18+ only, minors DNI !! 23 | she/her | queer and a pain in the rear iâve been on tumblr for a while but i just made this my second acct specifically for sharing and writing fics! my current (and longtime) obsession is stranger things, but iâm into tons of other fandoms too so there might be the occasional buffy post or smth đ„°
iâve just started this blog as my space for fic-writing and sharing for Stranger Things. i followed a lot of ST accounts on my original account, but i was primarily a lurker before so i plan to engage and post a lot more on this account! iâve already been working on some Eddie and Steve stories, and i hope to branch out to more characters and storylines soon. so excited to meet some people and share some writing!!
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Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine heâd turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.
a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though Iâve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but weâll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)
Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if youâd like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.
THEN, 1986.
 âWhere you headân too so in a hurry, boy?â Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around.Â
 Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.
 âI got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to âcause, cops to anger, you know the drill.â Eddie didnât even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, âKidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.âÂ
 âWhaâ?â
 âUgh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. Iâll be back by dinner, alright?â
 Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, âYou best be on your best behavior, you hear me?â
 âAlways.â Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair.Â
 While he wasnât necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him.Â
 Made Eddieâs chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio boardâEddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spiderâreinforced Eddieâs belief that heâd much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him.Â
 The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention.Â
 Someone.Â
 Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side.Â
 Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.
 He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.
 Eddie hadnât even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. Heâd shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.
 They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadnât considered himself a romantic beforeâhadnât had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasnât ashamed of it.Â
 Until sheâd graduated, and he hadnât. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasnât enough.Â
 Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins werenât possible. At least, Sheila couldnât with Eddie.Â
 He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, sheâd insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.
 Heâd spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. Heâd watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and heâd thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.
 Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. Sheâd dumped him right there and left the spare key heâd trusted her with on the table.
 And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe heâd poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.
 The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they werenât interested in being Eddieâs girl. Werenât interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didnât want him in their plans.
 Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.
 With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.
 âItâll get better, Munson. Love ainât no stranger.â He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.
 If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.
 Three days later, heâd be identifying and weeping over his boyâs body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didnât come home.
 NOW, 1989
 âWhere are you going? Itâs almost time for breakfast.â Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.
 âNot hungry! Iâll be back soon!â You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.
 Youâd almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissyâs mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.
 Yeah, youâd be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, youâd never understand.Â
 When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.
 Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.
 Youâd come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadnât even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.
 Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying.Â
 You didnât even want to be there but you had no real choice. Youâd graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that youâd simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom youâd been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you werenât exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job.Â
 Youâd gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldnât be nearly enough to cover it, and youâd literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beingsâ lifespan.Â
 So, living with the ârents was checked off on your list of things you didnât want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And heyâyou were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day youâd be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?
 Your mother was murdered.
 Yeah, that was a bummer. Couldâve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good olâ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earthâs crust, and theyâd eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.
 Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional.Â
 The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college youâd been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldnât say you were a deadbeat yet.
 Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but youâd easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and sheâd successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.
 And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkinsâ Cemetery.Â
 Morbid, sure, but you couldnât help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than youâd ever felt before, youâd gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself.Â
 Youâd arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldnât pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.
 Youâd stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.
 Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because youâd taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. Youâd been able to make out the word âheâ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace.Â
 The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of deathâ1986âhad been left. It was 1989. No way his grave shouldâve looked like that.
 Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, youâd gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. Youâd ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. Youâd taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought heâd like surrounded him now and youâd even planted some bluebells.Â
 He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting.Â
 So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.
 When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didnât see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didnât seem keen on remembering the dead.Â
 âHope you havenât been lonely without me,â You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. Youâd have to âborrowâ Lauraâs shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, âI missed you.â
 It was a little odd, but you did.Â
 When you werenât at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?
 âI know, I know.â You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, âI was just here last night.â You imagined he would say.
 âI just canât stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I canât see it because youâre dead, and that makes me want to know you more.â You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, âIâve said it a million times, and youâve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but youâre the only one who understands me. And youâre the only one here that I care aboutâprobably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think Iâm weird, and I donât want to drag her down with me.â
 Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name youâd crafted for him.
 The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.
 You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all youâd have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him.Â
 You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, âWould you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? Iâm somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?â
 You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined heâd confirm it, too. Just out right say, âNah, these assholes hated me.â
 âYeah, looks like weâre two peas in a pod.â Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, âOr, you know. Casket.â
 You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.
 âGoddamit, why do you have to be dead?â Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.
 But he wasnât, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, âHEY!â
 You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, âYOU AWAKE?â
 What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.
 âYEAH!â You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring.Â
 âHe can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he canât see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when Iâm not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?â
 You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. âEh, what do you know, youâre just a man, too.â You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.
 âDespite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.â You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your motherâs. While she had a pension for religion, it wasnât something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with youâfelt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?
 âPretty, huh? It was my momâs. Sheâs dead, like you. You wouldnât happen to have seen her around, would you?â You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldnât dare step near the willow, so theyâd probably be with him for the rest of eternity, âI want you to have them, take care of them for me.â
 You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didnât fall from their place, âMm, you look good in them. Better than I do, Iâm not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.â
 You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, âNothing too gaudy, of course. Thatâs what my earrings are for.âÂ
 Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, âI gotta go. Chrissyâs dragging me to a party tonight, so Iâve got to mentally prepare for that. Youâll think of me while Iâm away, wonât you?â
 Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss.Â
 âIâll be back soon, and this time I wonât forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.â
 And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasnât you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.
 You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didnât care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked.Â
 âI donât wanna go.â You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. Youâd just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, âIâll just stay home.â
 âNot on my watch!â Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, âThis is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.âÂ
 You scowled at the idea, âI have met people.â
 Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, âPeople who like you, sissy.â
 Ouch, thereâs that brutal honesty.
 âItâs not good for you to be on your own all the time,â She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, âI worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.â Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.
 You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldnât change that.Â
 âThat blush isnât the right shade for you, sissy.â Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, âYou really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because youâre already beautiful.âÂ
 Didnât feel like it.
 Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, âWait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!â
 You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.
 âNo, Chrissy I-I donât think that would work on me. At all.â
 Chrissy waved off your concerns, âItâs not about the tan, or even if you can tan. Itâs the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,â It didnât. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, âI feel amazing about myself.â
 âAre you sure thatâs not cancer?â
 âYouâre so funny!â Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, âSissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldnât I?â
 Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didnât have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands.Â
 âAnd I can. Please, let me do this.â
 You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.
 After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.
 Youâd selected your tan level, positive you wouldnât see any real results but maybe the âexperienceâ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldnât get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.
 You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once youâd stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.
 You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.
âIâm so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.â
 Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, youâd come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. Youâd tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.
 Your step-sister had been apologizing since.
 âItâs alright. I survived.â And you wanted to forget about it.Â
 You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.
 âSoâŠhow are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?â She asked, thankfully changing the subject.Â
 âItâs fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.â Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what youâd have to pay to attend a university.Â
 Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.
 âSee any cute boys?â And then, as an afterthought, âOrâŠgirls?â Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, âOrâŠ..anyone?âÂ
 You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driverâs seat.Â
 âOkay, spill.â
 Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadnât thought about him too much. Hadnât allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. Thatâs how people got their hopes up and letdown.
 âSissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. Iâm your only friend!âÂ
 This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.Â
 âOkay, okay!â Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush.Â
 âSteve Harrington.â
 âSTEVE HARRINGTON?â She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.
