#pariah is a dork | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stray-cat-21 · 9 months

Text

The Pariah and the Freak

Chapter One: how it all began

Summary: After a long time obsession Eddie Munson finds a way to make the queen of Hawkins High all his and only his.

Part summary: Eddie putting his plan into action and getting together with the girl of his many dreams.

Warning: This is a DARK fic involving forced pregnancy / Eddie baby trapping reader without her knowing. do not keep reading if that makes you uncomfortable or if you’re under 18! It’s definitely soft but still dark Eddie

Sweet, beautiful, caring, compassionate were all words that could be used to describe (Y/n) (y/l/n). She was head cheerleader as well as the somewhat queen of Hawkins high. However unlike most of the cheer squad and jocks she was wasn’t cruel to those not in her social group. Even the nerds, geeks, dorks, losers, and freaks adored her. Eddie Munson was no exception to her beauty and charm.

They definitely weren’t friends she didn’t really know anything about him. They’ve never hung out, and they haven’t exchanged more than ten words but she never insulted him or anyone else in Hellfire. In fact on multiple occasions she stopped one of the jocks from harassing the club. Those things alone lead to Eddie having quite the heavy crush on her.

Now just because she wasn’t cruel to him or his friends doesn’t mean they spoke often. The pair had three classes together and sat on opposite ends of the cafeteria. She just simply didn’t really take much notice of him when he wasn’t putting on some sort of show. For all six years of knowing her he had struggled with ways of getting her attention. If he couldn’t get her to fully notice him how could he get her to be his?

The idea came to Eddie one day while smoking a cigarette in the trailer park on a picnic table. Two of the park moms were sat out front one of their homes smoking and drinking boxed wine while loudly complaining about their lives and how they ended up there. The one with dyed red hair lets out a long exhausted sigh. “I should’ve never listened to him about not usin a condom Cathy, I could’ve been married to Phil Blake he’s a doctor now” she exhales with a puff of smoke. “He baby trapped ya Trisha that’s exactly what he did no good bastard” the other agrees.

Eddie sat up straight listening a little closer. He had heard rumors of women ‘baby trapping’ men but never the other way around. Could it be the answer to his prayers? The solution to his life’s struggle? Now he just had to figure out how to get the most popular girl in town to not only sleep with him but do it unsafely.

Thankfully that comes to him pretty easily too. He’s in his last period class not focusing on the assignment at hand instead listening to the two girls in front of him conversing. The class was doing busy work while the teacher got caught up on things. As long as things didn’t get too loud he allowed them to talk. The two cheerleaders were discussing the party of the week hosted courtesy of the basketball team.

“Jason says Josh’s parents are out of town all weekend”

“Lucky Josh”

“You’re coming right? I was hoping we could get ready together”

“Yes I desperately need to get out of my house especially if it involves drinking and dancing”

“There should be plenty of that knowing the guys. Do you wanna sleep over?”

“Sounds great Chrissy as long as your mom doesn’t make us those granola cookies or jog laps again”

The girls quietly erupt into laughter recalling a prior sleepover and just like that Eddie has a plan. All he has to do is score an invitation to this party and everything he’s ever wanted will be his. (Y/n) will be his and only his.

The party is crowded with way too many drunk teenagers. The music is loud and shitty. This is not how Eddie Munson wants to spend a Friday night but for her he decides it’s worth it. For her and for his baby Eddie will suffer through this meathead’s party.

He makes his way through the living room pushing past his peers until he spots one of the hosts of the party Josh, aka number 20 of the basketball team. Josh could be the face of the dumb jock stereotype. He’s only cruel when he’s joining in with his peers. Basically the human equivalent of a dog who does whatever you say. Eddie waves a ringed hand holding up the paper bag he had brought.

“Munson fuck yeah man!” Josh laughs with a slur making his way over. In the bag is an assortment of ziplock bags filled with different drugs. Some of the pot is definitely weak since Eddie had to give Josh way too good of a deal to convince him to let him come to the party. Josh pulls out a wad of cash shoving it forward which Eddie accepts handing him the bag. “Good shit, stick around dude have a drink might make you loosen up or somethin” the drunk high schooler says wondering back to his friends.

Eddie rolls his eyes and wonders back into the main part of the party. It’s a sea of faces made up of cheerleaders, preps, partiers, and everything between. He can see a few party goers giving him dirty looks and mutterings of wondering why the freak is in their territory. When he finally spots (Y/n) she’s dancing with Chrissy. Both girls are clearly tipsy already their movements much sloppier than they normally were during their cheers.

They’re giggling and taking turns spinning each other even though it doesn’t match the music at all. Eddie can’t help but think he can’t wait to dance with her. Slow dancing in the kitchen the only thing between them her baby bump. Eddie can’t help but smile at the thought. Their dancing is interrupted by Jason coming up to borrow Chrissy which (y/n) allows despite her disappointment.

(Y/n) let’s out a breath looking around and their eyes meet. A small smile blossoms on her face as she casually walks over to him. “Eddie Munson at a party, well now I’ve seen everything” she teases with a kind smile. She isn’t making fun of him or being rude she’s genuinely surprised he’s here and he’d go as far to say she looks pleased. “Must be a sign of the impending apocalypse or something” he teases back.

She laughs face lighting up with amusement. “Did you come to protest our conformist ways?” She asks curiously. “No just to make googly eyes at Carver, he’s playing hard to get” Eddie jokes. (Y/n) laughs again and Eddie can’t help but think he’d talk forever if she kept making that sound. “I was just here to make a sale” Eddie shrugs.

“So you’re not staying?” She asks. Eddie can’t help but revel in the small bit of disappointment evident on her features. She wants him to stay, she wants him around. “Not really my scene” Eddie shrugs.

“Oh come on stick around you never come to these things” she begs placing a hand on his forearm. Eddie looks from her to the door as if he’s honestly thinking it over. “I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt” he sighs smiling. (Y/n) lights up smiling a little wider.

“Yay that’s great!” The way she cheers for Eddie in the way that’s normally reserved for the schools star athletes makes his heart swell. “Here I’ll get you a refill sweetheart while I get one” Eddie offers out his hand to take her cup. He doesn’t miss the way the nickname makes her a bit bashful as she hands him the empty cup. “Don’t go running off on me now Munson” she calls after him when he begins heading back to the kitchen.

Thankfully the table covered in an assortment of beverages is temporarily unoccupied since the bartender is . Eddie pours them both a drink before slipping out the small two ziplock bag containing only two pills. They were much harder to get than his other substances but thankfully there was a guy the next town over. Once (y/n)’s drink is mixed he returns to find her saving him a spot on a two person love seat.

The small chair doesn’t allow for too much space between them so his leg presses against her own. “Thank you” she grins when he passes her the red solo cup. “Anytime princess” Eddie responds. It was usually a nickname reserved for DnD or for making fun of spoiled rich popular girls but for her he’d make an exception. Again Eddie isn’t oblivious to the effect the nickname has on her.

“You’re quite charming you know that?”

“Am I?”

“Yeah I didn’t know you were so sweet, guess I always thought you were kinda…”

“Mean and scary?”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay I kinda thought you were mean and scary too”

“Really me scary?”

“Terrifying”

“Careful Munson I’ll get you with my pompoms”

“See what did I tell ya scary. You give Kruger and Voorhees a run for their money”

“I guess you know my terrible secret, I’m really the evil cheerleader of doom”

“Oh of doom?”

“Yea of doom! I’ll slay you down all while wearing a cheer skirt”

By the end the two are laughing hysterically coming up with her evil villain origin story. He had no idea she’d be so easy to talk to let alone kind of a dork. Maybe she’s only so open because of the alcohol or maybe it’s just who she is he can’t quite figure that part out. However it doesn’t really matter so long as she keeps laughing and touching his arm like that.

“You’d make a great comic book villain sweetheart” Eddie says taking a sip from his drink. Her smile brightens and he watches the way she ducks her a head little as if trying to cover up such a beautiful sight. Eddie reaches his hand out gently tilting her chin so she’s looking up at him again. “Nuh uh if I have to stay at this party you can’t go hiding from me” he teases. The act clearly catches her off guard but she doesn’t move away or push his hand away.

Eddie almost thinks he could get away with kissing her but he doesn’t push his luck moving his hand away. “There you go being all sweet again” she muses. “Shh don’t say that too loud you’ll ruin my reputation” Eddie says in a mock whisper. “Oh and what makes me worthy of knowing the real Eddie Munson?” (Y/n) teases. “Well it must be reserved for only the prettiest girl in school” Eddie shrugs looking down at his cup.

“You think I’m pretty?” She asks. Eddie’s a little surprised by the question. (Y/n) isn’t fishing for compliments or trying to get him to spill his guts, she’s really asking if he’s telling the truth. “Beautiful” Eddie scoffs. The admission makes her bite her lip looking off again.

“You’re not like most guys you know. I don’t think I’ve ever been complimented so much”

“That’s a shame sweetheart.”

“Maybe it’s the age difference, you’re older, wiser than the guys on the team”

“And now I’m old?”

(Y/n) opens her mouth to say something else but is cut off by someone yelling. “What the hell are you doing here freak?” Jason spits. (Y/n) winces while Eddie just lets out a sigh. “Carver so lovely to see you” Eddie says with a mocking grin. One of Jason’s goons grab Eddie by the collar yanking him up from the chair.

Most of the room is looking on at the scene. (Y/n) jumps up from her spot. “Come on guys knock it off we’re just trying to enjoy the party” she says glaring at Jason. “She’s right Jason let’s just go” Chrissy pleads tugging on the sleeve of Jason’s jacket. Jason shrugs his girlfriend off stepping closer to Eddie despite being shorter and far less intimidating.

“Party’s invitation only freak, get lost before I make you” Jason threatens shoving him. Josh looks worried as he keeps his eyes on the ground waiting to be ratted out to his team mates. “I invited him Jason he’s my date” (y/n) snaps quickly grabbing Eddie’s hand. Jason and the rest of the guys look over at her shocked so do Eddie and Chrissy. “And why the hell would you do that?” The blonde asks.

“Jason dude what’s it matter let’s just go back to partying” Josh finally speaks up. “Yeah man who gives a shit he’s here?” Patrick agrees. Jason finally gives up his stare down storming away. Chrissy mouths an apology to her friend scurrying off after them. (Y/n) takes a deep breath looking back towards Eddie.

“You okay?” She asks worriedly. “Yeah sweetheart nothing I’m not used to. Besides this time I had the cheerleader of doom here to protect me” Eddie winks. (Y/n) breathes out a laugh shaking her head a little. She still hasn’t let go of his hand and Eddie can’t help but move his thumb against her skin.

“You might wanna be careful though going around saying you’re on a date with me wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation” Eddie explains. (Y/n) shrugs smiling nonchalantly. “Not the worst rumor I’ve ever heard about myself” (y/n) laughs. Eddie nods understandably. “Gotta be a new high point for mine.”

The two talk for a while more about whatever crosses their minds. They get to know each other at least on a basic level, joke around, and tease each other. Hell she even convinces him to dance with her for a bit since it is a date after all. He’s having so much fun Eddie almost wants to consider changing his mind on the whole plan but but kidding by how (y/n) seems to get more tired by the minute he thinks it too late for that. She’s in his arms slightly swaying to the music when Eddie notices she’s leaning on him a lot more and slurring her words.

“You alright sweetheart?” Eddie asks tucking his chin down to look at her. (Y/n) nods her eyebrows furrowed and she closes her eyes for a second. “Um yeah I uh I think I need to sit down” she answers slowly. “Shit here sit back down, I’ll get Chrissy okay don’t move a muscle” Eddie orders helping her back into the chair. (Y/n) nods leaning back into the cushions.

