for me...Jim, we can’t.”

“So, this is it?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“We do, you just don’t like the other option.”

“Jim, for as angry as ya are, I know you don’t wanna hurt her.”

“I don’t, but you’re who I’ve always been lookin’ for. We were made for 

each other.”

“Jim...we have to let each other go.”

“After this week,” he sighs heavily, pressing a kiss to the back of your 

neck, “I’ll stay away.”

“Jim, I do love you, it’s just that...this is the right thing to do. Give it a 

few months, and everything will be back to how it was. It’ll hurt for a while, but 

it’ll be alright.”

“How it is now is how it always should be,” he mumbles into your hair 

before pressing a soft kiss into it. “Lets sleep, you have a lot of work to do in 

the morning.”

It’s not like this isn’t ripping your heart up. You want to be with Jim more than 

anything, but you can’t handle hurting your Mother like this. The ultimate 

betrayal. You have to get over this, because what’s the point? Your 

happiness shouldn’t have to make your Mother miserable. No, this is for the 

best. Yes, it’ll hurt and drive you insane for a while, but it won’t always be like 

this. It’ll get better.

Or so you hope.

~~

[dr1lldash]

yandere!venture x reader 2.9k tw: violence, fire, death (not major character), unhealthy relationships

i have never written something like this before, i dunno how to feel about it tbh but i did my best ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

prompts: 3. “no babe, you aren’t weak – i should just be the one protecting you, okay??” + 7. ”i only hurt them because i love you…” (slightly modified)

You didn’t get the chance to meet Sloan until you had already been working with the Wayfinders for a few weeks. You had certainly heard about them, the other members of the Society constantly talking about things they had done in the past, their work ethic, the way they can always light up a room, the ideas they had to unearth artifacts that the others would think lost. You were impressed by them, eager to meet them, but if you could turn back time, you would have left the site before you had a chance to.

You finally got the chance to meet them one night when you and a few other Wayfinders were having a bonfire. The dig was going well, you still had a lot to excavate, but you had made a lot more progress than you usually would have by that time. Part of that was, of course, due to Sloan working overtime, forgoing sleep in order to keep digging alone with only a headlamp to illuminate them. On this particular night, however, they had decided they needed a break, and what better way to get a rest than by roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over an open fire?

It took them a while to notice you. They greeted their friends with a wide smile, showcasing their chipped tooth, taking a skewer and a hot dog and letting it blister before they devoured it. You could hear their laugh from across the firepit, a sound of pure joy that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You kept an eye on them, entranced by the way the flames danced in their eyes, but quickly turned your head when they looked at you. For a split second before you could react, they made intense eye contact with you, intensifying the feeling in your abdomen. When you gained the courage to stop staring off into the cliffs surrounding you, they had already looked away, now fully engrossed in their conversation.

The smoke blowing in your face was starting to make your eyes water, so you got up, walking towards the tents so you could get a drink out of the cooler. You pulled out a bottle of cold water, slightly wet from the melting ice surrounding it, and sat on top of the cooler in order to enjoy it. You were looking up at the stars, trying your best to find the constellations you know, and you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approaching you. When an unfamiliar voice behind you asks, “Can I get in there?” you jumped, nearly falling off the cooler.

You quickly turned your head to apologize, but the words got caught in your throat when your eyes met Sloan’s, a lot closer than you had anticipated. They were hunched over, hand already on the cooler, face inches away from yours, if that. You stuttered, not really getting any proper words out, sliding off the cooler and away from them.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” they said as they opened the cooler and grabbed themself a water bottle. “Sorry about that.” You struggled to find the words to respond as they drank quickly.

“No worries,” you eventually managed. “I was just distracted, I didn’t hear you.”

“What were you distracted by?” They crushed the now-empty bottle and shoved it in their pants pocket.

You pointed up. “The stars are a lot clearer out here than I’ve ever seen.”

They looked up, a small smile on their face. “First time I ever really saw the stars was on a dig. You never really get used to it.”

The two of you continued your conversation for what felt like minutes, but the herd of people entering their tents tells you otherwise. Sloan looks at their wrist, to a watch with illuminated numbers wrapped around it. Their eyes widened. “We should, uh, get to our tents. We have to get up to dig in a couple hours.” They turn their wrist so you can see the numbers, telling you that it’s just past three in the morning.

“Shit.” The two of you said your goodbyes and goodnights quickly, rushing to your individual tents to get as much shut-eye as you can.

Morning came too quickly, but your energy levels spiked when you found out Sloan would be joining your field crew. “The director said going out alone could be dangerous, and she doesn’t like me going out as late as I have been. Said we’re a team, we’re supposed to keep an eye on each other and keep each other safe,” they explained.

