munson-enthusiast

[munson-enthusiast]

bit of lip balm

[munson-enthusiast]

STARBOY

[munson-enthusiast]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[munson-enthusiast]

Almost, Always

♥ ��          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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[munson-enthusiast]

hold my heart and watch it burn |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: your first christmas apart and it's proving to be a lot harder and lonelier than you thought.

contains: i mean, you know i'm gonna write christmas angst lmao. so angst. divorce. ex-husband!eddie. dad!eddie. mentions of loneliness. of fighting. language. holiday blues. divorce blues. just sad but a little better at the end? maybe? kinda?

"Jude!" Your voice drops, breathy with a stern hiss that your eight year old ignored, running ahead through the crowds of people bustling through the ridiculously busy Starcourt Mall.

Lucy's small hand in yours, you pulled her through the crowds of people, dodging a woman and her twenty shopping bags that swung when she turned, nearly taking you out.

"Jude Wayne, stop." A rare tone of your voice came out, void of it's usual lightness that you always used with the kids- a tone that you usually reserved for their father.

"Woah," Your shoulders tensed, fighting back a grimace at the squeal Lucy let out, wringing her hand out of your grip. Speak of the devil, you thought, lips pursing to hold back the snarl you wanted to give. You wouldn't, not in front of the kids, no- you'd keep it civil for them, even though you wanted to smack the smug, dimpled grin that greeted you when you did finally look at him.

"Hi, sweetheart." Eddie hummed, eyes rolling over your figure, hoisting Lucy on his hip.

Your lips twisted, fighting back an eye roll. "Hi," You snapped curtly, turning to Jude, bending at your knees to get to his level. "Jude, you can't run through the mall, honey. You have to stay with me-"

"-Ah, he was just excited, baby." Eddie grinned, nodding at the young boy, who looked so much like him. "Weren't you, Jude?"

"Yeah, Mama." Jude nodded, lips curling in a positively sweetly devious grin- just like his Daddy's. You could feel your heart melting already. "I just want to see Santa. I hafta tell him the things on my list or he'll-"

"-You will, Jude." You sighed, the start of a headache pulsating dully at the base of your skull. "We'll walk to the line right now, and you both can tell Santa what you want, ok?"

Jude nodded, still walking ahead in quick, excited steps. Your eyes cut to Eddie, looking past him towards Lucy. "Surprised you showed up on time." Your tone clipped, quiet enough that the kids couldn't hear but that he did.

Eddie scoffed, a snort of air. "Showed up on time to see my kids? That's not very nice." Eddie's tone stayed light though his eyes narrowed when they looked at you.

"The truth isn't always nice, is it?" You quipped, turning forward to look at Jude.

"You act like I don't come to every thing they do." Eddie retaliated, a low hiss in his tone that left your jaw clenching with a familiar bubbling rage. "Really trying to make me into the deadbeat dad, hm?"

"I can't make you into anything." You scoffed. "But if the shoe fits-"

"-You're really doin' this?" Eddie's voice dropped, jaw ground tight with irritation. "Really? Today you're gonna start this?"

"I'm not starting anything." You snapped, a little louder than you meant to, eyeing Jude and Lucy carefully. "You're the one who's usually late to things. It's a fact."

Eddie scoffed, a light airy laugh leaving his lips that made your blood boil, nails digging into your balled fists. "Please. You think I don't know what this is about?"

"What?" You snapped, brows furrowed at him.

"Oh, c'mon, you're pissed about Trina." Eddie turned, looking at you fully.

You knew he had to see the way your heart dropped, sinking into a burning pit in your belly, filled with ache.

Trina was a bartender at The Hideout, she'd been one since you and Eddie had started going, and one you'd always felt a little wary of. The way she'd giggle and bat her eyes at Eddie- she'd been a catalyst to a few fights when you were still together.

Last Saturday morning, Eddie was late coming to the house to get the kids.

"Rough night?" You giggled, his hair wild, eyes puffy with lack of sleep- a look you'd seen too many times before, one that was always a sign he was hungover.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. I went out, and got a little... ya know," Eddie had muttered, running a hand down his face. "Had to shower because I smelt like smoke and didn't want Lucy's allergies actin' up, and I had to take Trina to her apartment, then I had to get gas, and-"

"-Trina?" You'd nearly spat. "From-From The Hideout, Trina?"

"Yeah, we, uh, we kinda went out last night." Eddie wouldn't meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you. "I mean, you've been goin' on dates, and... ya know." He lifted his hand, nervously running his fingers through his bangs, a habit he'd always had.

You noticed the gold band missing from his left hand for the first time since your wedding, stomach dropping as he walked in, greeted by your children's excited squeals.

You were sick in the bathroom after that.

Now, your stomach still flipped, still burned with a familiar nauseating ache. Standing in line, trying to feign excitement listening to Jude and Lucy babble on and on about what they wanted Santa to bring them, trying to ignore the spiraling thoughts that consumed your mind.

The same thoughts that kept you up at night, tear stained cheeks pressed into the pillow next to yours, that still smelled like Eddie- the one he'd slept on three nights before his date with Trina. Did he know he was going out with her when he laid there next to you? Was he thinking of her when he had slid into you that same night? When he kissed you so fiercely, so full of love that it left you dizzy, did he wish it was her instead?

A piercing wail of a infant cut through your thoughts, taking another zombie like step towards the front of the line. Jude was bouncing, eyes so wide an intense, honed in on the older man in a red suit juggling the screaming baby to a photo.

"What're you gonna ask for Luce?" Eddie hummed, bouncing the four year old on his hip with a grin.

"Play Doh," Lucy gave a toothy smile. "The ones where you can make the rings." She shoved her chubby finger towards Eddie with emphasis.

"Oh, you gonna make some rings for Daddy?" Eddie grinned, glowing from the inside out- damn him, he was a good dad. Your heart fluttered when he wiggled his own fingers at her playfully, rings shining dully under the white Christmas lights of the mall. "I've been needin' some new ones."

Lucy laughed, silly infectious giggles that had your lips tugging in a grin, your hand smoothing over the wool of Jude's jacket. "You ready Luce? You're next." You cooed, stepping up to the bright candy caned line.

A bored teenage 'elf' looked at you with a less than jolly expression, waving them over as the kids ahead went bounding towards the mall Santa.

"Stay with Jude. Hold her hand, Jude. We'll be right over here." Your voice tightened, not moving until her hand was in his, scampering towards the next marker. "Smile pretty!"

"C'mon," Eddie muttered, his hand softly on the small of your back. "They're good."

You glared at him, huffing and pulling away from his grasp. "Don't talk to me like that."

Eddie sighed, tired and bored. "Like what?"

"Like that," You sneered, voice low as you stood behind the gate with the other parents, watching their kids as they told Santa their lists. "You don't have to be so condescending."

"Condescending." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just like that." You snarled, turning away from him, lips in a tight, annoyed line. "Like you always are."

Eddie nodded, slowly, tongue running on the inside of his cheek. There was a tense pause, both of you looking forward wordlessly.

"Look, I don't know what pissed you off so bad, if it's the Trina thing or-"

"-Can you not do this?" You bit in a hushed hiss. "Watch your kids. Don't make this about us." Your chin jerked towards Jude and Lucy, who were too enthralled with climbing on the fake sleigh to look back at two of you, which you were thankful for.

Eddie laughed humorlessly, an airy, unamused snort of air and you could feel him stiffening beside you. "Fine."

The eye roll you gave was so fierce it left you with a headache between the brows, fingers tapping on your crossed arms, trying to ignore him- to be present for your kids, enjoy and embrace the moment, but dammit was it hard. When he always had to have the last fucking word. Flashbacks of countless fights spun through your mind like a rolodex.

You managed enough cheer to mask the tension, greeting Jude and Lucy with their waving candy canes. "Did you tell Santa what you wanted?" You cooed, a hand running over Lucy's head.

"Yeah," Jude hugged your waist. "I told him I'd been really good, but will you tell him too, Mama? When you talk to him later."

You smiled, warm with content at his childlike innocence. "Of course." You nodded. "Let me pay for your photo and you can take it to Papa Wayne-"

"-I got it." Eddie muttered, still not looking at you, already flicking through the bills of his wallet, handing them to the cashier dressed like a elf.

"Let me pay you my half." You frowned, slinging your purse forward, pulling the zipper.

Eddie shook his head with an eye roll, nodding at the cashier, before stepping to the side. He sifted through the change in his palm, plucking out two quarters and handing them to Lucy and Jude. "Here, go get something out of the gumball machine."

Lucy and Jude squealed with excitement, bounding towards the array of candy and toy machines in the middle of the mall, ignoring your shout of warning.

"They already have a candy cane." You looked at Eddie with a bored expression. "So you're giving them more sugar?"

"Jesus Christ, it's the holidays." Eddie huffed. "Thought this was your favorite holiday?"

"It is." You countered, arms crossing over your frame defensively.

"Then quit bein' so mean." Eddie shook his head. "Just 'cause you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you." Your lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything is about you."

Eddie let out a laugh, teetering on mocking and mean. "I- you know what, I give up." He shook his head. "Stay in your foul mood, whatever."

His hand fell on the white envelope on the counter, pulling the small photo out, handing it to you. "Here. Merry Christmas." His words fell flat, filled with irritation. "I'll have them back by eight tonight."

You fought back a snarl, looking at the grinning face of your children on the glossy photo, two identical smiles that reminded you so much of the man you loved- used to love.

"C'mon, let's go see Papa." Eddie clapped, grinning at the kids. "Tell Mama bye." His eyes met your with a forced grin, teeth nearly baring at you.

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, bending to hug each of them, pressing a kiss to their cheeks. "Be good, ok? Tell Papa I said hi."

Your eyes met Eddie's, a beat of silence between both of you, nearly challenging the other to speak first, to admit defeat. Neither of you did.

Eddie gave a curt nod, turning in the opposite direction with your children through the ever growing crowd.

You felt incredibly lonely, walking to your car silently, a sinking feeling in the pit of your tummy.

"Fuck-" Your fingers brushing the tip of the box, pushing it further back onto the shelf, away from your grasp.

Your annoyed huff echoed off the concrete of the garage walls, settling back on your tip toes. "Are you fuckin' serious? Ed-" Your words were strangled in your throat, heart dropping with sudden realization.

He wasn't here.

You should've been used to it by now. The house was empty, quiet even with the stereo playing. You'd turned it on, shoved a worn Christmas cassette tape in and tried to drown out the miserable silence that filled the house.

It used to be a tradition, just for the two of you. You and Eddie would drop the kids off at Wayne's going back home to wrap all the gifts you'd hidden. Eddie was always in charge of that, hiding them in the hard to reach, clever places around the house. You'd make hot toddies on the stove, Eddie would put on your favorite Christmas cassette without asking, and you'd spend the evening wrapping gifts.

Your first Christmas, Eddie had been so excited, positively beaming as you wrapped little onesies and teething toys- small gifts for Jude, but Eddie still boasted with pride. "Can you believe we're really doin' this? We're parents. Real parents wrapping real gifts for our real kid. Isn't- That's just fuckin' insane."

Now, you were alone, wrapping gifts for your kids and filling out the gift tag just to them for the first time in years.

The feeling was anything but joyful, sitting on your couch alone while Rudolph played lowly in the background. The hot toddy you'd made didn't nearly lift your spirits the way you hoped. No, if anything, it only made you feel worse.

Maybe it had been a mistake- the divorce. The thought had consumed you since you'd heard about Trina. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe the divorce was too much. Maybe you should have gone to therapy instead. Why else would you be feeling like this? Alone and miserable and full of regret. Were you just jealous? Was it the longer, darker days and colder weather messing with your mind? Or was it really that you-

"Hellooooooo!" Jude's sing-songy scream had you jumping, the hot liquid sloshing over the edge of the mug, splashing on to your reindeer printed pajamas.

"In here." Your voice was tight, not passing for the cheery tone you were hoping.

Two sets of feet bounded towards you as you set down your mug. Jude and Lucy came in, babbling with excitement about their day with Papa Wayne, still in their snow boots and coats.

"Mama, we saw Papa today an-and he asked me if I could make him some extra reindeer food so he can have some for his roof too, so Santa doesn't miss him." Jude jumped in your lap, eyes bright and wild as he told his story with excitement.

"Did he?" You grinned, unzipping Jude's jacket gently. "We'll have to make him some, won't we?"

"Yeah." Jude nodded, looking over at the tree. "Are those for us?" His eyes widened.

"Not until Christmas." You pointed at him. "Or I'll take them all back."

Jude pouted, eyes darting towards the screen. Your eyes cut towards Eddie as he helped Lucy out of her little snow boots, shimmying them off carefully and putting them by the door. The ache in your chest only grew.

You stood, crossing the living room towards the entry way. "Hey, Luce," You cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she flung herself at you. "Did you have fun today with Papa?"

"Yeah," Lucy giggled, hanging off your leg. "We gotta see the lights."

"The neighbors," Eddie muttered, his gaze not meeting yours, looking at Lucy instead. "They have a bunch of light displays now. Decked out the whole trailer. She really liked it."

"That sounds like fun." You smoothed a hand over her head. "Why don't you go see what Jude's watching? Let me talk to Daddy for a minute. Ok?" You tracked her as she bounded towards the living room, plopping next to Jude on the couch.

An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and Eddie before you even turned around.

"So, um," You swallowed, rocking back and forth on your slippered toes. "Sounds like they had a good time." You lifted your head, looking up at Eddie.

"Yeah, they had fun." Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes flickering from you to the frilly garland over the door. That same dreaded pause came back, filling the space between you.

"I'll head out," Eddie broke the silence, your heart lurching at his words. "I'll, uh, be back tomorrow morning, if that's cool? Stop by and-"

"-Wait," Your tone was fiercer than you meant it to be, Eddie's eyes told you that. "I-I just-" You turned towards the kitchen, heart hammering with a steady thud in your ears.

"I, uh, I made hot toddies." You swallowed your hammering heart. "Why don't you- I mean, if you want one, yo-you could stay for a while. Put the kids to bed, ya know, if you don't have plans or whatever." You muttered, cringing at how juvenile you sounded. You sounded like you were back in high school, stammering the same way you had when Eddie first asked you out.

Eddie's lip curled in a small smile, running a hand over his face. "Sure." He shrugged, shedding off his worn leather jacket. "Thank you."

You shook your head gently, turning towards the kitchen, ears ringing with the dull beating of your heart, barely registering the squeals of laughter from Jude and Lucy in the other room. You ladled the steaming contents into a festive mug nearly robotically, brain numb with the same swirling thoughts that made you feel like you were underwater- washing away in the strong current of your own mind.

Your slippers felt like weights, dragging your body across the hardwood floor towards the living room, passing Eddie the steaming cup. His hand brushed yours, sending your system flooded with electric excitement.

As you settled back into the cushions, your body relaxed- just for a moment. The kids were squealing, babbling and giggling about their afternoon with Papa. Rudolph still playing lowly in the background. Eddie next to you, sipping out of his mug. For a moment, the lights strung on the tree felt brighter, warmer.

For a moment, it felt like home again.

That sickening realization had your stomach lurching, pulling you back into the cruel reality that none of this was permanent. Eddie, the lights, the happiness- it was all temporary. It would be gone tomorrow.

You wished it wouldn't.

Your mind at war with itself, filled with conflict and regret as you tried to mask it, giving fake grins and exaggerated coos that half heartedly passed for truthful.

"They're finally asleep." Eddie's voice had you jumping, the mug slipping through your hands into the sudsy water.

You turned, chin hooking over your shoulder to face him. "You were probably right. All that candy wasn't the best idea." Eddie gave a tight grin, his eyes sparkling dully, just enough to have your heart skipping. "They got even more at Wayne's too."

"I told you," You sighed softly, a playful hum in your tone. Still, it wasn't convincing enough, not for Eddie.

Eddie frowned behind you. "What's goin' on with you?" He didn't miss the way your spine went rigid.

"What?" You voice pitched, high like it was when you were lying- when you were hiding something. That hadn't changed since high school.

"Don't- c'mon." Eddie gave a soft huff, accompanied by an eye roll. "Just tell me what's goin' on."

"Nothing's goin' on-"

"-Don't lie to me." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "I've known you too long. You think you can lie to me and I won't know? Please."

Your lips tugged in a smile you tried to hide, turning back towards the dishes you were finishing up. Eddie moved beside you, hip leaning on the counter next to you.

"What's on your mind, baby?" His voice was so gentle- you hated that it was exactly what you needed, that he knew it was exactly what you needed.

You swallowed the ever growing lump in your throat, fighting the swell of tears that was already forming.

"Hey, c'mon, sweetheart," Eddie's hand pressed to your cheek, cupping it sweetly, his rings pressed to your skin. "Talk t'me, baby. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Your voice was as strained as the words you struggled to get out.

"Baby," Eddie eyed you playfully. "I know we're not together anymore, but I still know you and you can- what's wrong?" He froze, his hold going rigid at the first shake- a tremble of emotion that was a telltale sign you were about to break.

"Did I say something? I was just- hey, don't cry. Don't cry." Eddie cooed, gathering your face in his hands, pulling you towards him.

Your lip trembled, biting back a sob that tore its way through anyways, vision flooding with tears that built on your waterline.

"Is this- Is this about Trina? Because I didn't- Nothing happened, we just went out. Well, I mean, she kissed me, but I didn't- I really didn't-" Eddie's voice rose in panic, rambling, frantic at the watery sob you let out.

"Please, hey, please don't cry? I'm not- fuck, baby, I didn't- I thought it would be ok, be-because you'd been on a few dates, and I thought it would be a good thing."

"It is." You blubbered, sniffling wetly, wiping your eyes with the back of your rolled pajama tops.

"Then why are you crying?" Eddie frowned lightly, pads of his thumbs wiping over the apples of your wet cheeks catching your tears.

"I just..." Your eyes pinched shut, jaw clenching to keep in another sob. How could you tell him? You couldn't. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to so badly.

"Just what?" Eddie's voice dropped. "Tell me."

He could feel your trembling breath, his own heart squeezing with constricting fear before you spoke.

"I just... I miss this." Your voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to see his reaction.

"I-I didn't know how much I would miss just... just us all being together, and I really fuckin' miss it, and I think," Your breath hitched, heart stilling entirely with hesitant fear.

Eddie held his own breath, eyes wide, looking at you with a wild gaze like he knew what you were going to say.

"I think," You swallowed around your words, strangled in your throat. "I... I made a mistake."

Eddie's heart leapt so fiercely he thought it tore through his rib cage. His body eerily still, unable to move.

"I didn't know you going out with someone else w-would make me feel... this bad, and," Your eyes shone, the strung lights in the kitchen catching in your tears. "And I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." Eddie's lungs constricted with those words, feeling breathless and light headed.

"I don't like spending the holidays without you." Your voice squeaked, teary and upset, face crumbling with the admission you'd been holding in for too long. "I don't- I don't like being without you, an-and I think I made a really bad mistake and I-I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so-o sorry-"

Your teary face pressed to the soft material of his t-shirt, your cry muffled into his chest. Eddie held you close to him, as tight as he could, his own head spinning now.