Eddie speeds off back towards the kitchen. Thankfully Chrissy is without her guard dog talking to someone from student council who gives Eddie a dirty look. From what he could hear from the conversation the other student was concerned why the (Y/n) (y/l/n) was on a date with the freak show. “Sorry to interrupt but I think (y/n) needs you Chrissy she’s not lookin too good” Eddie says worriedly. Chrissy frowns immediately following Eddie without a word to their classmate.

(Y/n) was just barely staying awake eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again. “Hey hon it’s me you feeling alright?” She asks pressing a hand to her friends forehead. “I don’t know what happened, we were talking and she got really dizzy and tired” Eddie explains. “Maybe she’s just drunk I don’t know will you help me get her upstairs?” She frets looking up at Eddie desperately. Eddie quickly nods leaning down to gently pull (y/n) up hoisting her up bridal style.

“Come on sweetheart I’ve got ya” he breathes carefully upstairs following Chrissy. She leads the pair to an empty bedroom that was off limits. Eddie is gentle when he lays (y/n) down helping her fully into the bed. Chrissy is anxiously biting her thumb nail looking down at her best friend. (Y/n) is softly breathing but hasn’t moved a muscle or spoken since they started heading upstairs.

“She ever gotten drunk like this before?”

“Drunk sure but she’s never been like this before oh god do you think it’s alcohol poisoning? She’ll freak if she has to have her stomach pumped”

“I doubt it did she do anything but drink maybe smoke something?”

“No she couldn’t have I was with her till you got there all she had was two drinks I thought. Oh god Eddie do you think someone drugged her or something? Like one of those tapes they make us watch in school?”

“If so they’re about to learn how much of a freak I can be”

Eddie practically growls the sentence out low and angry as if someone had really hurt his girl. Chrissy looks at him stunned taken back by his concern. “Thank god you were here what if some creep had found her” the blonde frets. Eddie is about to respond but the door slams open making them both turn around. Jason enters the room looking pissed off.

The angry, tipsy athlete storms towards his girlfriend. “Chrissy what the hell are you doing with this freak” Jason spits never taking his eyes of Eddie. “Jason something’s wrong with (y/n) I think we need to take her to the hospital” Chrissy answers. “She’s a big girl she shouldn’t have gotten wasted if she couldn’t handle it” Jason demands. “Not her fault one of your pervert friends drugged her” Eddie says.

“What the hell did you just say?” Jason growls stepping towards Eddie. Chrissy pushes herself between the two as much as she can. “Jason stop it please (y/n) really needs help, he was just helping” Chrissy promises. “Helping, he’s probably the one who did it fucking freak” Jason accuses. Eddie narrows his eyes down at him.

“Eddie will you please grab (y/n) some water?” Chrissy pleads facing the metal head. “Sure thing Chrissy” Eddie nods making sure his shoulder bumps Jason on his way out of the room. Even just outside the door he can hear the couple fighting. As much as he hates it for Chrissy’s sake since she’s always been nice to him it’s a good sign for his plan.

When Eddie returns to the room Chrissy and Jason are long gone just as he expected. Eddie peaks around the empty hallway before shutting the door making sure it’s locked tight. His breathing is shaky and his body is trembling in excitement as he approaches the foot of the bed. This is it finally his shot.

Laid out across the bed peaceful and unmoving (Y/n) looks straight out of a fairy tale. His very own sleeping princess that can only be saved by his love. Her eyes are shut just slightly fluttering every so often. Painted red lips parted just slightly allowing her slow breaths to escape.

The mattress dips under his weight as Eddie kneels down onto the bed. He lowers himself down till he’s hovering just above her. His ring covered hand reaches up to move a stray hair from her face before sliding it down to her cheek. “So beautiful” he whispers. Slowly Eddie leans down till his lips are ghosting over her own.

His head is clouded with anticipation, anxiety, nervousness, and even a little guilt deep deep down. Swallowing back the conflicting emotions Eddie takes the plunge connecting their lips together. Just like he’d always daydreamed her lips are pillowy soft. They melt against his anxiety bitten lips like cotton candy.

When his tongue finds its way into her mouth Eddie sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. Cherry coke mixed with cheep vodka lingers on her tongue flooding Eddie’s tastebuds. It’s a flavor he will now cherish forever because it’s hers. Her gentle slow breaths hit his skin and his fans against her resting face.

When Eddie finally pulls himself away from her now glossy barely swollen lips he doesn’t go far. Instead his wet searing kisses move across her cheekbone, down to her chin and up her neck all the way to her ear. “I’m gonna love you so good sweetheart I promise. Gonna make you and our baby so god damn happy” he breathes.

He lifts away from her face looking over her body. So badly does Eddie want to take his time. He wants to cherish every square inch of her skin, slowly pull her clothes off and tell her why he loves every part of her body, enter slowly with his fingers warming her up and stretching her out, eating her out till she begs him to just stuff her full, making love to her the way she deserves. Only he’s already painfully hard, this is his first time, and he has to hurry. Still though it would be rude not to warm her up.

His hands move down to her skirt and Eddie pushes it up to her waist. (Y/n) chose some see through black panties for the evening that Eddie can tell are already wet. A moan escapes his throat knowing he’s turning her on even in her unconscious state. He’s quick but careful as he pulls them off picketing them in his back pocket for later. There’s not much light in the room just the soft moonlight coming in from the window revealing her wet lips to him.

Eddie reaches up two ringed fingers spreading her pussy open to him. “Fuck you’ve even got a pretty pussy baby can’t wait to see it drooling my cum” Eddie groans. He moves a thumb to her clit slowly circling it. (Y/n)’s body makes a small movement and in her sleep she lets a a soft moan like sound. Eddie continues the motion in varying speeds and pressures seeing which ones make her the most wet.

“That’s it pretty girl need you nice and wet gonna make you cum then fuck you full alright” Eddie breathes moving his other hand to push two fingers into her. She’s tight around even his fingers clenching around them. Once he’s got the rhythm and technique down it’s not hard to make her come undone.

“Fuck” Eddie groans pulling his now soaking wet fingers out of her. He’s quick to shove them into his mouth moaning aloud at the taste. Once their licked clean he moves his hands to his belt fumbling with the buckle till it’s undone and he can properly shove his jeans down his legs. His cock springs free slapping his stomach head red and dripping with precum. Eddie gives it a few strokes looking over her again.

Even just the feeling of the head of his cock lining up with her entrance has Eddie ready to lose it but he holds back. With a slow but hard thrust he’s bottomed out completely balls deep buried in her pussy. “Fucking christ” he moans voice high pitched with pleasure. He thought she was right wrapped around his fingers but this? This is next level.

Another rock of his hips rolls his cock sweetly into her lurching her body against the bed. Lifting her legs up Eddie carefully placing them over his shoulders. Each time his cock comes out even more wet in her own pleasure. She’s completely unaware she’s soaking the ‘freaks’ cock so much.

The thrusts get harder shaking the bed while Eddie fucks into her sleeping form. He has to bite hard into his lip to keep his moans down. “Holy shit sweetheart this pussy is made for my fucking cock, gonna ruin you for any of those assholes” Eddie whispers. His hand moves up to her blouse bunching it up around her neck. Now each time he thrusts into her he can watch her tits bounce.

“When we do this next time gonna make you really enjoy it sweetheart I swear. You’ll be awake and screaming my name.”

“Maybe I’ll bend you over in your cheer skirt and fuck you behind the bleachers let you go back to practice stuffed full of the freak’s cum.”

“Oh shit so fucking tight sweetheart taking me so well”

“Fuck fuck fuck” Eddie groans louder with each obscenity. His cum floods her walls. Once his balls have completely emptied into her pussy he slowly pulls out watching some of his cum ooze from her abused cunt. His fingers are quick to catch it and push it right back in. Eddie takes a minute to catch his breath while getting his clothes fixed.

Big brown eyes are transfixed at her used up pussy. He wonders if once he gets her back to the trailer if she’ll still be asleep enough to go another round. Eddie does his best to get her cleaned up straightening up her clothes before throwing one of her arms over his shoulder. Part of him hates how easy it is to get her unconscious body out of the party but for now he’s slightly grateful for everyone’s lack of care for anyone but themselves.

(Y/n) groans opening her eyes sunlight filling most of her vision. Her head is throbbing, she feels nauseous, and she knows something doesn’t feel right. She sits up opening her eyes again. Her surroundings are unfamiliar, this isn’t her room or Chrissy’s or any of the other cheerleaders. Looking down she also sees the clothes on her body aren’t her own.

Panic fills her chest and for a moment she worries the vomit might spill from her throat. (Y/n) pushes the blanket away from her legs looking at the oversized shirt with the words Iron Maiden scribbled in a peeling font across the fabric along with a pair of plaid pajama pants. Her eyes dart up scanning her surroundings. Thankfully they land on at least something, or someone familiar. Eddie Munson slumped in a small white chair using his jacket as a blanket.

Small snores leave his opened mouth and his hair is sticking all over the place. This was Eddie Munson’s room. It makes sense given the posters on the walls, the music equipment and the ash tray. Even if things are still a blur at least she knows where she is.

As if sensing her presence Eddie begins to wake up. The snoring stops and his brown eyes slowly blink open. With a deep yawn his eyes finally meet hers and it seems to wake him up instantly. “Shit you’re awake, how are you feeling?” He questioned jumping up from his chair. His jacket falls to the floor with a loud thud as Eddie makes his way over to the bed side.

“Um not great” she answers truthfully. Eddie winces nodding his head. “I’ll uh grab you some water and then we can talk alright?” He suggests. (Y/n) nods watching him hurry out of the room. When he returns Eddie not only has a glass of water but some Tylenol.

“Thanks Eddie” (y/n) sighs gratefully taking a large sip. “Better?” He asks voice still quiet and careful. (Y/n) hums setting the half empty cup back down. “Can I sit?” Eddie asks gesturing towards his own bed. (Y/n) nods pulling her legs towards her body allowing him room in front of her.

“So what do you remember?”

“Not much I remember meeting up with you at the party, arguing with Jason and then it gets fuzzy.”

“After we talked to Jason we were sitting in the living room and you started getting dizzy and slurring your words. I got Chrissy and we helped you upstairs. Jason found us and started arguing with Chrissy yelling at me you know his normal shit.”

“I do kinda remember yelling.”

“She begged me to just go get you some water and when I got back they were both gone and I found you alone in the room.”

“So you brought me to your home?”

“I swear I looked for Chrissy again sweetheart or at least someone who could tell me where you live but I couldn’t find her and no one would trust me with your address.”

“And my clothes?”

“Well you kinda threw up and some got on your shirt. And since you were in a skirt I just pulled the pajama pants up I swear I didn’t look at anything!”

“It’s okay I believe you”

“I just got you here and then realized that might look really bad when you woke up but fuck I couldn’t leave you there”

He looks genuinely worried that she might not believe him or that he’s worried that she’s accusing him of something. Eddie Munson school ‘freak’ slept on a far too small chair in order to make her comfortable in his bed. She had gotten too drunk at a party and passed out and he spent his entire night taking care of her. (Y/n) placed her hand over his giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you Eddie” she says softly with a small smile.

“There is more” he says quietly. (Y/n) just looks at him to continue. Eddie takes a deep breath running his hand through his hair. “When I found you your um your clothes were messed up like your skirt was crooked, your shirt was mostly pushed up, and your uh- your urm panties were gone” Eddie explains clearing his throat. “Oh god” (y/n) whispers.

The nauseous feeling returns all too quickly and (y/n) physically pales. “I’m gonna be sick” she mumbles. Eddie is quick to grab the small metal waste basket handing it to her. Not more than a minute later she’s puking up the water since it was the only thing in her stomach. She expects Eddie to turn around but instead he sits at her side pulling her hair out of the way with one hand and stroking her back with the other.