There were eight people on the crew with them joining, so you’re all able to split off into pairs to excavate certain areas. Sloan had the most experience, and you had the least, so they volunteered to partner with you, to show you the ropes and make sure you’re able to keep up.

You were grateful for their help, knowing that they could work at least twice as fast without you, but they never made you feel like a burden. They slowed their walking pace so you didn’t get exhausted, showed off any artifacts they uncovered and let you try to identify it before they did, even guided you to shady spots they had found in the previous days so you could cool off when the sun beating down on you got to be too much. The two of you talked for most of the day, and by the time the two of you were walking back to the campsite, a half dozen new artifacts in tow, you felt like you understood why everyone liked Sloan so much.

Slowly but surely, over the next few weeks, they started to hang around you more.

The first step, of course, was to go on every dig with you. It was easy enough to convince you that it was necessary, and you were so eager to learn, you never even considered that you weren’t the only new Wayfinder. They started to eat breakfast and dinner with you, only a few times a week to start, but it became every day before you knew it. It made sense, though, right? You eat breakfast together, you go and uncover what you can find, and you talk about it that night. Things started to feel more off when you had a free day and Sloan all but refused to leave your side.

Your plan was to go into town and just look around. Sloan asked if they could tag along, and since you knew they had seen the sights before, you gladly accepted. You followed them around like a puppy for a few hours, listening intently as they told you the history of the town around you and recommended shops and cafes for the two of you to stop by. It was a good day, by all means, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that something was wrong.

Sloan bought you lunch, a t-shirt you were eyeing and even a postcard. “I have a whole book of them in my tent, I get one for every dig. I can show you when we get back, if you’d like.”

“Absolutely!” Your eyes were wide with excitement. “How many do you have? How long have you been with the Society?”

They paused. “Not sure how many I have, but I bet it’s over a hundred at this point. I’ve been a Wayfinder for about a decade now.”

“Woah.” You blinked a few times. “That’s…a really long time.”

They smile at you. “Time flies when you’re having fun. It barely feels like it’s been a year sometimes. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”

When the two of you left the cafe, the sun was beginning to set. You made your way casually back towards the digsite, but a small shop caught your eye before you left town. “Ooh, one sec, I wanna look in there.”

You turned your head to look at Sloan only to find them glaring at the store, an expression you hadn’t seen on their face since you met. Not when you needed a break after only a few minutes of searching an area, not when an artifact they had been so ecstatic to uncover crumbled to dust in their hands, not even when someone else took the last marshmallow right as they had been reaching for it. Their scowl was gone in an instant as they looked back at you. They glanced at their watch, the numbers starting to glow as the light around you faded.

“It’s kinda late, we should really be getting back.”

“Oh, okay.” Your voice was quieter than you had intended, but if Sloan notices, they don’t say anything. They take your hand in theirs as they keep walking, pulling you away from the store. You convince yourself that you imagined the look on their face, that it was a trick of the shadows due to the setting sun. The look in their eyes was so full of hatred, and there’s no way Sloan has that type of loathing in their heart. You shake your head slightly in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, and it seems to work.

Then, you’re distracted by the fire engulfing the digsite.

Almost every tent was in flames, a thick smoke covering the area and spiraling up into the night sky. The tents that weren’t in flames were already ash. A wave of heat hit you as you stood still, completely unable to move your legs. Sloan, on the other hand, was immediately in action.

“[Y/N].” They put their hands on either side of your face, forcing you to look in their eyes instead of the chaos a few yards ahead of you. “I need you to stay here.” Their eyes flitted back and forth behind you, taking in your surroundings. “There’s a clearing right over there. Can you stay there for me?”

You shook your head. “I want to help you.”

They pursed their lips. “I don’t know what’s going on, it isn’t safe. Please just trust me on this.” They looked over their shoulder. “I’ll find help, we’ll put the fires out, and everything will be okay, but I need you to be safe first.”

“I can help, I can keep you safe. I’m not weak.”

They let out a sigh, but it didn’t seem exasperated, more concerned. “No, you’re not weak, I don’t think you’re weak, I just…I should be the one protecting you, okay? Please let me do this.”

You nodded, but it felt like admitting defeat to do so. They nodded back, not saying a word as they turned and ran into the inferno.

You manage to stumble a few feet to the clearing, and you fall backwards into some sand. The smoke wasn’t so thick there, you could breathe more comfortably, but you could barely see your hands in your lap. As your brain adjusted to the situation you were now in, you found yourself worried about Sloan. It felt like it had only been a few minutes, but it could have been longer, and the crackling of the fire hadn’t faded at all.