He'd dreamt of this, longed for this moment since you'd fist served him the papers. The day had finally come, one he thought he'd only see in his head- you coming back to him, taking it back, taking him back.

Only it didn't feel as triumphant as it did in his head.

Not with you sobbing into his arms. Not with his head spinning so fiercely he thought he might still be dreaming.

"It's alright," Eddie soothed nearly robotically, staring ahead out the window towards the darkened street as he soothed your sobbing apologies. "We'll- We'll figure it out, baby. We'll be alright."

Every time you both felt like you found your footing, finally on stable ground, you were back here- falling with horror back into uncertainty.

Even as Eddie held you in the kitchen, or later when he slipped into bed with you, both of you whispering and sniffly under the sheets, it wasn't new but it wasn't the same as it was before.

You weren't sure if it would ever be the same as it was before, if you'd ever have what you had before. Even if you replicated the same traditions, hung the tinsel in the same place, retraced your footsteps exactly as you did the year before; it would never hold the same feeling as it once did.

[munson-enthusiast]

…And Leave You With Nothing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F! Reader (18+)

Content Warning: Emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics, verbal conflict, mild physical aggression, manipulation, jealousy, intense arguments, physical violence, fighting, blood/injury, aggression, and cringe fest 😜.

Summary: Eddie is willing to do anything to talk with you.

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics !!!

Tags 🏷️ : @somethingvicked @prideandaesthetic

The air felt especially fresh tonight, crisp enough to make you take a deep breath and tug your coat just a little closer. Robin’s dad dropped you off at the curb, giving you a quick nod before driving off into the night. You’d been promising yourself to offer him gas money soon. Between him and Steve shuttling you to and from work, it was starting to feel like a debt you needed to pay—not that you ever asked for help. You sigh, reaching into your bag for your keys, when a familiar sound—a soft throat clear—makes you freeze.

It’s him.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice is low, almost tentative. He rises from the shadowed bench outside your house, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets as he takes a few cautious steps toward you.

You don’t even think before you turn on your heel, making a swift move to walk the other way, but his hand catches your wrist, just firm enough to hold you still. “What are you gonna do, go for a midnight stroll?” he scoffs. “You realize how dangerous and stupid that is, right?”

You wrench your arm back, shooting him a glare that could cut glass. “You know what’s really stupid, Eddie? Trusting someone who swore up and down that I had nothing to worry about.” Your voice shakes, and you hate that it does.

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. “Look, it’s… it’s not what you think. Can we please just talk?”

“I think we’re done talking,” you say sharply, brushing past him with a shoulder-check that would knock anyone else off balance.

“Babe, come on!” He calls after you, his voice laced with desperation, but it only spurs you to keep moving.

Finally, your fingers close around your keys, and you unlock the door, stepping just inside. Turning one last time, you lock eyes with him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s ready to say something—something that might change everything. But you won’t give him that chance.

“I expect my things back tomorrow,” you say, voice cold and final. “I’ll have yours ready too.”

And then you close the door, shutting him and his excuses out into the night.

—

“No way!” Steve exclaims, barely pausing to swallow a mouthful of pizza, his eyes wide with shock.

“I wish I was joking!” You take a sip of your soda, feeling the exhaustion of recounting it all.

You and Steve are on break, sitting in the food court, the noise of other diners humming around you. You’ve just filled him in on what happened last night. After you left Eddie standing outside, you expected him to go home. Instead, he’d stayed on your porch all night, waiting. This morning, he’d been at your door again, relentless in his attempts to talk to you, practically holding you hostage in your own house. Eventually, your mother, exasperated and protective, had called Chief Hopper, who came over to convince Eddie to leave before he wound up getting charged with trespassing.

“So, you’re like...really done with him?” Steve’s voice is cautious, as though testing the waters.

You let out a heavy sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “I have to be. He paraded Roxanne around just to get under my skin, and then he…” Your voice trails off, a lump forming in your throat. Steve’s hand reaches out, his warm palm resting on yours in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You manage a small smile, even as a single tear slips down your cheek.

“Let’s get back,” you say softly, brushing the tear away. “Robin’s probably itching to take her break.”

The two of you toss your trash and make your way back to Scoops. As you approach, raised voices from inside catch your attention. You exchange a glance with Steve, and without a word, you both quicken your pace, pushing through the door.

Inside, Robin stands, arms crossed and eyes blazing, trying to block Eddie from heading to the back. “Eddie, I’m warning you,” she says firmly, “leave now, or I’m calling security.”

Eddie only laughs, defiant and almost unhinged. “Hopper couldn’t even keep me away,” he taunts, his gaze flicking over Robin’s shoulder. “You really think some mall security is gonna stop me? I know she’s here, Buckley—just let me talk to her. Please.”

“You’re not talking to anyone. You’re done here.” The sudden edge in Steve’s voice makes everyone turn. You’re surprised at the shift in his tone; it’s protective, firm, and completely unlike his usual laid-back demeanor. Slowly, he steps toward Eddie, eyes locked on him.

Eddie narrows his gaze, jaw tight. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice doesn’t waver, his stare unbreaking.

Eddie lets out a low chuckle, running his tongue along the front of his teeth with a smirk. “I was wondering when you’d finally grow a pair, Harrington.”

Robin scrunches her face in disgust. “Ugh, can we not do this? This isn’t the school playground.” But her words are lost on them as they continue their stare-down, neither one backing down.

“You should leave, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice low, almost daring him to stay.

Eddie tilts his head, accepting the challenge. “And if I don’t?”

Before things can escalate further, you step forward, placing a gentle hand on Steve’s arm. “Steve, please don’t,” you murmur, trying to defuse the tension. “Come on, just leave it alone.”

Steve’s expression softens the moment he feels your hand, glancing back at you with concern. But the sight only fuels Eddie’s frustration. His eyes darken as an idea takes root, and he sneers.

“Oh, I get it now,” Eddie says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve always had a thing for my girl, haven’t you, Harrington? Now that I’m out of the picture, you’re swooping in, playing the knight in shining armor. Trying to compensate for the fact that Nancy dumped you? What was it, huh?” His words turn venomous. “She saw what you were really packing and decided it wasn’t enough, so she ran to Jonathan—”

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to finish. With a flash of movement, Steve’s fist connects with Eddie’s face, the punch landing with a force that sends them both crashing to the floor. In seconds, they’re locked in a furious grapple, fists swinging as they roll across the tile. You and Robin rush in, frantically trying to pull them apart, but their anger has them locked together, fists and insults flying.

It takes a few bystanders stepping in to finally separate them. Two hold Steve back while Eddie sits slumped on the floor, blood trickling from his nose, staining his shirt.

You quickly take Eddie’s arm, helping him up. “Come on,” you say quietly, guiding him toward the bathroom to clean him up.

—

“Sit,” you say firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument.

“But—” Eddie starts, wincing slightly.

“Now!” You cut him off, your gaze sharp.

Reluctantly, Eddie sinks down onto the closed toilet lid, his eyes never leaving you as you grab a handful of rough brown paper towels and wet them under the faucet. Turning back, you tilt his chin up with a gentler touch than he probably deserves, dabbing the tissue against his bleeding nose. Eddie swallows, his hands hovering near your thighs, close but not quite touching—he doesn’t dare. One wrong move, and he knows he’ll lose whatever sliver of goodwill he might still have.

You glare down at him, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Stupid. That was so stupid. What the hell were you thinking?”

His eyes soften, the bravado slipping for just a moment. “I was trying to get your attention,” he murmurs, looking up at you almost pleadingly.

You let out a harsh scoff, ripping the tissue from his nose and tossing it into the trash. “If you wanted my attention, maybe you should’ve just made out with your new girlfriend in front of me again. That seemed to work pretty well.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he stands up abruptly, fists clenched. “I didn’t kiss her!” he protests, the words laced with frustration.

You step back, crossing your arms, disbelief etched into your face. “I know what a kiss looks like, Eddie. I’m not stupid! If you wanted to be with her so badly, you could’ve at least had the decency to break up with me instead of stringing me along for three years!”

You turn, hand reaching for the door, ready to storm out. But before you can leave, Eddie steps forward, pressing his hand against the door to hold it shut, blocking your exit.

“God, do you even hear yourself right now?” he snaps, his voice raw. “If I didn’t want to be with you, don’t you think I would’ve walked away long before now?”

You cross your arms tighter, your eyes narrowing. “Then why were you so quick to go running back to Roxy, huh? Why were you so eager to spend all that time with her?”

“Because—”

“Because nothing, Eddie!” you cut him off, voice thick with hurt. “You wanted her all along, didn’t you?”

His patience finally shatters. He slams his hands on either side of the door, trapping you between him and the cold, unyielding wood. His face is inches from yours, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation.

“Would you just listen to me, you stubborn woman,” he hisses, voice rough and raw with desperation. “I’ll admit it was stupid—hanging around her, trying to make you jealous. It was a stupid, pathetic move to get your attention. But I don’t have feelings for her. I never have, and I never will.”

Before you can react, his hands reach up, gently but firmly cradling your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are intense, every word dripping with sincerity. “I love you. I will always be in love with you. I fucking regret everything that led us here. If I could take it back, I would.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you whisper, “Eddie…”

His grip softens, and he leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his voice barely a breath. “I don’t want to lose you. Please.”

But as his face inches closer, you feel the weight of the hurt that’s been building up. With a quick move, you slip out of his grasp, his hands falling away as you step back and push open the door. Without looking back, you walk out, leaving him standing alone.

A muffled, frustrated shout echoes behind you as Eddie slams his hand against the metal tissue dispenser, the impact ringing out in the empty bathroom.

[munson-enthusiast]

BAD LUCK⚡️PT 3 | Best Friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things get a little strange and at first it’s all fun and games until you start to wonder if maybe things have gone too far…

WC: ~7.2k

Warnings: Angst, misunderstandings, reader has poor self-image, swearing, occult themes, hexes/curses, witchcraft, blood, injury, skin issues/hair loss, jealousy, possessive behavior, smut, piv sex, one spank, spitting, dark-ish!reader, everyone is 21+ 18+ ONLY MDNI

SERIES MASTERLIST

Georgina Banks was a lot of things, depending on who you asked.

To the many people of Hawkins who had fallen under her spell, she was the epitome of elegance and grace. And for years you’d watched admirers vie for crumbs of her attention while she walked all over them like dirt beneath her heels.

But not everyone loved her.

Her ruthless reign as Queen of Hawkins hadn’t been without its battles, and over the years she’d left a lengthy trail of victims in her wake. To them, she was a vile and unrepentant bully who hid her true nature — an insincere and duplicitous snake.

To you, she was your ex-best friend, cruel traitor and destroyer of lives.

She was also an unenthusiastic and reluctant witch, at least according to her mother.

The art of magic and witchcraft had been in Georgina’s family for generations, but she’d never had any interest in its practice. To her it was all just a bunch of ridiculous hocus-pocus that would take too much time away from her real interests, like makeup and shopping.

Ever since she was a child, her mother had tried to impress upon her the importance of her unique inherited gifts, repeating over and over until she was practically blue in the face that their family would never have reached their lofty status without the aide of magic.

Blah, blah, blah. So fucking boring.

Georgina had heard the same tired stories at least a million times.

Allegedly her great-great grandmother, Beatrix, had been an actual, real life witch who was respected and feared by the people of Hawkins in her day. She’d been so infamous that there were even books written about her, or at least that’s what Georgina had been told — she couldn’t actually be bothered to read them.

Legend had it that in the process of some misguided necromancy, Beatrix had managed to really piss off some evil spirits and gotten herself cursed.

In order to combat the dark magic, she had enchanted an amulet for protection and then passed it on to her eldest daughter for good luck; a tradition that continued over the years until the necklace found itself wrapped around the perfect neck of Georgina Banks on her thirteenth birthday — the combined gift of protection and a charmed life.

Such a crock of shit.

It was insulting. Was Georgina really expected to believe that a stupid spell, a necklace of all things, was the reason life always worked out in her favour? Sure, she got everything she wanted but that was because she was special — a rare beauty, brilliant scholar and natural born leader. As far as she was concerned none of that was because of some tacky old hunk of metal.

Yes, one time when she was younger and dared to leave the house without it, she’d been injured when a tree branch was struck by lightning and fell on her head — a total freak accident.

But as her mother had tearfully scolded her in the hospital’s emergency department, Georgina had promised to wear it from then on, no matter what.

And she had. Faithfully. To her surprise, over time she even discovered that if she held onto it and wished really hard for things, they sometimes came true. Like you.

Before you had moved to Hawkins, Georgina’s friends had been a challenge, always competing with her for attention and fighting against her controlling ways. Frustrated by their behavior, she’d constantly wished for the ideal friend and then one day you had appeared, and you were perfect.

You never challenged her authority and rarely spoke your mind, seemingly content to go along with everything she said. Sure, you were a bit boring and lacking in pizzazz but Georgina liked to think of you as a useless lump of clay that she could mould and shape according to her whims.

She wore you down, slowly chipping away at your sense of self-worth until she had you convinced that you were nothing without her. You were so busy putting yourself down that you didn’t realize your worth, and she was determined to make sure things stayed that way, always at the ready to fill your head with doubt.

If she had actually been capable of pity she might have almost felt bad that you were so gullible.

But then you met Eddie and even though she knew you were sneaking around behind her back, she didn’t stop you. Even though it hurt.

At first she dismissed your friendship with the metalhead as just a passing phase, a rebellion against her that would fizzle out when you realized he wasn’t worth it. It was almost laughable to think that you’d prefer to spend time with him. He couldn’t give you what she gave you. He didn’t love you like she did.

But that night at the Hideout when she’d seen the way you looked at Eddie, she had realized that she was losing you. You were going to leave her for your pathetic trailer park lover boy and then she’d be left alone all over again. That couldn’t happen.

She had done what she’d needed to do, and she didn’t regret it for a second. It was unfortunate that you had to get your heart broken, but she knew you’d come around and then everything could go back to the way it was before Eddie had entered your lives.

But then her necklace had gone missing and she’d started to have disturbing dreams. Dreadful, frightening dreams where she was trapped in a thick darkness that pulsed like a heartbeat and pressed in on her from all sides. Where she could smell the rancid stench of death as it crept ever closer until she’d wake up screaming and clawing at the sheets.

Sometimes even while awake she could hear its raspy whisper or see shadows moving on walls where nothing should have been.

Suddenly her mother’s far-fetched stories didn’t seem quite so ridiculous and the annoying prop she had resented, she found herself missing.

She needed the necklace back.

From where you stood in the doorway to Georgina’s bedroom things looked bad. Really bad.

After being startled from your sleep by an ear-splitting scream, you’d scrambled out of bed in a daze and rushed to Georgina’s room where you found her sitting in front of her vanity mirror, sobbing and clutching her face in her hands.

Even from a distance you could see that her once perfect skin was covered by large puss-filled welts and blisters that were oozing. When she dropped her hands from her face to look at you in the reflection of the mirror, you gasped out loud. She looked like a creature straight out of one of the bad B-horror movies that Eddie always made you watch.

“I’m hideous!” she wailed. “Sven promised his new experimental skin treatment was safe…that incompetent fucking liar!”

You stepped further into the room to take a closer look, not bothering to hide the smile that played across your lips at the sight of her distress.

“I was supposed to meet my friends for brunch, but I can’t go anywhere looking like this!” Her voice cracked with emotion as she stood up, knocking over her chair and nearly tripping over her feet.

She crossed the room and flopped down dramatically onto her bed, then looked up at you with narrowed, bloodshot eyes.

“Have you seen my necklace? It’s missing.”

“Which necklace?” you asked, willing your voice to remain deceptively casual.

“The one I always wear, duh.” She rolled her eyes at you with disdain, then gestured to her nightstand. “I could have sworn I left it here yesterday, but it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”

You glanced around her room and noticed it was completely torn apart and looked a lot like it had after your vent session the day before.

“Did you take it?” she asked pointedly and your face heated slightly at the accusation. It was true, but you were still offended.

Georgina got up and walked over to where you were standing near the door, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she blocked the exit. Her menacing stare-down was a move that would have intimidated you in the past, but surprisingly you felt absolutely nothing.

“As if I’d want that ugly thing,” you sniffed, jutting your chin in the air. “Maybe you should ask Eddie where it is since the two of you are so close.”

She let out an indignant huff when your shoulder knocked against hers as you abruptly pushed your way past her out the door.

When you got back to your room, you rushed over to take the necklace from its hiding place under your pillow, knowing if Georgina found it in your possession there’d be hell to pay. You decided the safest courses of action was to wear it under a high necked sweater to conceal the chain. That way there was no chance she would ever find it.

As you finished getting dressed, you could hear Georgina’s clipped voice carry down the hall.

“I don’t care if it’s his day off, he needs to fix this immediately! Do you know who I am?”

You shook your head, grateful that you weren’t the unfortunate employee on the receiving end of Georgina’s wrath.

With it being Sunday morning, you didn’t have any plans so you decided to stay in your room to avoid her and catch up on your school work. When you opened up your bag and saw the purple book where you’d stashed it the night before, your stomach did a funny little flip.

The experimental spa disaster was likely just a coincidence, but you had to admit the timing was pretty strange. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen to Georgina, but overnight it appeared her luck had suddenly changed.

Even if it was impossible, you wanted to believe that the spell had worked and that she was finally going to get a taste of her own medicine.

Your eyes burned as you thought about all of the things Georgina had taken from you. What was a little bad skin compared to a broken heart? A broken heart that you reminded yourself was all her fault.

If anything she had gotten off easy. She deserved worse. Much worse.

The next morning your eyes flew open to what sounded like a cut-off scream, but after you lay there for a few minutes and didn’t hear anything else you shrugged it off.

You sighed as you got out of bed to get ready for a busy day of school and work, hoping your tight schedule would at least help distract you from your problems. As you got dressed you once again slipped Georgina’s necklace under your sweater for safe keeping.

You headed to the kitchen and met Georgina in the hallway covered head to toe in an oversized sweatsuit and large sunglasses that hid most of her face. She informed you that she had bullied her way into an emergency appointment with Sven and you rolled your eyes as you watched her hurry out the door.

You usually hated Mondays, but the day started off surprisingly well when a cute guy who worked at the coffee shop flirted with you and gave you a free drink. When you got to school, you found out that you’d aced your English paper and that your dreaded history exam had been pushed to the following week. Later that afternoon when you arrived for your shift at the record store, your boss told you there’d been a scheduling mix-up and sent you home with paid time off.

When you got home you found Georgina sitting on the couch icing her foot. She told you she’d twisted her ankle on her way home from the spa when the heel of her shoe had broken off mid-step.

As you stood there barely listening to her dramatic tale of footwear-related woe, you watched a dark red drop of blood slowly trickle out of her nostril and fall into her lap.

“Georgina, you’ve got a little…” you said gesturing to your nose.

“Oh, eww,” she exclaimed in disgust as she quickly pulled a bloody finger away from her face. “Can you get me a tissue?” She gestured to her ankle and stuck out her bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes and left to get one as she sat there whining and pinching her nose. When you came back into the room her eyes widened as she looked over your shoulder. She let out a high-pitched yelp of terror and you spun around to see what she was looking at.