When she’s done he pulls the basket away offering her the water again. Tears prick in her eyes and blur her vision she can’t even make out the glass. Eddie scrambles to set the glass down wrapping his arms around her. She isn’t exactly sobbing but tears are streaking down her cheeks breathing broken and coming in harsh inhales. Eddie hold her tightly to his chest soothing her to the best of his ability.

“Need you to breathe for me sweetheart can you do that? Follow me okay just take a deep breath” he instructs. Eddie shows her by breathing like that himself his chest rising and falling against her. It takes a couple minutes but she starts to mimic his movements. He’s able to calm her down finally.

“I’m okay I’m okay” she sniffles wiping her face. It’s not true she’s definitely still freaked out but she manages to hold back the tears for now. “I looked but uh there was no one close so I settled with getting you out of there but if you want me to go with you to the cops or anything just say the word. Whatever you need from me I’m here” Eddie explains. (Y/n) nods quietly knowing that even if they both went to the cops nothing could be done but it was nice he would be there for whatever came next.

“Are you um hungry?” Eddie asks changing the subject. “Yeah actually starving” (y/n) admits recalling the fact that she barely had five chips and a bunch of alcohol for dinner the night prior. “Let’s get you some food sweetheart” Eddie grins helping her out of his bed. Even through the haziness of the second part of the evening she remembers having a lot of fun with Eddie before the fact. (Y/n) recalls how sweet and charming he had been with her.

“We do have to be kinda quiet my uncle is asleep in the living room”

“You live with your uncle?”

“Yeah he took me in when I was in eighth grade. But he works the graveyard shift”

She quietly follows Eddie to the kitchen leaning against one of the counters while he raids the fridge. “So we don’t have a lot and I’m uh not the most experienced chef but I can make some killer scrambled eggs and toast” Eddie says peaking at her over the fridge door. “Sounds great Eddie” (y/n) laughs. “Perfect my kinda girl” Eddie says grabbing the egg carton and milk. (Y/n) watches him while he collects the supplies with a thoughtful look on his face.

“You know what I do remember last night?”

“What’s that?”

“Having a really good time with you”

“It was a lot of fun princess”

Before the conversation can continue Eddie accidentally knocked over a pan causing it to clatter. “Shit” he mumbled scrambling to pick it up. There’s a groan from the living room and not two minutes later a tired looking older man shuffles into the kitchen. “Fuck I’m sorry Wayne” Eddie frowns. “It’s alright son nice to see you eating somethin before noon” Wayne says with a yawn.

“I’ll get coffee started” Eddie says heading to the pot. Wayne catches notice of the girl standing in the kitchen. He eyes his nephew for a moment before looking back to (Y/n). “You plannin on introducing me to your friend here” Wayne teases. “Oh uh Wayne this is (Y/n), (y/n) this is my uncle Wayne” Eddie says.

Wayne’s eyes widen and he smirks. “Oh this is (Y/n), the (Y/n) I’ve been told so much about?” He asks. (Y/n) looks towards Eddie with a teasing smile. Eddie’s face reddened and he sent his uncle a look. “Wayne man come on” he groaned focusing back on the coffee.

(Y/n) laughed offering out her hand to Wayne. “Nice to meet you Wayne, I haven’t heard much but it’s all been great” she smiles. “You too darlin” he chuckled shaking his head. Wayne grabbed his coffee before excusing himself to the bathroom. “That was humiliating” Eddie sighs going back to his cooking.

“So you talk about me to your uncle?” (Y/n) asks curiously. “I’ve probably mentioned you once or twice” Eddie shrugs. (Y/n) suppresses a laugh offering a kind hand on his shoulder. “Small school not many new faces and names right?” She offers him a way out of his torment. “Right yeah exactly” Eddie smirks.

Eddie thinks he could used to this, cooking her breakfast while she’s dressed in his clothes. Laughing with Wayne, drinking coffee, laughing over burnt toast, he wants the whole nine yards. Now he just needs to hope his plan worked. Little does he know she’s thinking something pretty similar. (Y/n) can’t remember the last time she’s had a better time then the last day she’s spent with Eddie.

(Y/n) spends breakfast getting to know both Munson men. She hears stories of little Eddie, learns about Corroded Coffin, and about why his uncle has so many coffee cups. It’s a nice way to spend a Sunday morning. Even though it’s small the trailer feels like a real home, somewhere happy memories are made. After the fact Wayne begins to clean up while Eddie changes and (y/n) decides to help.

“I promise darlin it’s not a problem I may look old but I can handle it”

“No please really I’d like to help, earn my keep you know”

Wayne shakes his head with a small smile. Once upon a time Eddie had used that very phrase over and over again. “Well alright I’d like the company anyway” Wayne shrugs. The two are quiet grabbing up the dishes they had used.

“You know, Mr. Munson”

“Wayne is just fine”

“Wayne, Eddie is a really good guy you should be proud of him”

“Oh really now?”

“Yeah, I mean obviously you already knew that but knowing Eddie even just a little I imagine that’s not something either of you hear a lot”

“No I reckon it’s not”

“I just don’t know many guys that would have done what he did for me last night”

Wayne doesn’t ask what happened but he does put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Well thank you for sayin so darlin” he says quietly. (Y/n) nods giving him a kind smile. The two go back to cleaning up while Wayne tells her another funny story from when Eddie was younger.

A little while later Eddie and (y/n) are sat in the front seat of Eddie’s van. An Iron Maiden tape plays quietly on the radio when the van pulls into her parent’s driveway. It was definitely the slowest Eddie has ever driven in his entire life, hell he thinks he might have broken a law by going so slow. But he was in no rush to get her home.

“So can I walk you to the door or do we need to sneak you in a window?” Eddie muses. (Y/n) laughs shaking her head. “You can walk me to the door if you’d like” she answers. Eddie grins exiting the van with her. The two make the short trip to the door in silence until she’s stood in front of him.

“Well here you are princess” Eddie says gesturing to her house. Not wanting him to leave just yet (y/n) doesn’t turn to leave or enter her house. “Thank you again Eddie, for everything” she says. “It was fun, I’m sorry again about the uh circumstances” Eddie shrugs. (Y/n) nods looking away from him.

Eddie’s fingers fidget at his sides wanting to tilt her chin up and kiss her. Treat this like he was just a normal guy bringing her home from a great date and giving her a goodbye kiss. Only that’s not what this is yet. In her own mind (y/n) is desperate to come up with something else to say. She just wants five more minutes with him.

Suddenly she lights up gently grabbing Eddie’s forearm which startled him just a little. “Your number um can I have your phone number?” She blurts. The second the question leaves her mouth she’s humiliated. (Y/n) was used to being the one being begged for her number and it was usually at the end of a date. “How about a trade?” Eddie grins.

(Y/n) nods with a smile feeling relieved. Eddie jogs back towards his van fumbling around in the front seat for a couple minutes. “Goch ya” he exclaims exiting the vehicle marker in hand. Eddie is triumphant as he hands her the black marker. Uncapping it (y/n) gently scrawls her name against the back of his palm.

Watching her write down each number Eddie feels more and more joyful. Forget the bats and the puppet master, screw the spider or his wyvern. The ink now covering his hand is by far his new favorite. The black inky numbers are made even better when she finishes it with a small heart. For just a brief moment he considers buying a bunch of gloves so he could get away with tattooing it for real.

“There you go” she breathes reaching to hand him back the sharpie. “Looks great sweetheart hurt a lot less than my other ones” he teases capturing his hand in his own. (Y/n) has to look down again staring at the pavement beneath their shoes while he writes down his own digits. She wonders if he’s consciously making the decision to run his thumb against her fingers or not. Instead of a heart Eddie adds a tiny devil head for his own little touch.

When he’s done Eddie uses his teeth to recap the marker while not letting go of her hand. He admires his work for a second before bringing her hand to his lips gently kissing her knuckles. “All done” he says quietly as he lowers their hands. “What do you think do I look metal?” She jokes. “Oh so metal” Eddie teases back.

“I uh guess I should go”

“Yeah me too”

“Thank you again Eddie”

“Don’t mention it”

“I’ll bring your clothes on Monday”

“Sure, yeah sure”

Eddie’s a little surprised when she stands up straight enough to kiss him right on the cheekbone. His eyes go wide, cheeks redden and he’s definitely smiling like an idiot. “I’ll see you Monday Eds” (y/n) breathes before hurrying inside. Eddie’s ringed fingers reach up grazing over the spot she had just kissed. The nickname mixed with the kiss swarm his head and make up for the money he lose out on for the pot well worth it.

The following Monday Eddie is a little shocked to see (Y/n) waiting for him at his locker. The minute she spots him approaching (y/n) waves with a bright smile. “Well shit if I got welcomed like this every day I just might show up on time” he teases. “Maybe there’s hope for your education yet Munson” she laughs. (Y/n) surprises Eddie again by stopping to give him a hug.

“What’s this for sweetheart?” He questions softly while still holding her close. “I don’t know just feel like I should thank you” she sighs resting her head against his shoulder. “You’ve done that already a few times now, besides it’s not necessary” he promises her as they separate. (Y/n) nods but still looks unsure. Before either can say anything else there’s a yell of her name and Chrissy is rushing over.

The blonde pulls her best friend into a tight hug. “Oh gosh you’re okay! I’m so sorry I abandoned you!” Chrissy frets her eyes glossy. “Chrissy it’s okay I’m alright” (y/n) assures her. “I was so worried about you but Jason got so mad and made us leave and wouldn’t take no as an answer” Chrissy said with a sniffle.

“I’m okay I promise, Eddie made sure I was taken care of” (y/n) explained looking over at him. Chrissy pulled away from (y/n) quickly hugging Eddie. The metal head is taken back too shocked to react to the fact that he got hugged by the two most popular girls in school. “Thank you thank you so much for looking after her” Chrissy rambles breathlessly. “Uh no problem Chrissy” Eddie shrugs.

By lunch time Eddie and (Y/n) have hung out most of the day. Walking together between classes and only separating to sit in their assigned seats, she’d give him a hug before the classes they didn’t have together, and were even partners for a project in second period. Not having fourth period together Eddie is sat at his usual table when (y/n) arrives to the cafeteria making their way over to the Hellfire Club table. The guys take notice of her approaching before Eddie does.

“Holy shit is (Y/n) (y/l/n) coming over to our table?” Gareth Gawks. “Yeah haven’t you heard her and Eddie are real close lately” Jeff teases nudging Eddie’s arm. “Lucas said the whole basket ball team can’t stop taking about it” Mike adds while Dustin is amazed at what’s happening. “Be nice fuckers, and Gareth move over” Eddie growls under his breath. Gareth huffs out an annoyed breath and everyone groans and complains but moves down.

Eddie puts on a bright charming smile as (y/n) steps up to the table. “Hey Eddie, I was wondering if you’d mind if I sat here with you guys?” (Y/n) asks. “Course we don’t mind do we guys?” Eddie asks looking to the others. The others shake their heads still looking shocked or fearful of their club’s leader. “Thanks guys I appreciate it” she smiles graciously taking a seat next to Eddie.

“No problem sweetheart glad to have you join us” he grins. There’s a heavy awkward silence across the table while the group share surprised confused looks. “Is all that cheer stuff hard? It looks really complicated” Dustin finally speaks up just curious and friendly as he always was. The other guys stare over at him in disbelief.

“Oh not really anymore, it’s a lot more physically straining then people think though” (y/n) answers. Eddie sends Dustin an approving smile and nod. “But I think that Dungeons and Dragons you guys play looks crazy hard with all the math and stuff, seriously I respect it” (y/n) continues. The group quickly falls into comfortable easy conversation about cheer and DnD and anything that comes up. Laughter, and joy fills the table, Dustin even snorts some milk from his nose.

At the end of the day Eddie is heading out to his van when he hears (y/n) calling out to him. “Hey sweetheart I was hoping I’d see you before I left” Eddie greets with a smile. “Hey Eds I uh have your clothes” she says offering out the neatly folded bundle of clothes. Eddie accepts the garments and his fingers graze hers. “Oh sweet, the shirt is actually one of my favorites to sleep in” he explains.