 âSissy, thatâs so unexpected! I havenât really seen him since high school but I didnât think heâd be your type.â Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
 âHe works in the library.â You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. Heâd been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, âAlways makes those cute displays with recommendations.â
 âGood for him,â She commented, sounding impressed. âI didnât really know he was intellectual. Wasnât, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.â
 You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, âDidnât they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?â
 âYeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.âÂ
 You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.
 âAnd anyways, Iâm not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they canât call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I havenât heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.â You could feel her eyes on you again.Â
 âDoes he flirt with you?â
 âNo.â
 âSee him flirt with any girls?â
 âNope.â
 âDoes he still make his hair all big and poofy?â
 âLooks more voluminous than poofy.â
 Chrissy hummed, âAn improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?â
 You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, âNo, I donât think so. If anything, heâs introspective.â
 âHeâs on the spectrum?â
 Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, âOh. No. Thatâsâthatâs not what that means. I just meant heâs thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.â
 It got quiet for a few moments.
 âWell,â Chrissy broke the silence once more, âHe might be there tonight. Iâm not sure if theyâre still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.â
 You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, youâd witnessed him throw some guyâs backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish youâd known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most.Â
 She didnât pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissyâand this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyoneâand she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like sheâd sucked on something sour. One day, youâd like to give her your fist to suck on.
 âPatrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.â
 âReefer Rick?â
 âYeah, heâs the local drug dealer now. I mean, heâs always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.â
 Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, âHe died?â
 Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, âYeah, Eddie Munson.â
 Munson.
 You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, âEddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?â
 You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, âI think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.â
 Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, âThatâs beastly, what the fuck?â
 âI know,â Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. âI didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scaryâappearance and mannerism wiseâbut he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didnât deserve that.â
 âHow did he die?â You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didnât like where this was going. Didnât like it one bit.
 âWell, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldnât even get her dadâhe worked at the stationâto show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didnât like him. No one knows who did it though.â
 You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didnât like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.
 Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.
 Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.
 âOh, sissy. Youâre such an empath. Donât be so sad, I know itâs a horrible story, but heâs resting now. In peace.â
 âNo, heâs not. They fucked up his tombstone. He canât even be dead in peace.â You huffed, furious on his behalf.
 âHow do you know?â Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.Â
 âI go there a lot, itâs nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. Iâve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. Heâs my favorite.â
 Despite the horrors youâd learned, the thought of MunâEddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.
 âH-Heâs your favoriteâŠ?â
 âYeah. I feel thisâŠ.connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.â
 âYouâŠ.should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. Thatâs really weird. Thatâs really weird, sissy.â
 You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didnât understand you.Â
 âWell, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure heâs not forgotten.â You snapped, âItâs not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.â
 Chrissy eyed you skeptically, âWell, then thatâs nice of you, I guess. Just donât go around telling everybody about that, or youâll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.â
 âHe hasnât talked back to me yet.â
 Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, âSee, now thatâs funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. Youâll be a riot.â
 You smirked, staring out the front windshield. Youâd let her think it was a joke. For now.
 You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.
 You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea.Â
 âOh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasnât gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I canât look away!â
 Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.
 Maybe a drink would calm you down.
 You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.
 âThe liquid fun is inside.â A guyâs voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now.Â
 âWhat?â You asked, tone bored, but you didnât want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.
 âAlcohol. He keeps it inside.â
 You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, âYeah, I figured that muâshhhh.â
 Oh, shit.Â
 Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.
 You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadnât gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.
 âFunny seeing you here.â
 You laughed nervously, âYeah. Iâuh, mhm.â You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.
 âSorry if itâs weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but Iâm a little nearsighted and I didnât bring my glasses.â
 You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasnât fair. It was still throwing you off.Â
 âItâsâItâs okay. Uhm, no harm done.â You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.
 âI actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.â Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.
 âOh.â
 He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles âIâm kidding.â
 OH, THANK FUCK.Â
 âOh,â And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.
 âSo,â Steve took a step closer to you, âAre you enjoyingââ
 âHey!â Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steveâs pants, âI found the keg.â
 She could eat shit, his pants were yours.
 âOh, Thank you.â Came Steveâs bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed sheâd interrupted.
 âHey, Carol.â
 Carol looked surprised that youâd even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, âHey. Hiâ sorry, how do we know each other?â
 âYouâre my lab partner.â You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl.Â
 âYay me.â The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didnât like, but she couldnât yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, âYou wanna sip, partner?â
 âCarol.â Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.
 âYouâre right, I donât know why I assumed she partied.â
 âIâll take a beer,â You could handle alcohol, had cleared your motherâs wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.
 Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldnât gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.
 When you lowered the cup, you realized youâd made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.
 Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, âPCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?â
 âOopsie.â
 But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.
 âHey!â You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadnât even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy.Â
 Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.
 Chrissy started asking you questions, about what youâd taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.
 At your confirmation, Chrissyâs frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.
 You couldnât stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.
 Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning.Â
 You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.
 You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.
 You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.
 âYou okay?â He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.
 âYou.â Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?
 âUh, yeah. Itâs me. Itâs Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.â
 He looked like Fred. You still didnât believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.
 âYou donât look so good,â Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, âLet's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?â
 He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didnât pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldnât be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.
 Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.
 âI hate parties. I donât know why I cameâwell, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess Iâm living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, Iâd much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, Iâve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.â
 âUh huh,â Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.
 âWould you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know theyâre out of high school, but weâre all still pretty young.â He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it.Â
 Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.
 âGood god, how did I pass P.E.?â The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.
 âYou like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?â
 âWall.â
 âHuh? Oh, youâre just admiring the wallpaper.â
 âGreat Wall of China.â
 Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didnât care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.
 âOh.â Was all he said when he spotted it. âStay right here.â
 Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didnât even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense.Â
 Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.
 âWe did it,â he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.
 âHere,â They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing.Â
 âThank you,â You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.
 âHuh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.â You heard him muse next to you.
 And it brought another smile to your face, âMy mom used to say that.â
 At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didnât scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, soâno.
 Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.
 Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.
 âDoes that feel good?â
 You didnât want to, but you looked down to see Fredâs hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, âWell donât just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.âÂ
 Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, âNo.â
 Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.
 You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.
 All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.
 You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long youâd even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.
 To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but youâd already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.
 Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.
 âI wish I was with you.â You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasnât alive, hating how the one person youâd unknowingly sought for comfort was someone youâd never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you werenât down there.
 You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.
 When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path youâd made during all of your visits.
 The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissyâs car hadnât been parked in the driveway when youâd walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror
 The girl looking back at you was not the same one youâd last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within.Â
 She was stuck in a life she didnât want to live and couldnât do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.
 You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.
 Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your motherâs photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.
 âWell?â Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, âWhat are you waiting for? Go get him.â
 Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown youâd ever seen.
 You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy youâd never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you.Â
 His right arm was out, palm up.
 He was waiting for you.
 You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.
 Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.
 âSissy. . .â
 âSissyâŠâ
 âSISSY!â
 You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.
 Sheâd gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect.Â
 What the hell?
 âYou better get up, sissy. My momâs losing it over the bathroom mirror.â
 You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last nightâor this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways.Â
 You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.
 âItâs okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. Itâs natural.â
 âOh my godâŠâ
 âSo, what happened last night to bring this on?â She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug youâd never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissyâs World, it was all rainbows and sunshineâat least, it had been since sheâd forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didnât expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissyâs World, youâd probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.
 You didnât see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleepâs clutches, and covered your hands with your face.