“Did you see that?” she asked in a panicky voice, and you shook your head.

“See what? There’s nothing there.”

You looked at her quizzically, but she just shook her head and let out a fake-sounding laugh.

“Nevermind, it was probably just a shadow.”

The next day Georgina wasn’t feeling well and didn’t get of bed, which was good news for you since you wanted to avoid her. You rolled your eyes as you listened to the sound of her moaning loudly in her room. She was always one for the dramatics.

You didn’t return home until later that evening after work, and when you walked into the living room you found her curled up on the couch, shivering and grinding her teeth.

“Georgina, you should be in your room,” you scolded her, and when she turned her head in your direction it was like she was looking right through you.

She shook her head, her eyes frantic. “I’m not going back in there. Something tried to grab me and pull me off the bed.”

You stared at her, bewildered, until you realized that she was still sick and had possibly become delirious with fever. You put your hand to her forehead but she didn’t feel very warm.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

You grabbed her hand to lead her to her room, and after getting her settled you turned to leave. Before you could step away her hand shot out from underneath the blankets and grabbed onto your arm, her fingernails leaving indents in your skin.

“Please don’t leave,” she begged. “I’m scared.”

You pulled your arm out of her grasp, telling yourself not to let her draw you back in. Just because she was sick and frightened didn’t erase all of the terrible things she’d done.

“Try to get some sleep,” you said as you turned to walk away, shutting off the light and closing the door.

Later that night you woke up to sound of something shattering outside your room, and when you walked into the kitchen it looked like a crime scene with blood and glass scattered all over the floor.

Georgina was standing frozen in the middle of the room in her nightgown, grasping the bottom half of a broken glass with blood running down her arm.

“What happened?” you exclaimed, trying to avoid the broken glass so you could walk closer and inspect her wounds.

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered shakily. “I got up to get a glass of water and then it just exploded in my hand.”

Her lips were trembling and she looked terrified.

Taking pity on her, you helped her to the bathroom where you got a large bandage out of the first aid kit for her to wrap the cuts on her hand. Then you left to go sweep up the shards of glass off the kitchen floor, the whole time wondering what the hell was going on. Things were getting a bit scary.

When you returned to the bathroom a few minutes later you froze in the doorway.

“Georgina…your hair,” you whispered in horror as you saw the small clumps that had fallen below her onto the white tile floor.

When she looked down and saw them she shrieked, turning to grasp at her head in the mirror. “Oh my god, what’s happening to me?”

You didn’t know what to say, even though a little voice in the back your mind whispered that it was all your fault.

“I need you to help me find my necklace,” she said solemnly as she turned to look at you.

“I already told you, I don’t know where it is,” you said impatiently. “And is that really your biggest problem right now?”

You couldn’t believe that she was worried about an old piece of jewelry with everything else that was going on.

“You don’t understand,” she insisted, her voice an urgent plea and you narrowed your eyes.

“What don’t I understand?”

“It’s a long story,” she mumbled and you sat down on the edge of the bathtub and crossed your arms, impatiently waiting for her to explain.

“I’ve never told anyone this before, but the necklace is kind of a good luck charm, and I think losing it is making all this bad stuff happen to me.”

Her eyes were haunted as she reached down to grasp your shoulder. “Please, you have to believe me.”

You looked up at her and thought of the necklace stashed safely in your room.

“What kind of good luck charm?”

“My great-great grandmother was a witch and she gave it special powers. It’s gives good luck and sometimes it even grants wishes.”

If you hadn’t been so shocked by the words coming out of her mouth you would have laughed in her face. The Georgina Banks you knew didn’t have a mystical bone in her body, let alone believe in magic. But her face was dead serious.

“I know how it sounds,” she insisted when she saw your doubtful expression. “I didn’t believe it either, but as soon as the necklace disappeared all this bad stuff started happening and now it won’t stop.”

“I think you’ve watched too many scary movies,” you said as you stood up and left to head to your room. You needed to be alone with your thoughts.

Your mind was a swirl of confusion as you paced your tiny bedroom. You’d never seen Georgina so out of control. Unpolished. Panicked.

Everything she’d said about the necklace was completely out of character, but at the same time it had seemed like she was telling the truth.

Suddenly her unbelievably good luck in life made a lot more sense — if it was true, of course. You weren’t sure what to believe.

You looked at the purple book that was half-sticking out of your bag and bit your lip, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. You had wanted Georgina to suffer a little, but you hadn’t planned on things escalating so quickly. It had only been a of couple days since you’d performed the spell and Georgina was already a mess — sick, injured, losing her hair. What if it continued and she got seriously hurt? It was so frustrating that you couldn’t enjoy her suffering because of your guilty conscience. It just wasn’t fair.

Even if somehow all of Georgina’s recent problems were unrelated to magic, you knew you were going to feel responsible until you could set things right and end the curse.

You got up and pulled the purple book out of your bag and flipped through the pages to see if you could find anything about how to cancel a spell. Finding nothing, you threw it onto the floor in frustration.

You got into bed and tossed and turned for hours, trying to think of a solution. Then suddenly you remembered the little magic shop called Spellbound that was a few doors down from the record store. Rumour around town had it that the owner was a witch and if there was anywhere in Hawkins you might be able to get help, it would be there.

Feeling a bit better, you finally drifted off to sleep, resolved to skip class and head to the store as soon as it opened.

You got up early the next morning to find Georgina already awake and sitting on the couch, a mountain of discarded tissues at her feet.

The TV was on and you gasped as you watched footage of Georgina’s father being led out of a building in handcuffs, surrounded by what looked like an army of FBI agents.

“What happened?” you asked in disbelief, and Georgina tearfully informed you that her mother had called while you were still in bed. Her father’s company had been raided overnight due to suspicious financial activity. You watched in disbelief as swarms of agents carried out what looked like hundreds of boxes of documents.

“We’re ruined!” she cried. “My mother said we might lose everything. And now my father’s in the prison infirmary with chest pains.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say, suddenly overwhelmed with a sick feeling that washed over you in waves. Without saying another word, you put on your coat and shoes and headed out the door.

When you arrived at Spellbound and walked inside the tiny shop you were greeted by the warm scent of incense and the soft tinkling of the bells over the door. A few seconds later a middle-aged woman you recognized as the owner came out from behind a velvet curtain that led out back.

She was dressed in a long emerald gown and her hands and wrists were adorned with multiple gold rings and bracelets that twinkled in the light.

“Welcome,” she said, giving you a pleasant smile. “Are you here to have your fortune read?”

You shook your head and looked around the crowded shop, feeling a bit overwhelmed at all of the curious items on display.

“I was actually hoping you might be able to answer some questions,” you said nervously.

She smiled. “Certainly, I’d be happy to help. What would you like to know?”

You looked around to make sure no one else was listening and then took a deep, calming breath.

“I think I may have done something terrible,” you admitted and she raised an eyebrow but said nothing, so you proceeded to tell her about how you’d found the book and performed the curse in an attempt to try and make yourself feel better.

“I didn’t think it would actually work, but now bad things are happening. It keeps getting worse and I don’t know how to stop it. Is there anything I can do?”

She nodded and beckoned for you to follow her to the back of the store, and then spoke in a hushed and soothing voice.

“There are things that can be done to reverse a spell depending on the curse. Do you happen to have the book with you now?”

You nodded and went to pull the purple book out of your bag. As soon as she saw it, she let out a horrified gasp. You looked up to see that her eyes were wide and frightened as she reached to snatch the book out of your hands.

She opened it up and skimmed a few pages before quickly slamming it shut, then her large eyes immediately snapped up to meet yours.

“This book contains very dark magic, not suitable for a beginner,” she said as she ran her bejewelled hand over the cover. “You said you found this, but a book like this must be summoned.”

You started to toy nervously with Georgina’s necklace and she reached out to grasp the pendant where it hung around your neck. “Were you wearing this when you found the book?”

Her eyes held yours in an intense stare as she waited for you to respond.

“What does the necklace have to do with anything?” you asked, suddenly recalling Georgina’s words from the night before.

“It is giving off a very powerful energy and I’m familiar with this symbol, it’s an ancient one used for protection and good fortune among witches. Very rare to see in this day and age.”

You reached down to run your hand over the amulet. So everything Georgina had said was true.

“If worn while experiencing strong enough emotions this type of necklace is said to be able to influence things.”

“What do you mean, influence?” You thought of Eddie and how he had acted the night at the Hideout, wondering if it possible that Georgina had been controlling him.

“Well, if the wearer is experiencing powerful enough emotions the things they wish for could come true. Did you do or say anything that could have summoned the book to appear?”

You remembered the strange thunderstorm and how you had cursed Georgina to the sky — right before you happened to find the purple book.

“I was really upset that night,” you admitted and she nodded thoughtfully.

“Can you help me undo the spell?” you asked. “I’m afraid it’s gone too far and that someone might get seriously hurt.”

“Undoing a spell of this nature can be done, but it is complicated magic. You’ll need to follow my directions exactly.”

You watched her move about the store gathering items and placing them on the counter, then she put them in a bag and started to write down something on a sheet of paper.

“You must follow these directions exactly as I’ve written to undo the curse.” She handed you the paper and you folded it and stuck it in your pocket.

As she rang up your items, she once again eyed Georgina’s necklace.

“Make sure to wear the amulet while you do the spell and keep it on afterwards,” she advised as she handed you your change. “All magic carries a price and the curse you performed released dark energy into the world. It would be a good idea to keep wearing it for protection.”

Protection. You wondered if taking the necklace had left Georgina vulnerable to your spell. Maybe if you hadn’t stolen it you wouldn’t be in such a mess.

You thanked her and as you turned to leave she grabbed onto the sleeve of your jacket.

“Please promise me you will take the book back to where you found it and never seek it again. There are powerful dark spirits that reside in Hawkins and we must never summon them lest there be dire consequences for us all.”

You nodded, but your noncommittal response wasn’t good enough for her.

“Promise me,” she repeated, gazing deep into your eyes, and you solemnly swore to her that you would return it.

When you walked onto the sidewalk outside the store it immediately started to rain, and you sighed, resigned to walk home in the storm.

It didn’t take long before you heard a familiar rumble approaching and saw Eddie’s van pulling up to curb ahead of you. He rolled the window down and stuck his head out.

“It’s pouring. Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” You shook your head and continued on your way.

The van crept along beside you as you marched down the street, keeping your head straight ahead and ignoring him.

“C’mon, don’t be so stubborn. You’re gonna get soaked.”

After a few more seconds of deliberating you decided to give in. You were miserable in the rain, but you also knew you had to stop running from your feelings. Eddie was your best friend, or at least he used to be. If he wanted to date Georgina there was nothing you could do to change that, but he needed to know that it meant your friendship was over.

As soon as you climbed inside the van you were hit with the familiar scent of motor oil and smoke that permeated the interior. The thought that it might be the last time you’d ever drive anywhere with him made your chest tighten and a lump form in your throat.

It started to rain harder and the water ran down the van’s windows in streams obscuring the street from view and making it feel like you and Eddie were in your own private world. Instead of pulling away he put the van in park then sat nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in fucking forever.” He chuckled uncomfortably, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, not since you ditched me on my birthday for Georgina.” You glanced down at your hands where they twisted in your lap. Eddie turned in his seat to face you and shook his head.

“For Georgina? What are you talking about?”

He seemed genuinely confused, but you pressed on.

“I know you hooked up with her that night, and I just—”

“No, wait,” he interrupted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Nothing happened with me and her that night.”

You scoffed as you fought back tears. The fact that Eddie would lie to you hurt worse than you could have imagined.

“That’s not how she tells it. She even raved about your magic fingers,” you said as you wiggled your hand in front of his horrified face.

“What? No! Right after you left she took off. I saw her leave with some jock who was there for the show.”

He softened his voice. “You have to know that I would never do that.”

“Then why were you at my apartment the next night? I saw your van.” You looked at him accusingly and he lowered his head.

“I know I shouldn’t have just shown up at your place, but you wouldn’t talk to me. I waited outside for a while and when you didn’t show up I went home.”

You regarded him carefully, wanting so badly to believe what he was saying. But even if he was telling the truth, it didn’t change the fact that he’d been flirting with Georgina that night. Just because she’d ended up ditching him to go home with someone else didn’t erase what he’d done.

“You ignored me and offered to drive her home. I just need to know why,” you said as you swallowed back tears. “It really hurt, especially after everything I’ve told you about her.”

He let out a long exhale and shook his head. “I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to believe me.”

“Try me,” you said. You had already heard enough strange things in the past few days to last a lifetime, what was one more?

“After I got off stage I remember walking over to see you, but after that things started to feel…funny.”

“Funny how?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“I can’t really explain it, but it kinda felt like I was in a dream and all I could focus on was Georgina.” His eyes studied your face and he cringed when he saw your expression.

“That’s called being horny, Eddie,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words.

“No, it wasn’t like that. And it doesn’t even make any sense because I…” he trailed off and looked down at his lap.

“Because you what?” you asked impatiently.

When he looked back up you noticed his cheeks were flushed.

“Because I’m in love you.”

You froze, struggling to think of a response.

“You…what?” Your voice came out as a breathless whisper.

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you and I know I fucked up. I don’t expect you to believe me—“

“I think I might.” you interrupted, meeting his surprised gaze. “I think it’s possible Georgina might have put a spell on you.”

He laughed, but then stopped right away when he saw your serious expression. “What? You mean like magic?”

“Yeah.” You pulled her necklace out from under your shirt and held the pendant up so he could see it.

“I took her necklace, and before you say anything I know that was a messed up thing to do, but I just wanted a way to hurt her after I thought…” you trailed off and he nodded in understanding.

“Last night she told me that her great-great grandmother was a witch and that the necklace is enchanted. I went to Spellbound to ask about it and they told me that it’s true. That it’s powerful enough to influence people and make things happen.”

He stared at you and said nothing, his eyes wide and unreadable.

“You don’t believe me,” you said dejectedly.

“Uh, you’re talking to Hawkins’ resident Dungeon Master. I’m more open-minded about this kind of shit than you think.” He shrugged. “It makes sense. It was like I wasn’t in control and as soon as she left that feeling went away.”

“I’m not sure how it works, but I’m starting to think that’s why Georgina always gets what she wants,” you reasoned.

“Well, let’s test it out,” he suggested. “Try to make something happen.”

You grasped the pendant in your hand and closed your eyes.

“I’m going to visualize Corroded Coffin getting a record deal.”

You remembered how the clerk at Spellbound had said you needed strong emotions for the enchantment to work, so you let all the love you still felt for Eddie fill your heart as you pictured his band getting a contract.

He was smiling wistfully when you opened your eyes. “That’s a nice thought but the label already passed on us.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Eddie,” you said sadly. You knew how excited he’d been for their big chance.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He grinned. “There’s always next time, right?”

You gave him a sympathetic smile, then looked down at the bag from Spellbound in your lap.

“Can you give me a ride home? I have something I need to do and it’s kind of important.”

He nodded and started the van.

When Eddie pulled up outside your building, you let out a sigh before you opened your door.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back in there,” you said. “I need to move out, but I don’t have enough money to get a place on my own right now.”

“Why don’t you come stay with me for a while? Just till you find somewhere else?” he offered.

“I can’t ask you and Wayne to do that.” You shook your head.

“Of course you can. Wayne loves you…and so do I.” He leaned across his seat and before you realized what was happening he pressed his lips to yours and you pulled away in surprise.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice trebling with shock.

“Well, I was trying to kiss you,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed.

You reached down to fiddle with the pendant. “What if that was just because I’m wearing the necklace?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you should take it off so we can be sure.”

As soon as you unfastened the clasp he leaned forward to capture your lips with his again. He cupped your face gently in his hands and you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his soft lips for just a moment.

“Nope, definitely not the necklace,” he said with a dimpled grin as he pulled away and adjusted slightly in his seat.

Even though kissing Eddie was something you’d dreamed about for so long, you still needed some time to sort out your feelings. It was all a bit overwhelming.

“I-I need to go now,” you stuttered and he watched in silence as you got out of the van and rushed inside your building and out of the rain.

When you walked into the apartment you found Georgina still sitting on the couch where you had left her, and when she looked up at you her face was twisted into a scowl.

“Where have you been? You just ran out when I needed you! You’re not being a very supportive friend in my time of need.”

You clenched your hand around the paper bag, trying to remain composed as all of the hate and anger inside of you swelled.

“I was with Eddie,” you said coldly, and you watched her eyes grow wide in surprise.

“I should have known from the smell of cheap cologne wafting off of you. You’re such a pathetic slut,” she sneered.

“Why did you lie to me about the night at the show? Why did you let me think you hooked up with Eddie when you really left with someone else?”

“That’s on you for being stupid enough to think I’d ever touch him,” she sniffed.

You shook your head in confusion. “I don’t understand. If you don’t want him, then why did you try to take him from me? Why did you lie?”

You were vibrating with anger.

“Why?” She laughed bitterly. “Because you don’t deserve to be happy. I’ve given you everything and you decide to repay me by choosing him? I guess trash really does belong together.“

She reached down to where her necklace would normally lay against her chest, and you caught the slight flicker of sadness that crossed her eyes when she felt that it wasn’t there.

“Did you use the necklace that night to make him want you? To try to hurt me?”

When you saw the coy smile that crossed her lips you knew that it was true, but before you could say anything else she narrowed her eyes.

“I know you took the necklace, did he put you up to it? I’ll be notifying the police and from what I hear they don’t take kindly to drug dealing losers.”

“You might not want to report any valuables right now, unless you want to have them confiscated by the feds,” you spat.

Your argument was interrupted when the telephone started to ring and when you picked it up you were surprised to hear that it was Eddie, and he sounded breathless.

“It worked. It fucking worked.”

“What worked?” you asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The record deal!” he exclaimed. “As soon as I got home from dropping you off the label called and said that they changed their mind about passing on us. They’re flying us out next week to sign a deal.”

“Holy shit.” You were so shocked that you nearly dropped the phone.

“I have to call the guys, but don’t do anything with that necklace or lose it or whatever,” he said before hanging up.

When you walked back into the living room, Georgina’s cocky demeanor quickly vanished and her eyes widened in fright as she looked at the wall behind you. She let out a terrified whimper, but when you turned you saw nothing and you realized that only Georgina could see what was there. A few seconds later the lights above you flickered a few times and you jumped when you heard a loud bang.

“What the fuck is going on?” she cried, looking at you in terror.

Your breathing became heavy and your heart was pounding like a drumbeat. Something bad was happening and you needed to do the reversal spell before it was too late.

“I’m going to help you Georgina, even though you don’t deserve it. But then I’m leaving and I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.”

You stormed down the hall to your bedroom and slammed your door, throwing the paper bag from Spellbound onto your bed.

You heard another loud bang and then Georgina cried out in fear. “Help! It’s coming! It’s coming for me!”

You tried to shut out all the noise and distraction as you pulled out the piece of paper and attempted to follow the clerk’s directions for the spell. You arranged the items as instructed trying to ignore the chaos outside your room, but the noise grew to a deafening roar as you recited the words on the sheet. When you were finished everything went completely silent.