The revelation isn’t lost on her that he allowed her to sleep in his favorite pajama shirt and she can’t help but smile a little. “Hey look I’m sorry if I was like all over you today I swear. I didn’t even realize I was until someone pointed it out last period” she admits a look of guilt blossoming on her features. “You didn’t annoy me sweetheart. We might’ve started a few new rumors but what else is new around here” he jokes back.

“That’s probably true, I don’t know I just-” (y/n) trails off with a sigh looking down at their feet. Eddie frowns tilting her chin up with his hand. “Hey it’s alright you can talk to me, I promise. I’m all ears here” he assures her. (Y/n) looked away unable to look him in the eye.

“Ever since what happened at the party I don’t feel safe around the guys on the team. Like I don’t even know who did it or if they were all involved. I just got to school and I didn’t feel safe with my normal crowd and I remembered how safe you made me feel during the weekend so I just kind of clung to you all day without trying to” she rambles nearly out of breath by the end. Eddie’s face softens as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“You’ve got nothin to worry about alright? I’ll take care of you” he whispers kissing the top of her head. Eddie can feel the way she relaxes letting out a breath and relaxing into his touch. “Thanks Eds” she sighs tightening her hold on him. “Anytime sweetheart anytime” he whispers.

She’s smiling a little when they separate. “So how do you usually get home” he asks despite knowing the answer. “Oh uh usually I ride with Jason and Chrissy but I think I’m gonna walk today” she shrugs. “Nonsense, follow me princess your chariot awaits” Eddie grins offering out his arm. (Y/n) now with a much bigger smile happily accepts following him into the parking lot.

It wasn’t until 6 and half weeks later that Eddie has confirmation that his plan was successful. They were in the middle of first period doing another partner project when all of a sudden (y/n) stopped an explanation short taking off out of the classroom. Both worry and hope fill Eddie’s chest. Somehow he manages to contain himself for about five minutes before getting permission to leave for the bathroom so he can check on her.

As Eddie steps into the girls bathroom he hears the toilet flush followed by broken sobs. He doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the stall but he’s sure the chain attached to his pants alerted her of his presence since it sounds like she’s trying to conceal her cries.“Sweetheart it’s me are you alright?” He asks softly tapping against the door. “E-Eddie?” She calls with her voice cracking. “Yeah you rushed out of class pretty quickly so I came to check on you, can I come in?” He asks.

She didn’t answer but Eddie hears the door unlock so he lightly pushed it open. (Y/n) was sat with her knees against the cracking tile floor. Cheer skirt crumpled, hair disheveled, eyes red and puffy, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Oh Eddie my life is over it’s ruined” she chokes out. Eddie sits down next to her on the floor stretching his legs out ahead of him.

“Why do you say that?” He asks voice soft and gentle. Her lip trembles and she has to look away from his gaze. “Because it is, everything is ruined! Everything I’ve worked for is ruined! Cheerleading, school, my friends, everything!” She shouts.

The sobs start fresh again, her eyes squeeze shut in a poor attempt of keeping the tears locked away. (Y/n)’s shoulders shakes and she can hardly breathe between her cries. “C’mere sweetheart” he offers pulling her into his lap carefully. He allows her to do most of the moving and she does leaning into his touch. She turns her head to fall in between his shoulder and neck.

Eddie holds her close, his right hand rests against her back while the other caresses the back of her head. (Y/n)’s hand clutches into his shirt balling the white fabric up in her first. He doesn’t mind the wrinkling shirt or the tears falling onto his skin. “It’s okay let it out I’ve goch ya” he whispers.

Once she’s calmed down her breathing steady and the tears have temporarily stopped she pulls away from the safety of his shoulder. Eddie’s left hand moves from her head to her face and he uses his knuckle to wipe away her tears. “What’s goin on pretty girl?” He asks pushing back a stray hair stuck to her face. “I’m pregnant” she answers almost in a whisper. Thankfully Eddie manages to to bite back a triumphant smile, for once in his usually miserable existence things are working out for him.

“Oh shit that’s big” he breathes. “What am I gonna do Eds” she asks with a sniffle. “Do you uh do you wanna keep it?” He answers her question with another question. ‘Please say yes, please say yes, please please please say yes’ he begs in his head. He’s worked too hard for this.

She swallows thickly nodding her head. “I do yeah I know that’s crazy and stupid-” she starts to answer. “Hey you are not stupid this is a really tough decision but it’s your decision” he answers confidently. She smiles, it’s weak and her eyes are still shiny with tears but it’s there.

“Who’s the father if you don’t mind me asking?” He asks. She sniffles and another tear spills from her eyes. “I don’t know.” The answer is quiet and shameful embarrassed even. “What do you mean?” He continues eyebrows furrowed “Remember how you found me at the party?”

“Are you saying you think someone…?” His sentence trails off like he’s unable to say the word even though he knows the answer. She nods and sobs again. Eddie pulls her back to his chest hushing her and rubbing her arm in comfort. “Fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart, I don’t even know what to say but I’m sorry” he says.

“It’s not your fault” she mumbles pulling away from his chest. “Maybe if I had gotten there sooner this wouldn’t have happened” Eddie frowns guiltily. (Y/n) shakes her head quickly grabbing his hand.“Don’t do that Eddie it’s not your fault. You did so much for me that night and it’s not even your responsibility to take care of me” she assures him.

“I like taking care of you whether it’s my responsibility or not” Eddie promised her. There’s a beat of silence between them and he wishes he could get a photo of the way she’s looking at him right now.

“I don’t know what to do. How am even supposed to tell people?”

“You could tell them the truth”

“No one would believe and I can’t prove anything I don’t even know who did it”

She’s looking away from him staring at her hands in her lap. This is Eddie’s chance he has to do this right otherwise it was all for nothing. “Okay well what if you tell people it’s mine?” He asks. (Y/n)’s head snaps up and her eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them. “Excuse me?” She gawks.

“Well people are already gossiping about us hanging out recently so we’ll just pretend it’s mine, we got drunk at the party and you ended up pregnant” he shrugs like it’s the obvious solution. Like he just added two and two and got five and she was the crazy one for not getting the same. “Eddie that’s insane it would completely derail your life” she argues. Eddie let’s out a snort at her comment. “Sweetheart I’m a super senior who lives in a trailer with his uncle and plays DND and guitar in his free time you’re not derailing anything.”

She seems to search his face for any clue he’s lying or joking. “Why on earth would you do something like that?” She asks genuinely. Eddie smiles at her charming, sweet, loving, innocent.“I uh I care about you (y/n). I’m serious about this but I understand if you don’t want people thinking it’s the freak’s baby either.”

Her hand comes up to cup his face delicately. From the look she’s giving him Eddie knows he’s got her hook line and sinker. “Eddie honey I don’t care if people think it’s yours but won’t you? I mean you have enough issues with people here do you really want to be associated with this too?” She’s practically acting like he’s sacrificing himself for her.

“Y’know I don’t think people thinking I not only slept with the most beautiful girl in town, but got her pregnant would be the worst thing for my reputation” Eddie teases. This earns a small wet laugh from (y/n). “I can’t believe you would do that for me Eds” (y/n) says softly. “I told you I care about you I want to do this, let me do this for you” he whispers. Their faces are mere inches apart he can feel her breath against his lips.

Now or never Eddie takes the risk leaning forward. She doesn’t stop him so he pressed his lips against her own. By book definition it’s probably not technically a perfect kiss. He can taste the salty tears on her lips and they’re sitting on a dirty bathroom floor. But the smile on her face when they pull apart makes it all worth it.

“I’m all in here sweetheart I don’t just mean some guy for you to point at when people ask who knocked you up. Diaper changing, late feedings, baths, all that dad shit. We’ll be a family alright? Together you, me, and this baby we’ll be in this together. This is what I want, you are what I want both of you” Eddie insists.

“You’re my hero you know that right?” She gushes smiling sweetly. “Anything for you princess” he smiles. She’s the one who connects their lips this time hurriedly kissing him. “Now let’s get you off the floor yeah? Can’t have my girl and my baby sitting on the dirty ground can we” he teases.

Eddie lifts her up allowing them both to stand and helps her straighten her cheer skirt. He grabs her bag from the floor tossing it over his shoulder. “Wanna ditch last period? I don’t think I can handle another class today” (y/n) asks. “Now you’re speakin my language, how’s a date to Benny’s sound?” Eddie suggests.

“Sounds amazing I love their milkshakes!” (Y/n) exclaims excitedly. Of course he already knew that along with which one’s her favorite. Eddie grins a content Cheshire grin offering his arm out for to hold onto as they make their way out of the school.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x you #dark! Eddie Munson #dark eddie munson x reader #dark! Eddie Munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x popular!reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #thepariahandthefreak

274 notes · View notes

starberryes · 2 years

Text

don’t you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader [PREVIEW]

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door. "First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—” Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—" "You did not just roll your eyes at me—” Dustin sighs. "Here they go." (or: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used)

words: ?

a/n: i loved stranger things season 4 and i love this man. LOVE him. i had to write something for him<3<3<3 so im giving you guys a snippet of this story im working on. if anyone would like to be added to a taglist lmk. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon

disclaimer: english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.

NOW FULL VERSION POSTED HERE

After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive to a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you actually unlock the door, confused.

“Where are we?”

Dustin looks at you with his best innocent smile. “I told you. Lucas’s.”

“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, pardon me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”

“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Harrington.”

You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”

“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”

“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound, even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”

“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.

Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you can’t hide the fact that you still dislike Steve was much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.

“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”

Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”

“With what?”

Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend little redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.

“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.

"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"

"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”

Dustin sighs. "Here they go."

“I did not roll my eyes—”

“You absolutely did!”

“There was something in my eyes.”

“That something was lies!”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”

“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”

“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”

“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to form an excuse, then his eyes lands on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.

“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”

“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.

“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.

“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”

You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either.

“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the door, then?”

You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”

Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”

You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”

“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.

It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Dustin, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.

“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”

“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”

You nod, watching him leave.

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #joe keery

1K notes · View notes

sassykinzonline · 10 days

Note

Rank Naruto across the ages

ok...? objectifying naruto is my favourite pastime

10. Blank Period Naruto

he looks like a dork and a fed, this is what heterosexuality does to a mfer.

luckily he didnt look like this in real life, his face was still pretty round and his hair was longer. he did wear a jacket like that but with an orange uzushio shirt underneath, and orange and blue track pants like obito's.

9. The Last Naruto

he looks like hes in basic training. hate it. once again his face didnt look like that and his hair is stupid. naruto has never been one for fashion but he wouldnt dress like someone's dad at age 19, cmon now. its only slightly better than the blank period one because the scarf is a cute callback to his childhood.

8. Boruto Naruto

the outfit is fine. the haircut is awful. i like that we have matching capes. the face looks more like him than the others did. this one ranks higher than the others because of the dilf appeal but thats really all that redeems it. this scene too.

7. The Naruto that Loved me

after we lost our arms but before we got the implants. we spent a lot of time together before i left, so the manga/anime version of us feels very cold. he also wore a yukata during this time, not pants and a shirt. he said it was more comfortable that way. this is where they get closer to representing naruto as he is, so it ranks higher than the others even though im not too much of a fan.

6. Genin Naruto

hold your shocked gasps until the end. this is the version of naruto i had the most conflict with, it's probably the most painful and distant our relationship has ever been. even when we were apart as teenagers, i felt at peace with how i felt about him compared to this time period. it's just marked with fear, his obliviousness and his own problems with me and himself. but he was still mostly cute and soft here so it ranks high.

5. Enter, Naruto

the naruto you see at the start of the series. i kissed this naruto so there's sentimental value in him. but again, he really hated me and even though i thought it was funny i probably would've just preferred he didnt. the goggles are lame also.