 âOoh, your kneesâŠâ
 You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddieâs grave, but in Chrissyâs WorldâŠ
 âI fell.â Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.
 âMe, too.â Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.
 Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegationsâthat were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirrorâand your dad looked like he could care less.
 âYou know,â She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, âYour dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. Iâm an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. Theyâve got seminars for people like me.â
 Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist.Â
 âLauraâŠâ Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once.Â
 âDid you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I donât think thatâs fair.â She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.
 âIt was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.â
 âActually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.â
 You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.
 âLove muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?â Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.
 âItâs a Meteorologist,â You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.
 âHoney, your daughter is a vandal. Sheâs got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurinesââ
 âThat was an accident, you didnât wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.â
 âMother,â Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. âBe. Nice.â
 âI am being nice,â Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, âBut I refuse to coddle her. Sheâs headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.â
 You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, âCan you say that if youâre a Psych Nurse?â
 Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your fatherâs arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, âSweetheartââ
 You clocked the twitch in Lauraâs eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.
 ââYouâre gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.â
 âAnd?â Laura pushed, still staring at you.
 âAndâŠ..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.â Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing.Â
 âThatâs fine, can I get ready for work now?â
 Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning.Â
 You wondered if it had been Eddieâs. Thereâs no way youâd be able to check today, youâd get home from work too late, so youâd have to check tomorrow.
 You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailorâs. You didnât really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuriesâthough luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.
 But heyâyou now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.
 You were so invested in your work, you hadnât heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didnât notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.
 You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that heâd seen you with the headgear on in the first place.
 âHey! I didnât know you worked here.â
 You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. âYeah, Iâemployed.â
 âI can see that,â He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.
 You didnât know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread youâd been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.
 âOh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? Iâve got this one on my panââ
 âTHAT WE DO!âÂ
 You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.
 âWhat can we do for you, Harrington?â Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.
 âMurrayâŠI forgot you worked here.â Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.
 âYup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.â He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash registerâand he made sure it was never him operating it, âWould like to see the government try to control me now.â
 âRight, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something onâwell, it doesnât really matter, I just spilled something on them.â Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steveâs, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.
 âMm. White wine?â
 It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, âCrush. The soda.â
 âSame thing. Weâll get this right out, my man.â
 You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.
 âHeâs a nice guy,â Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, âIâm surprised you know him, little loser.â
 You shot him a glare.
 âOh, câmon, lets not pretend youâve got an active social lifeâif I call you in for a shift, youâre available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?â
 You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers.Â
 Youâd have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.
 When he disappeared back into the office, because of course youâd have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there werenât any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.
 Then your eyes snapped open.
 Oh, god. You were a loser.
 After your shift, youâd gone straight home. Normally, youâd stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.
 A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.
 âIs there any left?â You asked, already making a beeline for it.
 âShould be a slice left,â Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.
 There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.
 âWant me to order another one, sweetheart?â Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation.Â
 âShe can eat it, love muffin. Besides, weâve got vegetables in the fridge if sheâs still not full.â
 âI said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.â Chrissy didnât sound impressed.
 âYes, we got a free soda!â
 Chrissy ignored her mom, âSissy, weâre going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?â
 You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didnât want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.
 âYeah, Iâm passing on the movie.â
 Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.
 âSissy, please? Weâve got to bond as a family, itâs crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?â She pulled you into her side.
 âReally, Chrissy, Iâm super tired.â
 âYouâre tired?â Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.
 âAll you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.âÂ
 âMom, stop.â Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, âIâm sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, Iâve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.â
 âI have finger calluses so I donât even bleed anymore,â You begrudgingly admitted, âI can take it.â
 âI bet you can.â
 After theyâd left for the movies, youâd gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldnât imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.
 You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.
 Maybe if you ignored it, theyâd go away.
 You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house.Â
 Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones youâd heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder.Â
 And it was coming from outside your front door.
 You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. Youâd just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.
 Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home.Â
 You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the strangerâno, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.
 âUuuhhhnngâŠâ
 This couldnât be happening to you, you couldnât die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!
 âSTAY AWAY FROM ME!â You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.
 You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.
 âOkay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.â You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, âNonononono.â
 You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.
 âOH MY GOD-IâM GONNA DIE! HELP!â
 Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasnât exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, youâd land on your head and break your neck.
 Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life.Â
 âOh, no.â You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. âNo, NO!âÂ
 You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didnât meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.
 Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs.Â
 You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blindedâin clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.
 âStop it!â
 âLeave me alone!â
 âGo away, Iâm just a girl!â
 The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.
 Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You werenât done yet. That creature was still out there!!!
 You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, âIâm calling the police, so if you donât want your ass riddled with bullets, Iâd suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!â
 You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.
 Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located.Â
 On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature.Â
 You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didnât attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it.Â
 Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.
 The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see itâs head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.
 When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at itâhim. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.
 Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.
 His attention returned to the phoneâshoe shapedâin his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.
 âItâsâŠItâs cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.âÂ
 He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation,Â
âOur neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.â
 âMerrrruhhhhh.â He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.
 âIâve never seen a zombie before.â You marveled, then squinted, âYou are a zombie, right? An undead?â
 It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes werenât being played fast enough to have fluid movements.
 He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead OâConnorâs Drink Before the War playing. Youâd been the last to use it.
 You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.
 âDo you like music? This is Sinead OâConnor. She makes music that heals souls.â
 He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.
 âUhm, noâI donât think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.â You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, âSheâs one of my favorites.â
 A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of youâthough he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross soundsâas you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, itâd be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasnât a skeleton.
 Man, Hollywood wasnât too far off with their interpretation.
 âCâmon,â You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, âI gotta hide you, new dead friend.â
Convince the family and friends that this guy - Steve Harrington - has got his shit together, that you're in love with one another, and he is totally, completely, one hundred percent over her (and doing just fine without her, thank you very much).
And number three:
Make sure you're the final girl (because seriously, what are the odds someone who actually pays a person, one they they don't know at all, to fly to the other side of the country and stay for an entire week just so they can be their fake date to a wedding, isn't a total psycho with a plan to kill you straight out of a horror movie?).
Essentially, aside from avoiding becoming the subject of a terribly cliched plot line, your role was simple. Memorize a few facts about the guy, schmooze the parents, maybe hold hands occasionally or something. A promise of no drama, a paid vacation, an entire week to lay in your swimsuit and write the next great novel of your generation.
You had nothing to do except hang on Steve Harrington's arm like the cute little thing you are (your best friend's words) and return home with a new dollar amount in your pathetic excuse of a bank account.
Easy Peasy, more orange in your Aperol Spritz squeezied.
So, how is it then, that you're here, lying on the floor in San Francisco, heartbroken, and covered in the red velvet cake the happy couple was supposed to be cutting into in less than twenty-four hours?
Great fucking question.
Key Things To Note: the chapter for all the warnings
Departures: Try Calling Me Baby, Like Trying On Clothes
The Taste Of Your Lips Is My Idea Of Luxury
With Their Range Rovers & Their Jaguars
Never Took Me Quite Where You Do
Your Love Is A Secret I'm Hoping, Dreaming Dying To Keep
Say You Fancy Me, Not Fancy Stuff
Move To Me, Like I'm A Motown Beat
Up On The Roof With A School Girl Crush
Is This The End Of All The Endings?