You got up and opened your door and called out Georgina’s name, but when she didn’t answer you realized she was gone and the apartment was empty.

When Georgina didn’t turn up after a few more days, the police came by the apartment to fill out a missing persons report. You told them all about how she’d been acting strange the past few days, how she had been distressed and that her behaviour became erratic. They seemed very sympathetic to your plight. Losing a dear friend was such a difficult thing to deal with.

Due to the stress of it all you ended up taking some time off school and work, and when Corroded Coffin moved across the country to record their album, you followed them.

You and Eddie were finally together and deeply in love, and his band became an overnight success. You didn’t think that you could possibly be any happier.

Sometimes you would see a glimpse of something that reminded you of Georgina, a quick flash of clothing or similar hair in a crowd, but you never saw her again.

2 Years Later

Knock, knock, knock.

You weren’t sure how long someone had been knocking on Eddie’s dressing room door, but in the moment you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Oh…oh god.”

You bit back a moan while your sweaty palms gripped the counter that shook in rhythm with each thrust of Eddie’s hips against the plush swell of your ass.

“You gonna give me what I want, huh?” he rumbled in your ear, beckoning you to cum again before he had to go onstage. You slid yourself into an even deeper bend, arching your torso and pushing yourself against him to bounce back on his cock, desperate for your fast approaching high.

He felt you start to pulse around him and you let out a stifled cry as the pleasure crested and rolled over you in waves.

“Good girl…fuck,” he mumbled as he came, giving a few more slow rolls of his hips before he leaned over you, resting his weight on your back as he caught his breath.

Another loud knock sounded on the dressing room door.

“Eddie, c’mon man it’s showtime,” a gruff voice called through the door.

“I’ll be out a minute, Jesus,” he muttered and then leaned over you to growl in your ear.

“Gotta go. You gonna be here later so we can continue this?”

You nodded and then giggled when he gave a little slap to your ass before he walked away to fix his clothes and hair.

Eddie never went on stage without his pre-show ritual.

As you started to get dressed and tried to make yourself look presentable, Eddie gave you a kiss on the cheek and headed out the door.

Later as you walked to the VIP section surrounded by your security team, you smiled happily as you took in the energy of the large stadium crowd.

You had almost reached your seat when you suddenly froze in your tracks and felt your heart start to flutter in your chest. There in the crowd amongst all of the excited fans, was a face you hadn’t seen in years.

Georgina.

With a pair of lifeless eyes and dirty, tattered clothing she was a shadow of her former picture perfect self. But it was definitely her.

She made eye contact with you through the crowd and you watched in stunned silence as she started to push her way to the front of barrier.

As soon as she got close, you saw her eyes trail down to your chest where her necklace was buried under a few strands of costume jewelry. You always wore it to Eddie’s shows for an extra bit of good luck, even though they were so successful at that point they didn’t need it.

“I knew you took it!” she hissed through clenched stained teeth. Her voice was raspy and chilled you to the bone.

“Georgina,” you managed choke out through your overwhelming shock. “You’ve been gone for two years…where the hell have you been?”

You looked over at your security team to see if they were listening, but it was like no one else had noticed she was there.

“I know what you did,” she seethed, her eyes flashing with violent anger. “I’m going to ruin you, just like you ruined me.”

Even after two years apart you felt your pent-up hatred start to rise and your face grew hot as you stared her down.

“Get that lady out of here.” You motioned to your security guard. “She’s an obsessed stalker and she’s threatening me.”

“I’m coming for you!” she screamed as they grasped her by the arms, and you turned away to avoid her furious stare.

Suddenly you felt a warm glob of spit hit your face and slowly roll down your cheek as Georgina struggled against the security guards who were leading her away.

A cold smile crossed your face as you used your sleeve to wipe your burning cheek, thinking of the safe deposit box that contained only one small purple item for safe keeping.

If Georgina wanted revenge, you were more than ready. And this time there would be no mercy.

A/N: Well we reached the end! 👀 Thank you all so much for reading and for your support 🖤

dividers by /@thecutestgrotto

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[munson-enthusiast]

BAD LUCK⚡️PT 2 | Best Friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Turns out you’re not so big on forgiveness. Luckily, you find a mysterious object that just might be the solution to all of your problems, if only you believed in that sort of thing…

WC: ~ 5k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, heartbreak, unrequited love (for now), pining, misunderstandings, reader has poor self-image, swearing, occult themes, hexes/curses, spicy dream ft. oral f!receiving, slightly sub!Eddie, voyeurism ig?, eventual!dark reader, everyone is 21+ 18+ ONLY MDNI

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART 1

The living room was already bathed in the warm honey-orange glow of sunrise when you were rudely awakened from your sleep by the sound of the apartment door being slammed shut.

For a few blissful moments you were confused as to why you were still lying on the sofa, but it didn’t take long before the memories of the previous night all came rushing back.

Your birthday. The show at the Hideout.

The betrayal.

You listened as Georgina’s footsteps faded down the hallway towards her bedroom, then waited until you heard her door click shut before you sat up and let out a defeated sigh.

So that was that.

She’d obviously been out all night, more than likely with Eddie, and as much as you wished it had all just been a horrible nightmare, it was real.

Eventually you heard the sound of Georgina turning on the shower, and you decided to get up and make yourself some coffee while the coast was clear. After a night of broken sleep there was no way you were going to survive your shift at the record store without a caffeine boost, plus you needed a task to distract you from your thoughts.

But it didn’t work.

In the kitchen you went through the motions like you were working in a daze, unable to focus on anything other than what had happened the night before.

By the time you sat down at the table with your very questionable cup of coffee, Georgina had emerged from her room, humming a cheerful tune and looking radiant despite having been out all night. You imagined you probably looked like death warmed over by comparison.

She grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and helped herself to some of the coffee, then leaned back against the counter, sipping the hot drink in her fluffy bathrobe like it was just a regular Saturday morning.

But it wasn’t a regular morning. For you, everything had changed.

“Did you stay at Eddie’s last night?” you asked in the steadiest voice you could manage, hating yourself for hanging onto one last shred of hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding and there was some other reason Georgina hadn’t come home after the bar.

“Yeah,” she sighed with a dreamy smile, and in that instant it felt like she had sucked all of the air out of the room and you couldn’t breathe.

“You know, it’s funny,” she continued as her perfect lips curled into a sly grin. “I’ve never been with a musician before, but they sure know how to use those fing—”

“That’s enough!” you roared, slamming your mug down onto the table so hard that most of its contents sloshed over the side. You fought back tears as you watched the brown liquid pool on the polished surface. Even though you were upset, you knew it wasn’t going to help anything if you let your anger reduce you to a blubbering mess.

Georgina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at your sudden outburst. In all the years you’d known each other, you’d never dared to raise your voice at her before.

As if preparing for battle, she carefully set her mug down on the counter, pushed back her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Not backing down, you held her glare, letting all of the anger you’d pushed down for so long finally rise to the surface. If Georgina wanted a fight, you were going to give her one.

“You knew I liked him and you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Your voice trembled with rage as you eyed her with disgust. “You can’t let me have anything. I’m so sick of your bullshit, Georgina!”

“Sick of me? That’s rich,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with controlled anger. “You’re nothing without me, you ungrateful bitch. You’re lucky I even keep you around.”

You couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh.

“Lucky? Wow Georgina, you’re right. I’m so lucky that you decided to steal the guy I liked on my birthday!”

She stared at you as if confused for a moment, and then you watched her face transform into the mockingly sweet facade you’d seen so many times before.

“Stole him? Wait…don’t tell me you actually thought you had a chance?” She stifled a giggle and you could feel the stinging burn of humiliation start to creep up your neck and spread over your cheeks.

“Oh my god…you did?” She faked a look of incredulous surprise, putting all of her years of high school drama club acting to good use.

With your insecurities laid bare, you struggled to think of a response and she shook her head as she gave you a pitying smile.

“Sweetie, it was never going to happen. He’s hot and his band might actually make it. He needs someone a bit more on his level, don't you think?”

As intended, her cruel words drove into the soft cavity of your chest, all at once stealing your breath and rendering you speechless. The way she smiled at your wounded expression could have almost been mistaken for kindness, if you hadn’t known better.

But, oh, you knew.

Sensing victory, Georgina stuck out her bottom lip in an imitation of a pout.

“Now, don’t look at me like that. You’ll find someone else to have a pathetic little crush on someday. If anything, you should thank me for saving you a lot of wasted time.”

Thank her? She had to be kidding.

You clenched your fists at your side so hard that your nails bit into the flesh, but just as you were about to unleash a torrent of angry words, you were interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.

Georgina immediately rushed across the room to answer it, and a few seconds later you saw her face break out into a delighted smile.

“Of course! I’ll be there right away!”

She hung up and looked over at you with a disarmingly pleasant grin, your argument all but forgotten in her excitement.

“That was the spa at my parent’s country club. I’ve been on a waitlist for a treatment with Sven for ages and they finally had a cancellation! He’s a miracle worker!”

You watched in stunned silence as she rushed out of the kitchen to go get ready, and only a few minutes later she was dressed and headed out the door.

With Georgina gone, you slumped down further into your chair and wiped away a few stray tears that had escaped your lash line. She was right, you were pathetic. You hadn’t even managed to tell her off properly, and worse, she’d made you realize that your biggest fear was true — a guy like Eddie would never want someone like you. He’d made his choice, and he wanted Georgina.

A few minutes later the phone rang again and you reluctantly dragged yourself out of your chair to go answer it.

“Hello?”

Your heart nearly skipped a beat when you heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Uh, hey, it’s Eddie, I—”

“Georgina’s not here,” you interrupted, slamming the receiver down with a satisfying bang. Then you stood and glared at the silent phone as if daring it to ring again.

Hanging up on Eddie may not have healed the clawing ache that gripped your chest, but it had sure felt good.

After you showered and got ready for work you were about to walk past Georgina’s bedroom, when you paused in the open doorway.

Her room looked like something out of a high-end catalogue. Perfectly furnished and decorated. Perfectly organized. Perfectly…Georgina.

You walked over to her dresser and picked up a framed photo that she’d kept of the two of you from prom night. In it, she had her arm around your waist and you were both smiling brightly at the camera. You scoffed at the sight of her happy face.

Stupid Georgina and her stupid perfect smile…

Without a second thought you released your grip on the silver frame and let it fall in a loud clatter of metal on wood. Then you reached out to swat at a few of her other thoughtfully displayed trinkets, watching with satisfaction as they tumbled to the floor.

Not quite finished, you turned your attention to the rest of Georgina’s pristine room.

Her bed was topped with several carefully arranged decorative pillows and you picked one up in each hand and tossed them at the wall, releasing a desperate, guttural growl. Your vision blurred with angry tears as you violently hurled the remaining pillows and watched them land in a soft pile on the other side of the room.

Swallowing back sobs, you stormed over to her closet and started to pull her clothing off the hangers, then you grabbed a few pairs of her designer heels and launched them at random objects around the room.

As you raged, the same thoughts kept repeating in your mind over and over — like a broken record trapped in an endless loop.

Georgina had stolen the man you loved.

Georgina had ruined your life.

Georgina needed to pay.

You had just picked up her bedside lamp and yanked the cord out of the wall, when a shiny object on her nightstand caught your eye — an antique necklace that just so happened to be Georgina’s most prized possession.

She wore it all the time, in fact, you couldn’t remember ever seeing her without it. You’d asked her about it years before and she had explained it was a precious heirloom that had been passed down in her family for generations. She’d told you it had once belonged to her great-great grandmother on her mother’s side, a very powerful and respected woman in Hawkins during her time.

You reasoned that Georgina must have forgotten to put it back on after her shower in her rush to get out the door.

As you ran your finger over the silver pendant’s interwoven design you were struck with a wicked idea.

Georgina had taken away the most important thing in your life — it was only fair that you take something that was just as special to her.

Maybe you couldn’t manage to hurt her with words, but losing her beloved necklace would be a devastating blow. You picked it up and admired the way it gleamed in the light before you undid the clasp, fastened it around your neck and slipped it under your collar.

Feeling a bit better, you surveyed the wreckage of Georgina’s bedroom. As much as she deserved it, leaving her room in its current state wasn’t going to hide the fact that you’d been in there and taken the necklace. You didn’t have much time before you needed to leave for work, so you immediately sprang into action, putting her belongings back in place to cover your tracks.

Once you finished, you looked around with a sense of satisfaction. Not a single pillow or knick knack was out of place and Georgina would never suspect a thing.

With that taken care of, you grabbed your bag and quickly headed out the door.

You were unpleasantly surprised when Eddie showed up at the record store later that morning.

He mostly stuck to the back of the shop, perusing the music displays and shooting furtive glances in your direction. Not ready to talk to him, you let on that you didn’t notice he was there.

After several minutes of pretending to browse, he finally approached the counter where you sat reading the latest issue of Metal Edge.

“Hey,” he greeted you in a soft voice and you acted like you didn’t hear him, letting out a bored yawn as you flipped another page of your magazine.

“Um…hello?” he repeated a bit louder, waving a hand in front of your face.

You looked up, only sparing him a withering glance before returning to your article.

“If you can’t tell, I’m busy right now,” you said gesturing to the magazine.

“Can you just talk to me for a second?”

He sounded desperate and you paused your page mid-turn to look up at him in disbelief.

He had a lot of nerve showing up the day after hooking up with Georgina and acting like he deserved a single minute of your time. You shook your head and looked back down at the page.

Seemingly not getting the hint, Eddie stayed right where he was, staring at you from across the counter until you couldn’t take it any longer.

“Can I help you?” you finally snapped, slamming your magazine down so hard that he jumped.

“Is there…is something going on? Last night you took off so early, and then this morning with the phone—”

You cut him off with a bitter laugh, watching as his already large eyes somehow grew wider.

“You were so busy with Georgina last night, I’m surprised you noticed I was gone.”

He lowered his head to study the floor.

“Yeah, about that…” he trailed off, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I came down here to say I’m sorry. She was just…and I didn’t…look, noth—”

Eddie ran a hand over his face in frustration. Whenever he was anxious or upset he had trouble expressing himself and he knew he was doing a terrible job, evidenced by the unimpressed look on your face.

“Just give me a chance to explain, ok?” His eyes searched yours for some sign that you might be willing to hear him out. “Can I pick you up after work so we can talk?”

You couldn’t imagine that there was anything Eddie could say that would excuse what he’d done, and you certainly weren’t ready to forgive and forget.

You shook your head. “I think you should leave.”

You were proud of yourself for not backing down. Normally, you would have folded at the sight of his sad eyes and nervous stumbling, but your disappointment in Eddie far outweighed any feelings you may have had in the past.

Realizing you weren’t going to budge, he gave a resigned nod and turned to leave. You watched him walk away and just as he was about to push open the door, you called out.

“Oh, and Eddie?”

He wheeled around on the spot, his eyes wide with a glimmer of hope.

“Maybe the next time you need a record you should try the mall.”

With that you looked back down at your magazine, not daring to raise your head again until you heard the bell over the door signal that he was gone.

On your walk home from work that evening you stopped to look at the Halloween display in the front window of Spellbound, a quirky little curiosity shop located a few doors down from the record store.

Their theme was scary mythical creatures, and you couldn’t help but think of Eddie as you gazed at a dragon’s shiny painted scales and tissue paper flames. That sort of thing would have been right up his alley, or at least the Eddie you thought you knew.

Tears stung your eyes as you turned from the window to continue on your way home.

You had to wonder if everything you’d believed about Eddie had all just been a lie. His views had seemed so antithetical to everything Georgina represented, but maybe deep down he’d wanted someone like her all along. After all, he did have dreams of becoming a famous rockstar someday, and who better to show off on his arm than the lovely Georgina?

It wouldn’t have been the first time a guy you’d met had said one thing with his mouth and another with his dick, but you had never expected that sort of thing from him. Maybe you’d given him too much credit.

Lost in your thoughts, you reached under your collar to distractedly fiddle with Georgina’s necklace. You’d meant to take it off earlier and stash it in your bag, but you had found the weight of it oddly soothing.

As you ran a finger over the cool metal, you wondered if Georgina had noticed it was missing. You smiled, picturing her sad face when she realized it was gone.

At least you knew you wouldn’t have to deal with her when you got back to the apartment, as she always had plans to go out on Saturday night. You tried to think of some things you could do to cheer yourself up at home, settling on a nice, relaxing bubble bath and then watching one of your favorite scary movies. While you debated which one to watch, your troubles were momentarily forgotten until your building came into view and you were stopped dead in your tracks.

From where you stood you could see that the lights were on in your apartment and that Eddie’s van was parked just outside. He was there. They were there together.

That asshole. That absolute snake.

Your blood ran cold as you realized his visit to the record store earlier hadn’t been to apologize — he wasn’t sorry. It had just been some bullshit way to make himself feel better about seeing Georgina again.

Well, there was no way in hell you were going to risk walking in on whatever the two of them might be doing; the moving shadows you could see through the window making your stomach turn.

Overwhelmed with a sense of panic, your first instinct was to run as far away as possible — to escape to a place that wouldn’t remind you of Georgina or Eddie at all.

Somewhere quiet where you could wallow all alone in your misery.

Somewhere no one would bother you on a Saturday night.

Left with no other option, you turned and headed towards the library.

As you marched down the sidewalk the beauty of the crisp fall evening was lost on you, as each crunching step over flame-colored leaves only left you more and more upset.

Wrapped up in your thoughts, you barely noticed that the clouds above you had rapidly darkened, until you saw a flash of lightning tear across the sky. A few moments later you heard the rumble of thunder overhead and you stopped walking, shaking your head in frustration.

You almost had to laugh. Of course it would rain. Nothing could ever work out for you.

You thought of Georgina and how she floated through life, never dealing with any consequences. Why did someone awful like her keep getting rewarded by the universe while you kept getting the short end of the stick? Had you done something wrong?

Why was she the one who got to spend an evening at home with Eddie, while you were forced to walk outside in a thunderstorm all alone?

By the time the first large raindrop hit the tip of your nose, you were vibrating with anger. You were so worked up that even Georgina’s necklace felt hot against your skin. In irritation you reached under your collar to pull at it, gripping the pendant in your hand.

“ARGH!” you cried, throwing your other hand up in frustration at the sky. “Give me a fucking break! Why don’t you go pick on Georgina for a change?!”

Several vibrant bolts of lightning lit up the inky sky above you, but you ignored them and continued to stomp down the sidewalk, avoiding the stares of curious people in passing cars. You knew you probably looked ridiculous as you trudged along muttering angrily, but you didn’t care what anyone thought about you anymore. You’d finally reached your limit.

Oddly enough, the thunderstorm seemed to pass by as quickly as it came and never amounted to anything more than a few measly drops of rain. When you arrived at the library entrance, you stopped to look up at the peaceful evening sky and shrugged before walking inside.

That was kind of strange.

Once inside the library, the comforting and slightly musty scent of books hung thick in the air and you inhaled deeply, attempting to let the peaceful surroundings calm the tempest in your mind.