4. Newborn Naruto

adorable and pure. i cried the moment he was born because i knew my life had changed. i want to protect him. he is my dream.

3. Naruto, the village Troublemaker

the naruto that started it all. a total dickhead. the birth of usuratonkachi. but somehow also always bringing me the peace i needed during the worst time of my life. the only reason hes here instead of 2 is because 2 was slightly cuter, but i wish i had been able to hold this version of him too.

2. Naruto, the village Pariah

i cannot understand how anyone can look at this cherub and push him around, pour water on him, scream, hit, and curse at him. he was somehow even purer than how he was as a newborn despite all the horrors he experienced as a child. the manga doesnt go into detail, the anime is more true to life but still doesnt even scratch the surface. there are still things i find out from him now that we're adults. this was the first time i saw him (except he was wearing a scarf then), and everything happened in a flash. the seed was planted in my heart.

Naruto, my hero

this is the naruto i fell in love with the moment i saw him. it's the naruto that blooms into everything he didnt exactly know he wanted, but what he did know he needed. when naruto and i die, this is probably the time period our souls will be stuck in. what else can i say about him? its the naruto who struggles the most, succeeds the most, hurts the most, hurts others the most, but we love the most because he is so human. and it gave us sage mode, which is super hot. and the general mesh shirt/half-naked beach babe vibe he gives off for a bit is also great for the eye. the naruto he is now is just a continuation of this one.

#ask #sasuke rp #sasunaru #naruto #sasunaru headcanons #this made me hungry

23 notes · View notes

rwprincess · 10 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag (Robin Buckley x Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Synopsis: Reader is hopelessly pining for Robin, even though she knows the girl is out of her league and hardly knows who she is…and that she’s already dating King Harrington…right?

Honestly, this song originally struck me as being for EddiexReader. But I love PostModern Jukebox (ft Jax)’s take on it and was like “what if it was wlw for ROBIN?!” and here we are. Happy Pride, mfers.

CW: Self-doubt and loathing; reader being a useless-sapphic ™; homophobia common of the 80s; unfair stereotypes to ‘freaks’; Minor Steddie if you squint; song lyrics mention a gun and ass-kicking; swears; jealousy of Steve (we’re pretty mean to him here)/mistaken identity; also, we’re tweaking canon because Eddie lives. Fight me.

She radiated beauty and light, and while you hadn’t had more than a minute-long conversation with her, you could tell that she was intelligent and that her soul was deep. Robin Buckley was the coolest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. Even in that dorky band uniform with the oversized hat and bobbing feather, chin-strap snugly tucked underneath her beautiful face. Luckily for you, she was out of uniform today and you drank in her long, thin frame, adorned with a striped t-shirt, and a skirt…but most importantly her legs were being caressed by knee-high tube socks. The stark yellow stripe drawing attention to her taut calf muscle as she walked down the hallway, carefree and angelic. Somehow, the buzzing fluorescence of the lights in this shitty hallway took on a heavenly light when they met her skin. You sighed in both admiration and frustration. There she was treading so perfectly and she hardly knew you existed.

Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her

She rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

Oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

You leaned against your locker, biting your lip in silent longing. You weren’t in her league; you weren’t sure you were even in the same species. She was somewhere between a nerd and a prep, and you were a certifiable freak. Besides the homosexual tendencies you were harboring that would make you a pariah in this town if you were found out, you generally were clad in black and heavy makeup, looking like a walking The Cure album, a poster-child for loneliness and therapy, surrounding yourself with other freaks, most notably your best friend, Eddie Munson. You were no stranger to being called a ‘demon’ or having wild accusations thrown your way. No wonder Robin’s gaze never turned to you. While you loved your friends and relished your lowkey lifestyle, particularly because it made you feel comfortable with who you really were, you still lamented that that meant you were invisible to the most beautiful, captivating eyes you had ever seen.

“C’mon, band geeks aren’t that far from D&D dorks,” Eddie tried to cheer you up, putting an optimistic spin on it, like he always did. You wondered how someone with so much pain and darkness in their life could be so light. He was always smiling and had a way about him that made everyone want to bare their souls to him. He put out beams of trustworthiness and others gravitated toward it. You yourself had been sucked into that unrelenting positivity. He was one of the limited few who really knew you, and one that you had confided in about your sexuality, and eventually your ridiculous crush on Robin.

“It’s very different, Eddie,” you admonished him. How could he not know how the rest of the school saw you? “They all think we’re devil worshipers and shit and she just like, plays the trumpet,” you shrugged. “It’s totally not the same. Even if they get made fun of, we are not on the same level.”

“Maybe they just don’t know how dumb and nerdy our club is. Maybe she doesn’t know and you should introduce her to the fine world of Dungeons and Dragons,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes at him, black lids almost sticking to your brows at the effort.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Ed,” you replied in a dismissive tone.

“Ya know, I heard she got a job at Scoops Ahoy…” his grin grew larger at his implication.

You acted unfazed by this information, but soon you went there consistently and not-so-innocently to indulge your sweet tooth, but the only sweet you were really gorging yourself on was Robin. You teetered between feeling guilty for going to sneak looks at her in her adorable, short uniform…and wholly enjoying it.

You never really struck up a conversation. You’d just place your order and sit in a booth, nursing the dairy dessert as slowly as possible to get your fill of Robin in a sailor hat, eyeliner thickly applied and pink lips parted in a rehearsed sales monologue or talking to herself. Good thing you had the ice cream to tamp down the burning you felt in your stomach and your cheeks whenever you looked up at her, averting your gaze if she so much as twitched in your direction.

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

And then one day, Steve fuckin’ Harrington had to ruin your reverent ritual. It startled you the first time he was behind the counter instead of Robin, as if you’d walked into the wrong store. It felt so…unnatural. Steve lived down the street from you and had been an entitled dickweed ever since you were young. You were always more of an introvert and liked reading or drawing on your driveway with chalk when you were little, whereas Steve was a stereotypical rough-and-tumble boy, throwing his football into your lawn to disrupt you, or climbing trees and yelling loudly. He always reeked of desperation for attention, while you opposed having the spotlight on you. High school had only widened the gap between you two, as he fell in with the popular crowd and ruled the school. On a good day, you were invisible to him and his cohorts. On a bad day, you were a target of their slurs and slander and Steve dove right in to join them. You’d hear him mutter about how unfortunate it was to live near you, like he’d catch your cooties…or you’d put a witchy hex on him.

Her boyfriend's a dick

And he brings a gun to school

And he'd simply kick

My ass if he knew the truth

He lives on my block

And he drives an IROC

You couldn’t walk into your house without being reminded of his existence, and your one respite of Scoops Ahoy was now tainted with his god awful Farrah Fawcet hair spray and cocky demeanor. Even worse, he now created a barrier between you and Robin. You were no longer guaranteed to talk to her. Especially when Steve tried to butt-in to take your order.

It was obvious he liked her, too. He would be a fool not to, sure. You couldn’t imagine anyone not being drawn into Robin and her dark, reflective eyes or her goofy smile. But you caught Steve blatantly checking her out, and more than once. You knew you had no claim to her, and were probably hoping against all hope to be with her one day, but it still irked you. Particularly because he didn’t have eyes just for her. He seemed to hit on every girl who breezed through the ice cream parlor, even though he struck out time and time again, looking like the biggest dork in that uniform, showing everybody that he truly peaked in high school now that he had graduated and was not having a glamorous jet-setting summer like his ilk. He didn’t deserve Robin as it was, but especially when he couldn’t put her first. She was your only crush and had been for some time.

“What can I do for you?” He had the nerve to ask and grin blankly at you, nothing going on behind his eyes. ‘You could back off of Robin and take your douchey self out of here--’ you began to think snidely, biting the inside of your cheek so as not to let the words slip out. Luckily, it created a clever disguise, looking as though you were just debating what you wanted.

“Uh, I guess strawberry today.”

“Would you like some sprinkles? They’re on the house.” He winked and you tried to hide your gagging revulsion. Customer-service Steve was totally fake and he acted as if he didn’t have a distaste for you his entire life. ‘What could Robin ever see in someone like him?’ you thought. But truth-be-told, most girls your age tended to fawn over Steve and he could give her something you never could: a normal life.

But he doesn't know who I am

And he doesn't give a damn about me

The mall fire marked a sort of beginning-of-the-end in Hawkins. Starcourt was the one hip thing about the town, the one thing to do. And now that had all been scrapped. Rightfully so, as it seemed macabre to just go on with it as if nothing ever happened there. People died, the town had to even elect a new chief of police because he had perished as well. But it left you in a lurch regarding activities you could do, especially on your own…and particularly to have access to Robin. Now, you didn’t know where she worked and you certainly couldn’t ask her. It would give off stalker vibes in waves if you approached and said, “hey, I miss watching you at your work all the time, mind telling me where I can find you now?”

Even worse, she seemed to be closer with Steve. The rumor mill didn’t explicitly say they were dating, but you assumed they were. It was a small town and you’d see them together frequently. Steve even dropped her off at school most mornings, which seemed to you like something couples would do. It completely dashed your hopes that this would be like a Hollywood fairy tale and you’d get the girl in the final act. Time was running out, as it was your last year at Hawkins High, and quite possibly the last stretch of time you’d ever see Robin Buckley. Then, the unthinkable happened when Eddie betrayed you and became cozy with Steve after Spring Break in your Senior year. "I can't believe you're actually hanging out with--no, that you're friends with that douchebag, now." It was a charming little development that Eddie had been spending time with Steve.

“He’s not really that bad. I know, I know,” he responded immediately to your huff and look of disgusted disbelief, “A month ago I would have dropped dead before I would have said something like that, but it’s the truth, Y/N. He’s changed a lot since he was in school. He’s actually a pretty cool dude.” You may have been a little over-dramatic with your resulting retching, as Eddie asked, “What’s your deal with him, anyway?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s my deal?’ Like you said, a month ago, you would have been calling him a douchebag right along with me! What’s your deal?” You didn’t give him time to respond and jumped right into your tirade instead, “First of all, in case you’ve forgotten, he hates us. Or at least, hates me still, since you’re all chummy now, apparently. He has made fun of me his whole life and uses it as fodder to yuck it up with his friends.

“‘Fodder,’ nice word choice,” Eddie smirked, eyes gleaming. He was clearly amused watching you get riled up over this, but you didn’t let that stop you.

“He’s so vapid and shallow. I’m pretty sure all of those hairspray fumes fried his few functioning brain cells. He pants after every girl he lays eyes on, like a dopey dog but without the loyalty. The most frustrating and asinine part of that aspect of him is that he does it with Robin! I’ve seen him drool over her and then turn around to immediately follow some other girl, but he--he still gets to drive her to school every day and talk to her and…I can’t,” you squeaked out the last two words, the realization crashing down on you: you hated Steve most because you were jealous.

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn't know what she's missin'

"Oh, trust me, she and little Stevie are just friends." He waggled his eyebrows and you stared at him in confusion.

“Wh-what? How? They’re like, always together, and--and. Did he tell you this because you’re best buddies now, or what?” You were flustered and were sure you weren’t making any sense, but Eddie just smiled in a smug way. He was hiding a secret, but you didn’t dig further right now. You had no idea what he meant, how he knew, but this revelation was a breath of fresh air: your spirit renewed.

Spring and the school year were quickly coming to a close. While you wouldn’t consider yourself one for tradition, nor attending events with people, Eddie convinced you to partake some of the normal teenage activities. “You’re only going to be a senior once, Y/N,” he goaded you.

“This is your third senior year,” you reminded him with a deadpan expression and tone.

“I know. I said you’re only going to be a senior once. You.” He gave you a playful smile in return, “And hey, life is short and not always guaranteed.” The smile faltered a bit, and you could tell he was remembering Chrissy’s death, all of the deaths that occurred over Spring Break. You couldn’t really argue with Eddie when he was being serious for once in his life. He blinked the memory away and put on a cheerful facade again, “Hopefully, this will be my last senior year, too, so we have to make it a momentous occasion. You should go to prom with me.”