Arrivals: The One I Have Been Waiting For
đ§Ą Listen to the soundtrack for To Whom It May Concern here
heyyy fellow fic writers! i have some questions for you. iâm working on a couple of different fics right now, and iâve never posted one before, so any advice would be helpful
1. for multi-chapter fics, how much of it do you usually have completed before you post the first chapter? do you wait until youâre completely/nearly done, or do you maybe just have a small head start? for context, i work full-time in a job with zero downtime, so the amount of time i spend writing every week is inconsistent
2. how do you find beta readers? i donât have any irl friends that i can or would show my fics to, and iâve only just started this blog so iâm not following a ton of accounts, nor do i have a ton of followers. i frequently proofread my own stuff and i donât mind doing it, but i always appreciate getting feedback and maybe improving the story with some fresh eyes and fresh ideas!
3. is it supposed to be this scary? i feel very excited about my writing because itâs the most writing iâve done in years, which feels incredible, and i may be a teeeeeny bit afraid that everyone will hate my writing đŹ does it get better with time or will i always feel this worried haha
4. any additional advice or things you wish you knew before you started posting fics would be fabulous
thanks in advance! so far, all the interactions iâve seen in this community seem so uplifting and if i can be any part of that, iâd love to join in!
Summary: Youâve been married to Steve Harrington for over two years and things couldnât be better, you even someon how managed to convince your childhood bestfriend Eddie Munson and his wife Chrissy to move in next door. You feel like youâre living the dream but slowly you start to notice itâs actually more of a nightmare when Steve begins acting weird, but at least you still have Eddie. But unknown to you Eddie is also beginning to feel like life is too good to be true when his wife starts coming up with excuses to not be home, but at least he has you his bestfriend right next door. This is a series all about how you never really know whatâs happening behind closed doors and that love sometimes sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
Type of Story: This is a double feature cheater fic aka Steve and Chrissy both cheat on you and Eddie BUT it has a happy ending.
A/N: I know cheating fics arenât everyoneâs thing and thatâs totally fine I understand this can be hard for some people to read so do whatâs best for youâš
TW: Cheating, cursing, gaslighting and mentions of divorce
Status: Ongoing
Tag List: Open
Instagrams: Here
Conversations: Here
Extras: here
*This is a texting series but youâll find everything in the correct order below*
Part 1: Game Night
Part 2: Gossip
Part 3: Normal
Part 4: Smokes
Part 5: Cuddles
Part 6: Roses
Part 7: Note
Part 8: Exhale
Part 9: Employee of the Month
Part 10: Backyard bonus convo here
Part 11: Relieved bonus convo here
Part 12: Four Days
Part 13: Oil Change
Part 14: Not the First Time bonus convo here
Part 15: Porch
Part 15 part 2: Porch Convo bonus convo here
Part 16: Smooth Sailing bonus convo here convo with Steve and Chrissy here
Hey babe!! Love your writing, could you please write a smut (if youâre comfortable with that) of Eddie?
iykyk ;);)
For you? Sure thing ;)
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All Yours | (Eddie Munson x Reader)
A/N: Ok SO, as many of you know, I have NEVER POSTED SMUT BEFORE. This is my first time, and no promises it will happen again lol. But I'm feeling bold, so if this is your thing, here you go! If it's not, we will be back to our scheduled programming shortly!
(part 2, part 3)
Summary: You've had a crush on Eddie for six years, even before you had your first kiss with him during a game of truth or dare in high school. Now that you're adults, and you've been dared once again to kiss him, you make it your mission to get him to realize how much he's missed out on.
Word Count: 4.8K
Warnings: Smut, MINORS DNI PLEASE 18+ ONLY!!!!! Fem reader POV, no use of Y/N, drinking/smoking, hooking up at a party, slight dom!eddie, mirror sex, almost getting caught (but getting away with it), fingering, p in v (protected), I can't believe I am posting this on the internet lmao
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âI dare you to kiss Eddie.âÂ
Of course, thatâs what theyâd said. You picked dare because everyone at this party knew you had a thing for him - everybody except him, obviously. If you had chosen truth, thereâs no way they wouldnât have asked you about it, but they chose dare. And what were you gonna do, say no?
You just had to be cool.Â
This wasnât the first time youâd kissed Eddie, but itâs the first time youâd kissed him as an adult. A similar thing had happened back in high school at some party - even back then, you had a crush on him.Â
It was your first kiss, but nobody really knew that. Maybe they assumed, but you werenât sure. In any case, you were dared to kiss Eddie, and put in this same anxiety-inducing situation. But, like, the good kind, because it gave you an excuse to act on your feelings without having to actually say them.Â
The first time you kissed Eddie, you were so nervous it hurt, but you did your best to hide it. It was a moment where you were kissing your crush, like when does that ever happen?Â
You were all sitting in a circle, and once the dare was announced, you looked at Eddie and blushed instantly. He wasnât really paying attention, sipping on beer and barely having a care in the world. His response was delayed, but after being nudged in the ribs by the person next to him, he seemed to return to the room.Â
âOh, shit! Sorry, I was dazed out for a minute there. Am I kissing someone? Who?â It was like being dared to kiss somebody at a party was an everyday occurrence for him, with the way he was treating it. You wished you had that calmness to you, but instead your face was hot and your hands were shaking.Â
You froze, wondering how you were supposed to go about this. The dare was for you to kiss him, but the idea of initiating filled you with blind panic. How were you supposed to nonchalantly kiss Eddie Munson?? It couldnât be done.Â
A few people in the circle pointed you out to him, causing him to finally make eye contact with you.Â
âAlright! You and me, Sweetheart, letâs go.â Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, Sweetheart. Maybe he called everyone that, but it didnât matter.Â
You still hesitated, overthinking as usual. Was this supposed to be a quick kiss? A deeper one? A sweet one? A sexy one? One that was comically messy? What was the tone here? You didnât think you were cool enough or confident enough to pull off anything but a chaste peck on the lips, so thatâs what you decided to do.
You set your drink down on the ground and crawled across the circle until you were seated in front of him. He looked at you, curiously, and you figured he was picking up on how scared you were.Â
To do anything other than just kiss him with no further hesitation would have been mortifying. Imagine if youâd committed to small talk first, or given him the option to ask you if you were sure. Fuck, obviously you were sure! But it was a lot of pressure to have your first kiss with the guy youâd liked from afar for six months in front of a bunch of other people.Â
You leaned in, pressed your lips to his, and wondered how long you were supposed to hold it. After a moment or two, you pulled away, but you could have sworn his lips chased yours as if he wasnât finished yet.Â
Neither were you, but you were young, and thatâs what you did. It wasnât some big movie moment, and you didnât even talk to him afterwards because you were so embarrassed. You saw him at parties every so often, but that was it. He was your unrequited, what could have been.
That was then, and this was now. A bunch of people had reunited in Hawkins for the holidays, including none other than Eddie Munson, and there was a huge party happening in Loch Nora. You were 22, on the verge of graduation, and youâd kissed a lot of people since youâd left for college. Kissing was nothing. Kissing Eddie however? After all these years?
For a moment, you were that scared 16 year old again. But then the moment passed, and you realized something.
You could finally do what you should have done 6 fucking years ago.Â
âSweetheart!â He exclaimed at the dare gleefully. He had been paying attention this time around. âLook at us, reuniting after all these years!âÂ
He was lounging on the couch, relaxed into the corner, a beer in his hand and the remnants of a joint in the ashtray next to him. Youâd been sitting a few feet away in a chair, nursing your own drink as you attempted to maintain your perfect level of drunkenness - enough for confidence, not enough to get messy.