As expected for a Saturday evening near Halloween, it was practically deserted.

Unsure of how to pass the time, you recalled that your history professor had assigned an essay on Ancient Rome earlier in the week, so you decided you may as well grab a few books and make some notes to keep yourself busy until you had to go home.

You were walking along the aisles and had picked out a few books that looked promising, when something from the shelf above you must have been knocked loose and fell, hitting you on its way to the floor.

Rubbing your smarting head, you looked down to see that it was a slim hardcover volume, bound in soft purple cloth that was decorated with an intricate gold foil design. You opened it up and saw that its yellowed pages were filled with a delicate script that looked like poetry or some other type of short prose. Intrigued, you added it to your stack of books.

You chose a table by one of the large windows that looked out onto the park, and let out a wistful sigh at the sight of a couple walking hand-in-hand through the picturesque fall scene. You imagined they were probably off to a romantic dinner date together, or maybe home to watch a scary movie and cuddle on the…nope.

You had to stop. Those kinds of thoughts could only lead to Eddie and that was the last thing you needed.

Your eyes drifted to the strange purple book on the top of your pile and you decided to take a look.

The first page you opened up to was titled Blighting of a Harvest and appeared to be some kind of old-fashioned incantation or spell. Overcome with curiosity, you continued to flip the pages, chuckling to yourself at some of the titles that looked like they were straight out of a B-horror movie about wizards. Then you came to a page that gave you pause.

To Curse Thine Enemies. Now that one sounded interesting. You pulled the book a bit closer and read the first line.

“By the light of the full moon, recite the words that follow to steal an enemy’s good fortune and bestow a curse that shall endure for seven years minus a day.”

You thought back to Georgina’s smug face from earlier that morning and somehow seven years of bad luck didn’t seem quite long enough.

Even though you didn’t really believe in the supernatural or that sort of thing, you couldn’t help but think how great it would be if you could just say a few words and magically solve all of your problems.

You were about to turn to the next page, when you hesitated.

Even though you’d never dabbled in anything magical before, you reasoned that doing the spell could be a bit of fun. In real life you couldn’t hurt Georgina or exact a meaningful revenge, but maybe the ritual would help you feel a little less powerless. Besides, nobody else would ever have to know.

You skimmed the list of required items and saw that you had most of them at home, and for the others you figured you could probably just improvise. Cooking oil still counted as oil, right?

Your mind made up, you gathered your things and got ready to head to the front desk with the book, but when you looked inside the front cover you realized it didn’t have a checkout card. On further inspection, it had no identifying information at all.

What if you tried to check it out and the librarian took it away? You couldn’t have that.

You looked around the empty room to see if anyone was watching, and then you hastily shoved the book into your bag. You got up and with your head down, you quickly headed to the exit, then out into the cool evening air.

The whole walk home you silently hoped that nobody would be at the apartment when you arrived, and as you approached you were relieved to see that the lights were off and Eddie’s van was gone.

Once inside, you immediately set to work gathering the things that you needed for the spell; a candle, the oil, a jar, a picture of Georgina along with a few other personal effects. It wasn’t a full moon quite yet but you supposed you’d have to make do.

To set the mood you lit some incense and threw a handkerchief over your lamp to dim the light. Then you put a Fleetwood Mac record on the stereo on low volume, for some reason it just felt right.

When you had all of the items gathered, you sat down on your bedroom floor and arranged them in the specific way the book directed.

You lit the candle and took a deep and centering breath. The book said to focus on all the ways your enemy had wronged you, so as you recited the words you thought of all the terrible things Georgina had said and done to you over the years. Your skin grew warm as your emotions swelled, and you unconsciously grasped her necklace as you pictured her cruel smile and hurtful words.

When you were finished, you blew out the candle and set about putting everything away. You felt a little foolish, but at the same time it was almost as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. For the first time since the Hideout you finally felt a hint of inner peace, and that was all you had really wanted in the first place.

Before getting into bed you took off Georgina’s necklace and shoved it under your pillow, resolving to find a better hiding spot in the morning. Then you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face.

That night you dreamed of Eddie.

You were together in a strange room lit only by a ring of glowing candles that surrounded a mattress on which you both knelt, facing each other in the near dark. Flickering light danced over the walls, casting long, moving shadows that concealed most of Eddie’s form, but you could see that he was naked.

The sheer robe that you were wearing was partly opened in the front and you could feel the cool weight of Georgina’s necklace between your breasts, the knotted silver gleaming in the reflected candlelight. You ran a hand over the pendant and hummed as you gazed into Eddie’s eyes, soft and beseeching in the dim light of the room.

“Let me show you,” he entreated in a low voice that was thick and smooth like honey, and you felt the warmth of desire spread between your thighs when you saw him wet his lips.

You let the robe fall off your shoulders, and as you watched his eyes roam over your naked form, you didn’t feel the slightest hint of shame.

You felt powerful.

His heated gaze was filled with reverence and as his dark eyes drank you in, it almost felt like it was akin to an act of worship. In fact, he was worshiping you and you realized you could feel it. Hear it.

It was as if the room was buzzing with energy, and you were the source.

Behind you in the dark you could hear the sound of muffled crying but you didn’t care to turn and see what it was, or where it was coming from.

“Please,” he whispered, and you felt a stir of pity in your heart at his desperation. You grasped his chin and brought his mouth to capture yours in a tender kiss. As you parted your lips to allow his tongue to glide against your own, you heard a deep rumble in his chest and then he pushed you onto the bed.

He braced his body over yours and even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel the firm weight of his cock against your skin. You released a breathy sigh as his mouth traced a slow path down your body, taking his time to linger with each soft press of his lips.

“Let me worship you, show you.” He ran the very tip of his tongue along the smooth curve of your upper thigh, leaving a trail of tingling goosebumps in its wake. The soft curls that hung around his face tickled your skin as he moved, and you buried your hands in his hair, urging him closer to where you needed him.

He slipped a hand between your thighs, gently coaxing them apart, and you gasped when you felt his warm breath fan over your cunt. By then you were so aroused that you could feel yourself dripping down onto the sheets, and his eyes darkened when he saw the way you glistened.

He spread you open with his fingers, then flattened his tongue nice and wide, to glide it slowly through your wetness, groaning as he relished in your taste.

“Thank you.”

He breathed the words like a sigh of relief then flicked his tongue over your clit in a rapid, steady rhythm as you started to writhe beneath him on the bed.

Then letting out a feral growl, he threw your legs over his shoulders, burying his face in your pussy like he’d been starved and you were his salvation.

The sobbing noises kept growing louder and you finally turned your head in their direction to see Georgina standing in the doorway, watching you as tears ran down her cheeks.

Even though you were surprised, you didn’t tell Eddie to stop. In fact, the sight of her tears spurred you on and pushed you closer to the edge.

You threw your head back with mocking laughter as you rapidly approached your climax, gripping Eddie’s hair to grind against him as your pleasure built to an earth-shattering peak—

And then you woke up with a start, your brow covered in sweat and your heart pounding.

What the fuck.

You looked around your room letting your eyes slowly adjust to the dark as you realized that you were alone in your bed. Your initial disappointment was quickly replaced with anger — you didn’t want Eddie anymore, in real life or in a dream.

Still, you were flustered.

It was far from the first time you’d dreamed of fooling around with Eddie, but nothing before had ever felt so real. You swore you could still feel where his strong hands had gripped your thighs.

Such a cruel trick of the mind.

It took a while for you to shake off the disturbing dream and go back to sleep, and as you drifted off you reached under your pillow to run your hand over the hidden necklace.

You didn’t wake up again until later the next morning when a blood-curdling scream pierced the quiet of your apartment.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Next chapter is the final part 👀

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

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[munson-enthusiast]

BAD LUCK ⚡️ PT 1 | Best Friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You’re resigned to living in your best friend’s shadow, letting her walk all over you in her designer heels because life is just easier that way. But when she takes the one thing that matters you decide enough is enough. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

WC: ~4k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, pining, unrequited love (for now), brief mention of f!masturbation, reader has poor self-image, swearing, heartbreak, eventual smut, eventual witchcraft/occult themes, eventual dark-ish!reader, everyone is 21+ 18+ MDNI

Over the years you had come to realize that in life there were certain indisputable truths — things that you could count on happening time and time again without fail. A fumbled slice of bread would inevitably fall butter-side down. The checkout line you picked at the supermarket would always end up moving the slowest. And perhaps most notably, your best friend Georgina Banks would always get whatever she wanted.

If it wasn’t already enough that Georgina had been born into a life of wealth and privilege, she’d also been blessed with perfect skin, hair and posture. With a face kissed by the gods and perky breasts pushed sky-high in pink cashmere cardigans, she was the living, breathing embodiment of feminine grace.

And after nearly a decade of friendship you’d learned that fate would always side in her favor.

During Georgina’s reign as the Queen of Hawkins High, she’d ruled her faithful minions with a well-manicured iron fist. Most of your fellow students would have given their right arm to sit at the lunch table over which she presided, but only a select few ever managed to make the cut.

And for some reason, that included you.

You knew that people who saw you and Georgina together likely thought you made a very odd pair, and in all honestly you were just as perplexed by your friendship as everyone else.

You never quite understood why she’d chosen you to be her best friend out of all of her available options, but as much as you hated to admit it, her attention made you feel special — not a sentiment you were overly familiar with.

As a teenager you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time in front of your bedroom mirror mimicking your best friend’s gestures and style, hoping some of that Georgina magic might eventually rub off and transform you into someone more like her — popular and beloved instead of the dull, awkward girl you saw staring back at you in the reflection. It never worked, and as you grew older Georgina continued to float through life with infuriating ease while you just…didn’t.

In the grand scheme of things, without Georgina by your side to open all the right doors and secure all the right invites, your social status was even lower than the outcasts and unpopular kids, who at least got some attention, albeit negative.

You were invisible.

A true nobody. An afterthought who barely registered as a blip on anyone’s radar. A stagnant weed unable to flourish in the ever-looming shadow of Georgina’s lofty branches.

Sometimes, deep down, you wondered if that was the real reason she kept you around. It made perfect sense. You, of all people, would never pose a threat to her position as queen bee. She could rest comfortably knowing you would never try to steal her spotlight. Never put your own needs first. Never dare step out of line, lest you fall victim to social ruin.

You hadn’t exactly found it easy to make friends after moving to Hawkins while in middle school, and once Georgina had scooped you under her wing that was pretty much it. You had no one else in your corner and she knew it.

She knew you would continue to take what she dished out, all the while making her look more vibrant by comparison; a drab extra in the background of her life, blending into the scenery while she got to shine.

And oh, how she shone.

Perfect grades without opening a book. Lead actress in each year’s drama production. The hostess of every highly anticipated party or social function Hawkins had to offer.

Georgina was a natural born star.

To you it felt like everyone who met your friend instantly fell under her spell, and you’d watch with veiled disgust as people would fawn over her to a sickening degree. Teachers, children, even small animals — it didn’t seem to matter. Nobody in town was immune to Georgina’s winsome charms.

Growing up you’d even had a sneaking suspicion that your own parents wished that she’d been their child instead of you, a laughable scenario at best because there was no way in hell that Georgina Banks would have been able to endure the ordinary existence of your simple family home. No maids? No avant-garde cuisine? No, thank you.

You found the way people worshipped her to be a very curious phenomenon, because even though she was beautiful, rich and well-dressed, she wasn’t a good person. Just like a piece of spoiled fruit that looked ripe and sweet on the surface, when you finally peeled back the layers, Georgina was rotten to her core.

If you were being totally honest with yourself, you hated her.

You hated her fake smile, and the way her perfect lips would curl in callous mockery of anyone she felt was beneath her. How she could be so casually cruel without a second thought, twisting the knife in deep to make sure it inflicted maximum damage.

You hated how she treated people in general, but especially the ones she had labeled the weirdos and freaks; a wide-ranging group that consisted of anyone whose interests veered outside of shopping, parties, or anything else that Georgina deemed “normal”.

As time went on, that part started to bother you the most of all, because you just so happened to be fond of one of those aforementioned “freaks”. Very fond.

You’d become friends with Eddie Munson shortly after starting your first semester at college, when you’d taken a part time job at the local record store.

The first time he came in to buy some cassette tapes you’d thought he looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place him. At least not right away.

When you’d heard the bell over the store entrance chime, and looked up from your spot behind the counter to see a handsome man with wild long hair walk through the door, you had been intrigued. He wore a battle vest that was covered in various rock paraphernalia, and even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere before.

As you sat there watching him check out the music displays you had noticed he was cute, really cute, with big brown eyes, a defined jaw and full lips that lent a softness to his face. How had such a hot guy been right under your nose in Hawkins without you noticing? You swore sometimes it was like you lived under a rock.

After browsing the metal section for a few minutes, he had approached you at the counter and you'd silently willed yourself to try and play it cool. Something that was much easier said than done.

“Hey, do you guys have the new Metallica album in yet?” he’d asked in a deep voice that caused a slight clench of your thighs, and all you could think in the back of your mind was that it just wasn’t fair how attractive he was.

“No, it’s not in yet. Sorry,” you’d told him with a shake of your head. Then you’d smiled sympathetically at his obvious disappointment.

“We’re supposed to be getting it in on Friday,” you added helpfully. “If you want to leave your name and number I can give you a call when it gets here.” The prospect of getting to see him again was already making you giddy.

“Yeah sure, thanks.” The smile he gave you in response was wide enough to make his eyes crinkle at the corners, and the sight had caused an unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

You’d pushed a pen and paper across the counter towards him.

“I’m looking forward to hearing it too,” you had volunteered quietly as you watched him write his contact info on the sheet, and he’d looked up at you immediately, his big eyes widened in surprise.

“You like Metallica?” Eddie had tried to keep his voice casual, but could barely contain his excitement at meeting a fellow heavy metal fan — something few and far between in the small town.

“Yeah, I love them. Their last record was amazing...” you had said full of enthusiasm, before trailing off shyly. You’d wished you could think of something else a bit more insightful to say about Master of Puppets, but unlike Georgina who was a gifted conversationalist, you always struggled to find right words. Especially around someone as handsome as the brown-eyed metalhead.

After he’d left the store with a promise to come back on Friday, you’d looked down at the sheet where he had written his name and everything finally clicked into place. Eddie Munson. Of course! You were immediately hit with a vivid memory of him atop a cafeteria table back in high school, making a scene while loudly calling out the preps and the jocks. You remembered being amused by his obnoxious antics at the time, but had only dared to cheer him on inside your head. You hadn’t been brave enough to laugh out loud with Georgina perched at your side, especially considering she was one of his intended targets.

Other than the occasional cafeteria rant, you’d never really crossed paths with Eddie while you were at Hawkins High, not surprising considering his reputation and the fact that Georgina kept you on a pretty short leash. You may have forgotten about him back then, but after that fateful day at the record store, you couldn’t seem to get him off your mind.

After that day Eddie started to visit to the store on a much more frequent basis, and before long he became one of your favorite customers. Ok, the favorite.

Eddie was one of the few people you’d met in Hawkins who made you feel comfortable in your own skin. It felt amazing to spend time with someone who wasn’t always looking over your shoulder and judging everything little thing you said or did. Since you and Georgina had moved into an apartment together after starting college, you felt more trapped than ever within her controlling grasp.

You started to live for those shifts at the record store.

After a while Eddie asked for your number and you started to hang out with him outside of work, meeting up to go to rock shows on the rare occasion that a decent band came through town. He also invited you to the weekly gigs of his own band, Corroded Coffin, and you quickly became their number one fan. Well, you and the other five drunks.

It didn’t take very long for you to fall in love with Eddie; it was like he’d been created in a lab specifically for you. He could be sarcastic yet sweet, a little rough around the edges but still a bit of a dork — a perfect combination that made you swoon. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

As your feelings for Eddie grew, so did a raging battle inside you, because while you didn’t have the confidence to tell him how you felt, you wanted him so very badly. Adding to your confusion was the fact that he could get a bit flirty at times, but you were never sure if he meant it or was just kidding around.

You weren’t used to being the object of anyone’s desire, and found it hard to believe that someone like him would be interested in you. For as long as you could remember every time a guy had looked your way, he was just trying to see around you to get a better view of Georgina.

As much as you wanted to be with Eddie, you couldn’t help but worry that the signals he was giving off were all in your head. If you confessed your feelings and he turned you down, it would have shattered the one fantasy that got you through the day. You decided it was safer to keep things between the two of you platonic, at least until you could be absolutely sure.

Still, when you touched yourself late at night, it was his face that you imagined. His eyes on yours — his hands, his mouth…those lips. And when you’d finally spill over the edge into the most exquisite pleasure, it was his name you would sigh out in the dark. Afterwards you would lie there alone in your bed, wishing you could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours beneath the sheets. Sometimes the yearning was almost unbearable.

Of course, you never dreamed of telling Georgina about your crush. Eddie was so far beneath her on the Hawkins social ladder that there was no way she would have approved. It wasn’t that you cared about her opinion of him at all, but you didn’t want to let her taint that part of your life, as she would no doubt try. Your time with Eddie was something special, just for you.

To keep from having to explain things to Georgina, you hid your outings with Eddie, telling her that you were heading to the library to study whenever the two of you met up. It was the perfect white lie that you knew she’d never figure out, because the library was one place she’d never be caught dead.

Your ability to hide your friendship with Eddie was one of the few times that Georgina’s disinterest in you worked in your favor. She never noticed what was going on with you unless it affected her in some way. In fact, even though you spent most of your free time with each other, you were pretty sure she didn’t know a single thing about you. All of your time together was spent talking about Georgina — her interests, her crushes, her problems.

It was never, ever about you.

So you were understandably taken aback when your birthday rolled around and she asked what you wanted to do to mark the occasion.

“I cleared my whole night,” she’d announced haughtily, as if you should thank her. You had just stared at her blankly, not quite knowing what to say.

It just so happened that Corroded Coffin was playing a show at the Hideout that night, and Eddie had promised there was going to be a special birthday surprise just for you. Naturally you wanted to be there front row center to support your friends, but certainly not with Georgina in tow.

She never wanted to do anything unless it benefited her, so when you begrudgingly admitted that you wanted to spend your birthday at a metal show of all places, you expected her to dig in her heels and refuse to go.

You were unpleasantly surprised when she agreed to join you.

That night when you arrived at the entrance to the Hideout, you could tell that Georgina was already horrified by her surroundings. The old dive bar wasn’t exactly the Ritz, after all. She sniffed at the burly doorman when he asked for her ID like he’d somehow managed to offend her to her core. It didn’t get any better once the two of you got inside.

“I’m not sitting on these,” she hissed in a horrified whisper, gesturing at the bar stools you’d suggested as a place to wait for the show to start. “Look, they’re all grimy. This skirt is suede.”

You just rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore her complaints because you were there for Eddie, not her.

The show that night had the potential to be a really important one for Corroded Coffin. They’d heard a rumor that a talent scout for a record label was going to be in the audience, and if everything went well, it could be their chance to finally land a recording contract.

You waved at Eddie when you saw him walk out onto the stage during soundcheck, and when he smiled and waved back your stomach did an excited little flip. You were so happy that not even Georgina’s presence could ruin your mood.