You managed to get to your feet, immediately regretting it as your lungs filled with smoke. You doubled over, coughing loudly, and something knocks the wind out of you as it knocks you to the ground. You felt a considerable pressure on your chest, and as you struggled to breathe you were able to crane your neck to look at it. An armored black boot and a matching pants leg rests on your sternum. You tried to look up, but smoke obscured everything above their thigh. A gun appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and you heard it cock as it pressed to your forehead.

“Straggler, huh?” The voice was slightly muffled, but you could almost hear them laugh as they said it. “Should’ve just stayed wherever you were. Boss said no survivors.”

You wanted to beg for your life, you wanted to scream, you wanted to travel back in time an hour ago and beg Sloan to let you go into that store, just for a few minutes, but everything you wanted to do got caught up in your throat and you were completely unable to make a sound.

“No last words? Pity.” The gun pushed harder into your head, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to come to terms with your fate. You squeezed them shut, silently praying for the stranger to make your death quick, when you heard the whir of an excavation drill coming to life behind them. The foot preventing you from breathing felt lighter for a moment before it was completely removed, a loud thud to the side following as you felt something warm spray on your face. Even through the smoke, you could smell the metal.

Blood.

You were borderline hysterical. Now able to breathe, you felt sobs shaking your entire body as you breathed in lungfuls of smoke. The fast, almost painless death you were about to face was ripped away from you, and now, your fate might be much worse. The drills used to destroy packed dirt were anything but gentle. You had heard of people losing fingers, hands, entire limbs due to careless use, but the cracking of bones you had just heard had already been cemented in your brain. You were beginning to panic, wondering why it was taking so long for them to just end you already when you opened your eyes and saw a familiar hand reaching out to you.

Their yellow nail polish was chipped more than it had been earlier and blood trailed up as far as you could see in a spiral pattern, but there was no mistaking Sloan’s hand. “Are you okay?” they asked, coughing as they did. You heard another thud and their other hand reached out to you, equally stained with blood, if not more. Unable to blink, much less move, you stayed limp and allowed them to pick you up.

“Did they hurt you?” The concern in their voice was evident, and it took all of your willpower to force a sound out of your throat.

“No.” They wrapped their arms around you at this, squeezing you tightly.

“I was so worried.” Their head was pressed into your shoulder, muffling their words. You struggled to pick your arms up to match their hug, but you managed. After a moment, they pull away from you, looking into your eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded slightly. “Sloan…” your voice trailed off. “Where is everyone else?”

Tears instantly welled in their eyes. “I couldn’t find anyone. I put the fires out but I couldn’t find anyone. There’s so much blood, [Y/N].”

Blood.

You looked down at Sloan’s hand, now resting on your shoulder. The blood was still fresh, and beads of it dripped onto your shirt, staining it. “You killed someone.”

They shook their head. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what else to do.” You started to turn your head to look at the body, but everything in your heart screamed at you not to. “I only - I only hurt them because I love you.” Their grip on your shoulder tightens. “I need you to be okay. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You looked into their eyes and you saw that same intense gaze you had seen the first night you met. The butterflies in your stomach returned, but it didn’t feel like such a good thing anymore.

“They almost killed me.”

“I would never let that happen, I swear.” Their wide brown eyes were pleading, and you felt tears welling up in yours once again. One fell from your eye, and as if a dam was broken, you started to sob uncontrollably. Despite the situation lasting less than an hour for you, the stress was overwhelming and your body was finally able to catch up on it. Your chest hurt and you weren’t sure if it was the smoke clouding your lungs or a bruise from the boot that had been crushing them beginning to form.

You barely manage to get the words out. “Sloan,” you choked out between sobs, “they almost killed me.” Without a word, they wrapped you in a hug once again, stroking your hair gently. They held you like that until you were able to calm down, and when your sobbing stopped, they helped you to sit on the ground.

“It was Talon.” You looked at them as they began to explain. “We found something they wanted, and we didn’t give it up fast enough. I don’t know what it was, but they destroyed everything else.”

“What are we going to do?” Your voice was hoarse.

“I’ll contact headquarters. They can pick us up, get us out of here, keep us safe.” Sloan clenched their jaw. “As safe as they can, anyways.”

“Has this happened before?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Their eyes unfocused for a moment before they blink a few times. “This is a dangerous lifestyle, [Y/N].” You decided to accept their lack of an answer.

“I’m scared, Sloan.”

They leaned over, taking one of your hands in both of theirs. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you. I just need you to let me protect you, okay?”

You nodded softly. “Okay.”

They brought your hand up to their mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on it. “I won’t let you out of my sight ever again.”