You took a big gulp of your drink and wiped the excess from your mouth, knowing your lips were stained red from the punch. This time, you wouldnât be hesitating. You knew what youâre doing now, and you were pretty sure you could get Eddie to break, even a little bit.
Youâd watched him kiss a lot of people over the years, jealousy brewing in you from afar as you pined for him and wished it was you. He was always the initiator, and he always had people falling at his feet practically begging for affection. He was smug about it every time, his confidence in himself and his abilities never faltering. You hated it as much as you wanted to be a part of it.Â
His gentle, tipsy smirk was still plastered to his face as you approached him. You knew he was expecting a repeat from before, and your own anticipation was killing you. His cavalier nature diminished just a little when you straddled him on that couch - there may have been enough room to sit next to him if other people moved over, but you didnât give them that chance. You felt Eddieâs thighs tense beneath you as your arms went over his shoulders and around his neck. Wasting no time, you pressed your lips to his again, just as you had six years prior.
But just for a second.Â
Your lips parted as you dove in deeper, your hands tangling in his hair. His movements stuttered in surprise, but he melted into you once you opened your mouth enough for his tongue to find yours.Â
Thereâs cheering from behind you, but you barely heard it. You were entirely focused on what you were doing - the mission at hand - and it was working. His hands wrapped around your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him. You found yourself smirking against him, breaking away only to tease him with a light brush back and forth on his plump, lower lip. With the music blaring, it was hard to tell for sure, but you swear to god you heard him moan.Â
Mission accomplished.Â
You leaned back, and this time, thereâs no doubt he chased after you, yearning for more. Good, you thought to yourself. Leave him wanting.Â
You looked at him for a moment - his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide. You used your thumb to wipe a smudge of your lipstick from his cupidâs bow, then stood up and promptly returned to your seat.Â
The game resumed. From an outside perspective, nothing major had just happened. But to you? Youâd just caught your secret loveâs attention, hook line and sinker. You know heâs flustered from the way he refuses to look at you for the rest of the game, his witty remarks disappearing almost entirely - which was especially bizarre, since he usually never shut up.Â
You assumed that, much like last time, the excitement from your night would end there. It had been six years of pining after him from afar, and not once did he talk to you. Not the Halloween Party where you boldly showed up in a bikini that left little to the imagination. Everyone had hit on you that night - except Eddie. Your love for him had made you bitter, and youâd long passed the point of hope that he would ever reciprocate, so you settled for making him realize how much heâd missed out on.Â
When the game was over and the crowd dispersed, you headed back to the kitchen for more punch. It was empty in there, as everyone else had either gone to the basement to dance or followed the guy who brought more weed. You dipped your cup into the punch to fill it, then went to grab a towel to wipe the side of it clean.Â
âHey,â you heard behind you. The voice was unmistakable.Â
âHey,â you responded, turning your head over your shoulder as you greeted him. You took a sip, feeling the burn of it - this second batch was deadly. âJesus, did they put gasoline in this?âÂ
Eddie laughed, and the sound of it urged you to turn around so you could see the crinkle around his eyes.Â
âFrom the empty bottle on the floor, Iâm thinking Everclear,â he responded, pointing at the evidence next to the trash can.Â
âAh, so basically the same thing, then.â He laughed again, then nodded. You waited for him to continue the conversation, leaning back against the counter. You caught him glancing at you up and down, so quick youâre not sure you made it up or not.Â
Hook, line, and fucking sinker.Â
âSo, about what just happened in thereâŠâ he began.Â
âWhat about it?â you said with a shrug, doing your best to play dumb.Â
âI just, uh - I wasnât expecting that. From you.â Of course he wasnât. Apparently, women who were once nervous to kiss someone had to stay that way forever.Â
âWhy the hell not?â
âWell, donât you, like, hate me?â His question took you by complete surprise, and you nearly spilled your drink.
âWhat? Why do you think I hate you?â
âUh, because you never talk to me. I assumed you were avoiding me on purpose. And then in high school you were like, disgusted to kiss me, so I just thought -â
âJesus Christ, are you serious right now?â This was mind blowing. It changed everything. âEddie, no. I had this big stupid crush on you back then and Iâd never kissed anyone before.âÂ
âYouâre fucking kidding,â he said, feeling comfortable enough to take a step towards you.Â
âOh, Iâm really not,â you responded, unsure how youâre feeling about all this. If he thought you hated him, then that would mean -
âSo, you had a crush on me?â You shrugged. âFor how long? What happened? Why didnât you say anything?âÂ
âI donât know, it was high school! Girls donât tell boys they like them in high school! Plus, you were you and I was me, and not telling you meant I never had to be outright rejected -â
âI wouldnât have rejected you,â he cut you off, his voice sincere. âNah, dude, thatâs fucking nonsense. You were, um.â He paused, and this time you knew for sure he was checking you out. âI mean, you areâŠâ
âIâm what?â you prompted, standing up straight again and taking a step towards him.Â
âBeautiful,â he answered. One word and you felt yourself melting. âCompletely out of my league. Then and now, Sweetheart.â
Your heart was singing. You didnât even care that he had the upper hand again. You were practically putty for him.Â
âThatâs, um.â You didnât have an end to that sentence. Your brain was almost entirely blank.
âAnd if Iâd known I had a shot with you, we would have kissed a lot more than two times, honest to god. I mean, look at you.âÂ
âStop,â you said, putting your hands up in front of you. This was too much. You couldnât think. âAre you fucking with me right now?â
âHell no,â he said with a shake of his head. âAsk anyone.â
âHave you asked anyone?â you wondered, on the verge of bearing it all for him. You were both adults, you could be honest - plus, you were only in the same town for the month, anyway. âLiterally everyone here knows that I -â You stopped yourself from saying the last bit. It would be ridiculous to confess your feelings for him, considering this was the first time youâve ever really had a conversation. Youâd spent lots of time together, but from different sides of the room. In a way, you barely knew him.Â
You wanted him nonetheless.Â
âIf I ask you something, would you answer honestly?â You nodded your head, but you werenât sure you could promise anything. âDo youâŠdo you stillâŠ?âÂ
âIâŠâ This conversation was not part of the plan. You werenât meant to reveal any of this, and he certainly wasnât supposed to ask. Any part of you that wanted to remain cool dissipated the moment he called you beautiful. âYeah,â you admitted. âI still.âÂ
Eddie cleared his throat. Somehow, youâve gotten within arms length of each other.Â
âHuh.â His gaze flickered down to your lips, and for a split second you thought he was going to lean in further, but a piercing voice interrupted the moment.Â
âBeer pong downstairs! Munson, you coming?â Eddie turned towards the doorway to respond, then sharply looked back at you.
âI dunno, Sweetheart, am I?â he cooed, softly. Your heart skipped at the insinuation. Holy shit.Â
âWhatever you want,â you responded just as quietly. You shared a glance, and then he faced the person in the doorway again. Â
âNot this time,â he decided. âIâll give someone else a chance to win.â The person in the doorway shrugged and walked away.Â
Now the fuck what?
-
You were alone in the kitchen again, and you felt that all too familiar uncertainty of not knowing what to do next. You were obviously going to hook up, right? Thatâs what was happening?