Once the lights went down and the show started you decided to move closer to the stage, dragging a very reluctant Georgina behind you. The entire set you stared up at Eddie from the front row like he hung the moon, your eyes locked on his large hands as they coaxed the most incredible sounds out of his guitar that you’d ever heard. You’d never seen him play with such fiery passion.

You got a nervous lump in your throat when he finally zeroed in on you in the crowd, flashing you an adorable dimpled smile as he shook his head to move away the sweaty curls that surrounded his face. Then he stepped to the mic and announced that they were going to do a cover of your favorite song.

“This one goes out to my special girl on her birthday.”

He winked at you before counting it down, and your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest. You couldn’t get his words out of your head.

He had just called you his special girl in front of everyone. Not his friend or buddy or pal — his girl. Was it possible that you hadn’t been imaging things after all and he actually liked you? You stared up at him in love struck awe as the first notes of Master of Puppets filled the air.

And that’s when Georgina finally noticed Eddie.

Well, not him exactly.

She noticed the way your eyes lit up while you watched him, and saw the dreamy smile plastered across your face. It was pretty obvious you had it bad for the handsome metalhead, and from the way he was looking down at you from the stage, the feeling appeared to be mutual.

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question, but a matter-of-fact statement, spoken just loud enough that you could hear it over the buzz of the boisterous crowd.

You snapped your head around to face Georgina, and you could see the realization written all over her face. She now understood why you had wanted to spend your birthday squished alongside sweaty bodies in the front row of a metal show instead of somewhere more dignified with her and her other posh friends.

“No, I don’t.” You shook your head in brisk denial, but the flame you carried for Eddie burned too bright for you to hide. You’d always been a terrible liar and Georgina could see right through you.

“Don’t lie. It’s cute.” She gave you a tight-lipped smile, and even though the pleasant expression didn’t quite reach her eyes, it was a much tamer reaction than you had anticipated. You had always imagined her angrily scolding you for associating with a “freak” who might make her look bad by association.

Realizing there was no longer any point in lying, you nodded and even dared to flash her a relieved grin. You couldn’t believe Georgina was being so calm about the whole thing, but it felt amazing to finally be able to admit your feelings out loud to someone. You’d been dying to let it out for so long.

“Yes, but please don’t say anything when he comes over, okay? He doesn’t know,” you begged, and she nodded, pulling her finger and thumb like a zipper across her pursed lips.

When the set ended, Eddie made his way through the crowd to greet you, wiping the sweat from his brow as his warm eyes assessed the ripped cropped top and tight jeans you’d squeezed yourself into for the show; not a Georgina-approved outfit by any means, but she had let it slide seeing as it was your special day.

“Hey, get over here birthday girl.” He laughed as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you close to him in a tight embrace. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne as you relished in the feeling of his body held to yours. For that short moment you could almost imagine that you and Eddie were the only two people left in the crowded bar, but you weren’t, and when he finally let you go and stepped back with a bashful smile, Georgina quickly slid in front of you and cleared her throat.

For a split second you thought she was about to tell Eddie to get lost, and you were just about to rush to his defense when your annoyance quickly turned to confusion.

You heard a soft giggle pass through Georgina’s glossy lips, and not just any regular old, run-of-the-mill giggle. No, you would have recognized that high-pitched girlish sound anywhere. It was her extra special giggle, reserved for flirting.

Like a switch had suddenly been flicked, Georgina’s sour grimace from earlier had been replaced by a dazzling smile, directed squarely at the man that you adored.

“You guys were on fire tonight…especially you,” she purred as she moved close enough to run her hand down Eddie’s sweat-glistened bicep. Her flirtatious words echoed and bounced around your uncomprehending skull as you watched Eddie’s dark eyes gleam and his front teeth protrude just enough to bite his lower lip.

What. The. Fuck.

“I love your rings…they’re so sexy.”

You could hear Georgina’s voice but it sounded far away, muffled by a fuzzy pounding in your head that had started to make things go out of focus. You watched as she reached out to touch the jewelry that decorated Eddie’s hand, her manicured nails gleaming as they caressed the fingers that you’d imagined on your skin so many times.

No, no, no.

On the outside you were frozen in place, but inside you were screaming. Your fleeting hope, now swallowed whole, and sinking slowly into a bottomless pit of despair that knew no end.

You stood there, helpless, watching them make eyes at each other for a few moments before you finally found your voice and jostled Georgina’s arm.

“We’d better head out now. It’s getting late and I’ve got that paper I need to work on, remember?”

You hoped your words might trigger Georgina’s memory, and remind her that she wanted to go home. That she would realize you were offering her an escape from the dingy bar that she’d wanted to leave since the moment she’d stepped inside.

Instead, she turned to face you, her eyes widened in confusion as if she had suddenly just remembered you were there.

“Then go,” she said breezily, her icy cold eyes were a stark contrast to her forcibly casual tone. “I want to stay.”

“But…I’m your ride.”

You were still struggling to make sense of what was happening. It felt like you were losing your grip on a situation that was rapidly spinning out of your control. You couldn’t have prepared yourself for the turn of events that was unraveling in front of your eyes. Not in a million years.

“Uh, I can give you a ride if you want,” Eddie offered in a low voice while he gazed into Georgina’s eyes. It was like he was hypnotized and couldn’t look away.

Georgina raised a seductive eyebrow at the obvious double entendre before turning her head over her shoulder to fix you with a triumphant smirk.

You shook your head in angry disbelief.

Your eyes stung as you fought back tears, completely crushed by Eddie’s betrayal. You had learned to always expected the worst from Georgina, but not him. You had told him about her nastiness so many times, and he’d seemed genuinely disgusted. So all it took was a pretty face and a low cut shirt, and suddenly everything he’d shouted about on table tops was forgotten?

“There, it’s settled. Eddie will give me a ride,” Georgina said coldly as she dismissed you from their presence with a wave of her fingers. “You can go.”

You looked helplessly at Eddie one last time, hoping he’d try to convince you to stay. But he wasn’t paying any attention to you. He was too wrapped up in Georgina, just like the soft curl of his hair that was already twisted around her finger.

Suddenly feeling ill and in desperate need of air, you turned on your heels and rushed out of the bar and into the parking lot. Once outside, you fought to catch your breath and tried to keep your tears at bay until you could make it to the privacy of your car.

You drove home through a haze of tears, barely able to see the road. You felt like your whole world had suddenly been flipped upside down and nothing made any sense.

When you arrived home, you stormed inside and proceeded to pace your apartment, impatiently waiting for Georgina to return. The bar would be closing in a couple hours and you were resolved to finally to give her the piece of your mind that had been a long time coming. You had taken her shit for years and never once fought back, but this time she had gone too far. This? This was unforgivable.

But as the hours passed and the night wore on, Georgina never came home.

You waited up all night until finally, exhausted and heartbroken, you fell into a restless sleep on the sofa, lying on top of the decorative party banner that had fallen off the wall behind it.

Happy birthday, indeed.

A/N: Yikes. I'm so sorry, but reader is going to have to go through it a little. We all need our villain origin story, right? 👀 See you in the next part! I'll be posting the next parts of this story over the course of spooky season <3

READ PART 2 here

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[munson-enthusiast]

Where you left me

Based on that Twilight scene… this is rather short and not my best work. I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing. Life has been stressful. Enjoy, M’loves!!

Blurb: Vecna is coming for Eddie and to keep you safe… he has to leave.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort. Angst. Talk of death. Relationship break-up.

-

You met him where you always did. At the old rickety picnic table that was close to wood rot and had outlived your grandparents by at least a decade. It was buried deep between the thick weighty trees of the forest.

It was your spot. Yours and His.

A secluded place you could always count on; a safe haven you could flee to when the world got too much.

But something about this time set your nerves on end. The spontaneity of the meeting left your palms feeling clammy and your knees jittering with every half step you take toward Eddie’s perched frame.

His head hung low from his shoulders- he looked like a defeated warrior. Done. Packed up and ready to go home. Leaving the battlefield of lost souls burning behind him; his suit of armour covered in blood.

“Ed’s?” Your voice is punctuated with the crack of twigs and the crisp of fallen leaves beneath the rubber soles of your sneakers. You avoid sitting down, too afraid of the conversation that may follow and your eyes settle on the shrunken brown pine needles that coat the wooden table. Autumn is upon you.

The mere sound of your voice is enough to cause Eddie to scatter to his feet; clearly he had been awoken from a deep, dream like trance.

“Hi, sweetheart.” One of his hands palm at the back of his neck nervously whilst the other is draped across his abdomen as he hugs himself close. It’s something you had caught him doing whenever he was uncomfortable; or whenever he was afraid.

And you felt puzzled more than anything else, because why would Eddie— your Eddie, be uncomfortable around you?

“Is everything alright? You seem—“

“Everything is fine. Or it will be…” he takes two steps back from you, his normally soft brown eyes are sharp and alert as they take in the forest that you are both submerged in. You hadn’t seen Eddie like this before. So withdrawn and skittish.

“Thank god,” You let out an airy wheeze that could pass as a laugh, “For a moment I thought you might be breaking things off with me…” it’s your turn to pull your coat tighter around your frame. All of a sudden you feel the growing cold temperature around you. It’s as if this had been prophesied and even the weather knows something horrible is about to happen.

The clouds darken in colour and a ominous shadow is cast wide across the forest and its surroundings. Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and a frustrated groan hits your ear: shrill and heart wrenching.

“Eddie? What’s going on?” You dare to ask.

“I… I have to leave. I have to leave town.” He can’t meet your gaze. Because if he does, if he allows himself to be swept into your glossy saucers of pure love and soul, he won’t be able to leave. He won’t go. He would stay and fight and protect you.

But if he leaves, you are automatically protected. Without all of the blood. Without the loss and the grief. He could protect you from afar. He had to leave you. He had to break your heart. Or he would come for you…

Vecna would come for the town. He wasn’t willing to take that risk.

Your life for his. That’s what he agreed.

“Okay… okay, well I can come with you.” You protest confidently and slightly excited, inching closer to Eddie’s towering frame, “I can think of something to tell my family and… and… where did you want to go?” You gulp, becoming restless, “Why do you have to leave?” You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t understand unless he told you.

“No.”

You freeze at the sternness in his voice. Your throat running dry.

“I said I’m leaving. Not we. Not us.” He looks at you for the first time since you arrived, “I don’t want you to come.”

You blink your wide eyes silently, your brain is like a wild fire and all you can seem to mutter is, “Did I do something wrong? I can be better… I can change. Please, Eddie. You can’t… you can’t leave me here.”

Your pleas cause Eddie’s chest to wind into a tight knit and hot iron like tears to prick at his eyes like sharp pins. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and tell you how sorry he is and how perfect you are for him. You didn’t need to change a single thing. He loved you. He loves you.

But he couldn’t.

He had to break you.

He had to make you hate him.

“You can’t change my mind.” It surprises Eddie just how able he is to keep up this painful facade without bursting into a puddle of tears and crumbling to your feet to beg for forgiveness.

“Please—“ you’re tearing up now and it makes Eddie hate himself more.

“I don’t want you anymore.” The words slice at his throat on the way up and it’s as if he is choking on his own blood, “I’m not going to tell you where I’m going because you’ll follow me.” Only now is he able to take a few steps toward your quaking frame. You have managed to suppress the tears, but Eddie knows how deeply he has just wounded you.

“I won’t survive without you. Eddie— Ed’s. Don’t… don’t do this to me. Please.” Your cold face becomes slicked with warm tears and Eddie bites back what he really wants to say.

‘I’m doing this because I love you. I’m doing this because I need you to be safe. I need to know that I have a future with you in it. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I love you… I love you…’

Eddie settles for a pathetic, “I’ll see you again.” And you stand as still as a concrete statute, afraid to move and hoping that this is all just one massive nightmare. You feel the warmth of Eddie’s arms engulf you and you are sure that when you reopen your closed eyes that you’ll be at home. In the comfort of your plush bed. None of this would have happened. Eddie wouldn’t have left you, “I’m sorry, love.” He plants a chaste kiss to your hairline and his lips linger before they disappear completely.

And he does abandon you. When you open your eyes you are standing alone. Cold to the touch. Freezing. You swear you can feel ice crystallising on your skin and your fingertips feel as stiff as rock.

You don’t move. Still you don’t move. You can’t. Your brain is screaming but your mouth remains sewn tightly shut. You are in shock.

Despair. Gloom. Caught in a trap that you can no longer escape from.

And just when you think you have finally mustered the strength to take a step forward— just when you believe you can run into the night and call after Eddie.

You collapse to the frozen dirt with a harsh thud and a teary wince.

The first noise to leave your mouth in minutes is a scream.

A scream as hot as malted lava. A scream that leaves your throat bleeding and raw. A scream that’ll leave you voiceless.

A scream that becomes a cry. A cry that becomes a sob.

And a sob that becomes slumber. You fall asleep on the dry and stick covered ground of the forest. The last thing you see before you succumb to the darkness is the looming trees that tower over your lowered and huddled frame. They shelter you from the brewing storm.

But they couldn’t save you from a torn heart.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[munson-enthusiast]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

(dad!eddie x mom!reader)

Summary: Eddie has to shower before he can hold his impatient baby. She's having none of it.

a/n: i was attacked by yet ANOTHER cute baby tiktok so here we are with a little bit of grease monkey!eddie and another little drabble. set in the early days of the pennyverse. and yes, i've used this gif before but he's dead so i'm running out of them. mistakes might be fixed later, i dont know :)

“Are these your little fingers?” You asked your baby, tone saturated in honey and affection as you held the chunky palm in question, lips pressed to her pudgy fingertips. 

  Despite your aversion to it prior to your pregnancy, you’d inevitably developed a baby voice when Penny had come into the world and you couldn’t be blamed. Not when she was all squish, delicate cheeks holding so much chub they bulged, and rolls decorated her little limbs. She was a glutton, always demanding your milk and you couldn’t deny her; those big, gorgeous eyes she’d inherited from her father made it nearly impossible to, even when the wetness welling up in them were completely alligator tears. And those curls. 

  Regardless of taming them with some water, a brush and maybe some vaseline, they ended up wild, flying about or mussed and matted to her head with sweat because your baby was a little heater when she slept and napped. Just like her daddy.

  Your smile widened in size when you heard the sound of keys slotting into place at the front door, the lock mechanism giving away. It tripled when you realized your baby also recognized the sound, head turning to stare at the door as she bobbed in place, thick legs squatting and then popping back up as you held her by her waist with your other hand, assisting her with standing.

  The moment Eddie opened the door and came into view she began cooing and squealing in excitement, mouth parting in a wide smile as drool raced down from the corner of her mouth.

You laughed, and so did Eddie as he heard his baby welcoming him home.

  “You excited to see me, sweet pea?” He cooed right back, walking over to squat in front of the two of you, eyes raking over you momentarily in appreciation before focusing on the little one in your arms. 

  She let out another long coo that ended on an airy sigh, pulling her hand from your grasp to reach both of her pudgy ones out to him, practically begging him to hold her as she began wiggling in your arms.

�� Eddie’s head tilted, lips curling into the most tender smile as he stared down at her with nothing but love swimming in those eyes he’d shared with her. 

  “Daddy missed you and mommy so much.” He whispered, a hand reaching out, almost close enough to caress her soft cheek but it hesitated before he could touch her. His rough, grease covered finger was a stark contrast to her clean, smooth skin. Clearly, you’d given her a bath before he got home because her mouth and cheeks were usually covered in the food you were starting to offer her (sometimes baby food, but mostly bits of your food because she wouldn’t accept any offerings of mushed up veggies and fruits if there was something else on your plate, hence why your diet had been pretty bland and not at all a result of the tight budget your maternity leave left you on).

The rest of his hands were no better, palms stained, streaks all over his arms as a result of shucking the top half of the monkey suit and rolling up his sleeves at the garage. 

  There were even a few streaks of grease and maybe oil on his face and neck. Your husband smelled more so of tires than he had the spicy cologne that surrounded you when he’d kissed you goodbye in bed this morning. 

  And he knew it.

  Penny didn’t let that stop her, still eagerly reaching out for him as she grunted to try and provoke him in swooping her up into his embrace.

  “As soon as daddy’s clean, okay? I’ll pick you up and my sweet girl can give me all the cuddles she wants.” He promised, hands on his knees before he stood back up, leaning over her to give you a sweaty, greasy oh so sweet and firm press of the lips kiss before he swiveled around and disappeared into the small bathroom as quickly as he could to be out of hearing range when Penny began whimpering at his absence. 

  You heard the shower start running at the exact moment she began to cry and you offered a sympathetic whine of your own as you adjusted your grip on her, bringing Penny up to your chest, your cheek smushed against her more plump one.

  “Shhh…it’s okay, my love. Daddy’s just showering. He’ll be back.” You stood up, hitching Penny on your hip as you walked to the entrance of the small hallway so the bathroom door was visible to her. Eddie’s humming floated out from underneath the crack of it. 

  Penny was Eddie’s daughter, alright, full of dramatics as her breathing remained heavy, chest rising and falling quickly with the hitches in her breath as a chunky fist gripped onto your blouse, lower lip curling out and wobbling. She didn’t seem satisfied with your explanation but that didn’t worry you. If Penny was awake when Eddie left for work in the morning, she’d start bawling. 

  The first couple of times she’d started reacting to his departure, he’d ended up full of guilt and late to work. It still wasn’t easy for him, even after you’d finally convinced him she’d have the same reaction whether he left in the morning, afternoon, or evening. Regardless of the time, she was going to be upset that she wouldn’t be able to see her daddy, probably convinced in her little baby mind that he’d abandoned her (he’d nearly quit the shop when you’d phrased it like that) but he’d always come home to her—and you—and that’s what mattered.

  You were positive she’d start yelling and shrieking when it came time for you to go back to work, too. She was just a baby, so she was being a baby.

  You carried your huffing and puffing daughter back to the living room, placing her down on the carpet in front of some toys she had been playing with earlier in the day. Maybe they’d distract her.

  Wrong.

  She sat on the carpet, chunky legs strewn out for just a few seconds before she was moving forward onto her belly and propping herself up. Then she was off, crawling as fast as she could towards the hallway while breathing heavily with exhilaration. You trailed after her, amused at how stubborn she was when she stopped directly in front of the bathroom door, propping herself up on her bottom.

  You watched Penny reach out with shaky palms, pressing them gently against the door. It looked like they were feeling around it before she began slapping them against it as hard as she could as she yelled her baby babble, no doubt demanding her daddy open the door, pick her up and love her right now.

  Giggles were muffled into your palm, as she kept up with it. 

  Eventually, maybe when she realized that wasn’t working, Penny leaned over, wiggling around until she was on her tummy and the side of her head was resting on the carpet. You realized she was trying to look under the door for him and your heart clenched, hand flying over your chest as if you could grasp the organ.

  You expected her to sit back up and go back to smacking the door but she remained there, a stubby finger absentmindedly trailing through the carpet as she stared through the thin crack, warm bathroom light and Eddie’s voice flooding out from underneath to comfort her as she waited.