“Oh Eddie, I thought you’d never ask,” you put your hand over your heart sarcastically as you replied to him in a monotone voice, “how romantic.”

“Oh God, stop. That’s embarrassing for the both of us,” he joked. “What I mean is, we should both go to prom. Make the memory, all that jazz. I think you’ll be…pleasantly surprised.” You were used to his theatrical pauses by now, but it sounded like he was up to something. Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie without hatching a plan or scheme, but you agreed anyway.

“This is the most conformist thing I have ever done,” you greeted Eddie at your door, “I hate it.”

“It’s just a dress, Y/N. It isn’t the end of the world,” he cleared his throat to hide his laugh, but you caught it anyway and shoved him out of your doorway.

“This was all your idea, Munson. I will never let you forget that.”

At first, it wasn’t all that bad. Some of the music wasn’t totally abhorrent and Eddie was making your group laugh, dancing and miming his way through various activities. But the fun was cut short when Eddie’s other group of friends came in. You felt betrayed as Eddie brought Steve back to the gym that he once owned. Amongst this new group was of course, Robin. Your cheeks flared and your heart raced at the sight of her. She was always beautiful, but tonight she had a touch of glamor, wearing a knee-length green dress. However, that happiness was also fleeting. Eddie took off with their group and had them laughing and dancing, and you even saw him twirl Robin around. You sat and sulked in the bleachers, meaning you missed Eddie pointing you out to her.

Man, I feel like mold

It's prom night and I am lonely

Your elbows were propped against your knees and your hands cradled your face as you stared down at the floor. This could have been a great night, a fun night. But you just weren’t cut out for that typical teenage fun. Perhaps it wouldn’t sting so much if you had chosen to stay home rather than put yourself out there; if you weren’t dragged here only to be ditched by Eddie. But him choosing Steve and his group only solidified the feeling that burned deep within you: you didn’t fit in. Anywhere.

You glanced up, hoping that maybe Eddie had noticed your absence from the dance floor and would take pity on you. However, you saw Robin walking unsteadily in your direction instead. It wasn’t a too-much-spiked-punch walk. It was more hesitant, methodical. The changing lights cascaded across her hair and skin, making her seem even more unreal. As she drew nearer, you gained more of an appreciation for her dressed-up look. The makeup highlighted her cheekbones and lips; the way the dress hugged her waist and the length of it emphasized her legs. You smiled softly when you noticed that she was still wearing sneakers, though. That was much more like the Robin you knew.

“Is this seat taken?” She was standing directly in front of you, but you weren’t completely sure she was talking to you. You looked to your left, then to your right, confirming that you were alone. You nodded, automatically, but were still in disbelief. You’d hardly exchanged words that weren’t related to ice cream before.

Lo and behold

She's walking over to me

This must be fake

My lip starts to shake

How does she know who I am?

And why does she give a damn about me

“Eddie’s told me all about you. Well, everything I didn’t already know,” she said, effortlessly flashing you that radiant smile. You were glad to be sitting down already as your knees began to quake.

“Is that right?” You asked nervously, throat suddenly becoming dry. Your eyes flicked across the room towards Eddie. You discovered him watching you intently and when you made eye contact, he gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Mm-hmm. He said you were the coolest girl he’s ever met. But I already guessed that. I mean, I thought that. I mean---well, and he said you’re his best friend.” She quickly tacked on the change in subject, but your heart hammered in your chest. Robin thinks you’re cool? Wait, Robin knows who you are and thinks about you? Your mind was racing.

“He, he is. I mean, I am. His best friend. And he’s mine. He’s a good guy.”

“Oh yeah, he’s totally great!” She rushed out, flustered. “He uh…he said that you were maybe, like…like me, too?” She looked at you with meaningful implication. Oh, shit. Did she just--is she saying she’s gay, too? It was a hopeful thought, but you were sure you were misreading it, and it’s not like you could just ask her for clarification. Not on this topic.

When you didn’t give a definitive answer (truthfully, you probably looked more deer-in-the-headlights confused instead), Robin continued, “Anyway, uh, I’d like to get to know you better and Eddie said you liked Iron Maiden?” You nodded numbly in response to this and she reached into her small purse, “Well, I’ve got two tickets, would you maybe like to go? With me?”

“I--yeah, of course! I’d love to go with you, Robin!” You blurted out, not wanting the opportunity to pass you by. Like Eddie said, life is short and you only get this one go-around. “I’d like to get to know you better, too. I think maybe we are a lot alike,” you replied, giving her a similar knowing look before you both broke out in smiles, grinning like lunatics.

I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby

Come with me Friday, don't say "maybe"

I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fluff #stranger things robin #stranger things robin x reader #gay #gay pride #even though there's like two days left #take your time #lesbian!#sapphic #useless sapphic #tm

67 notes · View notes

slutforstabbings-archive · 1 year

Text

Clean Again

Chapter 2: REAL ADULTS read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure you check AO3 for this fic's playlist, all the references I make throughout, the drawings I did of Reader and Corey's apartments, the vehicles the characters drive and more!

Corey adjusts to life on the lam... kind of. We get introduced to Reader.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter- mega angst, violent assault (non-sexual), homelessness/squatting, unhealthy relationship and infidelity, wishing for death

7,901 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to my tag list 💕

His first day in Georgia, Corey slept. He slept until the motel manager banged on the door to demand he pay for another night or get out. Then he hitched a ride further into town in a 1970’s Ford Courier with an old man whose accent he could barely decipher. He didn’t catch the man’s name but he wrote his number on a crumpled receipt he found in his pocket and told Corey to call if he ever needed some odd jobs to do.

When he got out of the truck Corey wandered. Trying his best not to look sketchy as he stumbled down residential sidewalks. When the neighborhood looked rundown, he went towards the shabbiest houses, if things started looking too well-maintained, he turned around, until finally he found the most condemned house on a street of condemned houses. It had been left to rot so long the boards over the windows flaked and sagged. Even with his limited strength he could pull the nails right through them, so he freed a window facing away from the street and let himself in.

The weakness and the brain fog lingered so long Corey thought he might not ever feel better. He sometimes followed the physical therapy exercises recommended in the papers Nancy had given him, stretching and flexing in the moonlight streaming through the collapsed part of the roof. He wasn’t convinced it did much, and just accepted that he would always have a stiff neck and a loose left fist, that he would never raise his left arm over his head again, that he would forever sound like he had a frog in his throat.

He shoplifted travel size bottles of lotion to rub into his scars. He couldn’t give two shits about how they settled, except that they were one more identifying feature, bright pink and broadcasting his past to anyone who looked in his direction. His hair grew long and hung limp and greasy on either side of his face. Momma had always refused to let him grow his hair, and he enjoyed rebelling against her like that, even now that she was worm food. He tried to grow a beard to hide the scar on his throat more, but he found it too uncomfortable. Sometimes when he’d pocket lotion, he’d grab razors too, and shave his face by touch. He didn’t see his reflection often, but when he did the person there was unfamiliar. Not a hapless dork, not the town pariah, not a dangerous man on the edge. Just a homeless guy, gaunt and haggard.

He did what he could to find or earn money. Sometimes he called the number on the greasy receipt he’d kept, asking a stranger who walked by texting if he could borrow their phone. The old man, whose name he learned is Phil, would give Corey grubby wads of cash for holding his chickens still while he clipped their wings, or helping his wife Joanna in her garden. Sometimes when the work was finished, they’d let him use their shower. Then they would send him off with a container full of some unfamiliar food. Collard greens with little cubes of ham floating in broth, peanuts that had been boiled instead of roasted, all kinds of animal organs he didn’t know people actually ate. They asked him questions about himself but he didn’t speak to them much. He knew they were the only people in Georgia guaranteed to recognize his face. Giving them any information at all seemed like too big of a risk.

Sometimes he panhandled, but he tried to avoid it because it made interacting with cops far too likely. Other times he found money in places he knew people lost their wallets often, bus stops, bathrooms, alleys behind bars. He always dropped the wallets into mailboxes after stripping them of cash and gift cards. He read somewhere once that doing so meant it would be mailed to the address on the ID inside. He kept his savings in rinsed out containers from the old couple, tucked under a loose floorboard in his squat.

Corey often felt his life had scarcely changed at all. He was a nobody, friendless and marginalized. Strangers glared at him, or else averted their eyes, crossed the street to avoid him, and whispered behind his back. Just as they had done in Haddonfield. Constantly on trial for a new crime: being homeless. Climbing through the busted window of the rotted house where he sleeps just an endless iteration of breaking into the abandoned Allen house.

It suffocated him, making him so angry he couldn’t see. Rage rising in him and spilling out no matter how hard he tried to remember how he used to bottle it up. He had lost everything! Fucking again! He had sunk to the lowest depths of humanity to try to get free. And now he was fucking subterranean. Reduced to a rabid animal. And responsible for the destruction of the only good he’d ever had proximity to. Too stupid to hold onto his one shot at happiness. All that effort to get out, but he could never get out. His isolation only worsened despite any efforts he made.

He cried. He seethed. He released his full wrath on the building he inhabited, using any blunt object he could find to knock the walls full of holes, tearing at floorboards and door frames with his bare hands, hurting his bad shoulder and expending so much energy he'd sleep all through the next day. Other nights he’d scream until his mouth filled with blood, until nothing but a wet rattle could be heard. Each time moving his scratchy, damaged voice just a little further from how he used to sound.

If anyone challenged him they came to regret it deeply. Occasionally on his wallet hunts, a drunk asshole pissing against the wall would decide he was tough. Corey had broken men’s ribs, felt the crunch and sick squish underfoot as he stomped some prick’s hand into ground beef. He generated enough broken teeth to put a dentist’s least impressive son through all four years in an Ivy League program. Magnanimous "donation" included.

When the rage threatened to overtake him he would call out to Allyson in his mind. Corey had never been a religious man. He knew that wherever Allyson had gone was black, and cold, and empty. But he would cast her as a guardian angel when he needed her. Picturing her love for him as a shield, keeping the feelings that had driven him to kill people outside of him so they couldn’t reinfect him, the spell she showed him on a divine level. Or else keeping his evil inside, smothering it and compressing it so it couldn’t leak out and hurt others. Allyson, in death, did for him what she couldn’t do in life. She hooked her finger in his collar and held him back from the brink. Though he left people battered and bruised, Corey didn’t kill anyone else.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake from an uneasy sleep with an unsettled feeling in your stomach. Keeping your eyes closed, you pat around on the bed next to you. Your search turns up nothing. You open your eyes.

You know that if the bed is empty, the whole house will be. But you lay still and listen anyway, hoping to hear a footfall, the sound of water running, any bump or clatter or rustle that would indicate that you’re not by yourself. No sounds come. For the third time in as many weeks, the only living thing in the building is you. God fucking damnit.

You lay on your back and tears of rage roll down the sides of your face to pool in your ears. When you’d first moved in with Orin there had been a couple of times he hadn’t come home all night. It was weird, but he’d told you he was just getting used to having a reason to come home now. That before you moved in, he stayed with his buddies all night a lot because there was no reason to come home. He wanted to come home to you, but it was hard to tell the boys he had to leave when he was so used to staying out. You could understand that, you were adjusting to living with a partner too. But that had been before.

Before he stopped pretending to be charming and kind. Before he started complaining about how boring and annoying you are every time you open your mouth. Before he quit bothering to roll over and kiss you goodnight before he fell asleep. Two weeks ago when you’d woken alone for the first time in years, you had been suspicious but tried to let it go. The second time was a wake up call. The third time is a death sentence.