Eddie didnât let you think about it very long. He closed the gap between you, one hand around your waist and the other behind your head, and connected his mouth to yours with fervor. You stumbled back, but he followed you closely, like a shadow, refusing to get even an inch further from you. As if now that he had you, heâd never let go.Â
Your ass hit the edge of the counter, and in one swift motion he lifted you enough to sit on it. Your legs wrapped around him almost on instinct, your intertwined bodies pressing against each other in new, intoxicating ways. Youâre unable to stop yourself from giggling in euphoria.Â
âSomething funny?â he muttered against your lips.Â
âNo, I just - â You paused as his lips crossed your cheek and made their way down to your neck. âFuck. Just canât believe this is happening.â His teeth grazed against your sensitive skin, causing a moan to escape your lips.Â
âYou thought you could kiss me like that and I wouldnât come back for more? Youâre smarter than that, Sweetheart.â His rough hands slipped under your shirt and made their way up to your bra. You loved it, all of it, but -
âEddie, someone could come in,â you said as you nodded towards the doorway. He palmed your breast, his breath hitching at the contact.Â
âYour point?â The way he was kissing and touching you made you dizzy, and it was getting so hard to think clearly. âThey come in, they see us, theyâll leave.â
âYeah, but -â You intended to make a suggestion, but lost your train of thought. âUgh, youâre making this hard.â
âYouâre making me hard,â he said, pushing himself against you until you could feel just how hard he meant.Â
âOh, fuck.â you moaned. âBathroom. Car. Closet. Somewhere private. Then Iâm all yours.â
And you fucking meant it.Â
âAll yours, huh?â he echoed with a sigh. âAs you wish.âÂ
-
He charged towards the upstairs bathroom as you stumbled behind him, drunk off lust more so than alcohol. Nobody had seen you, because they were all in the basement playing beer pong. You were a whole two floors away from them when Eddie shut the bathroom door and locked you both in.Â
âNow, where were we?â he said as he turned around, quickly picking you up and putting you back on the counter by the sink to resume exactly what youâd been doing before. Since you didnât have to worry about anyone seeing you this time, you took the opportunity to take your shirt off, then your bra for good measure. Eddie smiled devilishly at the gesture, then his face changed to awe as he saw you bare in front of him for the first time.Â
âIâm a fool. Iâm a goddamn idiot of the highest proportions.â His head dove to your breast, biting at the soft skin wherever he could find it, while his hand traversed the curves of your waist, down to your inner thigh. His lips found your nipple and sucked on it, his tongue swirling around it until you were dizzy. âCould have had you this whole time? Fuck.â He continued feeling your body, his hand slipping underneath your skirt.
Good to know he didnât shut up even as he was actively hooking up with someone. Not that you minded in the slightest - the weakness in his voice drove you wild.Â
âToo many layers,â you muttered, cursing the cold weather and your choice to wear tights.Â
âWe can fix that,â he said after he dragged your nipple between his teeth. He used both hands to flip your skirt up and find the hem of your tights, tugging at them so aggressively that they ripped.Â
âHey!â you called out.
âSorry Sweetheart, but you asked for this when you straddled me in that living room.â After some awkward tangling of hands, legs, and fabric, you found yourself free to feel the rough skin of his hands fully on your legs. âAs if you donât want this.â He resumed kissing you, his tongue grazing your bottom lip, and you opened up for him immediately as he spread your legs to slot himself between them. âSee? You love it.â
Yeah. You for sure did.
âYours too,â you mumbled, gesturing to his jeans.
âFairâs fair,â he shrugged, unzipping and swiftly pulling them down to his ankles with zero hesitation. His t-shirt came off too, leaving him only in his boxers.
With only underwear as a barrier, you felt his hard dick so much more while he kissed you, pressing himself between your thighs and thrusting. You could feel how large he was - larger than youâd ever pictured.Â
Youâd heard things, of course. Eddie had made his way through many women in the friend group, and some of them were chatty. But even they had completely undersold just how big he was.Â
His fingers trailed under your skirt again and over the damp spot on your panties. You heard him shudder in delight when he realized just how turned on heâd made you. With a nod of your head, he shifted the fabric to the side so he could feel you proper.Â
No layers between you. It was something youâd daydreamed about for years. Youâd thought about him doing just this - his calloused fingers sliding across you, making their way to your clit and circling around it as you moaned and gasped into his lips. Because youâd thought about it so much, this hardly felt like something youâd never done before, however the pleasure you were feeling was certainly unprecedented.Â
âN-need you inside. Please,â you begged. You felt his smirk on your mouth as he slipped a finger in you, curling it up and pumping it in and out at a tantalizing speed. âOh, fuck.â You didnât expect him to immediately do it, but it was a welcome surprise. He added a second finger as his lips moved back to your neck. He sucked at a spot so hard you thought it may leave a mark - but in that moment, you didnât care in the slightest. He plunged into you deeper, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing side to side as his middle and index finger continued to slide in and out of you.Â
âSo fucking wet,â he cooed. âThis all from me?â Your labored breathing turned into a sharp exhale.
âNo, itâs from the other guy Iâm fucking right now,â you joked. He chuckled, his lips vibrating on your skin.Â
âNaughty girl,â he teased. âGood thing I love a little competition. And I always win.â His fingers curved in even further, the pace picking up until you werenât thinking coherently anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, and you needed him now.
âDo you have a condom?â you asked, breathlessly.Â
âYeah,â he said. âIn my back pocket. Itâs our lucky day.âÂ
You can say that again.
âWant you,â you muttered, your head spinning as his fingers played you like a goddamn instrument. âNeed you. Please.âÂ
He grinned, then removed his fingers from you so he could bend down and get the condom.
âStand up,â he ordered. You obliged, confused at his reasoning. He pulled his boxers down until they slipped below his cock, which was now completely at attention and so engorged you figured it must have hurt.
âShit, Eds,â you told him as you stared. âHowâd you get this hard when I havenât even touched you yet?â He finished rolling the condom on, then rejoined you at the sink.
âDonât play dumb, you know exactly what youâve been doing to me. Turn around.â You stared at him quizzically, apparently long enough for him to grow impatient. His hands found your waist and twisted you around until you faced the mirror. Your face was flushed, your lips swollen and red, and yes, he had in fact left a hickey on your neck. It practically glowed with spit, the deep purple contrasting with the skin around it. He spanked you, hard enough to sting, then pressed his erection against your ass and kissed a spot on your shoulder. âSo fucking beautiful. I want you to see how good you look while Iâm fucking you.âÂ
This wasnât something youâd ever done before - youâd never had sex in a bathroom, and certainly never in front of a mirror. Youâd be able to see both of you, and you werenât sure if that would help or hurt the cause. You werenât even sure you were going to be able to keep your eyes open, especially as he pushed you over to a bent position and lined himself up with your entrance.Â
âMmf, oh my god.â Even just the tip of him inside you was enough to make you groan in pleasure. He was going to stretch you out completely, that much was clear. You crashed to your elbows against the counter, your fucked-out reflection staring back at you.Â
âOhhhh shit,â Eddie said with an exhale as he slowly pushed himself further into you. âHoly fucking shit. You feel fucking amazing.â His arm curved around you and held you at the stomach, pulling you into him as he fucked into you. Your head dropped at the sensation, but he grabbed you by the hair with his free hand to lift you back up. âNuh-uh. Youâre gonna watch, remember?âÂ
With his hands positioned the way they were, you had no choice but to resign yourself into his agenda - your eyelids fluttering but open, staring at yourself, getting split open by Eddie.Â
âS-so big,â is the only thing you could manage to say.Â
âThink you can handle all of me?â he asked.