  Picking her up had crossed your mind, and so did the idea of how loudly she’d probably start screaming and crying if you did. 

  The two of you didn’t have to wait for long, the shower shut off and you could hear the sounds of the shower curtain rings scraping against the rod as Eddie pulled them back. 

  Panic briefly filled your chest as you realized Eddie probably wasn’t expecting his baby to be lying on the floor directly outside of the bathroom—he’d step on her, so you called out, “Heads up, Eddie, you’ve got a visitor.”

  You didn’t hear a response, but a few moments later, the door opened to reveal your husband. Water droplets slipped down his neck and chest. He had one towel—that had definitely seen better days—wrapped around his waist and another (yours) he was using to scrunch up his sopping wet curls to dry them.

  Eddie had heard you, shooting you a smirk before he addressed the baby beaming up at him, “Shower’s free if you wanna hop in, stinky.”

  Penny had no idea what he was saying, it didn’t matter anyways because he said it in the same voice he used when he gave her kisses and held her to his chest so she was reaching up for him and he finally reached down—with clean hands—grasping her sides before she was hoisted into his arms. Penny wasted no time, mouth parting wide to mouth aggressively at his face and chin while she shook her head and wiggled about.

  She was giving him kisses.

  Or trying to eat him, she had little bursts of energy where she’d do that—attack you out of nowhere while you held her causing the both of you to break out laughing.

  Eddie let her get it all out, and when she cooed, resting her cheek on his shoulder, he retaliated. Her cheeks and little neck rolls were smattered in his smacking kisses as she squealed and shrieked and wiggled but there was no escaping her daddy’s clutches now that she was finally in them. 

  When every inch of her available to him had been kissed, he turned towards you and you suddenly found yourself victim to two sets of identical crinkly brown eyes. A deep chuckle rumbled from Eddie as he padded over to where you stood, mischievous smirk making another appearance.

  “Mommy’s turn.”

[munson-enthusiast]

thinking about girl dad Eddie holding his new little baby on his chest, and she's wearing a cute little onesie with peaches all over it, and she's so small and little, and he's such a natural with her, he's got one hand giving her bum lil pats and the other hand holding a book I'm -

[munson-enthusiast]

.𖥔 ‧ ₊ ˚

contains flashing lights

mean!eddie visual 2.0

heavily inspired by the writings of: oneforthemunny, carolmunson, andvys, littlexdeaths, taintedcigs, chelseeebe, ghost-proofbaby, keeksandgigz, eddiesghxst, bimbotrashcan

(fun fact, last year it was trend to use ai voices in edits and someone made this audio with ai eddie talking)

[munson-enthusiast]

Can I interest anyone in a wee bit of frenemy(?)eddie and some soft confessions while under the influence?

18+, MDNI 2.2k

cw: drug use (edible)

“Oh, wow. She’s really out.”

Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Eddie didn’t need to be told. He had noted your rapid descent into sleep when it started halfway through the movie. Your eyelids fluttering like they had weights attached to them and your body curling into itself as you sank into the cushions of the Wheeler’s sofa.

You were crumpled in a ball at the end of it now, hugging the arm like you thought you were going to roll off the edge of a cliff if you let go. Your half-drunk beer still sat on the end table, abandoned once the edible you split with Argyle took effect.

Eddie had foolishly tried to warn you off it, saying you should start with half of your half and go from there. But of course that only set the two of you off like a pair of dueling firecrackers.

He didn’t know how he kept ending up in these spats with you. He never intended to insult you, it just seemed he had a real knack for it. You always accused him of babying you and he’d accuse you of being too stubborn for your own good.

Had anyone besides Eddie suggested you take it easy, you probably would have listened and might still be conscious right now.

Nancy jostled you gently, trying to rouse you while Eddie peered over her shoulder. He didn’t care for the lifeless way your limbs hung, for the way your head lolled forward on your shoulders like you couldn’t hold it up yourself.

It made his fingers drum nervously on the outside edge of his thigh and the wallet chain that hung there clinked with each and every irregular tap.

Of course he knew there was logically no way you could OD on a pot brownie—but that didn’t mean he delighted in seeing you so incapacitated.

Eyes shut tight, you started babbling softly in response to Nancy’s voice as she tried to draw you back to the world of the waking. With a soft oof, she got you to put one arm around her neck and attempted to lift you off the couch. But even with the deceptive strength of her slight frame, she wasn’t getting you anywhere by herself.

So, she glanced around the room at the rest of their friends in their various states of intoxication.

Steve and Robin were long gone, Robin being the winner of their coin toss for who got to drink that night while the other stayed sober. She’d skipped on the edible and mainlined strawberry daiquiris instead, leading to her calling out forlornly as Steve helped drag her out the door,

“What if I puke pink? Please, please, please, don’t let me puke pink—”

Argyle and Jonathan were passed out, entwined on the pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor, Jonathan likely not realizing the warm chest he was burying his face in wasn’t his girlfriend’s.

Finally, her determined gaze fell to Eddie, and she tilted her head at him in that Nancy way of her’s that gave out marching orders without her so much as speaking a word. With another glance at your sleeping form, Eddie released a resigned sigh and nodded his head.

As they helped you climb the stairs, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, you started to rouse again and slowly registered what was happening through the fog of your high.

“Aww, shit…m’fucked up, huh?” you chuckled, letting out a heavy sigh. Head lifted the couple of inches you could manage, “M’so sorry, Nance, I shouldn’t have…he was right…again…”

The bitter edge in your voice as the last word left your lips made Eddie’s brow jump with interest. You lifted your head the full two inches you could manage and peered at Nancy through half-lidded eyes. Your head then swiveled to the other side and Eddie braced himself for more vitriol.

But none came.

Your face didn’t even change and Eddie realized your current state made he and Nancy’s mops of messy brown curls somewhat indistinguishable. You just continued on like you were still talking to your best friend, not the guy you couldn’t stand.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking beast, you know that? You’re so strong…”

The loopy giggle you let out brought a smile to Eddie’s lips in spite of himself. He felt your hand start to curl around his shoulder and it made him tense, worrying you’d recognize the rough denim of his vest. But your fingers simply held it, rubbed the frayed hem of his cut-off sleeve between the pads, your sleepy smile re-forming.

“God, Nance, you smell so good…”

Your head suddenly drooped, landing partially on Eddie’s shoulder and making his breath catch.

You took a deep inhale of his scent, your chest expanding with it and making Eddie’s eyes bulge and then avert quickly when he caught himself ogling the deep scoop of your neckline. He had already committed most of the night to avoiding just that, his eyes just…slipped for a second.

Over your head, he caught Nancy’s gaze and the cloudy blue color might as well have been a bright red laser for how clearly she saw through him.

Thankfully, they got to the guest room before she could make any damning remarks. She pushed open the door and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating a bed piled obscenely high with pillows and a down comforter seemingly thicker than some mattresses Eddie had slept on.

“Can you hold her?” Nancy asked, looking from the bed back to him.

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he nodded, only half-sure of his answer. Nancy lifted your other arm from her shoulder and turned you into his body. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder.

His hands wrapped hesitantly around your back, holding you against him almost like you were slow dancing. He had to resist the urge to sway.

Heart thundering so loud he feared it might wake you, Eddie watched while Nancy pushed all of the decorative pillows to the floor and turned down the comforter, motioning Eddie forward.

He walked you backwards a few steps and sat you down on the edge of the bed while Nancy knelt to take off your shoes. Thankfully, the dress code on movie night was always supremely casual and the track pants and tank top you’d worn would be fine to sleep in.

You babbled a bit more as they got you ready for bed, seemingly oblivious to Eddie’s presence—even mentioning him briefly as they helped you lay flat and Nancy lifted your legs onto the bed.

“He’s just so annoying, you know?” you muttered bitterly. “Like, whatever, you’re hot and you play guitar and you’ve banged like half the town. That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Eddie tried not to let the words sting. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t said before to his face, but there was something about you still saying it, even when he “wasn’t there” to hear it.

“I’m gonna get water,” Nancy whispered, already out the door. “Just keep an eye on her, please?”

Eddie frowned and grumbled in response, but he didn’t move from his spot beside you. He did start to turn away, but stopped when you shifted in the bed. You reached out a limp hand and caught just the tips of Eddie’s fingers, tugging lightly on them like you wanted to tell him something.

He sank slowly to his knees, trying to hear you as your lips moved almost mutely.

“Should’ve listened,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve been such a dick…”

You seemed perfectly content continuing your conversation even without “Nancy” responding, and Eddie wondered if he should just go? He was positive you’d be mortified if you ever found out he had overheard any of this. But even as he was screaming at his feet to move, for his knees to rise, they remained planted on the Wheeler’s plush carpeting at your next words.

“Nance…why doesn’t he like me?”

It took what felt like a year for Eddie to unfreeze. He looked towards the door for a sign of Nancy’s shadow in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. But there was none.

Your head lolled on the pillow, eyes still shut but the lids twitching subtly like you were trying to open them. If you did, you’d be staring straight into Eddie’s own rapt gaze. You still held your pitifully weak grasp on his fingers, and he easily could have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Eddie just watched, torn between his standards of decency and being desperate to find out what you were talking about. He didn’t even know you were into anyone—let alone that you liked them enough to groan about them to Nancy. What kind of idiot wouldn’t like you back?

Some sadistic part of him wanted to find out.

“I mean, I know I’m not—m’not like…Chrissy—but I’m alright, aren’t I? An’ I wore thisstupid booby shirt hoping he’d notice and he just…”

Your voice took on a wounded waver and you stopped, inhaling deeply as if to steady yourself. The beginnings of tears started to shimmer along your lash line and you shut your eyes tighter, but it only squeezed one of them out and made it trickle down your temple in a wet trail.

Okay…Eddie was really confused now.

He didn’t even know you knew his ex-girlfriend’s name until it came tumbling past your lips. And he sure as shit had so noticed your booby shirt—he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off you, had to actively force himself not to stare.

Had you actually…did you really wear it for him?

All of a sudden, you rolled onto your side and your eyes cracked open the widest he had seen them all night. You looked almost lucid and you were staring directly into Eddie’s face.

He flinched slightly, worried you might scream when you saw him. But you just sighed, scanning his features all glassy and moon-eyed as you stared at him plainly. Unabashedly.

Like he’s an oil painting that couldn’t look back.

“He’s just so…pretty.”

The words are whispered, like a secret. And it takes everything in him to remain totally still and not to let his eyes bug completely out of his skull. Wait, did you…Did you not think he was there?

“I like’im so much…what’m I gonna do?”

There it was again. That plaintive whine, that broken lilt of your voice that tugged mercilessly at something deep inside of him. Heartstrings he didn’t know were there until you plucked them.

You looked at him with those shiny eyes. Literal tears were filling them now, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were crying. Over him? What kind of world was he living in?

And nearly too late, Eddie realized your eyes were fluttering closed again. Not from exhaustion, but to lean in and kiss him.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You stretched your neck forward, hand coming up to cup his jaw—god, your palms were so soft, not rough and hard like his—and Eddie felt himself melt briefly into your touch, just for a moment before he realized what you were doing.

Eyes closing, chest heaving, lips parting as you leaned into what you thought was a dream.

No, no, no, he thought frantically. Not like this—

Eddie wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled away from you. It made you push a little harder, trying to fight your way out of his grasp, but you were weak and looked more like a kitten trying to box. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want you to get upset, he just—

“Hey,” he soothed, gently brushing the backs of his fingertips along your jaw. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.”

You blinked, seemingly in realization, like you were surprised to hear him speak. And it made him wonder how many of your other dreams he’d starred in where he didn’t say a word.

But his voice seemed to soothe you somewhat, your fists unclenching and dropping to lay on the softness of the sheets. You nodded your head as your face sunk back into the pillow, your cheek rubbing the dainty floral bouquets on the case.

Eddie let out the breath he didn’t remember he was holding, his shoulders slumping with it as his mind raced. Carefully, with nimble fingers curled around the edge of the comforter, he tugged it up further over your shoulders, almost to your chin. You snuggled a little deeper into your sleep and Eddie tucked the blanket in a little tighter, his heart pounding with every second.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

Once in a while we have to do the pining, I guess 🙄

Very veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by that scene in New Girl where Jess is on painkillers. Ty for reading - love you, mean it!

[munson-enthusiast]

Down on all fours

Part One | Part Two

Blurb: After you unwillingly come clean about your undying love for Eddie Munson, your life is swept into a whirlwind of deceit, lust, confusion and regret… and glitter that Eddie can’t seem to shake from his pockets.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (?), alcohol consumption, reader referred to as girl, cheating/unfaithfulness, drugs mentioned (weed), mentions of blood, depictions of violence, cursing, bodily insecurity, implied sexual themes. Character are 20+ and in a college setting!

-

divider by @cafekitsune

The movie theatre would never be the same anymore— not to you. Not since that day. A place once associated with joy and child like wonder, where you watched your beloved characters come to life on the big screen and where you could laugh openly, unattractively and purely with your friends.

Tainted. Forever changed.

But not forgotten. Never forgotten.

The memories have been eating you alive, feasting on your insecurity and your shame. Despite the look of fearful regret on Eddie’s face, you still thought about him.

Day and night— morning and noon. Before you slept and before you awoke each morning. He even infiltrated your dreams. Dreams are meant to be sacred, private affairs and yet, Eddie Munson still ruled them like the King of all of your desires. His ring clad fingers were still clutching onto your heart— squeezing and loosening his grip around the vital organ as he saw fit. He had the upper hand; the control.

He always did. He always has.

You couldn’t bring yourself to face them— any of them. Not Steve, not Robin, not Chrissy and especially not Eddie. It was peculiar, the addictive need to see Eddie no matter the cost— no matter the humiliation. It out weighed every sane thought you had.

You would steal glances at him from across a room, hiding in plain sight. Desperate for the shadows to claim you as their own; for the walls to hug you back. You felt other worldly, as if your soul was floating outside of your body and you had no rational feeling. No say. No voice.

Confessions should be freeing; but you have never felt so trapped. Chained. Soul tied.

Love conquers all, but love also might just conquer you.

-

It’s mid-week, and although college parties always attract unwanted attention you could never have prepared to see this many people crashing your family home. Precious photos were knocked over, the smashed glass from the frames line the top of shelves and cabinets- glittering them in a forbidden pixie dust.

Your bedroom has been occupied by a couple you didn’t recognise and if it weren’t for the pleasant buzz of alcohol coursing through your blood you most certainly would have screamed at them to leave. The sicker parts of you were envious of their engagement. Their human closeness and connection.

Why couldn’t you have that? Didn’t you deserve that?

So instead of blowing your top, you roll your eyes and scoff before slamming the familiar door obnoxiously loud and coke to nest at the bottom of the staircase; the wood is hard and cold against your bare thighs which causes you to pay some uncomfortable attention to your outfit. Sparkly, twinkly and stupid.

Your heart sinks to the abysmal pit at the bottom of your stomach at the realisation that nobody here really knows what this party is for. Who it is for.

Your birthday streamers that once decorated the walls proudly have become unpinned from the concrete, cascading down the wall in a massive spiral and hiding the message written on the plastic.

Happy birthday!

Not a single person had uttered those words to you the whole night. Even on a day where you were meant- born to be celebrated, you have been forgotten. A bystander in your own life. An observer in a theatrical play written for you. About you.

And the humour of it all?

You were used to it now.

Nothing could break your heart; because it was already in pieces.

Shreds. Splinters. Fragments. Puzzle pieces never to be solved or mended again. A heart shaped hole stamped into your chest where someone once lived.

Cobwebs inhabit the vacant crevasse, dust gathering on the sensitive walls. The sensitive walls that have hardened into a volcanic crust.

The only thing left behind in your impenetrable fortress? A single crumpled envelope with Eddie’s name written on it in cursive. The ‘i’ in his name punctuated with a loveheart.

He was the only tenant you wanted living there. And in reality, he should have been evicted a long time ago.

But nobody said love was easy. Nobody warned you that it would be this hard, though, either.

Was love supposed to make you this low? Was it supposed to make you find your bearings at the bottom of a red fizzing cup? The carbonated bubbles in your drink seemed to be your only friend tonight.

Would it really be your birthday if you didn’t cry at least once? Or twice… or thrice.

“Hey! Does anyone have any weed?” Your quiet attempt at a yell comes out of your mouth in the form of a drunken hiccup and you are debating the possibility that you may have stood up too fast, “Anyone? No?” Frustrated you pinch the bridge of your nose as you sigh loudly into your hand, your ears met by silence from your peers.

“I might.” You can hear a comedic tweak in his voice and you swear you can feel part of you die on the inside.

“Steve,” You say through clenched teeth, forcing a smile, “I didn’t know you smoked?” You also weren’t aware that he would be here— but you can’t deny the attention that this party is demanding from the neighbourhood. You are partly surprised that the police haven’t been called yet, but your neighbours aren’t known to be snitches.

“I don’t usually,” he shrugs dismissively, “I didn’t know you were throwing a party? Thankfully word travels fast in this town, huh?” His elbow gently nudges into your arm playfully, “There’s no better time for me to give you this.” He hands you a small box that has been wrapped all too perfectly in a sage green wrapping paper; brought together with a pretty black tulle bow. For a moment you are totally stunned, eyes inflated as you gawk down at the gift in your slightly shaky hands.

“You…” you search for the words, lost in his kindness and when you finally gather enough courage to meet his sweet brown eyes you nearly drown in their depths, “You got me a gift?”

He flashes you one of his signature Steve smiles and your drunk brain can’t seem to comprehend if this is a joke of not.

“Of course I did? You’re one of my best friends!” His voice is a happy chime as he ruffles his fingers through his chestnut gelled hair, offering the stiff strands some movement. You notice his pupils flicking between your face and the present in your hands, one of his eyebrows raise with subtle confusion, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Yeah- yes! Yes, of course!” You set your empty cup down on a nearby table before your nimble fingers come to wrestle with the sticky tape, painted fingernails clawing like an animal to get to the goods inside. There is a nervousness that comes with the unwrapping of the gift and you don’t quite understand why. The moment feels significant… special. You finally feel somewhat special tonight.

Eagerly, Steve keeps his warm amber eyes trained on you. A soft, dreamy smile itching at his lips as he awaits your approval. You and Steve had been friends for such a long time, you even opened your college acceptance letters together in his family dining room with his parents. He had always been there for you, through everything. One of your best friends— possibly your only friend.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while— how have you been?” His voice is laced with genuine concern but all you can do is ogle at what is displayed in front of you. A shiny silver necklace that had been personalised to have your name dangling from the chain with small colourful charms decorating the metal plating sit inside of the small box that Steve had handed to you. It was beautiful. It was you. And not to mention… it perfectly matched your outfit.

“Shut up!” You gasp, picking up the chain from the safety of its box and dangling it in front of Steve’s face, the neon stream of lights from the party reflect off of its pristine surface, “Steve!! What the Hell? This is stunning!” You become a fit of excited girlish giggles and Steve shakes his head at your outburst, finding it adorable.

“You like it?” He is booming to be heard over the increasingly loud music and you squeal, fumbling with the latch on the chain.