You feel like you could explode out of your skin. What the fuck!? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck whatthefuck??? You’re not sure if you’re more angry at him, or at yourself. You’ve been considering leaving for months, but haven’t worked up the nerve, and now this feels like his way of telling you you took too long. This is him saying why aren’t you gone yet? You desperately need to talk to someone, but it’s 7 am. Everyone you can think of talking to is asleep or already at work. You roll over onto your stomach so your face is in his pillow, ice cold from spending the night unused, and you scream until you run out of air.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It has been four months of living like a rat. Corey slips into the unboarded window of his condemned hovel. He’s had a good morning, making $50 for helping Phil candle chicken eggs, and being sent away with an old Cool Whip tub stuffed with cornbread. He goes to the loose floorboard and pries it up, removing similar tubs, brimming with the cash he’s been hoarding. Stuffing a piece of cornbread into his mouth, he counts.

His plan took time to form. The grief, and the rage, and the effort his body spent healing all formed a heavy cloud over the future. And he still hoped he might die. That it would get cold enough overnight to freeze him in his sleep, or hot enough to boil his blood in a heat stroke, his body lying in the condemned house for weeks or months, decomposing in secret. That an alleyway opponent would produce a knife and, eyes darkening like storm clouds, deliver the karma Corey so desperately deserved. But things were improving, against all odds. So he decided he might as well live a little bit more of a life. He started by getting a phone.

A phone meant not having to borrow one to call the old couple for jobs. And a phone meant access to the internet. With the internet he could really get things done. Like trawling Craigslist for apartments owned by slumlords who wouldn’t bother running a credit or background check as long as he paid them, in cash, on time. Like finding a motorcycle with less than 1000 miles on it, being sold for far less than half its value by a man desperate not to let his wife know he bought it in the first place. Like buying an expertly crafted fake Georgia Driver’s License with a new last name.

The license arrived last week and he was finally able to get his hands on it today when he went to help the old couple. He’d asked them if he could get mail at their address and they’d happily obliged. He’d taken the photo himself, posing for a selfie in the craft aisle of the grocery store, a piece of blue poster board propped up behind him. He decided to keep Corey as his first name. It was common enough not to raise suspicion, ranked 110th his birth year, something he had checked. And going by the same first name seemed safer in social situations. He could never slip up and accidentally introduce himself as his old name if he didn’t have an old name. He picked Wallace as his middle name, after his father. A last name was harder. He considered Myers as a sick joke, and Allyson’s last name, Nelson, an even sicker one. In the end, he settled for another C name, because he’d always liked his double initial. If anyone asks, his name is Corey Carpenter.

The newly christened Mr. Carpenter stacks bills by their denomination and makes sure they all face the same direction. He desperately hopes he can get the apartment and the bike today, but that’s a pretty penny. It just doesn’t seem possible he could have enough, but he’s not sure, he’s never actually counted all of it. He’s just been grabbing the amounts he needed, a couple hundred for the phone, a couple hundred for the ID. Corey knows he needs to prioritize a living space that isn’t so full of mold it practically writhes, and that if he gets a bike first, it will be a bitch to store it so it doesn’t give his squatting away. But this one he’s found is once in a lifetime. The owner wants it gone today, and it’s a Kawasaki, the same make as the motorcycle he left behind in Haddonfield.

Cornbread crumbs rain down as Corey stacks and folds a wad of bills. With everything counted but the ones, he’s just a few hundred shy. He holds his breath as he passes the bills from hand to hand. Please be enough, please be enough, he chants to the strips of paper. He's $50 short. Corey feels cold rage spread through him, hand clenching around the wad of money so hard his knuckles look bright white. Then he gets it under control. It’s only $50. He can find that somewhere on the way, or intimidate the seller into coming down a little if he has to.

He doesn’t have to. The idiot didn’t even count the wad of cash being handed to him by this scruffy stranger who won’t make eye contact. Corey wishes he’d ripped him off more, since he hates having to spend everything he’s collected in one day. But the seller’s hurry grants Corey another gift. In his haste he doesn’t remove the license plate, giving Corey a reprieve from having to steal one or get a good fake made.

The way it feels to finally swing his leg over the seat of a motorcycle again, to lean down over the handlebars as he speeds away, to see the lines on the road as nothing more than smears, it’s the best he’s felt in months, better than he ever thought he'd feel again. He hadn’t had his bike in Haddonfield all that long, but it had become a part of him. Riding now feels like regrowing an amputated limb. He spends so long darting around town just soaking up the roar of the engine that he’s almost late meeting the landlord.

He screeches to a stop outside the apartment. It’s a studio above a garage. 300 square feet upstairs, 300 downstairs. The cheapest thing Corey’s seen, but still a rip off to be sure. The whole structure sags and looks sad, slumped on the back corner of the yard of another house the landlord owns. The beige siding is mossy in places the water drips off the roof and bounces back up to splash the wall when it rains. The window facing the street is webbed with cracks around what can only be a bullet hole. It’s not a very big step up from the place Corey’s been squatting, but as the landlord takes him upstairs he explains he keeps the utilities in his name, and Corey will owe the light and water bill in cash to him on top of the rent every month. Fantastic news because he’s been dreading the utility companies asking too many personal questions. The landlord asks him none. Instead, he spews bullshit about what a good deal the apartment is compared to everything else in the city.

“Can I uh - Can I move in today?” Corey asks, interrupting the landlord’s attempts to spin the apartment.

“If you’ve got the cash on you,” the landlord replies, skeptical.

“I do,” Corey says, pulling a fistful of bills from his pocket. The landlord eyeballs him with suspicion. He was not expecting such an easy target this afternoon. He pulls first a counterfeit detection pen, then the keys from his shirt pocket. He sets both on the counter of the kitchenette where Corey can see them. Then he takes the money from Corey’s hand.

“First and last month?”

“Yes, sir,” Corey replies. The landlord counts the money three times and marks every bill with his pen twice. The guy who sold Corey the motorcycle could learn a thing or two from him. When he’s confident the whole amount is there, he holds out his hand to Corey. Corey grips it firmly and does exactly one shake, up then down. The landlord pats the keys on the counter, satisfied.

“It’s the 12th, so next month’ll be prorated. Don’t put no holes in the walls,” he says as he goes. Then he closes the door behind him, leaving Corey in the empty studio.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You compose and recompose your DM to Veronica Hand, a girl from your high school graduating class. You’d known her since sixth grade, and your friendship had waxed and waned. When you had class together you’d get close, when your schedules separated you, you’d more or less forget about each other. Since graduation you’ve had the type of zombie friendship only possible via occasional Instagram story replies. You haven’t seen her in person since your last Thanksgiving with your parents before they moved to Florida to be retired. It feels weird to reach out to her like this, but you don’t know what else to do.

That went way better than you expected. You didn’t think her response would be quite so welcoming. Your friendliest moments feel like ancient history, but she seems genuinely excited to have you back in town.

You’ve started packing but you haven’t said anything to Orin yet. Not that he’s been around much to say anything to.

You stayed home on the third morning you woke up alone. When Orin finally came in, you’d been sitting on the couch in silence. Waiting. He walked through the door with a big grin on his face. When was the last time you’d seen him smile like that? Had you ever?

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He exclaimed in surprise when he noticed you. “Weren’t you supposed to go to work today?”

“Called in sick,” you said flatly. He didn’t reply or ask how you were feeling. He just turned down the hallway toward the bathroom, the smile thoroughly wiped from his face. “Hey, wait! Where were you last night?”

You didn’t know what you wanted to gain from asking. He could tell the truth, but if the truth was innocent, you didn’t know if you’d believe it. He could lie, but you would know it was a lie. A question with no right answer. Really, you just wanted him to do something. To react. For months and months he’d ignored you more often than not, barely responding to you no matter how hard you worked to gain back his affection. At least an elaborate lie would be a reaction. You could pretend to believe him, as long as he put in a performance that gave even the tiniest indication that he wanted to be with you.

“Out,” he said in an annoyed tone as he disappeared down the hallway to the bathroom.

You knew without a shred of doubt then. And he knew you knew.

Three years down the toilet. Three years when your friends were having fun, hooking up, going out. Three years where they were finding themselves and making connections. While you’d been at home, whittling yourself down into a shape you thought would keep Orin’s interest, pretending to be far cooler than you were so he wouldn’t get bored of you. Three years in service of a man who couldn’t even be bothered to look in your direction as everything crumbled around you.

That had been more than a month ago. You’d barely seen him since then. With the cat out of the bag, there was no reason for him to act like he wanted to be at home with you. One day you came into the kitchen to find his portion of the rent on the counter, a balled up pile of cash for you to deposit in your account before you paid online. At least he wasn’t kicking you out. Yet. You had no desire to sit around and wait for him to. You looked at places online but everything was out of your budget. And you didn’t really want to stay anyway. First your failed stint at Georgia State, now this. The city of Atlanta is your own personal Hell. Huge and yet somehow cramped, teaming with reminders of all your failures.

The idea of moving back to your hometown came to you one evening last week. You were standing at the kitchen counter trying to force yourself to eat something despite the mess your stomach had been in from the stress. It wasn’t exactly conducive to eating to be dwelling on the thing that was upsetting you so much, but as you pushed your food around with your fork you found it impossible to think of anything else. Going over everything with a fine tooth comb. How you’d met, how you’d wound up moving in together, what he’d seen in you and what you’d ever seen in him. Trying to understand how you’d wound up so small and insecure that you’d been dragging the corpse of this relationship for the better part of a year, desperate for a miracle to bring it back to life. How now, even though the body was in the ground, you slept on top of the grave. Why hadn’t you fucking left yet?

You wished you could go back to high school graduation and start again, have a second shot at the beginning of your adulthood, do everything differently. Tell your parents to fuck off about college. Take a gap year or three. Travel, or move somewhere it’s crazy to move, New York or Chicago or LA. Be a slut and refuse to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

You couldn’t do any of that, but you could go back to your hometown, and do a soft reset of sorts. You knew it had changed since you left, places you’d haunted all your life now demolished. Shiny new buildings sticking out like sore thumbs with their incongruous architecture, built by people who didn’t give a shit about the history of the surrounding area. The population swollen huge, full of strangers, while everyone who’d been close to you had gone away, except Veronica. But it was the fire you had been forged in. As long as one ember of your memory continued to smolder, it would be home. And you desperately needed to feel at home in some way, to try to find home in yourself again.

Veronica is exceedingly helpful. You can’t believe the kindness she extends in those first few weeks. She goes to see apartments in person on your behalf, reporting back about any unlivable details of the places in the links you send her. She finds the apartment you wind up renting, not online, but by noticing a FOR RENT sign stuck in the grass at the end of the street.

She shows it to you in a video call. It’s an old building with an impressive number of original details intact. The floors are hardwood, stain oxidized so dark brown they’re almost black. The living and dining rooms have built-ins and all the doors are surrounded with heavy matching trim, little floral medallions carved into the corners. The kitchen and bathroom are time capsules too, renovated in the 70’s and the 90’s respectively, then never touched again. The anachronism charms you, and while not everything is in the best shape, it seems like it’s been subjected to remarkably few landlord specials.

You finish packing. There’s not much you’re bringing with you, all the furniture and all the shit in the kitchen is Orin’s. You text him that you want to talk to him. He doesn’t reply. You hang out around the house, hoping to catch him in a rare moment home, but out the window you see his car roll slowly by, not stopping because your car is in the driveway. You weigh the idea of leaving without saying anything to him at all. It seems cruel. But then again, you’ve seen proof he’s been in the apartment when you’ve been gone. Things moved around, his hamper filling up and overflowing since you’ve stopped doing his laundry. The rent on the counter that day. Surely he’s noticed your things disappearing from parts of the house, the boxes and suitcases in the corners. He’s an inattentive asshole, but he isn’t stupid.