âPlease,â you begged. You caught him smirking in the mirror before he thrusted himself entirely into you, bottoming out with a gasp. Youâre not sure when it happened, but your face was now inches from the mirror, your breath fogging up the glass so you couldnât see yourself anymore. Eddie had long abandoned his grip on your hair, no longer patrolling whether youâre following his orders. Heâd lost himself the moment he burrowed into you, his actions switching to instinct rather than conscious decision. You laid your head down on the cool porcelain of the sink so you could angle your hips up, the tip of him finding the soft spot inside you that you so desperately wanted him to reach. âOh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh -â
You were silenced when someone tried to open the door, the handle shaking. Thank god Eddie had the sense to lock it.Â
âHey, is anyone in there?â You recognized the voice, but with Eddie deep inside you, it seemed impossible to respond - especially when he continued to slowly grind against you, pumping himself in and out.Â
âMm, yeah! Itâs me!â you managed to croak out semi-normally.Â
âOh my god hi!!! Weâve been looking for you! Have you been in the bathroom this whole time?â Eddie's hips buck against you, and your eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
âMake something up,â Eddie whispered into your ear.Â
âI -â your voice cut out when he pushed himself into you again. Stop it, you mouthed. âI spilled some punch on myself. Just - shit - just cleaning up, Iâll be out soon!â You were satisfied with your lie, feeling as if you were in the clear.
Apparently, Eddie had other ideas. His hand made its way around you and under your skirt once again.
âOh, okay. Let me know if you need help,â she said. Eddieâs fingers slid through your folds until they settled on your clit. God, you needed her gone, and soon. âYouâre welcome for daring you to kiss Eddie, by the way. You really put your all into that one. Did you see the look on his face? Thereâs no way he doesnât notice you, now.âÂ
You caught Eddieâs smug reflection taunting you in the mirror, pleased as punch by the words from the other side of the door. His fingers circled your clit, and Jesus Christ, this is so hot.Â
âMhm, yeah,â you squeaked out, moments from breaking. Eddie increased his speed, forcing you to bite your own fist in order to muffle your moaning.Â
âAre you okay? You sound like youâre crying.â You heard Eddie chuckle behind you as he continued fucking into you, harder now. That with the combination of his hand rubbing you caused that all-too-familiar sensation to build within your stomach. You were going to come, and you werenât going to be able to stop it.Â
âIâm fine, just need to be alone a bit!â You took a deep breath before speaking so you could get a full sentence out, before biting on your hand again, hard enough to leave marks.Â
âOkay, take your time!â your friend said through the door.
âYeah, Sweetheart, take your time,â Eddie mocked, his lips pressed to your temple.Â
All you had to do was hold on until the steps faded from outside the door. A couple more seconds. Your hands clutched the sink like it were a life vest while his hands grasped and grabbed at you, every touch sending you into orbit.Â
âFuck!â you exclaimed once you heard her go down the stairs. âEddie, Iâm so fucking close.âÂ
âMm, fuck. So fucking good. â His motions were sputtering now, his rhythm off. He was close too, you could tell. âCome for me, Sweetheart. Want to feel it happen. God, you already feel so good. Can you be a good girl and come for me?âÂ
Well, if his begging you the first time wasnât enough, the second time really did it. The coil snapped as you unraveled around him, your body molding to his as he fucked you through wave after wave, his own orgasm chasing yours. By the time you were both done, you were fully pressed against the cold counter, his body on top of yours, your breathing deep and erratic.Â
âWow,â you breathed.
âYeah.â
âThat was -â
âYeah.âÂ
-
After you peeled apart, cleaned up, and redressed yourselves, you felt that feeling again of not knowing what to do next. Like, where did you both go from here?
âSo, um.â You were staring at each other like idiots. It was absurd. âThat was fun. And, uh, long overdue.â
âDid I live up to expectations?â he asked, smirking.
âYeah, Iâd say you were top-fucking-notch, Munson.â He cheered for himself like a total dork, but somehow it was still endearing.Â
âGood enough to maybe go again sometime?â
It was a no brainer. Youâd just had some of the best sex of your life, and there was still so much you hadnât done together.Â
But, now that the tension had melted from your body, you were able to refocus on your initial mission: Drive him crazy, while you could.Â
âIf you play your cards right,â you responded, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. You turned and unlocked the door, then headed out.Â
As you walked down the stairs, you wondered if heâd follow you. When his footsteps didnât trail behind yours, you found yourself disappointed.
But then later, as you were innocently chatting with another guy by the punch bowl, you caught Eddieâs eyes firmly on you from the other room, flickered with a new intensity you hadnât seen before from him. Almost as if he were jealous. As if that random guy could even hold a candle to Eddie. As if you could ever be in this room again and not think of Eddie. As if the sight of him finally looking at you like that didnât make you weak in the knees.
You honestly didn't care what it all meant, because you knew that this wasn't a one-time thing. You wouldn't dare let it be a one-time thing. Now that you knew what it was like, you could never go back. He could claim you, consume you, ruin you, and you'd let him.
You were all his, without a doubt - but you couldn't let him know that, yet. After years of pining, you'd gotten his attention. Now, all you had to do was keep it.
(Part 2)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me know if you want me to continue this story either below or through the Taglist! I do have some ideas đ But be warned if I do continue, I might post it on @smutstevington (because I like to keep this blog relatively PG-13). So go follow that one if it's your thing! xx
Summary: After the kissing booth, Eddie realizes that he likes you. You on the other hand have chosen to deny your changing feelings.Â
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: a little suggestive, a few curse words, kissing, enemies to lovers, a little bit of fluff at the end
AN: Well, I promised I would write another part and here it is! Thank you all so much for the love for the original story! I went ahead and tagged anyone who had expressed an interest in a part 2 and anyone else who seemed to really enjoy the original story (I hope thatâs okay). I hope you all enjoy this second part just as much as the first one!Â
Summary: Youâve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. Heâs only in town for a couple days, youâre looking for no strings, and chances are youâll never see him again anyway.
Easy, right?
That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.
mini series masterlist
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warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)
ââ
âYouâve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? Youâre not doing brain surgery, youâre just trying to get your toes wet.â
You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.
All around you people bobbed and swayed to âMonster Mash.â Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.
âWhat about that Westley guy?â
Right â the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.
âI havenât seen him.â You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. âFor all I know, he doesnât exist.â
Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.
âActually, heâs right there.â
Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when youâd thought about it. Just because heâd worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didnât mean heâd be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.
âYouâve got to be kidding me.â
But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your âcoupleâs costume,â saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.
He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.
So heâd noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein youâd walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasnât you, youâd decided tonight was the night youâd get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.
âWhat are you waiting for,â your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. âHeâs your Westley. If this isnât some weird ass fate, I donât know what is.â
Your Westleyâs smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples youâd ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.
âIs this space taken?â you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. âSo youâre the guy everyone has been talking about all night.â
âAh, yes,â he laughed, and you couldnât help but to smile at the very sound. Itâs a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. âAnd youâre the girlfriend I didnât know I had.â
âYou too, huh?â
âYeah,â he echoed, taking a step closer. âThough itâs all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.â He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, âDefinitely a compliment because, if Iâm being honest, youâre way out of my league.â
Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and heâd been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. Heâd grown up in a small town, but realized heâd only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls heâd been raised in.
So heâd ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the bandâs first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. Youâd studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasnât the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles heâd known and loved through the years.
It wasnât long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.
Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddieâs face, then drifted back to yours. âIâm taking this idiot home. Heâs in time out ââ
âNoooo,â he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriendâs neck.
âAre you coming back with me orâŠ?â Micahâs eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.