“Like it? I love it! Thank you so much!” You reach around your neck, fighting to clip the necklace and Steve offers you a helping hand accompanied by an amused chucklez, “It’s perfect, Steve, truly! I love it, I love it!” You brush your hair over your shoulder, allowing Steve to access the chain and clasp it securely.

“There! Pretty as a picture.” He winks at you and you toy with your name displayed across your chest; an honest smile gracing your lips.

“Happy birthday.” His large palm rubs the flesh of your shoulder and you nod at him in acknowledgement. There is an after glow that lingers after Steve’s touch disappears and you are not even aware of where he wanders off to but when you realise that you are stood alone… you feel that all too familiar feeling start to creep it’s way back into your chest. An icy chill. A storm brewing.

“Steve?” You call out to him, however your voice is wasted with how small it was and goes totally unnoticed. Your eyes drink in the sea of dancing, sweating bodies around you. The number of people in your home is multiplying— like a deathly virus.

The perky smile falls from your cheeks and only then do you remember why you were even talking to Steve in the first place— you wanted some weed. You needed some.

Or did you?

You wanted to escape life. To feel free from the bounds of Eddie Munson, free from the shackles of your mind. This is the only way you knew how… sleep wasn’t an option— he could reach you there.

Even the darkest corners of your mind, where even the ghosts refused to venture, were haunted by Eddie— there was no fleeing from him. You were his.

But he was Chrissy’s.

-

You find yourself outside, sitting in the cool night air by the side of your house. Your face is flushed from the alcohol and your skin feels as though it is prickling with heat; fiery.

Your mini skirt hugs your hips and thighs and you fist the fabric, suddenly uncomfortable with the way your body looks in the garment. The way the flesh of your thighs squish the ground beneath you has you stifling a scream and you wrap your arms tightly around your torso to shield the rest of your body from the world.

Your eyes flicker and blaze with the mirrored light from the street lamps, the orange hues meeting the chunky glitter that dominates your eyelids. The heavy makeup was starting to irritate your eyes, but you would do anything to seem half presentable. Anything to feel and look your best.

A choked laugh emits past your lips; it was ludicrous. How you had been exiled from your own birthday party. Left to the wolves of the wild. You didn’t mind too much— it meant you could finally take off this weighty mask you had been hiding behind all night. No more untruthful smiles, no more biting back teary eyes.

You could finally feel. And breathe.

However, your reign of peace and solitude doesn’t last long as your ears perk involuntarily at an all too recognisable thundering chuckle. This whole time, you had been preparing for him to show face and yet you have never felt so startled. A deer in headlights.

The chains around your wrists tighten as you stiffen, unable to move. Unable to respond or breathe or think.

Eddie had arrived.

“Woooah! Lookie’ here! If it isn’t the birthday girl,” Even in the dim light of the garden you can see his Cheshire smile examining you, “What you doing out here all alone, Sweetheart?”

Your breath remains lodged tightly in your throat, wound up like a coiled spring and you are unable to speak. It’s almost as if you are paralysed— has he hit you with a tranquillising dart? Or was that just his cologne that had you so wrapped up in everything that he is.

He called you sweetheart…

He called you sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

His sweetheart?

“Hello? Are you okay?” His hand waves in front of your face, causing you to blink and flinch momentarily at the sudden action, “Aren’t you cold out here?”

“No…” a whisper is all you could manage. It’s all you could afford to give him.

There wasn’t much of you left to give. Soon you would be this vacant polished shell of a human being— beautiful on the outside and hopeless on the inside.

“Okay, well… Happy birthday.” He nods at you enthusiastically, his voice like a siren song lulling you to your demise. He shoves his hands into his ripped jeans pockets, letting out an exaggerated shiver before he says, “Hey, have you seen Chrissy? She came here an hour ago and I haven’t really heard from her.” He tries to disguise the worry in his voice, but you can read him like a book. The way his hands are twitching from his pockets to rub anxiously at his neck, or how he bounces on the balls of his feet— the adrenaline causing him to be restless.

You wish Eddie could do the same with you. You wish he could see past this makeup and this charade. You wish he could recognise just how much that simple sentence had ruined your evening.

Of course he was here looking for Chrissy, why else would he have showed up? For you? Please. The thought alone was laughable.

“I didn’t even know she was here.” Your chin tilts to your shoulder where you can eye the large window looking on into your kitchen. The lights are out but there are neon fairy lights twinkling and illuminating the darkness. It’s almost as if you are looking through a kaleidoscope.

It had taken you hours to hang all of those lights, only to watch other people enjoy their warmth instead.

“You should come back inside, you don’t seem like you’re having a lot of fun out here in the dark.” Eddie takes a leisurely seat next to you and out of instinct you shuffle a few inches away from him, trying to create as much distance as possible, “Are you wasted? You’re being eerily quiet.”

“It’s a party, Eddie.” You sigh, answering him without leaving a single beat, an abrupt newfound confidence helps you to untangle your voice, “People get drunk at parties— I just wish I had some weed.”

It was ironic, wishing for weed as you talk to a weed dealer.

“Is that really your birthday wish? To have weed?” His shoulders bounce lightly as he laughs, his hands coming to find his coat pocket. You shrug in response to his question, tipping your head back and swallowing the last of what was left swirling around in the bottom of your cup.

The truth was, you hadn’t even lit your birthday candles yet. There hadn’t been a right time and you didn’t want to be that person. But if you had sparked those candles… you would have wished for him.

Not for weed. Not for money. Not for beauty or brains.

You would have wished for Eddie Munson.

“Here.” He is careful to take your hand into his, gently prying your fingers open and dropping a bud of weed into your palm before he is securing your fingers back over it, “It isn’t much, I know that but… if I could make your birthday wish a reality then I suppose that’s pretty alright, huh?” He holds your wrist loosely in his grip and your fuzzy brain can’t compute if you are dreaming or not.

You had expected fireworks from his touch— a massive explosion of technicolour and bright blinding lights.

But what you got was far more sensual than that. An electric shockwave travelled along your skin from your arm to your back, zapping down every vertebrae in your spine and coating your body in a blanket of goosebumps. Every single one of your hairs stood on end and this might have been the most alert you have felt all day. You felt awake. Resurrected. Alive.

“Are you sure?” You gulp, mouth suddenly dry, “I can pay you…” You start to frantically search your person for any sign of loose cash— your bra, did your skirt have pockets this morning? No. Where the Hell is your purse?

“No- no! This is a gift, from me to you! It’s your birthday for crying out loud!” Eddie is holding both of your wrists now, his attempt to still your nervous jittery movements, “Just enjoy it, okay? Just… just smile.” His deep pleading voice is painful as it enters your ears.

Just smile.

Smile? Weren’t you smiling?

“Thank you…” up until this point you hadn’t fully perceived just how close of a proximity you and Eddie were nestled at. His slight body leaning in closer to yours, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. He was within kissing distance and all you could do now was stare at his dimpled smile. The sight alone was enough to cause your own lips to tweak up at the corners.

“Do you know how to roll a joint?” Eddie could evidently sense the growing tension and he pulls away from you, not in a moment of disgust and terror— but out of respect. Attraction was clear but Eddie was like a loyal dog to Chrissy. There’s no way he would betray her.

“Oh- uhm… no, no I don’t.” You laugh slightly as you look down at the drugs held captive in your hand. Your skin being tinged with the ponging smell.

“Luckily for you, I’m a bit of a master at it.”

“Eddie?” A whimper. A whisper. Weak. Sorrow filled.

“Yeah?” His heavenly eyes had you questioning why thieves ever bothered to steal art— when you were looking at a masterpiece.

A pause. Nothingness. Expectation. Shadows.

“Why do you hate me?” The question is shuddered out through constricted teeth and you find an ungodly comfort in that familiar ache inside of your sternum, “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you-“

“But you don’t love me. You don’t… like me.” You push your feet into the soft earth, coming to stand shakily in front of Eddie’s seated frame, “Every time I look at you, I can't help but hope you feel the same butterflies in your stomach when you look back at me.” Your eyes settle on the empty street, the only noise circulating the neighbourhood was coming from inside your house. Thumping bass beating in harmony with your heart, “But deep down, I know all you feel is pity."

“That isn’t true and you’re being cruel.” Eddie launches to his feet, darting to stand in front of you, “Where is this coming from? If I have hurt you, I assure you that it was never my intention— I could never hurt you purposely.”

“You didn’t have to purposely hurt me, Ed’s. All I had to do was sit back and watch you love someone else. Someone better than me… that was enough to break my spirit.”

A disruption shakes the interior of your house, a commotion surfacing and you can hear the cheers and whistles from your peers. Eddie clocks it as well, and you can see a panic distort his puppy like features.

“Please can we talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober and… and we can both just figure this out? Please?” His hands find your shoulders, holding you steady as his chocolate orbs bear into yours. His attention is on you, but you can tell that his feet are ready to sprint indoors.

Quietly, you nod. Anything to please him. Anything to make him happy. Plus— you were also intrigued as to what was happening behind in you. Whatever it was, it had stirred up a whirlwind.

Eddie is quick to leave your side, like a whippet released onto a race track, taking the porch steps two at a time and you are hot on his heels. You are clumsy in your kitten heeled shoes, but you are right behind him.

‘I’ll follow thee and make a Heaven of a Hell.

To die upon the hand I love so well.’

William Shakespeare, Helena

-

“What’s going on?” You stagger into the shoulder of a Frat member, whispering an inaudible apology as he turns to glare down at you. Though, after he takes in your appearance his solid and annoyed expression softens into amusement and what you can only assume as blind lust.

“Harrington and Cunningham got caught banging in the bathroom— can’t believe you missed it! It was fucking priceless.” He drapes his heavy muscular arm over your shoulders and your knees nearly buckle beneath you at his weight pressing down on you.

“What?” You peek up at him through your eyelashes, clearly dazed. You have to make sure— you have to hear him say it again.

“Cunningham? Chrissy?” He is laughing rudely into your face and your nose scrunches distastefully at the stench of beer on his breath, “And Steve Harrington! They were fucking! He had her bent over the bathroom sink, man! His hands full of her hair— pretty sure the mirror is gonna be covered in lipstick!” Finally he unhooks his arm from around your neck and you feel like you may just float up to the ceiling.

You push away from him, using his massive hulking body to propel you further into the mob, your eyes desperate to find Eddie in the crowd. And when you do… it’s ugly.

Anguish, rage, indecision and fear blaze in Eddie’s tear glossed eyes. The gears inside of his head were working like clockwork and you knew where this was about to go as he stares murderously at Steve. Jaw wired tightly shut, nostrils flaring into bullet sized holes and fists so punishingly rigid that you can see the bones of his knuckles straining against his skin; turning his skin to a snow like shade of white.

Steve descends from the top of the staircase alone. His hair is tossed into a messy heap upon his sweat soaked head and you can read from his slumped and lazy stance alone that Steve is totally gone. His hands grasp the bannister, clinging onto the wood for dear life in hopes that he won’t fall down the steep steps.

“Eddie- no, don’t do it!” You try to move toward him as quickly as your boozy brain would allow, but it’s too late. Eddie is flying toward Steve like a bat out of Purgatory.

Time appears to speed up as you watch the violence unfold in front of you alongside the rest of chanting crowd. Eddie has smashed Steve against the wall by the collar of his shirt and you swear you hear some sort of cracking noise come from concrete from the connection of Steve’s back hurling into the plasterboard.

“Fuck! Guys, stop it!” Not only are you terrified of Steve getting beat to a pulp— but your parents would kick you out of the house if things got tarnished beyond repair. And that includes the paint work.

A brutish punch thrown by Eddie bursts Steve’s cheek open and you squeal in horror at the stream of pure gore that spurts from the gnarly wound, “Jesus Christ, Eddie!!” Marching up the staircase you wedge yourself between the two men and Eddie’s movements still. He allowed himself one punch. One good punch, as a warning and also as a courtesy. He didn’t want to frighten you and he also didn’t want to take advantage of Steve’s inebriated state.

One punch is all he needed to satisfy the sickening anger bubbling within him.

And then he fled— like a killer at a crime scene.

“Eddie! Wait- fuck!!” You curse, your hands finding your hair as you tug on the roots of the delicate strands. You are beyond stressed. All you can do is watch as Eddie weaves his way through the mosh pit of bodies who had all quickly gone back to dancing— like nothing had happened.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Steve blubbers next to you and you turn to him, your eyes widened with shock and distress but it doesn’t take long for your glare to become vexing.

“What did you do, Harrington?! If you weren’t already bleeding right now I would slap you in your goddamn face!” Your grip on him is scolding and hurried as you manage to help him down to rest on one of the wooden steps, your eyes unable to waver from the crimson leaking gash on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” His face rests in his hands as he breathes deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. And just as you prepare to give him a bollocking of a life time, Chrissy emerges from sanctuary of the top floor, desperately trying to rescuer her bra straps back onto your shoulders. Her clothes are twisted sloppily around her body and she, too, is undoubtedly, totally, 110% fucking hammered.

Both your and the blondes eyes meet and your lips pinch downwards into a frown. Your head shakes disapprovingly and your mind is clouded with nervy thoughts for Eddie’s wellbeing and all you can conjure up to say to the dishevelled woman is;

“How the fuck did this happened?”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae

[munson-enthusiast]

let's go, don't wait - the set list

modern!eddie’s been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the bars, he hasn’t been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. eddie enters the world of online dating, not having a great time. that is, until he meets you. the soundtrack - ongoing/frequently updated. part one part two part three (coming soon)

[munson-enthusiast]

Do you think MOB's ex would ever come looking for her one day?

mail-order bride

simon opens the door for you, taking your hand as you get out of his truck. you brush off the front of your jeans, smiling as you step around him and onto the sidewalk.

"said an hour or so?" simon mutters, shutting the door behind you. you nod, looking around at the shops.

"yeah, i just need some things, but i also wanna look around. maybe get some books or something...i don't know."

simon shrugs, flipping his hood up over his head. he bends to give you a kiss over the mask, and you thumb at his jaw gently.

"i'll pick ya up 'ere in an hour then," simon murmurs. "call me if ya need somethin', love. and if yer not back 'ere in an hour and ya haven't texted me, i'll come lookin' for ya."

you giggle, "i know, simon. i'll see you."

he smiles under the mask, you can tell by the way it moves and the way his eyes crinkle a little. you lean up and give him another kiss over the mask before making your way down the main road, stepping into a boutique to look for some new clothes. you wave at simon as he passes by, and he salutes you before driving off.

you love spending time in town. you love visiting the shops, getting pastries, having some tea by the bookstore and buying little trinkets from the antique shop. simon likes the cheese shop. they sell some of his favorite french cheese, and they have wonderful wines that they pair with it that you love drinking together for dinner. you pick up a bottle along with some cheeses and bread, and just as you leave the shop, you bump right into a solid back, dropping one of your bags and nearly tripping into the road.

"oh, fucking hell!"

you gasp, clutching the rest of your bags to yourself. the man turns around, glaring at you, and you feel sick.

what the fuck is he doing here?

"oh well...isn't this a wonderful surprise?" he snorts. you pick up your fallen bag and straighten up, stepping back to create distance between you.

"hi..." you clear your throat. "i...i'm meeting someone, i have to go--"

"oh, where are you going?"

he blocks you from stepping around him. you meet his eyes, taking a deep breath. he always liked being able to control every aspect of you, from where you stood to what you did that day. your skittishness...your apprehensiveness...it's ingrained in you from your time with him. it's hard to explain being afraid of someone who never even really touched you, but you left before you thought it could get that far.

"that's really none of your business," you say softly. "excuse me."

he sidesteps again when you do, and this time you frown.

"you..." you glare at him. "...need to get out of my way."

he grins, a humorless laugh coming out of him. you don't like the way he's standing there, and you don't like how calm he is.

"oh, i didn't realize little kitty had grown some claws."

maybe you have. you've started to shed your scared exterior, mostly because there is someone behind you now, someone bound to you, supportive enough to make you more confident, braver, stronger. you stand a little taller, clenching your jaw, and you close the distance, stepping closer, and you cant your chin up so you can look at him hard.

"i don't know what you're doing here," you say lowly, "but you need to get the fuck out of my way, or you're going to have some other problems that you certainly can't handle."

he raises a hand, about to touch the lapel of your jacket. you grip his wrist, holding him there, and you tilt your head to the side.

"and if you touch me, you'll be sorry for it. now step aside, asshole, or i will make it a very hard day for you."

"c'mon," he chuckles. "let's go get a drink. there's a pub just down that way--"

"what part of no, and get out of my way, makes you think i wanna have a drink with you?" you scoff. "are you serious? are you that stupid that you think--"

"you listen here," he snaps, pointing his finger, getting in your face. "it's not my fault that you're--"

you step backwards when a big hand comes around you, snatching his wrist and yanking his finger out of your face. you look to your side to see simon standing there, shuffling in front of you, putting himself between you.

"now, i don't much care for interrupting, but you've got y'r fuckin' finger in my wife's face, and i'd like to know why."

you take a glance at your watch, and you realize it's past the time simon said he would pick you up. you sigh, reaching up and sliding your hand up simon's arm, and he lets go.

"it's fine," you tell him. "he was just on his way out."

he's shaking. stumbling backwards, clutching his wrist, glancing between you two. simon holds his hand out finally, beckoning him.

"your wallet."

"w-what?"

"give me y'r bloody wallet," simon snaps.

"simon--" you try, but he clicks his tongue as he snatches the wallet from him, shuffling an ID card out before reading his name out loud, and his address. simon chuckles darkly, cracking his neck before tossing the wallet at his chest.

"i know y'r name," simon murmurs. "and i know where ya put y'r head at night. where ya piss. where ya change y'r clothes. if i ever see ya talk to my wife again...if i even see ya walk down the same fuckin' road as 'er, i'll come and visit you. and we'll 'ave a chat."

"r-right, i--" he stuffs his wallet into his pocket before leaving, hurrying down the road. he doesn't even look back, doesn't look behind him. when simon turns around, you can tell just by looking into his eyes that he's angry.

he reaches over and takes the shopping bags from you, holding them in his sweaty fists as he nods his head towards his truck down the road.

"let's go," he snaps, and you hurry to follow him, reaching for his bicep. you hold onto it gently, stopping him, tugging him towards you as you block him by stepping in front of him.

"simon," you look up at him. "hey--"

"who was tha'?" he asks.

"a terrible nobody," you say softly. "one that i would rather forget."

"i--"

"thank you," you interrupt him gently. "for standing up for me. thank you...thank you for always believing me. for supporting me. for always showing up when it matters, thank you..."

simon bends, leaning his forehead against yours, and he breathes in shakily.

"your pain is mine," simon mutters. "your...discomfort is my discomfort, your joy is my joy."

you both close your eyes, smiling, and he hums when he feels another kiss, soft, the lightest press against his mouth that he feels ten times stronger than normal.

"i love you, simon," you whisper. you hear the bags drop onto the floor, and then two big hands cup your face, leaning it back, and he stares down at you almost painfully. it feels like you aren't real. he feels like it must be a dream, like this can't be his reality.

"i love you more, baby."

but when simon opens his eyes, you're still there.