After mulling it over for a day or two, you put everything in your car. There’s so little it all fits neatly in the trunk and backseat. The only thing you leave behind is the login information for the rental company’s payment portal, scribbled on a scrap piece of paper, stuck to the fridge with a beer cap magnet.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Corey is astounded at the difference having power and water makes to his health, mental and physical. The apartment is a dump to be sure. He wonders how it isn’t condemned like the squat he occupied. But it’s warm inside when it’s cold outside, and cool inside when it’s hot outside, more or less. He can shower, he can shave in a mirror with a light instead of dragging his hands along his cheeks and hoping he didn’t miss a spot.

He finds a mattress and box spring on the curb down the road a week or so after he moves in, abandoned by a graduating frat boy. The mattress is covered in mystery stains, reeks of marijuana for days, and is extremely difficult to get up the stairs by himself. It gives Corey fleas that he has to set off a bomb for. Even so, it’s a vast improvement over the hard linoleum floor. He’s always struggled with insomnia, and he still doesn’t sleep much, but the amount of sleep he does get doubles right away.

He buys two plates, two cups, two forks, two spoons, two knives. He can eat two meals a day and do dishes once. Momma didn’t teach him much about cooking, but it’s no big loss since her food was disgusting anyway. He’s competent enough to follow the directions on the back of a boxed meal, stirring in canned chicken for protein. Sometimes he scrambles an egg from his warm, stale fridge, the only thing he retained from Home Ec in middle school.

He notices his mobility increasing. It’s crumpled, stained, soft and fraying like fabric, but he still has the paper Nancy gave him with the exercises on it. He commits to following them. Corey’s shoulder is still stiff and uncomfortable, he always knows when it’s going to rain — something he’d thought was made up — but he can finally lift his arm over his head. Most days. Something he thought he would never do again. The clothes from the hospital lost and found actually fit now, after so long being huge on him. He doesn’t have to worry about his ring sliding off his pinky anymore. The man he sees when he looks at himself is almost someone he recognizes. The cheeks are almost his cheeks, no longer so gaunt and hollow. The forehead is almost his forehead, just with some unfamiliar creases. He lets Joanna give him a haircut, massaging his scalp with her tree root fingers, and that makes him feel more like himself too.

With an address, an ID, and a reliable place to shower, he can look for a job. He wants something sketchy, something where they won’t do a background check, they won’t verify his resume, and they won’t make him fill out any tax paperwork. The first thing he finds is maintenance at a decrepit and festering apartment complex, so run down that the job seems moot. Being on call sucks, and he has to interact with residents more than he thought he would. He gets a call to examine a tenant’s leaky ceiling. When he comes to the apartment, the woman who lives there is listening to a true crime podcast. The hosts giggle and shriek as they describe a serial killer’s collection of trophies from his victims. It’s the last straw. He leaves her apartment, gets on his motorcycle, and rides away. When he doesn’t show up for work the next week, the complex manager only tries to call him once.

For a while Corey wanted to avoid jobs at auto shops, fearing the memories of the last time he drove a tow truck, the last time he used a cutting torch. But he misses the intellectual challenge of figuring out what’s wrong with such a complex machine, and the prevalence of small businesses in the industry appeals to his need for privacy. He washes dishes at a restaurant, he works at a plant nursery. When those don’t work out, he caves and starts looking for HELP WANTED signs in the windows of the mechanic shops he rides past. It doesn’t take long for him to find somewhere that will hire him without any paperwork bullshit. They have a girl who works the front desk, the owner’s daughter, so he almost never has to interact with customers. He keeps his eyes on the ground when he hands her the printouts of what was done to each vehicle. She says nothing to him except thank you.

He lives simply enough that his salary from the auto shop mostly piles up, stuffed into Country Crock containers in his freezer. Corey continues to do jobs for the elderly couple here and there, now refusing to let them pay him, but still accepting food. He starts buying busted small appliances and repairing them, but he doesn’t have the space to keep most of his projects, and selling them fills the dent in his hoard right back in. He vaguely wishes he could open a bank account, but it’s way too risky to even entertain. He tries not to ever use his fake ID if he can avoid it. He picks smoking back up, a habit he’d had in his old life, but he makes sure only to buy cigarettes from places he knows won’t card him.

He makes one notable exception. It’s a government entity, but only in the most local way possible, so although it makes him nervous, he convinces himself it’ll be okay. He gets a library card.

One day on his way to work, he sees a cop flashing her lights at him in his mirrors. He considers fleeing. If he did, maybe she would bump his motorcycle with her car, maybe bump it a little too hard and send him flying off and scraping down the road. Or maybe she would pull her gun out and shoot at him through her open window. Death hasn’t lost its appeal for him, and what a way to go that would be. A nice little ending for the Netflix documentary. But if he runs and she catches him without killing him, that would be the worst thing that could happen. So, gritting his teeth, he pulls to the side of the road and turns the bike off.

“Good morning, sir.” The cop says as she walks up to him, thumbs hooked in her belt loops. “Did we leave our helmet at home?”

Corey’s not sure how to respond, so he doesn’t.

“Georgia law requires all motorcycle drivers and passengers to wear a helmet, and have some kind of eye protection. Since your bike here doesn’t have a windshield, that would mean goggles or a helmet with a visor. But I’m sure you knew that. Maybe you just forgot?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was just in a hurry this morning. My mistake,” he says, trying to sound casual despite his heart pounding in his chest. A bead of sweat rolls down his scalp through his curls to make the collar of his shirt wet. He wonders if he could kill her, if he lunged forward and wrapped his hands around her throat. He's never strangled anyone before, but he remembers Michael's hand crushing his windpipe so vividly. The cop's neck is long and slender. Corey sees her pulse thumping beneath the skin, and imagines feeling it slow to a stop under his fingers. Would someone drive by and see him before he could finish the job? Or would a nosy housewife peak out the window and make a phone call? His eyes land on the cop's body camera nestled just below her breasts, then on all the doorbell cameras along the street. Watching him. Someone always fucking watching him. He stays seated.

“I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But don’t let me see you out without a helmet again,” she says.

“Right. Yes ma’am,” Corey replies.

“I mean it, now. I never forget a bike I like, so I'll know if I see you again, Kawasaki." She looks down at him over her mirrored sunglasses. "Have a good day.”

The cop gets back in her car and pulls away in front of him, leaving him stunned on the side of the road. Guess I’m getting a fucking helmet, Corey thinks.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear a massive vehicle approaching and go outside. Veronica and her little brother Harker pull up outside your new apartment in his lifted Ram. It’s so ridiculous you have to laugh at him. It has the biggest deer bumper you’ve ever seen, and lights twinkle on the running boards. A holographic sticker in the rear window proudly displays his Instagram username. Veronica opens the passenger door and slides to the center of the front seat. The sound of Walker Hayes meets your ears. You practically need a ladder to get inside, it’s so tall. You try unsuccessfully to stifle your giggles.

“I know, I’m embarrassed to be seen with him too,” Veronica says.

“No, no, I think it’s cool,” you say, voice straining around the laughter you’re still trying to suppress.

“It is cool,” Harker says. “I have 500 followers on Instagram.”

“Well thanks for taking the time to help me pick up furniture, Your Majesty.” You bow your head to him. Harker and Veronica both laugh. It’s so weird to see him driving, with his short little beard and biceps like melons. Last time you saw him he was a twerpy ninth grader with less fuzz than a peach, who had failed to even make the bench at football tryouts.

Harker pilots his behemoth with surprising ease. You cruise around town in a big loop, meeting people from the Craigslist free section and Facebook Marketplace, hitting thrift stores and Target. The three of you organize boxes and furniture in the truck bed like a game of Tetris, then cross bungee cords over the top. When the truck backs up to your door hours later, you’ve managed to fit everything you needed to furnish your apartment in both the truck bed and your budget.

You can’t believe you had such a successful day. Veronica and Harker make easy conversation with you, as if you’ve kept in close contact with them all this time. After unloading your giant haul, you order pizza. They stay and help you assemble and arrange everything big. By the time they leave, the space has been transformed from the cold, echoing box you’d slept in last night, to something resembling a home.

You haven’t thought about Orin in hours, comfortable and busy with your friends. But now that you’re alone and it’s dark outside, you remember why you moved here. You picture him. What’s he doing right now? What did he do when he came home and your car wasn’t in the driveway and your clothes weren’t in the closet, no goodbye except the login info you left him so he could make your replacement pay the rent. You hope he’s fine. You hope he doesn’t even miss you a little bit. You hope he’s miserable and kicking himself for losing you. You hope the new girl is cheating on him right this moment, screaming some other man's name. You hope they’re happy and that he never treats her the way he treated you, never says the things he said to you. You’re boring. You’re fat. You’re unambitious and slothful. No matter how hard you try to learn how football works.

The way you bounce back and forth between incompatible feelings could give you whiplash. It’s his fault. It’s your fault. You feel bad for leaving how you did. You wish you did something much, much worse. You lean against the wall behind you and slide down it, sobbing. Embarrassing yourself in front of all your new furniture.

Getting close to Veronica again is easy, like all those semesters you’d be pleased to find you had a class or two together, automatically sitting next to each other on the first day. She annoys the shit out of you sometimes — she always has to know everything , and she’s not shy about asking. But she’s a good friend, fun and funny and actually there for you. Orin got custody of all your old “friends.” Not one of them sent a single text after you left Atlanta. You can imagine him blaming the whole thing on you, making you sound so awful they wanted nothing to do with you. Or maybe they just never cared about you of their own accord. Veronica’s twice the friend any of them were. You’re relieved to find all your coworkers get along well, and you like when everyone hangs out together.

You’re also extremely pleased to find out you love records. You’ve always liked music, but you’ve never owned a record player until the store upgrades its listening station and everyone votes that you should get the old one. The speakers it comes with are amazing. You can actually hear what audiophiles are talking about for the first time. It brings you great joy that the warm crackle of a record isn’t a myth. You slowly acquire a neat little collection of all your favorite albums.

One day a customer comes to the register with a fistful of stuff from the patch bins. They’re wearing a plain denim vest.

“Are these going on that?” You ask as you ring them up.

“Yeah, I’m stoked on it, “ they say, “But I’m not actually sure how to attach them.”

“These three are iron-on,” you tell them, flipping all the patches face down to examine the backs. “You can tell because the back is like, plastic-y. The rest you have to sew on, but you don’t have to sew all the way around it, you can just tack it down in a couple spots.”

“I don’t know how to sew and I don’t own an iron. How much would it cost to have someone else do it?” They say, laughing.

“I’d take 20 bucks.”

“Are you for real?”

You hadn’t been serious but the customer asks with such earnestness, you feel bad. “Oh, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

The customer takes off their vest and folds it into a nice square, then sets it on the counter. They pull their wallet out of their pocket and swipe their card to pay for the patches, then they put two $10’s on top of the vest.

“Thank you so much!” They say.

“No problem,” you say incredulously. “I’ll do it tonight and you can pick it up tomorrow.”

You attach all the patches to the vest that night. The customer didn’t give you any guidance on placement, but they’re all relatively small, so you put them all on the front and hope for the best. They come in the next afternoon and love what you’ve done. They ask for your phone number for when they buy more patches, and they hand you an extra $10.

“20 just seemed kinda low,” they say.

After that you find out their name is Taryn and they text you for permission to give your number to friends from time to time. The record store pays pretty decently but you could use a little more wiggle room, so you say yes and wind up with a neat little stack of projects from local punks. The money is a nice addition and the work is fun. Things come to you that you’re not sure how to do, so you watch YouTube videos until you figure it out. You realize you could try to market yourself to more people, so you make an Instagram and have business cards printed. When the work gets overwhelming to do completely by hand, you find an almost unused sewing machine at an estate sale. It becomes an actual thing, so much of a thing that you have to figure out what it means to the government come tax time. It makes you feel like a Real Adult for the first time. It feels nice.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #fan fiction #mine

40 notes · View notes