Eddie looked at you and shrugged. âUp to you, Buttercup.â
âIâm gonna stayâŠactually.â
Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, âBe careful. Have fun. Youâre beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?â
Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. âIt's too loud in here,â you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. âIs there somewhere we can go thatâs a little moreâŠâ
âPrivate?â he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. âI have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?â
âLetâs go.â You grinned.
âAs you wish.â He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.
Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.
Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.
Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. Heâd been smiling all night â at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.
The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddieâs features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.
Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint heâd tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.
But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.
He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. âGuess thatâs our cue, huh?â
âBet youâre glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?â
âSuppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesnât it?â He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.
ââ
You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up youâd ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and youâd manage without, though he wouldnât hear any of it.
As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldnât afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.
Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.
âHow do you think they know whatâŠoh, I donât knowâŠMoose Tracks taste like?â Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.
Fortunately for you, heâd removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.
âWhat?â you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than youâd originally anticipated.
âLike what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?â
âI think itâs just aâŠmix of things that remind them ofâŠyou know what?â His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute â obnoxiously so. âI actually donât know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.â
âYou want to head out?â
âI think we should,â you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.
The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what youâd intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way youâd do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.
Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things heâd brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.
âYou know, we donât have to do anything,â you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.
Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.
âItâs been a while,â he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.
âWeâll go slow,â you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.
It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.
As if heâd read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe youâd gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, youâd picked correctly.
âSuch a shame,â he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, âreally liked that dress.â
âMy turn,â you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.
He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someoneâs house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories heâd likely tell you if youâd only had the time.
âFuck it.â He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. âCan I touch you?â
You might burst into flames if he didnât. âPlease.â
âNever have to say please with me, Buttercup,â he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what heâd find there. âSweetheartâŠthis all for me?â
âDonât tease.â
A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.
âFuck, just like that, sweetheart,â he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.
And just when youâd thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.
One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.
âNot,â you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, âfair.â
âWhatâs not fair, sweetheart?â
âToo good at that.â Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. âGet on the bed.â
âWhat do you ââ
âOn the bed,â you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. âI want to look at you.â
And god, what a sight he was. Once youâd finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly â and massively impressive â hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.
âOh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,â he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.
Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.
âCan I, Eddie?â
He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.
Ruined. Youâd ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didnât want to see the end of. Not yet. âWait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But â mmm â I need you.â
He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.
âSomeoneâs impatient,â you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. âWant you inside me.â
âPatience, Buttercup,â he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to findâŠnothing. âNo. Oh shit. We didnât get condoms. Iâm such an idiot, I ââ
âShit,â you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. âWhat about your suitcase? Wallet?â
âI told you I donât exactly do this often.â
Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friendâs bathroom.
âIâm on the pill,â you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. âAnd Iâve been tested recently. Iâm clean.â
Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.
âIâve been tested since my last time too. Iâm good,â he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.
âI donât want to stop,â you whispered as he rolled onto his back.
âMe neither,â he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.
Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munsonâs lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of âthatâs a good girl,â âtaking me so well,â âlook so good full of my cock,â as you move over him.
You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.
And it wasnât gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you â but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.
As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, heâd suggested. You hadnât anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldnât say no to him.
Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.
It didnât take long before heâd grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.
And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoyaâs famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.
ââ
Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadnât noticed them last night. Hadnât noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadnât noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.
Fallen asleep â youâd both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddieâs arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.
Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town youâd volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.
âSheâs running away in the night,â he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldnât recall the last time youâd done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. âOrâŠmorning, I guess?â
âI have work,â you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.
He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact heâd seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.
Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didnât take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.
âDo you have to go?â he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.
âI guess I have a few minutes,â you suggested coyly.
And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew heâd never forget.
You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadnât dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween â at least, not until now.
âI canât walk back to Micahâs in that,â you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.
âWait â I have an idea!â
Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was âCorroded Coffinâ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.
âYour band?â you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.
âYeah.â He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. âYou know, you could see us some time.â
You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.
âI canât say that Iâll be in California any time soon,â you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.
He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadnât realized that youâd be coasts apart in only a couple of days.
âWellâŠâ he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.
Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only youâd met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.
âMy number â for the place Iâll be staying at for the next couple months,â he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. âMaybe, I donât knowâŠwe can talk?â
âI can do talking,â you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldnât be utilizing the number.
It was better this way; he was better off this way.
You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.
The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.
Another time, another place, another day maybe.
And that day was not today.
Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find sheâd already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.
âYouâre home late,â she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. âIâm assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.â
âSorry, sweetie,â you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. âIâŠwe had fun.â
âIâm going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Donât think I didnât notice,â she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like sheâd received the best news of her life.
âI accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.â You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.
âYou like him,â she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.
You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much â he deserved so much.
âWe had sex, thatâs all. And heâs leaving for California in a few days. Iâm never going to see him again. So it doesnât really matter, now does it?â
ââ
It hadnât felt real. For days, youâd doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.
First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours youâd taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like youâd been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, youâd still felt like it wasnât enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.
There was also the fact statistics were on your side. Youâd done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldnât beâŠthat, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.
It wasnât until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctorâs office a little over a month after Halloween that youâd even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants youâd definitely not thought about even once since youâd spent the night with him. And you most definitely didnât picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.
No.
Not at all.
Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the babyâs heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, theyâd said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences youâd barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limitâyour head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micahâs place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.
She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. Sheâd accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest â and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when heâd eventually poked his head in â as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.
And later, when your tears had dried and sheâd plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, âPlease justâŠtell me itâs absolutely Westleyâs and not Paulâs.â
âSix weeks,â you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the babyâs father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, âDefinitely Westleyâs.â
Though you werenât sure if that made it any better.
âI just want you to know itâs going to be okay,â Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. âI know we donât have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. Itâs yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.â
Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what youâd told yourself was the reason why youâd delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didnât want kids â always the chance heâd want to pretend it never happened and that he didnât want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, youâd set your mind on being a mother, and youâd do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all youâd had was a night fueled by lust, because you werenât interested in anything more than that.
Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.
Eddie, Iâm pregnant.
Eddie, Iâm pregnant.
Iâm pregnant.
Youâd rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly youâd moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micahâs hand tight as you swiped the manâs number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldnât answer or youâd caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.
You winced. âUhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?â
A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. âUh â uh, yeah. This is him.â
He sounded gruffer than you remembered â voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that youâd spoken much that night. Maybe heâd caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since youâd seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already â someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micahâs hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.
âHiâŠIâm sorry Iâm only calling now. Busy, you know?â A lie, because youâd never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. âItâs theâŠgirl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.â
He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. Heâd been looser the night you met â louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey heâd drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way heâd made you fall apart around him again.
It seemedâŠstrange now. Cut off, cold even.
âIâmâŠpregnant. I just ââ You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, âI just thought you should knowâŠbecause itâs yours.â
There was another prolonged pause.
Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret â still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. Youâd already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didnât want anything to do with it, just so theyâd never feel like they were missing out.
Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, âWho is this again?â
You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micahâs. Micah mouthed out âBreathe,â even though you were doing anything but.
steddie fan art community!! i have an IDEA and i CANNOT DRAW and i think it should exist if anyone wants to try it out
iâm imagining the scene from Legally Blonde after Elle and Warner break up and heâs driving next to her telling her to get in the car, except itâs Eddie yelling from the van that Steve needs to get in (except maybe instead of a break up, they just had a dumb fight):
Steve is just walking down the sidewalk, huffing and crying.